Faking Grace Read online

  Praise for

  Faking Grace

  “Tamara Leigh takes her experienced romance hand and delights readers with chick lit that sparkles and characters who come alive.”

  KRISTIN BILLERBECK, author of The Trophy Wives Club

  “Faking Grace is a delight! I loved this story with its fun, quirky characters, its outside-the-bubble look at the culture of Christianity, and a storyline that kept me turning pages. I could hardly put it down. Highly recommended!”

  MARLO SCHALESKY, award-winning author of Beyond the Night

  “Tamara Leigh’s commentary on cultural Christianity in Faking Grace is incisive and thoughtful. Rather than force the topic in an overblown, preachy way, Leigh effectively delivers the message of pursuing authentic faith through a compelling story that hooks the reader from the first page. And my guess is that plenty of single girls are going to be crushing on that charming Brit, Jack Prentiss.”

  CHRISTA ANN BANISTER, author of Around the World in 80 Dates and Blessed Are the Meddlers

  “A delightful, charming book! Faking Grace has romance, truth, and a dollop of insanity, making Tamara Leigh a permanent addition to my list of favorite authors. Enjoy!”

  GINGER GARRETT, author of In the Shadow of Lions and Beauty Secrets of the Bible

  “Faking Grace is a witty, warm-hearted lesson in how not to be a Christian. Maizy Grace made me think about my own faith journey and how we all sometimes fake it until we make it. What a delightful book!”

  LENORA WORTH, author of Mountain Sanctuary and Secret Agent Minister

  “I love this story of a real Christian struggling with real attacks of conscience and spiritual growth. As always, Tamara Leigh kept me entertained, laughing, and learning.”

  REBECA SEITZ, author of Sisters, Ink and Coming Unglued

  “Tamara Leigh does a fabulous job looking at the faults, the love, the hypocrisy, and the grace of Christians in a way that’s entertaining and fun. Maizy Grace is a crazy character I couldn’t help but like. I loved this book and highly recommend it!”

  CAMY TANG, author of Sushi for One? and Only Uni

  “Clever. Insightful. Faking Grace is a joy to read, and Maizy Stewart is hilarious. I couldn’t help but cheer for her along her bumpy journey to stop faking grace and start finding it.”

  MELANIE DOBSON, author of Going for Broke and The Black Cloister

  ALSO BY TAMARA LEIGH

  Splitting Harriet

  Perfecting Kate

  Stealing Adda

  FAKING GRACE

  PUBLISHED BY MULTNOMAH BOOKS

  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200

  Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921

  Scripture quotations are taken from the following versions: King James Version. The Holy Bible, New International Version®. niv® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. The Message by Eugene H. Peterson. Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. All rights reserved. The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2008 by Tammy Schmanski

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications Inc., 7680

  Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920, www.alivecommunications.com.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.

  MULTNOMAH and its colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Leigh, Tamara.

  Faking Grace : a novel / Tamara Leigh. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-76944-2

  1. Women journalists—Fiction 2. Nashville (Tenn.)—Fiction. 3. Chick lit.

  I. Title.

  PS3612.E3575F35 2008

  813′.6—dc22

  2008014982

  v3.1

  This tale is for Maxen, my littlest love, who is hardly little anymore and

  who can make me laugh and smile like nobody’s business

  (except when he’s bugging his big brother … and vice versa).

  As you continue to grow toward the man you will become,

  it is my prayer that you will draw nearer to God and embrace

  the wonderful plan He has for you. I love you!

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Readers Guide

  Acknowledgments

  Here I go again, but it’s true: The long trek from idea to manuscript to published book would not be possible without the dedication of the entire Multnomah team—especially my editor, Julee Schwarzburg, who brings order and insight to this wonderfully nutty thing called “writing.” I would also like to thank publicity assistant, Elizabeth Johnson; line editor, Alice Crider; and literary agent, Beth Jusino, for their hard work and enthusiasm. And last, but never ever least, I am grateful to be so loved by the One who gave His life that I may have eternal life. Thank You, Lord Jesus.

  ONE

  MAIZY GRACE STEWART’S 5-STEP PROGRAM TO AUTHENTIC CHRISTIAN FAITH

  Name:

  Grace

  Nice, upstanding Christian name—lucked out on that one. Must remember to answer to it.

  Appearance:

  Monochromatic hair

  I flip down my car’s visor mirror and peer at the Marilyn Monroe hair that waves off my oval face. I so miss my stripes. But under my present circumstances, it’s not as if I can afford to keep up the multiple-shade “do.” Back to the list.

  Minimal makeup

  Do I feel naked! Another peek in the mirror confirms the feeling. Since I had passed on foundation and blush, applying only a light powder to even out my tone, I look pale. The overall effect is that my hazel eyes practically jump off my face from beneath perfectly plucked eyebrows (the stragglers made me do it).

  Below-knee skirt

  Button-up collar

  One-inch heels

  Almost wish I were naked.

  Cross necklace and earrings

  WWJD bracelet

  I scrunch up my nose. WWJD? Where would Jesus …? Why would Jesus …? I tap the bracelet. Ah! What would Jesus do?

  “Love Waits” ring

  Oh no, it doesn’t. Still, it’s a nice thought,
especially considering the guy I left behind. But best not to go there.

  Accessories:

  Bible

  Bible cover

  And, I must say, it’s a nice cover. I look to where it sits on the passenger seat with the “KJV” (whatever that means) Bible tucked inside—intensely spiritual with a tapestry print of a country church. And the faux tortoiseshell handles! Nice touch.

  Twist pen with seven different scriptures

  One for every day of the week.

  “Footprints in the Sand” bookmark

  Touching poem. And a surprise ending too!

  Fish emblem

  “Oops!” I open the ashtray, dig out the emblem, and drop it in my lap. “Check!”

  “Jesus is my copilot” bumper sticker

  Crown-of-thorns air freshener

  I glance at the scented disk that hangs from my rearview mirror. Stinks, but nicely visible—practically screams, “This is one serious Christian.”

  Christian Speak:

  “Jesus is my Savior.”

  “Jesus died for my sins.”

  I close my eyes and run the lingo through my mind. “Got it!”

  “I’m praying for you.”

  I wonder how many Christians really do.

  “I need to pray about that.”

  Otherwise known as “No way, Jose!” Or, in these parts, as the “Nashville no.”

  “Bless his/her heart.”

  Sympathetic aside tacked to a derogatory remark about someone to make it acceptable (possibly exclusive to the South, as I’d never heard it before moving to Nashville four months ago).

  “My brother/sister in Christ.”

  “God’s timing.”

  “Have a blessed day.”

  “Yours in Christ.”

  Must remember to use that last one for note cards and such.

  Miscellaneous:

  Church

  That one on West End should do—respectable looking and big enough to allow me to slip in and out undetected should I need to place myself in that setting. Of course, I hope the need does not arise. Not that I’m not a believer. I am. Sort of. I mean, I was “saved” years ago. Even went through the dunking process—the whole-water-up-the-nose thing (should not have panicked). But the truth is, other than occasionally attending church with my grandmother before and after I was saved, my faith is relatively green. Hence the need for a checklist.

  Testimony

  “Uh! Just had to leave that one for last, Maizy.” Yes, Maizy, as in Maizy Grace. Courtesy of one Grandma Maizy, one Grandma Grace, and one mother with a penchant for wordplay. Amazing grace! And Mom isn’t even a Christian. But Dad’s mom is. According to Grace Stewart, the only thing my parents did right was to name me after her. I beg to differ. I mean … Maizy Grace? Though growing up I did my best to keep it under wraps, my mom blew it during a three-girl sleepover when she trilled upstairs, “Oh, Maizy Grace! How sweet the sound. Won’t you girls come on down?” Fodder for girlhood enemies like Cynthia Sircy, who beat me out for student council representative by making an issue of my “goody two-shoes” name. And that’s why I never use Grace. Of course, it could prove useful today.

  I return to my checklist. “Testimony …” I glance at the dashboard clock, which reveals I’ve blown ten of my twenty minutes’ leeway. Guess I’ll have to think up a testimony on my way to the interview. Not that I don’t have a story of how I came to know Jesus. It’s just boring. Hmm. Maybe I could expand on my Christian summercamp experience—throw in an encounter with a bear or some other woodland creature with big teeth. Speaking of which…

  I check my teeth in the mirror. Pale pink lipstick is so boring. Glaringly chaste. Borderline antisexual. Of course, that is the effect I’m after. All good.

  “All right, Maizy—er, Grr-ace—get in there and get that job.” A job I badly need if I’m to survive starting over in Nashville. My parttime position as a lifestyle reporter at the paper has yet to translate into the full-time position I was led to believe it would after three months. Now, four months later, funds are getting low.

  I fold my checklist and stick it in the book I picked up at Borders the day I surfed the classified ads and hit on “Christian company seeking editorial assistant.” Hmm. Editorial assistant—a far cry from reporter. In fact, beneath me, but what’s a girl to do?

  Closing the book, I smile at the title: The Dumb Blonde’s Guide to Christianity. Not that I’m blond—leastwise, not naturally. Another glance in the mirror confirms that although the $7.99 over-the-counter bottle of blond is no $75 salon experience, it lives up to its claim. Not brassy at all. Still, maybe I should have gone back to basic brown so I wouldn’t have to worry about roots. But talk about boring.

  I toss the book on the passenger seat, retrieve the fish emblem and my purse, and swing my legs out the open car door. After “hipping” the door closed, I hurry to the back. Unfortunately, unlike the bumper sticker, there seems no nonpermanent way to apply the emblem. Thus I have no choice but to pull off the backing and slap the fish on the trunk lid. Not sure what it symbolizes, but I can figure that out later—if I get the job.

  I lower my gaze to the “Jesus is my copilot” bumper sticker. Nice statement, especially with the addition of the fish. Honestly, who wouldn’t believe I’m a deeply committed Christian? And if someone should call me on it, I could be forgiven—it is April 1, as in April Fools’ Day.

  As I start to look away, the peeling lower edge of the bumper sticker catches my eye. Should’ve used more Scotch tape. I reach down.

  “It’s crooked.”

  The accented, matter-of-fact voice makes me freeze. I’m certain it was directed at me, but did he say, “It’s crooked” or “She’s crooked”? Surely the latter is merely a Freudian slip of my mind. And even if it isn’t, I’m not crooked. Just desperate.

  As the man behind me could be an employee of Steeple Side Christian Resources, I muster a smile and turn. His fashionably distressed jeans are the first thing I notice where he stands, six feet away. Meaning he can’t be an employee. And he certainly isn’t looking for a handout—even better (though I sympathize with the plight of the homeless, they make me very uncomfortable). So he’s probably just passing through the parking lot. Perhaps heading for Steeple Side’s retail store, which occupies a portion of the lower floor of their corporate offices.

  The next item of note is his shirt—a nice cream linen button-up that allows a glimpse of tanned collarbone. I like it. What I don’t like is his face—rather, expression. If not for his narrowed eyes and flat-lined mouth, he’d be halfway attractive with that sweep of dark blond hair, matching eyebrows, and well-defined cheekbones. Maybe even three-quarters, but that would be pushing it, as his two-day shadow can’t hide a lightly scarred jaw. Teenage acne?

  I gesture behind me. “My bumper sticker seems to be coming off.”

  He lowers his green eyes over me, and while I may simply be paranoid, I’m certain he gives my cross earrings and necklace, button-up collar, and below-knee skirt more attention than is warranted. He glances at the bumper sticker before returning his regard to me. “Yes, it is coming off.”

  British. I’m certain of it. Nowhere near the southern drawl one more often encounters in Nashville.

  “Of course”—he crosses his arms over his chest—“that’s because you’re using tape.”

  That obvious? “Well, doesn’t everyone?” Ugh! Can’t believe I said that. Maybe there is something to the warning that you are what you read, as I could not have sounded more like the stereotypical dumb blonde if I tried.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Everyone? Not if they want it to adhere permanently. You do, don’t you?”

  Guilt flushes me and is followed by panic even though I have no reason to fear that this stranger with the gorgeously clipped accent might expose me as a fake. “Of course, I do!”

  Is that a smile? “Splendid. Then I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

  Delicious accent or not, this doesn’t so
und good. It isn’t, as evidenced by his advance. I step aside, and he drops to his haunches and peels away the tape. “You see …” Holding up the sticker, he looks over his shoulder and squints against the sunlight at my back. “Self-adhesive.” He peels off the backing, positions the sticker, and presses it onto my bumper—my previously adhesive-free bumper.

  He straightens. That is a smile, one that makes him look a bit like that new James Bond actor. What’s his name?

  “You’d be surprised at how much technology has advanced over the last few years,” he says.

  I nearly miss his sarcasm, genteelly embedded as it is in that accent. “Well, who would have thought?” Be nice, Maizy—er, Grace. My smile feels tight. In fact, my whole face feels as if it’s been lathered with Lava soap. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your taking the time to affix my bumper sticker properly.”

  He inclines his head. “If you’d like, I’ll try to straighten your fish.”

  My …? “It’s crooked,” he had said. Not the bumper sticker—my fish. Meaning he probably saw me stick it on. Were he more than a passerby, I’d be deeply embarrassed.

  “No, thank you. I like my fish slightly crooked.” I glance at the emblem, which appears to have its nose stuck in the air. “It makes him look as if he’s fighting the current. You know, like a good Christian.”

  Very good, Ma—Grr-ace! Were he a Steeple Side employee, you would have won him over.

  “So you’re a Christian?”

  So much for my self-congratulatory pat on the back. Of course, maybe his question is academic. I mean, it’s obvious I’m a Christian. “Of course! A Christian. And proud of it.” Good practice. Unfortunately, if his frown is anything to go by, I’m in need of more. “Er, Jesus is my Savior.” Knew Christian speak would come in handy.

  His frown deepens.