Grace

Part 1: Old Made New

We could shake our fists

In times like this

When we don’t understand

Or we could just hold hands

—Nichole Nordeman and Amy Grant,

I’m With You

Chapter 1

The headlights of Shiloh’s red Ford Taurus cut through the early morning darkness as her lone car pulled into the familiar parking lot of Delilah’s Café for a breakfast meeting with her friend. She was happy to make the meeting despite the early hour. The radio jumped from white noise to voices to commercials as she twirled the knob, trying to find her old stations. This morning sure beat the early mornings and late nights she worked trying to catch up on her caseload. Her seniority of thirteen years at the Jackson County Probation Department gave her some measure of security, but the recession had cut 25 percent of the department, which left an already lean staff at its breaking point. She pushed thoughts of work out of her mind. She planned on enjoying a morning of denial and no casework.

Her last visit home, two months earlier, had been occupied with doctor’s visits and helping Grammy with Poppy. It had been over a year since her schedule had allowed a meeting with Grace—definitely too long for these two old friends.

Don’t make it all about you. Don’t make it all about you, she reminded herself.

Sounds of metal scraping pavement jarred her from her self-talk as her car’s left tire well slammed into one of the many potholes. As she attempted to maneuver through the maze of disrepair, she was hit with a new awareness.

What the—? She spoke her confusion to the deaf morning air, eyeing the once-familiar building. Was she in the right place? The parking lot was in the same crappy shape, but as she peered through the eight-inch opening of windshield that had defrosted on the trip over from the other side of town, a different reality greeted her.

Rubbing her eyes, she crept out of the tempting warmth of the recently heated interior of her car, braving the darkness of the chilly morning to investigate. She was surprised and stunned as she approached the building housing the two friends’ usual meeting place for the last twenty years. The last year had completely transformed Delilah’s Café. Gone was the old façade of peeling paint on wood. In its place was a charming red brick exterior, complemented by large inviting windows with Delilah’s name etched across the top. Below that, old English script listed several of the locally famous delicacies along with some new ones: Fresh-Brewed Coffee, Sourdough Pancakes, Gluten-Free Muffins, Fresh Berries, Smoothies, 99% Local/100% Homemade. The etchings only skimmed the surface of what this place offered.

Beyond the windows, which were still not fully illuminated, she could see the interior was also new. Multicolored plush chairs, lovely oak tables, and numerous groupings of tables and chairs replaced the old, dark wood booths. Each dining set was unique, with bright colors and eclectic patterns, inviting comfort and individuality.

Not bad, Shiloh confessed, her breath fogging over the etching of the windows.

She silently thanked God they hadn’t gotten rid of the bar. The bar offered single seating across the entire back of the café. Beyond that, the café opened to a highly polished, stainless steel cooking area where you could watch your choices being created. The most recent past found her frequenting those single spots up at the bar more often than before. A twinge of past pain threatened to creep back in, but like so many times before, she pushed those memories of Jesse out of her mind.

As the café’s lights fired up and the beginning hopes of sunlight edged off the darkness of the crisp March morning, Shiloh turned and smiled. She pulled the warmth and softness of her cashmere scarf over her mouth as she stood in the darkness of 5:54 a.m. Her meeting with Grace was set for 6:30, but she was too excited to stay in bed back at the house.

It’s good to be back home, she thought. A sigh escaped as her thoughts dipped toward the gravity of the news awaiting her later. She needed to absorb life’s good things to strengthen for what lay ahead. A visit with Grace always left her recharged.

Why have we waited so long? she wondered.

Memories of past visits here with Grace flashed through her mind like fireflies.

Interrupting her thoughts were the sounds of a latch clicking behind her and the sight of an increasing number of headlights cutting through the darkness of the small parking area. Shiloh’s sighs turned to laughter at hearing the numerous sounds of metal on pavement. It’s still worth it, she mused, entering the café and situating herself in the comfort of one of the new couches in the small waiting area that would soon be full and cramped.

Awaiting Grace’s 6:30 arrival, Shiloh remained bundled against the swooshes of incoming drafts announcing each group’s arrival. She delayed her desire for an immediate coffee infusion and took the time to mull over the conversation that lay ahead. She shivered at the thought. How were they going to break it to Poppy? Hospice. It sounded so final, so hopeless.

Chapter 2

Grace approached the café early. Knowing Shiloh would already be there, and not wanting to disappoint her with an on-time arrival, she had snuck out of bed before either of the kids awoke and left a note for her husband, James: Meeting Shi for b/fast—lunches in fridge—pink for Sadie—blue for Christopher—red for you. She added, See you at clinic this p.m. Don’t forget the plans! She hesitated and then signed it XO.

Before heading out, she walked over to her nine-year-old black lab’s kennel. Noticing the food and water untouched, she unlatched the kennel door, bent down, and whispered, Gabriel, I promise to take you to the clinic tomorrow, okay? His ears twitched in recognition. She leaned into the kennel and stroked his coarse winter coat. Curled up, Gabriel lifted his sleepy head and nuzzled his graying nose into Grace’s hand as she examined him. Scratching him under his chin, she said, Good boy. Tomorrow, I promise. He licked her hand—a sandpaper kiss of guilt to Grace. He returned his head to his paws and closed his sleepy eyes.

Walking alongside the etched windows of the café, Grace studied the back bar for a sign of Shiloh’s long, straight black hair and slender frame. Knowing her penchant for self-punishment, she figured she would find her sitting solo in one of the singles’ spots. Face lowered into her woolen scarf, Grace’s brown eyes, almond-shaped like Japanese anime, scanned the eatery. Right inside the front door, she located her friend’s face and her unmistakable blue eyes as she entered the eatery. Her blue eyes reminded Grace of the translucence of the thinnest layer of ice at the edge of the thaw; the lightness was even more accentuated by the darkness of her hair. Like the relief of a breathy exhale, the vacuum pull of Grace opening the door startled Shiloh out of deep thought. The blue of her eyes deepened, and her creased forehead disappeared; a smile erupted across her face. She jumped up to greet Grace.

G! Shiloh’s arms opened wide for her friend. Holy crap, it’s great to see you!

Shi!—you look … Their voices were muffled by the old friends hugging over down coats. They separated and gave each other the arm’s-length once-over.

You look great, they exclaimed in tandem. The two women’s laughter echoed through the atrium of the café.

Cognizant of the growing crowd around them and of the hostess looking on, the women made their way to their table. Safe in the warmth of the bustling breakfast spot, the two began untwirling their scarves and loosening their jackets, both lost in thoughts of what had transpired for each of them since they last met. As they made their way across the café, both women were oblivious to the approving stares and side-glances of several of the businessmen. When they reached a dark wooden table hugged by two plush purple chairs, they scooted their seats closer, arranging their outerwear on the chair backs. And as tradition held, both set their BlackBerrys on the table.

You losing weight again? Grace always noticed Shiloh’s skinniness. With Grace’s already naturally bodacious figure and her on-going battle to lose those twenty stubborn pounds from her last pregnancy, she wondered if Shiloh ever ate.

I call it the Skittles diet! Shiloh laughed. Her hectic days dictated a diet that often consisted of coffee, Skittles, and whatever else the probation department’s vending machine offered. There just isn’t a Delilah’s in Medford. She deflected her friend’s worried glances. I’ll make up for it today. You have time for breakfast, right?

Shiloh had distanced herself from Grace’s type of life back home. As if trying to earn an imaginary bravery badge, after graduating college Shiloh had moved to Medford, where events had carved out a dark pit in her soul forever. She tried to make a difference there. When self-pity or discouragement set in with her plight, she would hear Grace’s voice echo in her thoughts. Be strong and courageous, Grace had reminded Shiloh on the day she moved to Medford. Time and distance from her friend had not dulled the effect of Grace’s words. Her encouragement and belief in her were what Shiloh turned to during many a dark time. You are beloved, Shi. Grace’s tender words were tucked in her heart.

When her schedule overwhelmed her, Shiloh would think of Grace: running her own veterinary clinic (locals called her the pet whisperer), being a wife to the town hero, being mother to two active young children, and still finding time to be active in the community and the same church she’d attended in high school. Topping it off, Shiloh knew Grace still played mediator between her divorced parents.

Breakfast! You’re joking, right? Grace perceived the burdens weighing on Shiloh. Reaching out, she touched the forearm of her longtime friend. You’re my one true friend! You come home and make time for a visit with me. I always have time for you. How’s your Poppy?

Grace’s hand covered Shiloh’s forearm. The warmth of her surrounded Shiloh’s arm while her thumb rubbed the underbelly of her arm. Shiloh’s heartbeat hummed through her arm, connecting skin to skin with Grace’s pulse.

Grace’s compassion transmitted to Shiloh like a pulsar.

The touch, Shiloh thought. This is why we reconnect so easily no matter how much time goes by. My friend has great bedside manner.

Shiloh took in a deep breath. He’s still so positive, but it’s bad, G. Her crystal gaze wandered for a split second and then snapped back, meeting the concern in Grace’s oversized brown eyes.

Not all about me, not all about me, she reminded herself. How do you do it? Shiloh shook her head. My schedule’s full, but I don’t play all the auxiliary parts that you do!

"Pssht. Grace waved away Shiloh’s question with a swat of her hand, Me later; I wanna hear about your life! I live vicariously through the excitement of your life! How’s the big city treating you?"

They both laughed at the idea of big city. After attending college together, Shiloh had moved to the big city of Medford, Oregon. Medford’s population easily quadrupled that of their hometown of Grants