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Healing Grace
A haunting story of love and sacrifice...
Grace Runyon could fix anything--until her husband got cancer. She couldn't help him. She couldn't save him. No one understands. No one would ever forgive her. She has to run. It takes another sick man and his little boy to help her fight her way out of self-pity into the light of redemption. But will her new friends stick with her when they discover her secret?
Ted Marshall wanted to be more than Grace’s landlord. But a dying man has no business asking a woman like to her love him back. Can he settle for a taste of her faith in whatever it is that makes her so special?
Just when Ted and Grace begin to hope for the future, Ted relapses. Grace faces the ultimate choice once again: Trusting God to work through her precious gift, or letting a terminally ill man die. What if the price is more than she can pay?
A recommended book club read
Group question guide included
Here's an excerpt of Healing Grace:
HEALING GRACE
By Lisa J Lickel
“But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness
will rise with healing in its wings.
And you will go out and leap
like calves released from the stall.” Malachi 4:2
Prologue
Run!
The taste of fear nearly made Grace gag. She flared her nostrils in an effort to keep her mouth closed and get a breath. She closed her eyes—just for a second.
Run!
Grace gave in to the impulse and, pressing against the open rim of the casket, stumbled upright. She looked at him for the last time, seeing the deep grooves of pain forever etched alongside his mouth. Grace pushed away and turned, pressing her hand to her lips.
Her skirts hampered her off-kilter stride. The silly heels her mother-in-law pushed onto her feet that morning sunk deep, making divots in the perfectly manicured grass between the monuments. Her earrings jangled like a cowbell. Grace felt as though she was on display as the gathered friends and relatives stared at her. She would not cry or scream or faint or throw up, not now.
Grace tore off the earrings, staring without comprehension at the three drops of bright blood that appeared on her left arm. She ran, dodging the tombstones like some grim slalom course.
“Grace! Gra-ace! Where are you going? Grace, there’s more yet! We’re not through! You have to….”
Grace ignored them all. Their concern, their curiosity, their suspicion. Of course it was her fault and they should blame her. She slammed the car door on her skirt and put the pedal down with her cold bare foot.
They wouldn’t try to follow her, would they? She had tried so hard, so very hard, but nothing helped him. They all should know that. There wasn’t any more she could do.
She had to run.
Chapter One
Morning? or evening?
Grace scrunched her eyes at the bright shaft of light that pierced her lids.
She sat up, head reeling at the sight of the swirling, geometric tones of the ugliest aqua and mud-colored drapes and bedspread she could ever remember seeing. Her temples throbbed and the curtains came in and out of focus. She blinked. Hard.
Grace got out of the bed in the tiny room and looked out the window, reasonably sure now it was morning. She searched her handbag for a remedy to her headache.
“More clues, that’s what we need,” she said out loud just to test her hearing. “Where am I?” The receipt for the motel room lay on the bedside table. Grace noticed with mild shock that the motel was in a generously-sized community in northwestern Michigan--two states away from where she started. There was no clock in the room and her watch had not been wound recently. She flipped the television switch with a shaky hand to find a local station which would indicate the time. And temperature. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Had she changed seasons, as well? Spring had never been this cold where she came from.
She peeked out the window to the parking lot then cautiously slipped out through the door and back in again, retrieving an emergency bag she always kept in her car. Sometimes her patients lived far up in the hills in unsavory conditions and an extra outfit was necessary when she had to stay overnight. Her work as a physician’s assistant demanded she be prepared for anything. Her former work.
Once in the shower she adjusted the nozzle so the spray wouldn’t hit her full in the face. Four days. She’d lost four days to her fear and escape. Grace read the check-in slip signed in her own handwriting. She came here two days ago; two days of which she had absolutely no memory. She must have slept the entire time. Woodside was far away and she knew she wouldn’t ever go back to Tennessee.
Little sparks of flashback slowly came to her as she paced the four steps, forward and back, that was all the space allowed by the dimension of the room. She waved a hand through her hair while it dried in soft waves above her shoulders. She stepped close to the mirror on the dresser. Red rimmed her gray eyes. But not too much. She pinched her cheeks for some color. The little tear in her earlobe had healed already. She fingered it ruefully. If she wanted to continue to wear pierced earrings, she’d have to poke a new hole. She sat back on the bed, thinking, remembering.
The ceremony had been as dreadful as she imagined. Too soon after Sean. Anyone in her position would have lost her nerve and run, too, she reasoned. Stop it. No more funerals or thinking about death for a while. There wasn’t anything she could do for anyone any more. They didn’t need her. Why would anyone come after her? She had to stop this paranoid thought.
The nightmare drive on the Interstate—that trucker in Indiana trying to pick her up the last time she last stopped for gas and food she wasn’t hungry for. She ended up leaving without eating anything that time.
Grace poked through the bag of clothes on the bed. She was pretty sure she had obeyed the driving rules, had gotten gas at the right moments, stopped at the right signs, taken the exit…. How had she ended up here, though? Why here in Michigan, near the lake?
After dressing, Grace went outside in search of something to put in her stomach. It felt like a good four days since she had eaten—what? Some cold toast she forced down that last horrible morning at…home?
“No, no longer home.” Grace fixed the thought firmly in her head. “I’ll find a new place. Start over. Be a normal person.” She looked around curiously, tallying what little she knew about the state: Great Lakes, fruit and automobiles. Not a lot to go on. No one she knew lived here. That was probably the best part. She didn’t have to be afraid if no one knew her, knew what she’d done. And not done.
The parking lot was nearly empty and she walked across the two-lane highway in the thin, sharp sunshine of early May to a little mom-and-pop diner overlooking Grand Traverse Bay.
Michigan, for whatever reason, was the place God sent her.
By Lisa J Lickel
“But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness
will rise with healing in its wings.
And you will go out and leap
like calves released from the stall.” Malachi 4:2
Prologue
Run!
The taste of fear nearly made Grace gag. She flared her nostrils in an effort to keep her mouth closed and get a breath. She closed her eyes—just for a second.
Run!
Grace gave in to the impulse and, pressing against the open rim of the casket, stumbled upright. She looked at him for the last time, seeing the deep grooves of pain forever etched alongside his mouth. Grace pushed away and turned, pressing her hand to her lips.
Her skirts hampered her off-kilter stride. The silly heels her mother-in-law pushed onto her feet that morning sunk deep, making divots in the perfectly manicured grass between the monuments. Her earrings jangled like a cowbell. Grace felt as though she was on display as the gathered friends and relatives stared at her. She would not cry or scream or faint or throw up, not now.
Grace tore off the earrings, staring without comprehension at the three drops of bright blood that appeared on her left arm. She ran, dodging the tombstones like some grim slalom course.
“Grace! Gra-ace! Where are you going? Grace, there’s more yet! We’re not through! You have to….”
Grace ignored them all. Their concern, their curiosity, their suspicion. Of course it was her fault and they should blame her. She slammed the car door on her skirt and put the pedal down with her cold bare foot.
They wouldn’t try to follow her, would they? She had tried so hard, so very hard, but nothing helped him. They all should know that. There wasn’t any more she could do.
She had to run.
Chapter One
Morning? or evening?
Grace scrunched her eyes at the bright shaft of light that pierced her lids.
She sat up, head reeling at the sight of the swirling, geometric tones of the ugliest aqua and mud-colored drapes and bedspread she could ever remember seeing. Her temples throbbed and the curtains came in and out of focus. She blinked. Hard.
Grace got out of the bed in the tiny room and looked out the window, reasonably sure now it was morning. She searched her handbag for a remedy to her headache.
“More clues, that’s what we need,” she said out loud just to test her hearing. “Where am I?” The receipt for the motel room lay on the bedside table. Grace noticed with mild shock that the motel was in a generously-sized community in northwestern Michigan--two states away from where she started. There was no clock in the room and her watch had not been wound recently. She flipped the television switch with a shaky hand to find a local station which would indicate the time. And temperature. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Had she changed seasons, as well? Spring had never been this cold where she came from.
She peeked out the window to the parking lot then cautiously slipped out through the door and back in again, retrieving an emergency bag she always kept in her car. Sometimes her patients lived far up in the hills in unsavory conditions and an extra outfit was necessary when she had to stay overnight. Her work as a physician’s assistant demanded she be prepared for anything. Her former work.
Once in the shower she adjusted the nozzle so the spray wouldn’t hit her full in the face. Four days. She’d lost four days to her fear and escape. Grace read the check-in slip signed in her own handwriting. She came here two days ago; two days of which she had absolutely no memory. She must have slept the entire time. Woodside was far away and she knew she wouldn’t ever go back to Tennessee.
Little sparks of flashback slowly came to her as she paced the four steps, forward and back, that was all the space allowed by the dimension of the room. She waved a hand through her hair while it dried in soft waves above her shoulders. She stepped close to the mirror on the dresser. Red rimmed her gray eyes. But not too much. She pinched her cheeks for some color. The little tear in her earlobe had healed already. She fingered it ruefully. If she wanted to continue to wear pierced earrings, she’d have to poke a new hole. She sat back on the bed, thinking, remembering.
The ceremony had been as dreadful as she imagined. Too soon after Sean. Anyone in her position would have lost her nerve and run, too, she reasoned. Stop it. No more funerals or thinking about death for a while. There wasn’t anything she could do for anyone any more. They didn’t need her. Why would anyone come after her? She had to stop this paranoid thought.
The nightmare drive on the Interstate—that trucker in Indiana trying to pick her up the last time she last stopped for gas and food she wasn’t hungry for. She ended up leaving without eating anything that time.
Grace poked through the bag of clothes on the bed. She was pretty sure she had obeyed the driving rules, had gotten gas at the right moments, stopped at the right signs, taken the exit…. How had she ended up here, though? Why here in Michigan, near the lake?
After dressing, Grace went outside in search of something to put in her stomach. It felt like a good four days since she had eaten—what? Some cold toast she forced down that last horrible morning at…home?
“No, no longer home.” Grace fixed the thought firmly in her head. “I’ll find a new place. Start over. Be a normal person.” She looked around curiously, tallying what little she knew about the state: Great Lakes, fruit and automobiles. Not a lot to go on. No one she knew lived here. That was probably the best part. She didn’t have to be afraid if no one knew her, knew what she’d done. And not done.
The parking lot was nearly empty and she walked across the two-lane highway in the thin, sharp sunshine of early May to a little mom-and-pop diner overlooking Grand Traverse Bay.
Michigan, for whatever reason, was the place God sent her.
You can purchase Healing Grace from Amazon.
Lisa is giving away a copy of Healing Grace. To be entered in the book giveaway, leave a comment. You can enter the book giveaway twice--once on each spotlight post.
























































