27. Grace
27
GRACE
T here’s a quiet hum in the air as I sit in the little office Theo set up in the house for me, the soft sound of the old clock ticking in the background.
It’s not much—just a small room with faded yellow walls, a desk piled high with papers, and a window that overlooks the garden.
I’ve always believed that you don’t need much space to make a difference, and today, as I sift through the paperwork, I can feel it.
Each phone call, every email I send, every little detail that gets sorted, it’s all adding up.
We’re close. We’re so close to finally opening our doors to the people who need it most.
I glance down at the list I’ve been working on for the last few days. It’s a list of supplies, contractors, and, most importantly, donors.
I’ve been making call after call, trying to secure as much funding as I can.
There’s always something—construction delays, supply shortages, budget gaps. The work never stops, but it’s worth it.
This is what I’ve always wanted to do, what I’ve always believed in: helping those who need it most.
But even as I dive into my work, a part of me keeps drifting away, thinking about Theo.
I smile to myself just thinking about him. He’s been nothing but a rock since we got here. Since I moved into his house, actually.
Every day, I feel more drawn to him, more captivated by how he looks at me, talks to me, and protects me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as safe as I do when I’m with him. It’s a strange thing, this feeling of being cared for so deeply.
I’m used to taking care of myself and handling things independently, but with Theo, I don’t have to. And somehow, that makes me want him even more.
I pick up the phone, dialing a number from my list of potential donors. As the ring echoes in my ear, I lean back in my chair, watching the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room.
I can hear Theo’s voice in my head, reminding me how much I’ve achieved already, telling me how proud he is of me. He says it all the time. He believes in me. And most importantly, in this dream of mine.
The phone clicks, and a voice on the other end answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Grace Simmons. I’m calling from the Hope Shelter. I wanted to talk to you about a possible donation to help us get up and running.”
I launch into my pitch, carefully explaining what we’re doing, how we plan to offer resources to those in need, and how we’ll provide a safe space for people who are at risk of homelessness.
As I talk, I’m aware of the way my words sound and the passion behind them. I know that I believe in this project, and I’m doing my best to show the person on the other end of the line why they should care, too.
After a few moments, the voice on the other end pauses.
“That sounds like a great cause, Grace. I’ll talk to my team and get back to you. What’s your deadline?”
“End of the month,” I say. “I know it’s tight, but we’re so close to opening, and any help would make a huge difference.”
“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief as I hang up the phone, feeling a little weight lift off my shoulders. It’s not a huge win, but it’s a step in the right direction. And that’s all I can ask for right now.
As I sit there for a moment, staring at the list again, my mind drifts back to Theo. His face, his eyes, the way he looks at me like I’m the most important thing in the world.
Sometimes, I still can’t believe this is my life.
I’ve found someone who cares for me this much, someone who would drop everything just to make sure I’m safe, that I’m happy. The way he treats me now... It’s like nothing I’ve ever known.
I hear footsteps from the hallway, and the door to my office creaks open. My head snaps up, and I can’t help but smile as Theo steps inside, a familiar warmth flooding my chest.
“There she is,” he says, his voice a low murmur.
He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover.
His eyes light up when they meet mine, and I feel that familiar flutter in my stomach, the one that seems to happen every time he looks at me like that.
“Hey,” I say, smiling. “How’s it going?”
Theo grins, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward me.
“Good. Really good. I’ve got the supplies for the garden ready to go. They’ll bring them over to the facility later and get it all set up.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Garden supplies? You’re really making that happen?”
“I promised you, didn’t I?” he says, bending down to place a hand on my shoulder as he kisses my cheek lightly.
“I loved your idea of giving the women and kids there a secret garden of their own.”
I laugh softly. “You’re insane, but I love you for it.”
He smiles down at me, his expression softening. “Anything for you, Grace.”
I feel my heart skip a beat. Sometimes, when he looks at me that way—so open, so vulnerable—it’s hard to believe he’s real.
And even though I’ve always been fiercely independent, I can’t help but want to lean into that softness, to let him take care of me in ways that I never thought I’d need.
“You’ve been working hard,” he continues, pulling up a chair beside me. “How’s it going with the shelter?”
“Slow,” I say with a sigh. “But we’re getting there. One step at a time.”
“You know I’m here, right? If you need anything. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”
I meet his eyes, feeling a rush of affection. “I know. I just… I want it to be perfect. I want to make sure everything’s right before we open the doors. But it’s hard.
So much to do, and sometimes it feels like I’m just one person trying to make a difference, you know?”
He shakes his head, his fingers brushing against mine. “You’re not just one person, Grace. You’re making a real change here. I see it. And I’ll be here every step of the way, helping you.”
I look down at our hands. “I’m so grateful for you.”
“And I’m grateful for you.”
There’s something so grounding about the way he says it, so confident, that I feel the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. His words are a promise, one I know he’ll keep.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your belief in me.”
“I’m just doing what I’ve always wanted to do—be here for you. Whatever you need. And I’m so damn proud of you, you know that?”
I swallow, feeling my throat tighten with emotion.
“I don’t know how you do it. You always know just what to say.”
He shrugs, his smile never fading. “I just speak the truth.”
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder as I close my eyes for a moment. I can’t remember the last time I felt so calm, so at ease.
“I’ll get back to work,” I say eventually, straightening up in my chair. “There’s still a lot to do.”
He stands up with a stretch, walking toward the door.
“I’ll let you work. But if you need a break, you know where to find me.”
I laugh, watching him leave.
How did I get so lucky?
The faint creak of the door pulls me from my thoughts sometime later. I look up to see Maggie standing there, holding a steaming mug of tea.
She’s got that warm, knowing smile on her face, and her eyes crinkle at the edges.
“Thought you might need a break,” Maggie says softly, stepping into the room. “I made your favorite.”
I smile gratefully as she sets the cup down on the corner of my desk. The familiar scent of chamomile and honey fills the room, and I can already feel the tension in my shoulders starting to ease.
“Thanks, Maggie. You’re a lifesaver.”
She sits down in the chair across from me, her movements deliberate, as if she’s taking her time to settle in. I take a sip of the tea, and we sit in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the quiet.
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’re doing here,” she says. “It’s amazing work. Helping people like this—it’s not something everyone can do. I admire you for it.”
“I’m just doing what needs to be done. There’s so much to do, though. I feel like I’m barely keeping up.”
She leans back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap.
“I understand that feeling.
When I was starting out... well, I wasn’t doing anything like this, but I had my own struggles.
Raising a daughter, dealing with my first husband...”
She trails off for a moment, her eyes distant, as if she’s recalling something painful.
I set the mug down on the desk, fully focused on her now. “Maggie, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”
She waves a hand dismissively, as if brushing off the concern.
“No, it’s alright.
It’s just that when you said you wanted to help women and children, it reminded me of my own experience.
My first husband... he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
He was abusive. In ways I didn’t even know were possible.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. There’s a burden in Maggie’s eyes, a sadness that she doesn’t have to explain. I know she’s been through so much, and it takes a lot for her to open up.
“We ran,” she continues.
“My daughter and I left in the middle of the night—grabbed what we could, and went.
I didn’t know where we were going, but we couldn’t stay.
He had control over everything—our money, where we lived, who we spoke to.
He isolated us.”
I swallow, feeling the weight of her words. “That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. But you do what you have to do.
You find a way to survive.
I wish there had been a place like this shelter back then.
I think... I think a lot of women stay in those bad situations because they believe they can’t survive on their own.
And most can’t, because there isn’t the help they need.
I thought about going back so many times because my daughter and I were living in a car.”
I blink back tears, my heart swelling at her words. “I can’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been for you, Maggie. But I’m so glad you got out.”
“It wasn’t easy. It took years to get back on my feet. Years of moving from place to place, always looking over my shoulder. And I was lucky. Not everyone gets that lucky.”
“Maggie, thank you for sharing that with me,” I say softly. “I can’t imagine what you and your daughter went through.”
She smiles gently, her eyes soft.
“I would love to.
I’ve always believed that helping others helps you heal, too.
And Grace, that’s what you’re doing here.
You’re giving people a chance they might not have had otherwise.”
That’s what all of this is about.
“What could have made it easier for you and your daughter back then?” I ask.
“If there was one thing that would have helped you, something practical, what would it have been?”
Maggie doesn’t hesitate.
“Gift cards,” she says firmly. “For groceries, for clothes, for anything.
When you’re in a situation like that, you don’t have money. You don’t even know how you’re going to eat tomorrow.
Having access to a gift card could have made things feel like we had some control over our situation. It would have given us dignity.
And grants—if I had known about programs that could help with apartments or even paying bills, it would have made it easier to keep a roof over our heads.
It was hard to get into a place when I didn’t have credit, a job, or enough for first and last month’s rent.”
I scribble down some notes, my mind whirring with possibilities.
“Okay, so we get gift cards for things like groceries and clothing,” I say, more to myself than to her. “And grants for helping people get into apartments or pay their bills. That could be huge.”
Her face brightens.
“Exactly. And don’t forget about the little things—transportation assistance, phone plans, and even things like school supplies for kids.
When you’re starting over with nothing, those small things can make a world of difference.”
“I love that,” I say, my mind racing as I jot down more notes.
“I’ve been thinking about ways to offer financial support, but this takes it a step further.
We could partner with local businesses to get gift cards and offer vouchers for public transportation. I could talk to a few foundations about grants for apartments and utilities.
Maybe we could even get a donation drive going for school supplies.”
“That’s the kind of thing that will make a real difference. It’s not just about shelter—it’s about providing a foundation for people to rebuild their lives. And giving them the tools to do it.”
“I’m so glad you spoke up; this is invaluable.
My situation was nowhere near the same as yours, but I can assume that more women would identify with yours, and that’s huge for getting people the help they need.
Thank you so much.”
She nods before she smiles and stands up to leave the room. A few minutes later, I feel a presence in the doorway.
I glance up and see Theo standing there, his broad frame filling the doorway, his eyes soft and warm as they meet mine. A small, quiet smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I feel a flutter in my chest.
“Hi,” I say softly.
He steps into the room, his eyes still on me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to check in.”
“You’re not interrupting,” I say, my voice warm with affection. “Maggie and I were brainstorming some ideas for the shelter earlier. Such great insight.”
“You’re doing amazing work here,” he says quietly, his voice full of admiration.
“Oh, my goodness,” I breathe as a thought comes to me. “You know…maybe I should look into long-term housing for the shelter, too. A whole community, if you will.”
“Don’t overextend yourself, okay? I’m here to help, but I want to make sure that you remember that you can’t do everything all at once.”
“I’ll remember,” I smile at him.
He pulls me into a tight hug, and I rest my head on his shoulder.
I hear his words, but I know that when he holds me like this, I feel invincible.