Challenges and Plans
1148 Words
The rain poured even harder. Before the sky turned completely dark, Grace managed to find a small inn to take shelter from the storm.
"Hi… I'd like a room, please. The cheapest one you have," she said, her entire body soaked, shivering from the cold.
"Of course, no problem. It's $50 a night. How many nights will you be staying?" The innkeeper asked.
Grace opened her handbag and stared at the last two hundred dollars she had left.
She hesitated.
"Just one night," Grace replied softly.
"Alright, I've already turned on the heater for you. You look absolutely frozen—maybe a hot shower and a good night’s sleep will help. And look at this little angel in your arms… she needs to rest too, doesn’t she?"
The innkeeper, a warm-hearted woman with gentle eyes, leaned over the counter with a kind smile. "How about two cups of hot milk? On the house. I hope you'll feel a little more at home here."
"Thank you," Grace murmured, her voice catching slightly as she looked down at the pale face of her child nestled in her arms.
Guilt gnawed at her.
She was a mother, and yet all she could do was watch helplessly as her child suffered.
What a cruel, bitter truth.
…………………………
Grace entered the room and immediately tended to her daughter. She warmed a towel and gently wiped Mary’s small, fragile body. Only after soothing her to sleep did Grace finally take a moment for herself.
She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her skin. But it wasn’t just water that fell—the tears she had held back for so long now mixed with the steam and splashed silently onto the floor.
The sorrow of losing her parents.
The agony of her husband’s betrayal.
And the unbearable grief of facing the possibility of losing her child.
When Grace was finally alone, everything—every burden, every ounce of pain and pressure—came crashing down all at once, threatening to break her completely.
Steam filled the bathroom, swirling in the air as her golden hair floated like silk in the mist. After her shower, Grace took a moment to gather herself, to reclaim a fragment of the dazzling woman she once was.
Her steps were heavy, like stone dragging across the earth, and exhaustion surged through her body in relentless waves.
All she wanted now was sleep—deep, dreamless sleep.
“Sleep. You need a good night’s sleep,” every cell in Grace’s body screamed.
But she knew she couldn’t.
She needed money.
Enough to shelter herself and her child.
Enough to pay for treatment.
Enough to snatch her daughter back from the hands of death.
The doorbell to the guest room rang.
Grace opened the door and was surprised to see the innkeeper standing there with a tray in her hands. On the tray were two cups of warm milk and a chicken sandwich.
"You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Here, this is on the house—our complimentary dinner."
"Thank you," Grace said softly, accepting the tray.
"Are you going through a tough time? Maybe I can help… or at least offer some advice?" The innkeeper asked gently, testing the waters. She normally wouldn’t be so warm toward a stranger, but something about Grace—her soaked figure, her exhausted, heartbreaking expression—stirred memories of her own youth.
Especially the little girl nestled in Grace’s arms. One look at that pale, fragile face, and Catherine’s heart softened beyond control.
"I can handle it myself," Grace replied firmly. She wasn’t someone who liked troubling others.
"Alright then," Catherine said with a nod. "But if you’re looking for work, I have a little booklet here. You might want to try calling a few of the numbers in it."
The innkeeper spoke as she handed over a small booklet.
…………………………
"Sorry, you don’t meet our hiring criteria," came a brisk reply from the other end, followed by the harsh click of the phone being hung up.
Grace set the phone down and shook her aching arm.
That was the twenty-ninth number she had called—and the twenty-ninth rejection, almost always for similar reasons:
“We’re not hiring right now,” or “You don’t meet our requirements.”
The economy was dire, and even many university graduates struggled to find work—let alone Grace, who had only a high school diploma.
“I paid the price for being naive in love when I was young.”
Grace could have entered a prestigious university with excellent grades, but because she became pregnant, she had to make a choice—either get married and have the child or abort and go to college.
But abortion meant taking the life of her own child—something kind-hearted Grace could never accept.
Without a doubt, there was only one answer for Grace.
She took a sip of water to soothe her dry, sore throat, steadied her nerves, and then continued dialing the numbers in her notebook.
The notebook wasn’t thick, but it was filled with job listings—roughly over three hundred.
Grace made up her mind: no matter what, she would call every number in that book until she found a job!
She needed more than just one job—only then could she earn enough money to pay for her child’s treatment!
Finally, when she dialed the 47th number, a young man’s voice on the other end said something that made Grace’s heart leap with hope:
“Yes, our restaurant is currently hiring. Maybe you can come and give it a try. The address is…”
“Great! Can I come for an interview tomorrow morning?” Grace clung to the opportunity like a lifeline.
“No problem. If nothing changes, we’re still looking for a waiter and a dishwasher.”
Grace hung up the phone, elated. After fifty-nine calls, finally—finally—she had a positive response. She looked up toward the window; outside, the sky had turned as dark as thick ink.
Unconsciously, it was already very late, but Grace didn’t go straight to rest. Instead, she took out a notepad and wrote down the things she needed to do most urgently.
“First, I need a stable place to live.”
Although the innkeeper was kind and the price wasn’t too high, even that was nearly unaffordable for Grace in her current situation.
“Then, I need to find a few more jobs and take my child to see a doctor.”
Without proper treatment, a five-year-old child can’t hold on for long.
“Let me do the math… with the medical insurance payout, maybe I can gather enough money to start my child’s initial treatment.”
“After that, I have to contact a lawyer, gather more evidence, and send Richard to prison!”
- Writer
