Free Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) by Abigail Easton Page B

gossip spot among locals. Maisy Markey still treated
her customers as if each one were special. She served them tea
and cookies and never considered that she was keeping them
from spending their money.
“I’d love to come inside,” Angela answered apologetically,
“but maybe some other time.”
“Oh, well why don’t you take some flowers? Just some
dahlias to give you a smile when you see them. A gift.” Maisy
beamed and clapped her hands together, pleased with the idea.
A half hour later Angela was sent on her way with several
flats of dahlias, along with some sweet alyssum and marigolds.
Maisy had explained that the little white and gold flowers were
to protect the dahlias from insects, but Angela knew she had
been duped into planting a garden.
****
She had never before tilled the earth, but she figured it
couldn’t be very hard. She was without the necessary tools, but
she found a serving spoon in the guest house kitchen that
could work as a makeshift shovel, and a glass pitcher would
serve as a watering can. She chose a strip of land beside the
front porch.
Having donned her workout clothes once again, Angela
knelt beside her garden-to-be and got to work.
After two hours, she resigned herself to the fact that a
spoon did not double as a shovel, and gardening was much
tougher than it looked. Hot and sweaty and frustrated, she sat
back on her heels and closed her eyes to do some yoga
breathing.
A low chuckle pulled her from her meditations.
“Is that a spoon?”
Still sitting on her heels, Angela opened her eyes and
looked up at Cole, squinting from the glare of the sun. “I
couldn’t find one of those little shovels, but this works just
fine.”
“Trowel.”
“What?”
“Trowel. That’s what those little shovels are called.” He
squatted beside her and picked up the spoon, grinning at her
over the bent metal.
“Shut up.” She took the spoon from him.
“Why are you doing this?” Cole gestured to her halffinished flowerbed.
“I don’t know.” She sat back on her bottom and curled her
knees to her chest. “I ran into Maisy Markey in town.”
“Say no more.” Cole rolled his eyes. “Now I understand.”
Angela laughed. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the
yellow envelope in his hand.
“From Mr. Bradley. He brought over some papers for me
to sign and asked me to give these to you. They’re documents,
family paperwork…that sort of thing. They were found in a
nightstand that sold in Henry’s estate sale.” Cole paused
thoughtfully. “You don’t have to take it. I can keep it for you.”
“I doubt there’s anything in here that I haven’t seen a
thousand times already.” Angela brushed the worst of the dirt
from her hands. She took the envelope from him and lifted the
flap.
She sifted through the contents and found what looked like
a diary, and then the usual family documents: birth and death
certificates, school records and the like. Angela stopped and
solemnly examined her mother’s death certificate. When Cole
asked her what it was, she turned it to him so he could see. Cause of death: complications from osteosarcoma. Bone cancer.
“Just usual family paperwork,” she said. She was about to
put it – and the memories – away, but then she pulled out a
thickly folded pack of papers. The date at the top sucked the
breath out of her. She dropped the envelope and the rest of
the documents to the ground, focusing on the papers in her
hands.
“What is that?” Cole scooped up the envelope and the
fallen documents.
“My medical records…from that night. He kept them.”
Seven
    Cole ushered her into the house. She was like a rag doll,
her face frozen and expressionless, and her arms limp at her
sides. He urged her to sit on the couch and then went to the
kitchen to get her a glass of water.
    “I’m fine,” she said when he returned with the water, but
she didn’t look at him, and she hadn’t moved a muscle since
he set her on the couch.
    He sat beside her and