Saving Grace

Chapter II

Two months later.

       Grace Rogers wearily climbed the stairs to the third floor apartment where she knew Steve had already started on dinner. "Good evening, brother mine," she called out as she entered the tiny apartment.

       "Evening, Miss Nightingale," Steve answered, grinning at her. Wisps of curls escaped from the nurse's cap and numerous hair pins in her hair, and her white nurse's uniform showed under her navy wool coat.

       "Long day?"

       "Yeah. By lunchtime, I lost count of the fellas I checked in." Grace shrugged out of her coat. "What did you put on for dinner?"

       "Pork chops," Steve answered.

       "Alright, I'm be there in a minute," Grace said, heading to room to change. A few minutes later, she came out in a flannel skirt and a blouse. She poked around the cabinets. "Potatoes and peas sound alright with the chops?" She asked, pulling out a couple of potatoes and can of peas.

       "Sounds great," Steve answered from his place by the stove where he was seasoning the chops.

       "You keep those from burning, while I cut up these potatoes."

      "Yes, Nurse Rogers."

       Grace shook her head at his quip. "Did we get anything from Bucky today?"

       "No, no letters today,"

       "Hmm, he's had plenty of time to answer," she muttered to herself.

       "Gracie, he's just at bootcamp; he won't be leaving for a while yet," Steve soothed. "He'll come home before they ship him out."

       "I know, but still....it makes me nervous anyway."

       Steve eyed his sister curiously. She had yet to make eye contact with him. She stared down at the potatoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Anxiety rolled off her in waves. "Grace, is there a reason you're anxious to hear from Bucky?"

       "No reason," she answered, still staring at the potatoes. "I did send him cookies this time. I hope they made it intact."

       "Come on, I know you aren't worried about him liking the cookies. You know as well as I do that he will eat every last crumb, whether they arrive in pieces or not," Steve laid a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on, Sis?"

       "Nothing, Steve," Grace sighed. "I've known Buck my whole life; I care about him, and I worry for him. End of story."

       "You—you like him, don't you?" Steve's ability to see straight through Grace's attempt at barriers could be uncanny sometimes.

       "No, I don't like him," she slowly turned to face him. "I—I l—love him, Steve."

       Steve's eyes grew wide. "How long?"

       "About a year now." Grace moved past Steve to turn the pork chops and ensure they didn't burn. "At first, I thought it was just a silly, little fancy, so I went out with other guys. Went out to a few times with Damien Ferretti, went to the school dance with Matt Sellers..."

       "Yeah, I remember."

       "They all were nice fellas," Grace continued heavily. "but....none of them could shake the feeings I have for Bucky."

       "Oh, Grace." Steve hugged his little sister tightly. "Does Bucky know?"

       "No," Grace pulled away and squared her shoulders. "and it's going to stay that way."

       "Grace—"

       "No, Steve, You know he'll either feel sorry for me and compelled to take me out, or he stay way and make things awkward between the two of you. I'm not doing that to him. Besides, I'm not his type."

       "What's that supposed to mean?" Steve put his hands on his hips. "I've seen him take plenty of gorgeous blondes out on dates."

       "Thanks, Steve, but that's just it. They weren't in it for the long haul, and they knew he wasn't either. He doesn't want to go steady with anyone. He just wants a few evenings of fun. They were all okay with just a few dinners and dances," She turned to Steve. "Plus, they weren't so small that they could be squashed like a bug, were they?"

       Steve hung his head. His sister had a similar problem to his own: being too small. In her case, fellas liked petites, sure, but not so small that they have to bend down to dance with her or worry about losing her in a crowd.

       "Alright, alright, I won't say anything," he conceded, but he smiled inside. His sister could do a lot worse than Bucky, in his opinion. He was hard worker; he had job an automobile factory, hefting large car parts. He did not need to work. His father made good money as a lawyer, but Bucky did not sponge off his parents, not one cent. 

       As far as girls went, Bucky did go out with a lot of girls, but Steve knew that once Bucky found the right one, he would fall for her. Hard. Probably so hard he would never recover, as they say. Maybe "the right one" might be right under his best friend's nose. In Steve's mind, Bucky could never find a better girl than Grace.