Standing Strong

by Theresa Linden

  “Got a problem with that?” Jarret said in a cool tone, doing his best to appear unfazed though it ruffled him a bit. He knew why Tyrone cared, why any boy would worry about Jarret dating his sister. Everyone knew what had happened to Jarret’s last girlfriend.

  Eyes locked on Jarret, Tyrone’s neck and cheeks flushed. His fingers tightened around the book. He was probably mustering every bit of strength he had to keep himself under control. It would be a different story if they were out in the parking lot. Jarret might not fare so well.

  “Look...” Jarret eased the book from Tyrone and placed it on the shelf.

  Tyrone sucked in a breath and seemed to hold it.

  “I get that you’re worried,” Jarret said, “but you can chill. I’ll respect your sister in every way.” He cringed, hearing his father’s words come out of his mouth. “You better be respecting your girlfriend,” Papa had told him last year, referring to Zoe.

  “You’d better.” Tyrone jabbed Jarret in the chest and kept his finger there.

  Jarret forced a level of calm and self-control that he didn’t think he had in him.

  “Because if I find out that you’re...” He pinched his lips together. “If she ends up like your last girlfriend...” He squeezed his lips shut again.

  “Message taken.” Keeping his own attitude in check, Jarret held his gaze. He deserved this and would not hold it against Tyrone in the least.

  Another jab. “If you do anything to her, I’m coming after you.”

  Wanting to show that he was worth his promise, Jarret raised his hands and tried to look sincere. “I got it.”

  Tyrone withdrew his finger from Jarret’s chest, yanked a book from the shelf, and dropped it. It slammed to the floor at Jarret’s feet with a noise that would’ve made him jump if he hadn’t seen it happen.

  Jarret watched Tyrone lumber away, then he stooped for the book. The title caught his eye as he returned it to the shelf: Weapons of War, from the age of hand-to-hand fighting.

  CHAPTER 24

  “There. Is that her?” Keefe tapped the front passenger-side window, pointing to the blond on the front porch of a white French colonial. The house sat on a wide, well-manicured lot. Black address numbers hung over a black mailbox, the address Jarret had told Keefe to watch out for.

  “Huh?” Jarret slowed his Chrysler and peered out Keefe’s window. “Uh, yeah.” He stepped on the brakes, Keefe jerking forward, then he backed up and swung into the driveway.

  They were late. They’d left the house with just enough time to drive to hers. Keefe had advised Jarret to leave a bit early, but then Jarret decided to change his shirt. Then he changed again. Then he put the shirt he’d worn to school back on. It was an edgy button-front Rock & Republic plaid that looked good on him. He’d probably changed back to avoid appearing overly concerned about his appearance. Even though he was.

  They still might’ve gotten to her house on time. But Jarret had turned the wrong way down her street and hadn’t realized it for several blocks. If Keefe hadn’t been so lost in thought...

  Shifting the Chrysler to park, Jarret glanced at Keefe. “So we’re five minutes late, so what?”

  Keefe shrugged and swung open the car door.

  An old-fashioned wheelbarrow overflowing with flowers sat on one side of the porch, Chantelle on the other. She got up from a green bench. A shadowy figure showed through the half-open drapes, someone pacing in the living room.

  Hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, Chantelle bounced down the porch steps. She wore a summer dress with a lacy sweater.

  “Hey, Chantelle.” Keefe smiled, trying not to show the reservation he felt about this evening. He didn’t want any of her cheerleader friends thinking of him as boyfriend material.

  Leaving the radio on and car running, Jarret sauntered around the Chrysler a bit too late to be a gentleman. Chantelle already had one hand on the open front passenger door.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said to Keefe over the car door.

  “Oh?” Keefe glanced at Jarret.

  Jarret shrugged. He probably hadn’t thought of it as an issue.

  “It’s okay, right?” Keefe grabbed the top of the passenger door, ready to close it for her.

  “Sure. All you West boys can come. The more the merrier.” She slid into the front passenger seat.

  Before Keefe closed the door for her, the screen door creaked open and her brother, Tyrone, stepped outside. “Don’t be coming home later than you said,” he hollered to Chantelle. Then he threw a threatening glare at Jarret and propped a hand on a porch post, flexing his bicep as he did it.

  Jarret saluted him with two fingers to his forehead, his expression a mix of amusement and attitude. Then he got back in the Chrysler, and Keefe slid into the backseat.

  Cranking the key in the ignition, Jarret threw Keefe a worried glance through the rearview mirror and inhaled. He must’ve been hoping the “new car smell” air freshener would do the job. They’d picked it up after school, leaving Roland to wait in the car. Right there in the parking lot, they’d sprayed it under the seats—especially where he’d found the Limburger cheese—and in the vents. Roland claimed he couldn’t breathe and had insisted that they drive with the windows down. Jarret liked the idea and had left them open ever since.

  “You look nice.” Jarret shifted into reverse.

  “Thanks.” She played with a curl that hung free from her ponytail. “Hey, is it okay if we put the windows up?”

  Jarret’s mouth fell open. He exchanged glances with Keefe in the rearview window, then backed out of the driveway. “I like the wind.”

  Keefe suppressed a grin. How long before Jarret gets fed up and trades his smelly car in?

  “My hair will be all over my face,” she said. “Please.” She stuck her bottom lip out and batted her eyes. Jarret was a sucker for a pouty face.

  KEEFE PLAYED WITH THE peanut butter chocolate ice cream in his cup, his attention given to the girl across from him in the booth: Rachel, Chantelle’s best friend and also a cheerleader. She liked horseback riding, though she didn’t own a horse. And she belonged to the Junior Shooters club.

  “...and if I ever get one of my own, I’d want it to be a Pinto.”

  “What colors?”

  “Well, aren’t they always brown and white?”

  The shy smile she gave before answering questions appealed to Keefe more than he cared to admit. It stirred something inside him. “No. They can be any colors.”

  She smiled again, her gaze flitting between him and her ice cream.

  He smiled back. Talking with her came easy. They’d started talking with each other immediately after getting their ice cream and sliding across from each other into the booth. First, they’d exchanged little comments about ice cream and basketball, then they moved into more personal topics like what they did over the summer.

  “Invite her over for a ride,” Jarret whispered, leaning into Keefe. He sat next to Keefe and across from Chantelle, in an outside seat of the booth.

  Keefe bumped his leg into Jarret’s under the table, warning him.

  Jarret smiled and shifted his gaze to the group that had come with them to the ice cream shop. Ten other cheerleaders and two boys sat at other booths and purplish tables, all of them talking over each other and goofing off, acting like they owned the place.

  Keefe could tell from his brother’s pleasant expression that he was enjoying himself. Maybe it was the ratio of three girls to every boy, or the playful attitude of the group, or the way Chantelle flirted with him. Keefe couldn’t remember the last time Jarret had seemed so happy.

  “So how do you like being a twin?” Rachel smiled at Keefe.

  “Ask me when he’s not around,” Keefe teased, tossing a glance at Jarret.

  Jarret rammed his shoulder into Keefe’s. “He loves it. He especially loves the idea of double dating.”

  Keefe’s face burned. Okay, so Jarret was teasing back. He probably liked the idea of double datin
g. It would help him stay out of trouble. But he knew what Keefe wanted. Did he think a pretty girl would have Keefe changing his mind?

  Jarret turned his attention back to Chantelle. “You and your friends go out a lot?” Jarret tipped his head in the direction of the loudest group of girls.

  “Sort of.” Chantelle stirred the melted remains of her rainbow sherbet. “Not always here. Sometimes the coffee shop. Or the park if the weather’s good.”

  “Did someone say park?” a loudmouthed girl said. Keefe had yet to learn all their names.

  “Yeah, let’s go to the park,” another girl said, this one with mousy brown hair and a peppy bounce in her every move. “We can power walk around the trail.”

  “You think you can work off your ice cream?” another asked with a laugh.

  The three of them got into it, laughing and exchanging banter with one another.

  Jarret watched them for a moment, looking amused and a bit contemplative.

  “Okay, let’s do it. To the park.” Chantelle grabbed Jarret’s and Keefe’s ice cream dishes and carried them to the garbage can.

  Jarret shifted his attention to Keefe. “Want to?”

  Keefe’s mind went blank, his gaze sliding to Rachel and back to Jarret. He liked her. He really did. A part of him wanted to keep talking, to talk all night, to get to know her and discover what else they had in common.

  His heart beat so hard that he could feel it thumping in his chest. Could a girl change his mind? After thinking all this time that God had been calling him to a vocation, would he give it all up for girl?

  Jarret and Rachel stared at him, waiting for his answer.

  Keefe ran a hand through his hair, momentarily remembering when he’d worn it long like Jarret’s. “What park, the one across from St. Michael’s?”

  “Yeah, probably. It’s just a couple blocks away.”

  “Sounds fun, don’t you think?” Rachel gave Keefe a shy smile.

  Indecision surged through him, his mouth wrapping around the first word of his reply. He shot Jarret a silent plea for help.

  “He’s got something to do,” Jarret said. “Maybe he’ll catch up with us.”

  Slouching back with relief, he nodded. “Yeah, I need to stop by... somewhere.”

  The flicker of Jarret’s eyes said he realized that “somewhere” meant the church. “You walking?” He slid out of the booth.

  “Uh. Sure.” Expecting a ride, Keefe couldn’t stop his face from screwing up.

  He and Rachel slid out of the booth next, at the same time.

  “See you.” Rachel gave him a long look.

  “Yeah, see you.” He watched her walk away.

  While everyone converged on the doors, including Chantelle and Rachel, Jarret and Keefe lagged behind.

  “I can take you,” Jarret said. “Just thought you’d rather walk. I’m about to offer a ride to whoever wants it. Your girlfriend there might take me up on it.”

  Keefe sighed, releasing tension. At least Jarret was looking out for him. “Yeah, I’ll walk. It’s only a couple blocks away.”

  “Okay, then catch up with us at the park later.”

  Keefe nodded and caught the glass door before it swung shut.

  TURNING OFF THE MAIN road that the ice cream store was on, Keefe strolled down a residential street with tiny houses and no sidewalks. A gentle breeze blew, comfortable weather that lifted his soul to the fluffy white clouds that filled the evening sky.

  He imagined himself walking with Rachel. Holding her hand. If he had gone, they would’ve probably walked around the park together or stood talking under a tree. They’d get to know each other better. What if he liked her and she liked him?

  Two preschoolers played in a front yard, a boy chasing a squealing girl.

  Was he really going to give up girls for the rest of his life? He’d never even kissed a girl. Give up marriage and family? He’d never have children. Could he live with that? Did he want that? Was he seeking to close himself off from others, to make his life empty, centered only on himself?

  Peace reigned in Keefe’s soul as he thought about it. No, he didn’t want to close himself off from anyone. He wasn’t trying to get away from his family or to avoid girls and marriage. And he didn’t see it as giving up anything—girls, marriage, a nice house, career, or car. He saw it as giving it all to God. Not divided. All in. That’s what he wanted.

  Keefe’s pace quickened as he strode down a slope. His heart stirred in its depths. He wanted to love God above all else. He longed for total love, to love with all his heart, soul, and strength. He wanted an undivided love that pours itself out for the beloved, empties itself, giving till it hurts even, giving until death.

  But where did God want him? He knew in his heart that in God’s will alone would he find happiness.

  CHAPTER 25

  Jarret had driven four cheerleaders in his Chrysler 300, Chantelle in the front and Rachel and two other girls in the back. They chattered and giggled all the way to the park. Good thing it was only a few blocks. Girls sure could get silly when they got together.

  An elderly couple crossed Jarret and Chantelle’s path, strolling along the trail that circled around the park. Several people walked dogs. Children’s voices traveled from the playground partially visible between trees. Three cheerleaders and one boy moseyed toward a bench, deep in conversation. The rest of the group took off around the trail, speed walking. Or power walking. Whatever they called it.

  Jarret and Chantelle strolled through the grass toward an aspen tree with yellow leaves and a white trunk. Their hands bumped once, then again. Chantelle’s aqua blue eyes caught a beam of sunlight as she glanced at him. She’d removed the hair fastener and let her blond curls fall freely down her back and shoulders, over her lacy sweater.

  “We’re all going camping this year, on that annual fall camping trip. Are you?”

  Jarret’s heart slammed into his throat and landed back in place with a thud. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, why not?”

  They weaved around trees, slowing their pace.

  “Not my thing. I gave it a chance last year.” He glanced at St. Michael’s Church across the street and rubbed his stubbly jaw, trying not to think about it. “It didn’t work out so well.” She wouldn’t know his real reason, and he had no intention of telling her. She only needed to know he absolutely was not going.

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  They walked a few minutes in silence, his heart settling down and his thoughts evening out.

  “Let’s go on a real date.”

  Jarret’s heart moved again, a strange fluttery sensation that came a bit from flattery but more from caution. Did she just ask him out? He couldn’t let their relationship move too fast. He needed to set the pace. Not her.

  “This isn’t a real date?” He bumped her hand on purpose this time, then grabbed it, holding it for the first time. Soft, warm, real... Such a little thing felt like such a big step.

  At his touch she came alive, bouncing to a stop and facing him. “A real date means just the two of us.”

  “Oh.” So group outings wouldn’t satisfy her? Back at the ice cream shop, he’d been thinking they could get to know each other by hanging out with her friends after school. They’d never be alone, so he’d never get himself into trouble. He could have a girlfriend without crossing lines he shouldn’t.

  But to her a date meant just the two of them... How could he accommodate that? They absolutely would not, could not, go to each other’s houses. Unless one of their parents invited them over, wanting to meet them. Not Jarret’s house though. Papa gave him too much space, too much privacy. He could talk to Papa about that. Nah, that’d be a weird conversation.

  If he and Chantelle started to get serious, they’d need to set a few rules or something. What about double dating... Or maybe he’d just decide the when and where, and keep it somewhere public like... “Wanna see a movie?”

  She swung their hands, smiling up at him.
“I’d love to. When?”

  “I dunno.” He and his brothers planned on talking to Papa this weekend. So not then. Was he ready for this? Yes, he could make this work. He would stay in control. “How about next weekend?”

  Her smile turned into a frown, and she squeezed his hand. “But I’m going camping.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “I wish I could talk you into going.”

  He shook his head slowly, telling her with his eyes that it would never happen. “We’ll see a movie the day before you go. Thursday.”

  “Next Thursday?” She tapped her chin and gazed upward. Then she beamed a smile and swung their hands. “Okay.”

  AN HOUR LATER, AN ORANGE sun sank between groups of trees along the horizon, streetlights blinked on, and shadows spread through the square. The park closed at sunset so everyone except for their group had gone. And now most of their group, including Chantelle, stood together near the parking spaces, talking about school and the upcoming camping trip.

  Jarret leaned against a tree, sending a text to Keefe. We’re ready to go. Where are you?

  Chantelle glanced over her shoulder in Jarret’s direction, shadows hiding her expression.

  Lifting his index finger, he signaled for her to wait.

  Keefe’s message popped onto Jarret’s phone. Can you drop her off and come back for me?

  Jarret huffed and clenched his jaw. It didn’t really matter though, did it? He could just pull up to the driveway and let her out, tell her he had to pick up Keefe next. Or what difference would it make if he walked her to the door and bolted back to his car? She hadn’t considered it a real date, so she wouldn’t be expecting a kiss. And even if he did kiss her, he could keep it simple.

  Jarret messaged back, Guess so. See you in ten.

  Their group had thinned, leaving Chantelle, two other girls, and one guy standing on the sidewalk. Two cars backed out at the same time, then Chantelle said her goodbyes to the remaining three before bouncing up to Jarret. “Are you taking me home or do I need to hitch a ride?” She propped her hands on her hips and tilted her head.