Ordinary Grace Novels & Stories

To trap me? I wanted to sneer out loud at her but realizing the dark shadow was still hidden I pursed my lips. “I know whatever happened between us was just a heat of the moment, Derek, but I never knew I would be able to conceive that night... It came to me as a surprise and blessing too. How could I deny God's grace like this??" She approached me with her sweet words. God's grace? I wanted to laugh out loud at the choice of her words, Is she forgetting she had two miscarriages before, Wasn't that God's Grace??

--- “I want you to know that I have been happy. Not every day. Not easily. But genuinely, actually, surprisingly happy. I did not know if that was going to be possible. I wanted you to know it was.” Grace read it once. Then she set the letter down on the desk and looked at the wall for a moment. Then she picked it up and read the paragraph again. Then she set it down and read it a third time without picking it up. Genuinely, actually, surprisingly happy. The word she stayed with was surprisingly. Not the happiness itself — though that was the point, that was everything, that was the reason the letter existed and the reason Grace would keep it. The word surprisingly. The woman had written it

“It is the active choice to guard the temple of your body against every whisper of temptation. The world outside these walls is filthy. Lust is a thief that steals your soul one glance, one touch, one thought at a time.” I nod when her eyes sweep over me. The motion makes the scar flare hotter. I can still feel last night’s edge riding me, the way my clit swelled under slow circles while his words scrolled across the screen. My nipples tighten against the rough linen of my shift. I cross my arms over my chest, pretending it’s reverence. Aunt Dolores continues. “The flesh is weak. But grace is stronger. Remember your vows. Remember the children watching you.”

My loyalty, her disappointment and relief could be easily seen in her brown eyes but I chose not to let it bother me much. I knew that the bloody ‘L’ word was quite unlucky for me and it was going to bite me in the ass if I let it consume me. Last time I said that, I ended up being an orphan. My father didn’t give two shits whether we loved him or not, he was too consumed by his greed for money and my mother was nothing without him.

she murmured, feeling cherished in his embrace. Grace felt a rush of warmth surge through her as she gazed into Noah’s eyes, their depth conveying a sincerity that touched her soul. She nestled closer to him, feeling the comfort of his embrace enveloping her. With a soft smile gracing his lips, Noah continued, “It’s because you are all these things, Grace. Your beauty isn’t confined to what meets the eye; it’s in the compassion you show for others, the strength you possess even when things are rough for you.”

I stepped back inside to understand what was going on, and before I could say a word, Camella's silhouette appeared, and I could swear that an angel had fallen at that minute. She was the perfect epitome of beauty, and I could swear I never knew a human could be as beautiful and gracious as that, at least not until I met Rita. I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate her. Her features were delicate, her eyes pools of shimmering warmth that radiated kindness and understanding. Her hair cascaded in gentle waves around her face, framing features that seemed almost too perfect to be real. She had a crop top and bum short on, and her hairs were dangling loosely upon the apron.

He poked my forehead, but he didn't need to tell me for me to know. I could feel it, his gift changing my body from the inside. Of course, I'd still need to be in Water, but I wouldn't change unless I willed it. "Then... May I give the princess a gift too?" Vivian's voice chimed in, reminding me of her presence as my father retracted his hands, giving her his attention. "And why would you do that?" Halcyon asked before father could. "A peace offering, an extended apology, think of it as what you will." She shrugged her answer nonchalantly, stepping forward as I turned to face her.

“Chamomile. It helps calm the mind.” “Feels like more than that,” Sandra murmurs. “You do not have to thank me,” Mom says gently. “Kindness is not payment, it is grace.” Sandra lowers her gaze. “I do not think I deserve any of this.” Micah leans back. “Then take it as a gift.” Mom nods in approval. “Exactly. Grace is not earned.” Sandra laughs quietly, shaking her head. “You two really sound like therapists.” “Maybe we have had practice,” I tease.

No one had met the broken, grieving Luna underneath the monster she’d had to become. Her old woman's head split open with violent feeling. "I don't deserve to be forgiven for what I did." “None of us deserves grace, you know,” I said softly. "Which is precisely what makes it grace and not payment.” She let her trembling, jaded fingers grab for my hand. When we touched, knowledge rushed between us like water seeking its level.

“Grace went to the salon, was cleverly lured into illegal gambling, got saddled with debt, and sold her body to repay that debt. If all of that came to light, she wouldn’t be able to live normally anymore.” Lucas nodded too. “And if the person who lured her in is reigning over Salon de Orchid as its ‘queen,’ then even if it’s twisted, it makes sense that Grace would develop something close to worship.” Worship. When Lucas put it that way, I understood. When I read Grace’s diary, the way she spoke about Sophie and treated her had been almost worshipful. Normally, someone would feel the same contempt Lucas was showing right now. “Well, what do we do?”