A Touch of Grace

"Miss Claire!" Grace, all bundled up in warm clothing, rushed at her, put her arms around her hips. Claire picked her up, kissed her cheeks. She seemed paler now, skinnier as well.

"How're you?" She asked, walking in and motioning Bryan to enter. She saw his smile as he shut the door.

"Good. I missed you so much." Grace put her arms around her neck, keeping her head on her shoulder. "Look daddy! Kitty!"

She scrambled down Claire's arms and walked up to the sofa, where Brownie was sleeping. Grace sat beside her, began stroking her fur.

"You have a cat?" Bryan asked, taking off his coat.

"She's my brother's," Claire smiled, watched Brownie look up sleepily and then go back to sleep. "Very lazy."

"So I see." He leaned in for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against hers. "You look great."

"Thank you," she smiled shyly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She had taken time to dress up that day, carefully choosing the silk skirt and lace blouse, then doing up her hair. "You look good too."

"Of course I do. I've come to dine with you, after all." He laughed, and they kissed again. "Oh, these are for you." He handed her the bunch of roses he'd got.

"Thank you. They are lovely," she smiled, catching his eyes. "You have great taste."

"I know. Why else did I choose you?" he chuckled, leaning in for a kiss again. Claire looked at Grace, found Brownie on her lap now. She laughed.

"Grace, guess what I've got for you?" she said, going up to her. She removed Brownie from her lap, put her down on the centre table, and then took Grace in her arms.

"What?" Grace asked, curious. "Daddy said we're here for dinner."

"You are. But before that I've got something for you." She reached for the brown paper bag she had on the small sofa. "This is for you. Open it."

Grace loved getting gifts. Not surprisingly, she looked delighted as she dipped her hands in and pulled out a box. Her face lit up when she saw the picture of airplanes on the box.

"It's an airplane making kit," Claire explained, helping her open the box and take out the contents. Grace smiled brightly, then coughed. Claire's smile disappeared.

"She's still coughing," she said to Bryan, who was stroking Brownie's fur. He nodded.

"It takes time," he said. "She isn't given strong medicines so she heals slow."

"Oh." She cuddled Grace, kissed her hair. "It's your dinner time, right?" she said to her. "Would you like to eat now?"

Grace nodded absently, too busy with her new gift to talk. She put her down on the sofa, proceeded to head to the kitchen.

"I'll help you," Bryan said, also getting up. Once they were inside the kitchen, Bryan pulled her close, kissing her again.

"Grace is right there," she giggled, putting her arms around him. Bryan nibbled on her earlobe, kissing the skin below her ear. "Let me go, please," she whispered. "Bryan!"

"Okay, okay." He let go, pecking her lips. "I missed you."

"Me too." She stood on tiptoe, kissing his nose. "Grace has become so pale. Has she been eating alright?"

"More or less. She cannot eat a lot, you know. Not that she's fussy or anything, just a small eater." He sighed, glanced to see what Grace was doing. She was playing with Brownie again. "Her frail heart doesn't allow her to do much, whether it's eat or play or talk. I...I don't know..."

"Bryan." She moved closer, hugged him tight. "It'll be okay. Please...please don't be stressed. I feel so helpless when you-the strong, brave daddy-are so stressed..."

"I'm fine," he nodded, barked out a laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess in here," he tapped his temple with a finger. Claire felt his arms coming around her, and she closed her eyes, cherishing the warmth.

"I'll serve dinner," she announced after a while, pulling away. "Will you wash her hands, please? She's been stroking Brownie."

"Yeah. Right." He nodded and walked out of the kitchen. "Come on, Grace. Let's wash our hands."

Claire smiled as she served the spaghetti bolognese, salad, and garlic bread on to the plates, having missed the closeness. But then she reminded herself that she never had that kind of closeness with any of her exes. Of course, none of them were father to a child like Grace, or had much sense of responsibility or commitment, or any idea what true affection was all about. They weren't like Bryan at all.

"Dinner's ready," she announced, appearing at the table with two plates of food. Bryan seated Grace on a chair, then went into the kitchen to bring the rest of the plates. "Who loves spaghetti?"

"Me." Grace raised a hand, her face delighted, as if the surprises wouldn't end that day. "Daddy likes it too."

"Oh, does he?" She smiled at Bryan when he reappeared with the plates. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do," he smiled back, surreptitiously patting her bum while walking past her. "This happens to be my favourite," he whispered, pointing at the plate of spaghetti bolognese.

"Really? Like father, like daughter, huh?"

"Quite so." He finished serving the salad and the spaghetti, and then held the chair for her. "Please."

"Thank you." She smiled, feeling nervous excitement creeping up on her. "Umm...I wasn't sure how much she can eat so I've given her a small helping," she said to him. "Is it okay?"

"It's fine," he nodded, stroked Grace's hair. "Can you eat all of that, sweetheart?"

Grace nodded her head to a side, already digging in. She gushed about the lights she'd seen the other day while out with her uncle, told her all about the children's shows she watched on TV, her favourite characters and their signature songs and dances, and then she shifted to talking about airplanes. Claire noticed Bryan's appreciative gaze on her as she bonded with Grace, amused and interested, asking her relevant questions and recounting episodes from her own childhood. When in the mood, Grace was totally adorable with her sweet words and innocent demeanour. It only made Claire's heart ache every time Grace coughed during the meal, and she and Bryan took turns at giving her water, stroking her back.

Grace ate a little, then pushed the plate away and said she was full. Bryan ate her leftovers, wiped her mouth with the napkin. By eight, Grace was yawning. She had played with her toy, with Brownie, had chattered about random things, asked questions about the new house. Claire watched Bryan give her her medicines which he had brought along, probably because he was planning to stay the night. The thought made Claire smile quietly to herself.

"You can send her to sleep in the other room," she said to him when he came into the kitchen. "When does she usually go to bed?"

"Seven-thirty. After a story or two, she falls asleep at around eight." He cupped her face with one hand, pulled her close to kiss her. "Want us to stay over?"

"I thought that's the plan?" she raised an eyebrow. He laughed.

"Dinner was great. Thank you." He hugged her, folded his arms across her slender body. "You cook well. I wonder how many talents of yours I'm still left to see."

"Please." She giggled, twisting her fingers in his hair. "I really wanted to have you and Grace over. You don't know how much tonight meant to me."

"I do. I saw it on your face." He looked down at her, kissed her nose. "I'll put Grace to bed. She's sleepy."

Claire looked over at the living room, where Grace was playing with her toy, Brownie by her side, occasionally rubbing her eyes and yawning. She nodded at Bryan, who went into the living room and asked Grace to put the toy away for the night. She asked if they were staying there that night and he replied they were. Grace didn't look affected by that. Staying with her grandparents often had made her used to staying at places other than home.

Claire watched Bryan settle her in his arms, her head on his shoulder. He cradled her, hummed a tune, stroked her hair. Grace's eyes were closed, her breathing falling into a rhythm as she started to drift off. Bryan looked at Claire, smiled affectionately. She liked that man. His touch, his taste, his gaze, his smell.... She'd never thought that her love for little children would bring her to a man who was in no way perfect, but seemed to fit into her life like that missing piece of jigsaw puzzle. But she had lived her life long enough to know that it wasn't important to be perfect. It was just important to be right for each other. And Bryan was as right as it could possibly be.

"Bryan?" She whispered, gently touching his shoulder. Grace was asleep under the covers, her chest rising and falling, hands folded on her belly. Bryan rose from bed, smiled at her, then stared at his daughter.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked. He nodded, looking tired.

"Can I have some coffee?" he asked, holding her hands in his.

"Yes, you can, but..." she moved closer until their bodies were touching. "What's the matter? You look kind of...lost."

"I'm okay, Claire." He held her close, forced a smile. Then he saw the look on her face, like she wasn't letting this go. "Okay, there's something," he finally said. "Get us the coffee and I'll tell you."

Claire nodded, heading for the kitchen. Bryan followed, stood next to her in the kitchen, watching her quietly with a fond smile on his lips. Then he suddenly leaned in and kissed her, prying open her mouth with his, dipping his tongue in. Claire held the edge of the counter to keep her balance, the other hand clutching his jumper. The sound of their kiss in the quiet kitchen was beyond erotic.

"Tell me what's wrong," Claire murmured, stroking his chest through the jumper. Bryan shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong, really," he said. "Just...I spoke to Grace's doctor today."

"About what?"

Bryan sighed, proceeded to pour the coffee. He handed her a cup, then held her hand and led her back to the living room.

"We were speaking about her transplant," he continued when they were seated on the sofa. Brownie was poking at Grace's toy, deciding on her next course of action. "They still haven't found a donor."

"Since when are you trying?"

"More than a year. There are very few child heart transplants around, and even when they do find a donor, it doesn't match." He closed his eyes, dropped his head back. Claire snuggled closer, gently touched his arm. Bryan absently wrapped an arm around her, fingers stroking her upper arm.

"I wish I could do something," she said softly, keeping her head against his chest. "Have you looked at other hospitals? In other states?"

"Yes. We're in talks with five or six hospitals. Wherever we find a donor, we'll go." He looked up, dropped a kiss on to her hair. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "It's usually quiet after Grace goes to bed."

"I know. It's quiet here as well, so I play music, keep the TV turned on, or keep Brownie back with me." She sipped her coffee, reminded him of his. "How's work?"

"Good. We're opening another showroom, hiring people now." He laughed around his coffee, making Claire look up.

"What?"

"I hated wood work back in school," he chuckled. "I never wanted to be in this business. Not that I hated it or anything, but...I didn't think it was my thing."

"What did you study?"

"Finance. I used to work at Barclay's after uni."

Claire's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "I saved a lot of money for the first few years, then quit my job to set out globetrotting." He sighed, then smiled wistfully. "After Grace came, I didn't have the chance to look for another job. So dad suggested I join the business. I started managing the finance department since then."

"Good for you. Part of such a big business that's your own."

"Yeah." He drank his coffee, his arm squeezing her gently. "You...you're seriously okay with my past?"

"It's fine, Bryan," she touched his knee. "Things happen. We aren't proud of everything that we do, but there's no use pondering over it."

"I used to be a reckless, irresponsible idiot," he said bitterly. "If not for Grace, I'd still be the same."

"No, people change with age. Men take time to mature." She reached up to kiss his cheek. "You're being hard on yourself."

"I feel guilty and frustrated about being unable to do something about her condition, about her fingers, about her not being able to do the things other kids do..." He shook his head firmly, drank down the coffee. "I'm sorry. I told you I'm a big bore."

"You're fine." She put an arm around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. "Sleep with me?"

"I don't need an invite," he chuckled, nuzzling her neck. "Get some blankets. I want to be right here by the fire with you."

"Romantic," she giggled.

"I try." He kissed her, and she giggled again when she tasted coffee. She pulled away, rising from the sofa to head into her bedroom, from where she fetched a couple of blankets and pillows. On the way out, she peeked into Grace's room. She was fast asleep, all warm and cosy.

"Come here," Bryan had put the cups away, was already on the rug in front of the fire, extending a hand out to her. Claire put the blankets and pillow down, then snuggled close to him. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept in front of the fire. Not since that high school camping trip where she spent the night by the bonfire chatting with the cute guy she had a crush on.

As they settled under the blankets and started to kiss, they noticed Brownie watching them from the corner of the table, her eyes narrowed on them. Bryan laughed as Claire tried to shoo her away.

"After all that noisy sex at home, I thought she's used to seeing people like this." She laughed, watching Brownie start playing with a cushion. Bryan undressed her, kissing her softly, their bodies melting into each other's. They were prepared that night; one, twice, thrice...they lost count of the number of times they made love, their kisses swallowing the sounds. Then they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the fire and the warmth of their skin keeping them cosy.

*

"It's fine, Pauline. You're building a nursery, not deciding the economic policy of the country!"

"It's not fine!" The voice on the other end of the phone screeched, making Claire flinch. "We don't have much time and we're still not sure if it's green or orange or brown!"

Claire looked over at the hall, where rows of kids were drawing, sketching, and painting. Grace was there that day, and she could see the firm determination on her face as she went about her drawing.

"Claire?" Pauline said, her tone almost pleading. "Do something."

"It's your baby," she said. "Aren't you supposed to decide?"

"Yes, but we're confused. There are so many options... It's like a sea. You're familiar with these things...colours, drapes, decor. If you don't help, we'll never be able to choose."

Claire laughed softly, her eyes on the kids. Peter and Pauline had never been so indecisive, ever. The baby was less than five months away, and they were yet to decide which room to turn into a nursery, what colour it would be, and if they wanted a Moses basket or a fancy crib. And then there was the constant debate over names... Claire was sure Pauline carried entire books of names in her brain, from the way she recalled difficult names from the top of her head and explained their meanings.

"Okay. I'll come over this evening," she finally relented. Grace looked up from her drawing, caught her eye, waved vigorously with a smile. Claire waved back, her heart overflowing with affection. "Have you got pictures and stuff for inspiration?"

"Yeah, yeah, we do." Pauline sounded tired already. "I never thought this would be so hard. I guess we're just getting stressed..."

"Don't be. It's your bundle of joy, not your bundle of stress. Oh, by the way, when do you find out what you're having?"

"We don't want to find out." There was a low giggle on the other end. "Peter and I thought it'd be a nice surprise to know upon birth... You know, when the baby arrives and the doctor announces 'it's a girl' or 'it's a boy'... We want that moment."

"Oh." It would only make designing the nursery even harder, but never mind. It would indeed be a nice surprise. "I'll come over this evening, then. The three of us can sit together and decide, okay?"

"You saved us, Claire," Pauline smiled down the line. "This evening, then?"

"Yes. You take care."

"You too, dear."

Claire put the phone in the pocket of her cardigan, walked back to the hall. The painting contest had seen participation from almost all the kids of the institute. There was no actual competition here; all the pictures would be put up and every child rewarded. Grace had even brought her own colouring box for the occasion.

She did rounds of the hall with the other staff members, checked if any child was having difficulty. She glanced over and found Grace drawing an airplane, just like the ones she had seen during her travels. She smiled, stroked her hair, and went over to the visually challenged kids who had been given pages with puffy lines painted on to them so the kids could feel where the lines were and where to colour. Some of the parents were also there just in case their kids needed them.

Claire hadn't seen Bryan that day. His brother had come to drop Grace but she wasn't sure who'd pick her up. Rory looked a lot like Bryan except he was leaner. He seemed to have heard a lot about her from the way he smiled and spoke to her that morning, said Bryan was training a few new hires at the store that day and would be busy.

She missed him, even though they had only met the previous day. Bryan had indeed said he'd be busy that week but hadn't mentioned anything about not being able to drop Grace.

At noon, when the event gave over, Claire collected all the drawings and submitted them. She quickly glanced at Grace's drawing, saw an aerial view of an airplane, with six passengers marked 'me', 'daddy', 'grandma', 'grandpa', 'uncle Rory', and...Miss Claire. She looked over at Grace, found a young volunteer engaging her and a few other kids in conversation. Grace was nodding and smiling, as were the other kids.

As the other children started to go home with their parents, Claire sat with Grace, asked her if she was hungry. She shook her head.

"Is daddy here?" she asked, sitting in her lap. She started to put the crayons inside the box, her small fingers able to hold only one crayon at a time. Claire watched her clubbed fingers, remembered how Bryan still felt guilty about being unable to do something about them. Like she did often, she'd taken her to the toilet that day, and while fixing her dress, she'd had a peek at her chest. The scars were scary. Claire didn't know what she'd do if she had to see it every day. It wasn't just the skin. The incision had penetrated through muscles and bones to reach her heart. She hugged Grace, feeling incredibly lucky to know such a brave little girl.

"I think daddy is busy." She helped her zip up her small elephant bag. "Is your uncle coming to get you?"

"I don't know." She hopped down from her lap, went over to the window. "Look! That's grandpa's car."

Claire went over to the window, saw a silver sedan stopping in front of the building. Then a grey-haired man got off, spoke to the guard. He resembled Bryan a lot― tall, big, strong. Grace looked up at her, tugged at her hand.

"Let's go." Claire smiled, picked up her bag, and held her hand. On their way out, she was told that Grace's grandfather was waiting for her. When they reached the front lawn, Grace waved at her grandpa.

"There's my angel." The man kneeled, engulfed her in a hug. "How was the drawing? Did you enjoy?"

Grace nodded with a broad smile, playing with the big bow on her dress. The man rose, looked at Claire.

"You must be Claire?" He asked. She nodded.

"Claire McFadden." She reached out a hand. The man smiled, shook her hand.

"Have heard a lot about you," he said. "I'm Harold. Bryan's dad."