Grace Interrupted Read Online Free

Grace Interrupted
Book: Grace Interrupted Read Online Free
Author: Julie Hyzy
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transportation back with someone to keep him company. Even if it was only Zachary. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again as we left the West Salon and took the long corridor toward what had once been the servants’ back entrance.
    He squared his shoulders and gave a little huff, settling himself. “Much better now,” he said. “Thank you. Our re-enactments are generally very exciting but it’s a controlled environment. This was so . . . savage.”
    “You’ve been involved in re-enactments for a long time?”
    “My father got me started. Years ago.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “Back then, we were so much more authentic. No plastic coolers or blow-up mattresses in our tents. When we roughed it, we roughed it. It was more real.”
    “I think I’d be a terrible re-enactor,” I said. “I’d want to bring my blow-dryer.”
    “Some women try to sneak them in. But I’m way ahead of them. That’s why your property here is so perfect for our run-through. No electricity unless someone brings a generator. No running water nearby. That would be farby.”
    “Farby?”
    He nodded, warming to his subject. “Conventional wisdom says it comes from the phrase: ‘ Far be it for me to criticize you’ when re-enactors catch anachronisms in one anothers’ costumes. For instance, Velcro. There was no Velcro in Civil War times, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Hence, Velcro is farby. Zippers are farby. So are cigarettes that you don’t roll yourself with the proper components, and any type of synthetic fabric.”
    I tried the word out again. “Farby.”
    “That’s what you want to avoid at all costs. Nobody wants to be known as a Farb. I avoid it, always. In fact, participants like me are considered ‘progressive’ in that we believe in complete authenticity and try to fully immerse ourselves at every opportunity.”
    He continued as we walked, explaining the camp’s reporting structure and how long it took to set up a Living History. I knew that they’d set up this weeklong encampment to run drills and work out the bugs in preparation for the group’s big outing at Gettysburg in July. According to Pierpont, that was the year’s main event and a chance to re-create that historic battle.
    At the exit, I pushed open the back doors and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the warm afternoon air.
    “Beautiful,” he said, surveying the south grounds.
    That was an understatement. “It is.”
    I didn’t mind making small talk with Pierpont, nor accompanying him out back. When I’d been called to the West Salon to meet with our intruders, I’d been on my way outside anyway. Jack Embers, the manor’s landscape architect, had asked me to meet him near the entrance of the hedge maze to discuss a couple of gardening issues.
    Jack and I had been playing date-tag for the past several weeks. We had originally planned to go out together—without my roommates this time—back in April. But situations had conspired to prevent us from keeping our plans. I rubbed my right arm, remembering my terror the night Abe’s murderer had finally been apprehended.
    Since then, Jack and I had tried and failed to set up another date. Spring was a busy time for Jack anyway, but he’d recently taken on a new responsibility. His younger brother, Davey, had joined the firm. More important, he’d rejoined Jack’s life. From the little I’d learned, twenty-seven-year-old Davey had “issues” and hadn’t yet found his way in the world. After several brushes with the law, Davey had promised his family he would change but needed help to do so. He’d moved into Jack’s home about a month ago and all Jack’s free time had been taken up by his little brother.
    I’d met Davey a couple of times. Except for his beard and slighter build, he could have been Jack’s twin. Well, except for Jack’s scar, that is. An uneven white line sliced across the left side of his face. I wondered if I’d ever find out where that scar had come
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