Inglath Cooper - A Gift Of Grace

They both went back to sleep then, waking with the sunlight. Grace popped up and immediately began bouncing on the mattress. “Today’s my birthday, Mama!”

“It certainly is,” Sophie said, smiling.

“How many hours till the party?”

Sophie propped up on one elbow to look at the alarm clock. “Five.”

Grace held up a hand, five fingers splayed. “This many?”

“That many.”

They got out of bed, Grace too excited to stay still another minute. They had breakfast in their pajamas, after which Grace stood on a stool at the kitchen island and helped Sophie put icing on the sugar cookies they had baked the night before. They used green, yellow and blue, and Grace made sure each cookie had plenty. The icing was the best part, she said.

Once the cookies were done, they made punch with lime sherbet and ginger ale, then put it in the refrigerator to stay cold. After giving Grace a bath, Sophie took a quick shower and dried her hair.

The doorbell rang at ten-thirty. She looked out the window and spotted Darcy Clemen’s minivan in the driveway. The two of them had started at the university around the same time as assistant professors. They’d become fast friends, a connection between them that defied Sophie’s normal tendency to keep people at a distance.

Darcy and her two daughters, seven-year-old Marina and five-year-old Lauren, stood at the front door.

Sophie opened the upstairs window and called, “Come in. The door’s open. I’ll be right there.”

Grace bounded out of the bedroom and down the stairs to meet them.

“Take your time,” Darcy yelled back. “I’ll corral the girls in the kitchen.”

Five minutes later, she found the foursome in the kitchen admiring the birthday cake.

Darcy looked up and smiled. “Wow. It’s spectacular.”

“Thanks,” Sophie said, proud of it. Shaped like a barn, the cake even had Dutch doors and miniature horses sticking their heads out.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I actually took a cake-decorating class the summer after my divorce. I made a lot of cakes.”

“I’m impressed.”

Sophie gave Marina and Lauren a hug, chastised them for yet another growth spurt. “You girls are going to be taller than your mama pretty soon.”

They both smiled.

On the street in front of the house, a truck slowed to a stop. Grace ran to the living-room window. “Mama, they’re here!” she called back. “The donkeys are here!”

The truck and trailer were bright red and yellow, Ben’s Barnyard Adventures painted on the sides. A weathered-looking older man got out. He wore a big cowboy hat, which he tipped in their direction. “Morning,” he said. “One of you Dr. Owens?”

Sophie stepped forward to shake his hand. “I’m Sophie Owens.”

“Ben Crawford.”

“Thank you for coming. This is my daughter, Grace, and our friends Darcy, Marina and Lauren.”

“Morning, ladies,” he said.

“Are the donkeys in there?” Grace asked, pointing at the trailer.

“Sure are,” Mr. Crawford said, smiling. “Munchin’ on hay.”

“Can they get out now?”

“I don’t see why not.” He looked at Sophie. “Where do you want us, ma’am?”

“Everything is set up in the backyard. “

He got in the truck and pulled around to the back of the house. They followed, Grace squeezing Sophie’s hand tight, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

A few minutes later, Mr. Crawford lowered the tailgate and led the two miniature donkeys out.

“This is Oscar in the red halter, Lulu in the blue,” he said.

Grace reached out and rubbed Lulu’s neck. “She’s so soft.”

The little donkey nuzzled Grace’s hand. She squealed with delight.

“Here,” Mr. Crawford said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a couple of sugar cubes. “You can give them one of these.” He showed Grace how to hold her hand out flat with the sugar in the palm so they wouldn’t accidentally nibble her fingers.

Grace was in love. Mr. Crawford hooked the donkey’s lead ropes to the shaded side of the trailer and asked if she would like to brush them. Grace nodded, and he put a soft brush in her hand, showing her how to stroke in the direction the hair grew.

“I don’t think you could have gotten her a better present,” Darcy said.

“She loves animals,” Sophie said, telling Darcy about the yellow Lab at Tucker Farm Supply.

“You lugged all that hay out here? You should have called. I could have helped.”

“Actually, the man who owns the store brought it out. Caleb Tucker.”

Darcy looked surprised. “Is he the dark-haired guy I’ve seen in there? Tall? Good-looking?”

Sophie lifted a shoulder, reaching for nonchalance. “Probably.”

Darcy eyed Sophie intently. “Is that a blush in your cheeks?”

“Don’t even go there,” Sophie admonished.

Darcy laughed. “I think you already have.”

Sophie headed for the kitchen. Darcy followed. “Not so fast,” she said.

“What?” Sophie pulled Saran wrap from platters of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches carved in various shapes with the aid of cookie cutters.

“I saw that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” Sophie said with a laugh.

“That I-think-he’s-hot look.”

“Even if I did, I assure you he barely noticed me.”

“Sophie, you’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Realistic,” she corrected with a tip of her head. “Plain Jane and Charlottesville’s answer to Kevin Costner. I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes I wonder who you see when you look in the mirror.”

Sophie managed to avoid an answer, heading outside to set the food on the picnic table beneath the tall oak at the corner of the yard. As she struggled to reposition a couple bales of hay, Sophie couldn’t help wondering how Caleb Tucker had managed to carry two of them at a time.

Cars began pulling into the driveway, and the backyard was soon abuzz with three-and four-year-olds, all equally awed by Grace’s birthday donkeys. Mr. Crawford had the ease of manner to get everyone lined up for a turn around the yard.

The back door opened. Sophie glanced up. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Roy walked over, Ruby with her usual take-charge manner and Roy looking unsure of his welcome. Taller than her husband by several inches, Ruby had always been the clear leader between the two, Roy the kind of man who preferred peace to conflict and usually did whatever it took to achieve it.

“Hello,” Sophie said, shooting a protective glance toward Grace.

“Sophie,” Aunt Ruby said, nodding once, her lined face stern, her gray hair pulled back in the same severe bun she’d worn since Sophie was a child.

Sophie hugged them both, Ruby’s posture stiff and unyielding. Roy hugged her back though and gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. She was shocked by how much older they both looked, Roy’s once-black hair now nearly white.

“You look good, Sophie,” he said.

“Thanks, Uncle Roy.”

Darcy stepped forward just then and said, “You must be Sophie’s aunt and uncle. I’m Darcy Clemens. Nice to meet you.”

“Who knew Sophie had so many friends?” Ruby said to Roy as if Sophie and Darcy weren’t standing there.

Darcy’s eyes widened. She started to say something, but Sophie shook her head. Darcy pressed her lips together.

“Could I get you something to drink?” Sophie asked.

“Just point us in the right direction. We can help ourselves. And where’s that little Grace?”

“She’s on the white donkey,” Sophie said, folding her arms across her chest and forcing politeness into her response.

“My goodness. Pretty little thing, isn’t she? She doesn’t look a bit like you.”

Ruby marched toward the food table then, Roy following with downcast eyes.