Saving Grace

Grace looked up and down her quiet suburban street. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the little black book and thick envelope in her mailbox.

She gathered up the mail and hurried into the house. Placing the regular mail on the entry table, she closed the door and turned the envelope and book over in her hands. The envelope had her name scrawled across it, nothing else. She walked to the dining table and sat down.

The black book was small and leatherbound with an elastic strap holding the pages together. She’d seen a million like it before. Her breath came a little faster as she threaded the elastic over the edges of the book and opened it. A letter and a business card were tucked inside the front cover. She glanced at the business card, slipped it into her pocket, and read the letter.

Greetings,

I want to begin by saying I’m your biggest fan. I’ve read all your books and was upset to find you hadn’t written anything for a while. I also happened to notice that the year you got married was also the year you quit writing. I apologize for the intrusion into your private life, but I hired a private investigator to look into the matter. Please forgive me.

On that note, I have a business proposition for you. I am in need of more books like yours, and, if your husband is the brute he appears to be, you are in need of a rescue.

In the envelope, you will find the means to facilitate your rescue and the initiation of my sponsorship.

In the black book, you will find the descriptions of your daily life as reported by my PI over the course of several months. This is the only copy.

If you decide to stay, please put the cash back into your mailbox. If you decide to leave, call the number on the enclosed business card.

Good Luck,

Jethro

Grace’s mouth gaped open as she read the letter once more.

She picked up the book and turned to the first entry, it was from three months ago. It described a fight she and Cal had after dinner one night. The other entries were similar: fights, Cal yelling, and drinking. Someone knew how Cal treated her, how miserable she was. The familiar tears of guilt and shame pricked her eyes.

Cal hadn’t been that way when they were dating.

After the honeymoon things changed. First, it was a rude comment here and there, then he was flying into fits of rage almost daily. He would come home from work, drink, yell, and throw things.

She felt so trapped. She’d been contemplating running away for a long time but she had no money. They’d moved to a new city because Cal got a promotion. She was in a new place, didn’t know a soul, and felt incredibly isolated. They had one car that Cal took to work every morning and their groceries got delivered. There was no reason for her to ever leave the house.

Before getting married, Grace became a writer and published a few books. She never saw any money because Cal took care of finances in the marriage. She tried to write during her free time at home but the words just wouldn’t come. She cried herself to sleep most nights because of the hopelessness she felt. She wiped at her eyes angrily and reached for the yellow envelope.

Inside was a stack of money in various bills.

“Good lord,” she breathed. She’d never seen that much cash all at once. She counted it. “20 grand.”

Prying her eyes from the cash, Grace looked at the clock. Cal would be home in an hour and she still hadn’t started dinner. She had to hide the money before he got home.

Looking around the kitchen her gaze fell on the sideboard with their china dishes. They only opened that cabinet twice a year. She opened the bottom drawer and hid the money and book beneath the fabric tablecloths and napkins.

Grace began making dinner, her mind reeling with what to do. She would leave, definitely. But how? She could buy a car, but that would take up nearly all the money. She could get a plane ticket to anywhere, but then what? Did she wait for this mysterious Jethro to contact her? Who was he? Should she be worried?

She heard the front door opening and nearly jumped out of her skin. Stealing a glance toward the sideboard, she realized she hadn’t quite closed the drawer. She started toward it with plates and silverware to set the table.

Cal came through the kitchen door as Grace snapped the drawer closed with her foot and began setting the table.

“Hi honey, how was work?” She said, trying to sound casual. Had he seen her close the drawer?

“Same shit, different day, please tell me you didn’t make green pepper casserole,” Cal sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

“I made stuffed bell peppers,” she said. “I could make you a sandwich instead.”

“Stuffed bell peppers are fine, I just really hate your casserole and it smelled the same,” Cal said. He went down the hall loosening his tie, heading for the shower.

After dinner, Grace stayed in the kitchen to clean up. Cal came in and went right to the liquor bottles on top of the sideboard and picked up the whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and poured himself a drink. As he put the cap back on, he fumbled it. He watched as it fell to the floor and rolled under the sideboard. Graze froze. He bent to retrieve it, disappearing from her view.

“What the fuck is this?” Cal stood up and shook the book and envelope in his hand. Grace’s eyes widened. The letter fell out and Cal picked it up and glanced over it.

“I-I don’t know, it came in the mail,” she stammered.

“Who the hell is Jethro? Are you cheating on me? Why is he sending you money?!” Cal shouted. He started toward her.

“He likes my work, my b-books, he wants me to keep writing,” Grace said, backing up slowly.

“He wants you to leave me too?!” Cal yelled. Grace shrank back into the corner of the dining room. Cal towered over her.

“N-no, I just want to keep writing. I was going to tell you about it after dinner,” Grace stuttered. Cal threw the book and money at the wall. Grace flinched and cowered lower.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?!” Cal reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her to her feet and shook her hard. “You think I’m stupid?!” Cal roared, spittle flying. “You’re not going anywhere!”

Cal forced her into a dining room chair. “Don’t fucking move,” he said. Terrified, she watched as he went into the garage and rummaged around. She thought about bolting out the backdoor, but he’d catch her in an instant.

Cal came back with a roll of duct tape and began taping her to the chair.

“Cal, please, don’t do this, I’m not leaving,” Grace pleaded.

“Shut up,” Cal said and continued taping. Once he finished he went to the sideboard, poured a drink, knocked it back, and poured another. Cal walked around the other end of the table, bottle in hand, scooped up the book and money, and sat down.

He began reading from the book, taking swigs between rants. He read aloud a few passages to her and yell about an old fight before moving on. The minutes crawled by. Grace’s limbs were beginning to tingle. It felt like hours went by.

Finally, he got tired of reading. He stood up and tossed the book on the table in disgust. Taking the bottle, he stumbled over and collapsed onto the couch. Soon she heard faint snoring.

Grace’s heart fluttered a little. She looked around for something sharp. There was nothing nearby, but she could see the knife block on the counter. If she used her feet, she could just move the chair. She scraped the chair toward the kitchen and paused, listening.

Slowly she inched her way into the kitchen, pausing every few feet to listen. Finally, she reached the counter with the knife block. But she couldn’t reach it, her arms were taped down to her elbows. She cursed softly in frustration, hot tears stinging her eyes.

She looked around frantically and spotted the silverware drawer. She could just barely reach the knob. Her sweaty hands kept slipping. She finally got it open and wrenched the tray up and strained to reach a butter knife.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled the knife from the drawer, turned it around, and began sawing at the tape holding her upper body to the back of the chair.

It took forever. Once she freed her upper body, she bent forward to cut the tape around her ankles when the knife slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. Grace froze. Her heart thundering in her ears, she heard Cal stir.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she said as she grabbed the knife and frantically sawed through the tape on one leg. She heard the couch creak as Cal got up. She cut through the tape on the other ankle and stood, nearly collapsing because her legs were all pins and needles. She swiped a large knife from the knife block and clenched it in her fist.

“Don’t come near me!” she said with more ferocity than she felt. She shook so badly the tip of the knife danced. Cal stumbled into the kitchen in a daze, but when he saw her with the knife, he bellowed and barreled toward her.

Grace shrieked and slashed at him with the knife. She sliced his hand and ducked under his arm. He grabbed a fistful of hair, bloodying it as he dragged her backward. She spun in his grasp and sunk the knife into his thigh.

Cal screamed and crumpled to the floor in a heap, letting go of her hair. Grace sat stunned, staring at Cal’s bloodied pant leg before scrambling out of the kitchen, swiping the envelope off the table as she dashed through the dining room. She grabbed the car keys from the entry table and ran out the front door.

Grace ran to the driveway, jammed the key into the car door, and wrenched it open. She threw herself into the car and started the engine as Cal’s silhouette stumbled into the doorway. He was dragging the leg she’d stabbed and leaning heavily on the door frame.

Grace threw the car into reverse and scraped the bumper on the curb as the heavy car lurched out of the driveway. Jamming the lever to drive, she stomped the gas and sped away.

Her knuckles white on the steering wheel, she careened into the gas station two miles from her subdivision to use the payphone. Shoving coins into the slot, she pulled the crumpled business card from her pocket and dialed the number. A professional female voice asked for her name.

“Grace Brunson,” she said. She gulped air and tried to steady herself.

“One moment, please,” the voice said. There was a click and a man’s voice spoke into her ear.

“Hello, Grace! It’s Jethro. How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” she squeaked out. Jethro laughed.

“You’ll be much better soon. So you’d like to proceed with our business offer?” Jethro asked.

“Yes, yes I would,” Grace said.

“Great! Buy a plane ticket to wherever and call me when you’re settled. I’ll talk to you soon!” They hung up and she dialed a cab.

When the cab pulled into the gas station, Grace glanced at Cal’s car one last time. Then she looked down at her reflection in the cab window. “This is gonna make one hell of a book,” Grace said to her reflection. She smiled at herself and climbed into the backseat.