Falling From Grace 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.

Chapter One

Grace

"Not bad for thirty-eight," thought Grace as she looked at herself sideways in her closet's full length mirror. "The miracle of Spanx," she said out loud, chuckling softly as she ran her hand from the small of her back to her shapely derriere, smoothing the material of her short cocktail dress.

The dress was borrowed from her best friend Liz for Grace's 20

th

high school reunion in nearby Green Forest. The low cut aquamarine blue cocktail dress did flatter Grace's body, but it had been a month of Sundays since the tall, willowy, brunette had played dress up. Grace went into her modest master bath, and under the harsh glare of the 80's style light bar above the sink could see the furrows in her brow and the few stray gray hairs in her full head of hair that reflected the hard life she'd had since graduation.

Life had dealt her a bust hand after high school, when as homecoming queen she had followed her heart instead of her head, eschewing admission to the University of Missouri to marry the star quarterback of the Green Forest Mustangs. She'd been warned that Aaron was superficial, and worse yet a drunk like her father, but she was head over heels in love and married the lout. He had given her physical and emotional bruises during their stormy marriage, but his gift to her was two lovely daughters, Brittany and Adele.

Grace held down two jobs, a day job as a housekeeper at the local Holiday Inn, and an evening one as a waitress at a local diner. Even given the hard road that she had travelled, she didn't regret a moment of her workday because she wanted to give her precious daughters every opportunity to escape the drudgery of small town living.

The reunion was an anxiety-filled experience for Grace. She pulled her twelve year old minivan into the Green Forest parking lot, noting the sea of new pick-up trucks and sedans, which reinforced her belief that many of her classmates did far better than her. But as she walked in the parking lot towards the high school's gymnasium, heads still turned in her direction, with many recognizing the most attractive girl in the Class of '98. Grace tugged on her dress to straighten it as she entered the familiar doors of her high school, smiling as she thought she recognized two old friends sitting behind the registration desk.

"Grace!" called the bleach blonde behind the desk. Grace squinted, recognizing her classmate April, one of the girls she used to hang with after school. April came out from behind the desk to hug her old friend and then pushed her at arm's length to look at her.

"Still the belle of the ball," she gushed. "The dress looks fabulous on you. It's been what, ten years since we saw each other last?"

"At least," said Grace. "Where has the time gone?" Grace saw that April had gained a fair amount of weight, but was also sporting a glittering diamond that was at least a carat.

"So how are you?" Grace asked.

"Good ... good." The plus sized blonde looked down at herself as she continued. "I haven't kept my figure like you have, but I'm good ... really good. My two boys are doing great. Chas is going to Purdue to study engineering and Michelle is a sophomore who's playing club soccer and having the time of her life. I got married to Greg about ten years ago. You remember Greg?"

Grace thought for a moment. Greg ... Greg ... ah yes, he had sandy blonde hair, tall with a muscular build. April didn't know that Grace had sex with Greg before April hooked up with him. "Uhh ... I think so. Runs the feed mill?"

"That's him. So how are you doing?"

"Well, last time we talked I told you about my divorce. I don't know where Aaron is now. After he got through rehab he moved back in with his parents but then he went somewhere in West Texas to chase a job as a wildcatter. To tell you the truth, I really don't care what happens to him."

"Same old Aaron. Chasing a dream and carrying a bottle. What an asshole," said April, rolling her eyes.

"I should have listened to you," replied Grace in a voice tinged with regret.

"Yep. But at least you got the girls. So how are they doing?"

"Great. Britt is going to the University of Missouri. She got a partial scholarship and I'm hoping she'll study hotel and restaurant management. She's a terrific cook. And Adele is finishing her sophomore year. She's the smart one in the family, so I'm hoping she'll be able to get into some fancy Ivy League school."

"Britt's a beauty," said April. "Wasn't she going to pursue an acting career?"

Grace's smile vanished. "I'm trying to talk her out of it. She has it in her head that she's going to Hollywood to be a big star. Hopefully I can get through to her that a scholarship to the university is the smart choice. I think she'll come around."

"I hope Britt isn't as headstrong as you," quipped April.

"That's what I'm worried about."

Chapter Two

Britt

Everyone at Poplar Bluff High School had heard of Julie McCullough. Well, at least all of the members of the school's drama department. Julie was one of the high school's most famous alumni, first as a Playboy Playmate and then as a star on the 80's TV series "Growing Pains." About two years ago Julie had returned to her alma mater, dazzling the drama students with stories of Hollywood (really Burbank) and the glamour of being a well-known actress. Britt was one of the lucky students to meet Julie, and vowed to follow in her hallowed footsteps.

Julie was the epitome of a West Coast star, her expensive clothes framing a 36D-24-36 picture perfect body. Britt worked summer jobs to upgrade her wardrobe and spent hours in the gym toning her young, buxom, body to emulate Julie. She too was well built, a 34D with little body fat and long, slender legs. Of Norwegian ancestry, she was blessed with silky straight blonde hair and eyes a powder blue reminiscent of Lake Louise.

Britt was in her room, laying on her bed on her stomach, propped up on her elbows with her knees bent and her legs crossed. She went back to her happy place, being on stage in a high school play, feeling the thrill of plying her craft in front of a live audience. The thought warmed her. Ever since she was a small child she played to an audience. When she was three, she would arrange her dolls and stuffed animals along the wall of her bedroom, pretending they were watching her play. In sixth grade, she was making up costumes and play acting in front of her friends. She just loved performing for others.

Britt ran through in her mind all of her nine acting credits, from being Emily, one of the main characters in "Our Town," to Fiona Campbell, one of the love interests in "Brigadoon." The resume was short, but she had convinced herself that it was strong enough to break into Hollywood because she was the lead in every production, including high school and the local community theater in Poplar Bluff. Julie McCullough had done it, why couldn't she?

Grace was predictably upset and concerned when Britt informed her she intended to go to Los Angeles to pursue her acting career instead of accepting her admission to the University of Missouri (which was only a four hour drive from their home). Britt really couldn't blame her mother. Grace had made clear to Britt that she held two jobs to make sure that Britt and her younger sister Adele had a safe and secure home and the opportunity to pursue their careers armed with a college education, an education Grace regretted never pursuing. Grace never thought that Britt was serious about acting, and had already budgeted Britt's tuition and room and board into her spending calculations for the following year.

Britt knew that her mother was a strong person, innately self-confident, and hardened by a decade acting as a single mom. Grace kept a tight lid on her two girls, perhaps overcompensating for the lack of a father figure in their lives. Even though Britt had already graduated from high school, she still had a strict curfew as long as she lived in Grace's house. As a result, Britt's experience with boys was extremely limited. It was ironic that as the best looking girl in high school (by far), she was still a virgin, and socially shy to boot.

But Britt sprung the great surprise, announcing at dinner two nights prior that she was going to pack her Kia with her worldly possessions and head to the City of Angels. Grace couldn't disguise her disappointment, but at the same time felt helpless to change a headstrong young woman's mind that had already been made up. Grace knew that she been in Britt's position and had done the same thing when she was nineteen. She had informed her parents over dinner that she would be marrying Aaron and would be not be attending the college to which she had already accepted admission.

Grace was now simply reprising her mother's role as a naysayer, having learned that her mother was right, and that marrying Aaron was indeed a mistake. But for Britt and Adele, Grace did begrudgingly admit that her mother's prophecy had come true, with Aaron long out of the family picture. Now with Britt making her rash announcement, Grace hoped to prevent her daughter from making the same kind of mistake she did twenty years ago. Despite the tears shed by both women, Britt was unmoved by her mother's confession that she had made a rash decision twenty years ago and had regretted not going to college and pursuing a career. Britt was young and she was stubborn, and could only see stars in her eyes. Her mother's plea was dismissed as an attempt to keep her closer to home.

Chapter Three

California Here I Come

It was late fall in southwestern Utah, and the heavy unexpected rains soaked into the parched earth. The vast expanse of desert was interrupted only by a ribbon of interstate, carving its way through the scenic vista in a serpentine fashion. A single car appeared on the horizon, piloted by an idealistic young woman, who like many before her, was seeking fame and fortune in California.

Her windshield wipers were beating in time with the country music blaring in her car as she headed westward, singing along. The rains had started in Colorado and continued unabated as she was driving through Utah. The incessant rattle of her Korean compact car was muffled by a combination of the heavy precipitation and the noise of the tires as they cut through the sheet of water covering the less travelled highway. Britt shifted in her seat as the fourth hour of driving caused her body to start a rebellion, crying for her to stretch her legs and breathe fresh air.

The monotony of the drive down the interstate was broken by a death rattle in the engine compartment, followed by a gradual slowing of her car as she guided it onto the soft shoulder. Britt cursed silently to herself, recalling her mother's admonition to have her car checked before she embarked on her one way trip from Poplar Bluff to the West Coast.

As the lifeless vehicle rolled to a stop, Britt's enthusiasm for her adventure waned, and a small voice in the back of her head posed the possibility of getting her car fixed and heading home. But as she sat on the shoulder of the road, Britt recalled with fondness her after school discussion with Mr. Winters, her high school drama teacher. He had taken her aside early in her senior year and told Britt that he had never seen a student as talented as her in his twenty years of teaching. Britt didn't have to rely on the opinion of others to know that she was talented and also attractive. She had the self-confidence to trust her own opinion of her capabilities, and that was enough for her.

With newfound resolve, she pulled out her phone and called her emergency road service. When asked about her current location Britt panicked. It was raining and pitch black, and no large road signs were visible through the windshield. Britt had no idea where she was, only the number of the highway she was on. Her GPS indicated she was a dot on a long expanse of highway. She told the service agent she would call back and got out of the car to locate a road marker. As she opened the door, droplets of rain dotted the door's inside handle and Britt's left leg. She scrambled outside in the pouring rain and opened the rear passenger door, finding her all-weather parka stuffed under the driver's seat. She donned the parka, pulling the hood over her dampened blonde hair, and shivering started walking west using her phone's flashlight for illumination.

Britt got no more than a few hundred feet down the road when a battered pick-up truck pulled over in front of her. Britt's first instinct was to run back to the car, but she fought that urge and walked up to the passenger side of the truck. The window rolled down, and a man in his 20's with a three day growth of beard leaned over. She noticed there was a plastic hula dancer attached to his dash, which seemed oddly out of place in the middle of a vast expanse of desert.

The man tilted his head sideways with his eyes upturned as he stretched towards the open window. "Need a lift?"

Britt thought for a moment. All of her possessions were in her car. She needed to stay with it. "No thank you. But could you tell me where I am in Nevada?"

The man, still leaning towards the passenger window, said, "About three miles northeast of Cedar City. And that's in Utah ma'am." His soft blue eyes connected momentarily with Britt as the man studied her face, still covered by the hood of her parka.

"Are you sure you don't want a lift?" he asked again.

Britt was tempted, but didn't want to abandon her car and get in a truck with a stranger. "No ... no ...I'm good. Thank you for the offer. I'll call my emergency road service."

"Good luck to you," he said over the noise of the downpour. The pick-up roared to life and pulled back on the highway. Britt watched as the tail lights of her potential rescuer faded into the mist of the rain. She raced back to the car, feeling winded and tired as she climbed back into the driver's seat. She called back her road service and was able to secure a commitment from them to be at her vehicle in less than thirty minutes. With no heat in the car and virtually soaked to the skin, Britt was chilled to the bone. She started daydreaming about the warm, muggy nights in Missouri when she and her sister would talk until the wee hours about boys, clothes and their mother.

Britt didn't realize in her reverie that the window had fogged up and that the tow truck she requested had parked behind her. A rap on the window startled her. She rolled it down to see the shadowy face of an older man with a weathered face and heavy white stubble on his chin.

"What seems to be the problem?" The man seemed nonplussed by the rain as it trickled down his face.

"My car died while I was driving it."

"Well, we're not going to fix it out here. I'll tow it to the nearest garage, which is in Cedar City. Why don't you gather your valuables and hop in my truck." The man didn't pose it as a question and didn't wait for a response. He turned to go back to the tow truck, and was soon positioning it to pull the disabled car onto his flatbed. All of Britt's valuables were in her backpack, so she slung it over her shoulder and walked to the passenger side of the tow truck with her head low to avoid the steady rain. She climbed into the cab, feeling a welcome blast of hot air from the dashboard vents. She put the backpack next to her and turned her head to look out the back window, watching the bed tilting up until she could only see the underside of it and the undercarriage of the truck. There was a loud mechanical sound as the winch pulled the car onto the bed, followed by the groan of the hydraulics as the bed was lowered.

Moments later the man climbed into the cab, his hair wet from the rain. He looked over at Britt with sympathetic eyes. "I've got a thermos of hot coffee. Did you want some?"

Britt nodded, noting "Harry" as the embroidered name on his heavy, waterlogged jacket.

The man reached over into the glove compartment to retrieve a Styrofoam cup, and in doing so his face was practically in Britt's lap. He straightened up, unscrewed the thermos top and poured a hot cup of coffee, handing it to her. Britt gripped the cup with two hands, feeling the heat of the hot liquid against her ice cold hands. The aroma of the coffee and its comforting taste put Britt at ease in this stranger's truck.

The man started driving down the interstate towards Cedar City. The steady thumping of the diesel engine, combined with the smells of the coffee and the cozy, warm cabin, made Britt feel as though everything would work out with her lifeless car. It was almost midnight when the truck pulled into a service station on the outskirts of the small town. The driver placed a call on his cell, and moments later the lights turned on inside the service station. A man came out dressed in a wide brimmed cowboy hat, a grease smeared tan Carhartt jacket and jeans. As he approached the tow truck Britt recognized that he was the man that had pulled over earlier to offer help. Surprised, she jumped out of the cab of the tow truck to greet him.

"I thought I recognized you. You're the man that pulled over to help me."

"Yes ma'am." The man registered no surprise at seeing her. He was on the way back to his service station when he spotted the stranded car and the woman walking alone in the downpour. He could tell from her demeanor in their brief conversation that she was not one to be coaxed into a stranger's vehicle, no matter how insistent he was. So he waited until the tow truck brought her to the nearest service station, which was his.

"Why didn't you tell me that you owned a service station?"

"You never asked me ma'am. You only asked me where you were. I thought I answered your question."

Britt knew the man wasn't being smart. He was being literal. Britt was slightly miffed, but couldn't help but see his point. She realized that when he pulled over to offer help that she didn't give him the chance to talk. She was uncomfortable talking to a strange man in the dead of the night on the side of the road and her body language had confirmed it to him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you weren't being helpful."

"No offense taken, ma'am." The man didn't take offense. If she was his wife he would have expected her to act in a similar fashion. There was no reason to get into a stranger's vehicle, even if he meant her no harm. He stepped beneath the flat awning protecting the station's pair of gas pumps to escape the rain. Britt followed.

Britt wanted to take the formality down a notch. She flipped back the hood of her parka revealing her long blonde hair, damp from the rain and frizzled by the humidity, and extended her right hand. "Call me Britt."

The man removed his cowboy hat and gently shook his head, a shock of his dark hair falling across his forehead. He took her hand, giving her a firm, but not crushing, handshake. "Colin McHugh at your service."

The tow truck operator had lowered the car onto the pavement and was unhooking it as they finished their introductions. Colin went inside the station and rolled up the service bay door. The two men then pushed the vehicle into the bay with Britt steering it. Colin shut the bay door and the three of them stood outside under the protection of the awning.

"I'll be on my way unless you need anything else," said the tow truck operator.