Disgrace

Now, he was merely a ghost of the man I used to look up to.

He hadn’t a clue of the events from the night before. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Though, if he found out a Harris was who saved him from himself, he’d probably take another sledgehammer to the pews.

Our family didn’t take handouts.

Especially from the likes of them.

Except maybe she saved him last night. If she hadn’t been there to walk him home, to watch over him, who knew what would’ve happened.

My mind was conflicted, blurred, and I wasn’t sure how to make it clear.

I not only had so much hate for Grace Harris and everything she stood for, but an overwhelming amount of gratitude also.

How could that be? How could I hate and be thankful all at once?

I didn’t know how to feel, so I chose to feel nothing at all and headed back to work. My job was the only thing I had control over, and at that moment, I felt as if I needed some form of control.

Yet even as I worked, the sight of her eyes crossed my mind every other minute. Those stupid, wide-eyed doe eyes that looked so full of kindness.

I wished she didn’t look so kind.

My mind was split in two as I thought about Grace. Part of me was so thankful for her help. I wanted to believe in the kindness that she showed me and trust that she did it from the goodness of her heart. Yet another part of me wished she hadn’t helped my father because that felt like some kind of leverage to me. That she had something over us somehow. That we were some kind of charity case to her. I didn’t want that at all, so I’d make it my mission to pay her back somehow.

No matter what it took.

* * *

“Hey, Jackson, I got a call that I was supposed to come into the shop?” Grace said, walking in later that afternoon. “Is everything okay with the car?” As she walked up, Tucker rose from his dog bed and wandered over. He was slow and grumbled as he did it, but his tail wagged the whole time. He was committed to greeting every guest who came into the shop even though he was half blind and arthritis ravaged his body. He was in pain whenever he moved, but the idea of not giving someone a “hello” and a lick against the face seemed more painful to him than anything.

Grace welcomed his greeting, rubbing directly behind his ear as Tucker licked her face once, then sluggishly retreated to his bed. The vet had recently put him on new meds, and I worried they were making him too drowsy, but at least they were supposed to help his pain.

I cleared my throat and stood up from working under the hood of a truck. “Your car’s still a piece of shit. I still think Alex should junk it, but that’s not why I called you in.”

“Oh? What’s up?” She stood a bit taller. “Is your father all right?”

“Yes, well, no, not really, but as far as last night goes, he doesn’t remember it. But that is what this is about. About last night.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

I walked over to her and crossed my arms. “I don’t want to owe you.”

“What? What does that mean?” she asked, and I hated how her eyes were so wide. And beautiful. And kind.

Stop being so soft-spoken and kind.

“I don’t want to owe you anything for helping my father,” I told her matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” She somewhat laughed, and I hated the sound because it sounded gorgeous, and I needed her not to sound that way. “You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to help.”

“We don’t want your handout,” I told her.

She raised a brow and narrowed those eyes. “It wasn’t a handout. I was just helping him.”

“No, you must want something in return, and I don’t want you or your family to hold that over us.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but please know that you’re wrong. It wasn’t some kind of game—me helping your father. I didn’t want anything at all. I still don’t.”

I heard her words, but they were so hard to believe. I slid my hands into my jeans pockets, and my shoulders curved forward. “I don’t get it then.”

“Get what?”

“We’ve been awful to you…my father and I, and you still treated us with kindness. Why?”

“Jackson.” She sighed, her voice almost a whisper. Her eyes softened in a way I wished they hadn’t. She looked so genuinely concerned by my question, worried about my lack of understanding. “My father always taught me that you don’t only treat certain people well. You treat all people equally. With love, with respect, and understanding.”