I heard a ruckus in the hallway and remembered the movers. Oh, Crap! I thought to myself. My friend Grace was moving out and I had agreed to help her pack. I threw on an old t-shirt and then – while nearly tripping over my suitcases – a thought occurred to me. If anyone needed to bathe in those mystical healing waters…it was Grace.
Grace was a sweet and conservative Christian girl, the daughter of a preacher from Tennessee, and she had married (and then lost) her high school sweetheart. To put it another way, we had nothing in common.
Our friendship blossomed while I was on the rebound. She moved into the complex while I was still grieving the loss of Mia (after she ran off and married Ken), and I clung to her in spite of our differences. We became like sisters through the years, and we saw each other through good times and bad. And for Grace, the last couple of months had been very bad.
Grace fell hard for some boy-toy named Jason. She hated it when I called him that, but she was fifty and he was thirty-two, so I just called it as I saw it. The two had met on some Christian dating site, and within weeks there were whispers of marriage.
Her first husband had died of a heart attack, at a premature age, so Grace was a widow at thirty-five. Now, some fifteen years later, she was hoping to settle down with someone young, healthy, and virile.
It looked to me like Jason was after her money, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. She was happy and in love, and I wasn’t going to be the one to ruin that for her.
Not long after the two returned from a cruise (which Grace had paid for, no doubt), something that sounded like a gunshot sent me flying out of bed. I was afraid to move – thinking that some crazed mass shooter might be in the corridor – and then someone pounded on my door.
“Carmen, Carmen,” a voice shouted. “Something’s happened to Grace!”
It was Carlos, the head of building maintenance. Grace’s door was open, and Carlos was waving his hands frantically, telling me to go in. There was broken glass everywhere, and Grace was just staring at the floor – a small revolver in her hand.
“He took everything!” she cried.
Oh my God! I thought to myself. I watched Dateline and 20/20 religiously, so I knew exactly what she meant. My eyes darted around the room, looking for Jason’s body, but there was no sign of him anywhere… just a giant portrait, its frame shattered by a bullet.
Grace turned and looked at me with red cheeks and tear-filled eyes. She shrugged and smiled innocently, like a child who’d been caught being naughty, and then – after a moment of silence – we both burst out laughing.
I wish I could say that was the end of it, but two weeks later Grace’s father died. It was NOT a good time for her. Between the funeral and her financial ruin, Grace was on the verge of collapse and had no idea how she’d recover. She simply had to come to the fountain – I would NOT take no for an answer.
Needless to say… Grace was in.
READ ON
Just a quick note today. In case Grace’s portrait of Jason looks familiar… I’ve upcycled the Golden Boy. He looked like the perfect conman to me. Haha!
I’m still playing with AI in Illustrator, so the couch and the portrait background were artificially made. I still spent too much time on it – but I was having fun and needed to think of today’s ending.
The bullet hole in the portrait is rather large (I hope you can see it!), and I worried that it might have penetrated the wall and entered a neighbors house. So… for the sake of fiction… let’s pretend the walls are bullet proof.
Anyway, I hope you’re enjoying the story so far!! Three days down and twenty-seven to go!
Until next time,
Peace & Love.
a sprinkle of faith 
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