State of Grace Read Online Free Page A

you?”
    â€œHot.” She settled herself on the cushion and pushed her sweaty bangs back from her forehead. “I’m probably already sunburned.”
    Her hair would eventually deepen to an enviable shade of auburn and her features would lengthen into smooth adult lines. But when we were young, Natalie was cursed with the bright orange hair, round freckled face, and pale complexion of her Irish ancestors. Whereas Grace and I would turn brown in the sun, Natalie’s skin would redden, blister, and peel away, only to be the same shade of white as when she started. She hated her skin—but only slightly more than she hated the color of her coarse, unruly hair. For Natalie, her appearance was a source of constant frustration and because of that, she tried to pretend that looks weren’t important. She covered it by being smart and fearless. But it still bothered her that she wasn’t pretty. I enjoyed the fact that I knew that about her.
    â€œSo, did you guys hear about what happened to Mr. Holmes?”
    Natalie’s question shook me.
    I shook my head, knowing that if anyone would know details of the latest gossip, it would be Natalie. In addition to being gifted at sneaking around and eavesdropping on other peoples’ conversation, she also benefitted from the fact that her father was a detective with the Cherokee County Sheriff’s Department. He generally knew everything that was going on in the county.
    â€œSomebody painted nasty words on his pickup and then slashed one of the tires.” I could tell from her tone that she was pleased to be able to deliver this information.
    â€œWhy would somebody do that?” I asked.
    Grace raised her eyebrows, curious as well about the answer.
    â€œBecause he’s black, duh,” Natalie said as if it were obvious.
    I frowned and then nodded slowly.
    Edenbridge wasn’t unwelcoming to strangers. That wouldn’tbe Christian. Rather, they were polite—painfully polite. It was the Midwestern equivalent of the Southern expression bless your heart.
    Enter the Holmes family. Not only were they newcomers to the town and the only black family, but in the minds of many people, they didn’t belong because of how they got their land. It all started during the Vietnam War when Walter Hanson, the great-grandson of one of the town’s founders, Emmet Hanson, gave his family’s land to Anthony Holmes. Walter was the sole surviving member of the family line. A “confirmed bachelor”—I realize now what that meant—Walter farmed the family property until he was drafted to fight in Vietnam. He was a much better farmer than a soldier and no one was really surprised when he was killed in battle. What did come as a surprise was that just before he died, Walter deeded the land his family had held for generations to Anthony Holmes, the man who, despite leg and shoulder injuries of his own, had carried him to safety and medical attention.
    At first, Mr. Holmes’ claim was disputed. People in town talked about going in together and hiring a lawyer, but, without the Hanson family to object and because Mr. Holmes had documentation, there wasn’t really anything anyone could do. The land belonged to Anthony Holmes—though had he known what was in store for his family, he might have sold the land immediately. But he was, at heart, an optimist and believed that this land was the first step for a better life. He was both right and wrong.
    Like Walter Hanson, Anthony Holmes grew up working the land. He had a love of farming and also knew how to raise cattle, pigs, and chickens. So, when he was released from the army, it made perfect sense that he would take his wife and two children, go to Edenbridge, and farm the land that had been given to him. He was unprepared, however, for the sight that awaited him in his new home—flat land bursting with corn, wheat, milo, and soybeans. One planting season showed him that these