by Ginny Aiken
“Know what?”
“I always felt tongue-tied around you. When we went to school here, all I wanted to do was take you out.”
She’d been swirling her soda glass, clinking the ice first on one side then the other. The glass stilled; Reba let go and folded her hands. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell—no, I can figure that out. I was so confused all those years ago. Do you know how old I am, Mason?”
“I know you’re a lot younger than I. That’s one of the reasons I never asked you out. Class presidents manage to be privy to lots of interesting tidbits. You had the highest IQ in the school, yet you never joined the Honor Society or represented Shiloh at any of the conferences.”
Reba looked out the window, that faraway look back on her face. “This place was my first taste of freedom. I started sight-reading at three. I don’t even remember how I learned. Freaked my parents out. I had a sister in second grade who needed remedial tutoring. It used to annoy her when I tried to tell her the right answers.
“When they took me to kindergarten, the school arranged for testing. Suddenly I was in a program for gifted children, not just a program but a whole different school. A van came and picked me up every morning and brought me back in the late afternoon.
“My whole elementary experience was put under a microscope. They kept bar graphs of everything. I can still hear the questions: How much sleep did I need? Was my milk allergy related to my intelligence? How many ear infections did I have? And how high was my tolerance to pain?
“As for academics, I learned a lot, but was always the youngest in my class. I never felt like I belonged. Yet, as my parents kept telling me, ‘What an opportunity.’ You know, all I ever wanted was to change places with my sisters. Believe me, my elementary school experience was all the Honor Society I wanted. A high IQ doesn’t mean friendship and fun.”
“And I always wanted things to come easy,” Mason admitted. He tied the top of the trash bag and took it to the back door. He helped himself to another soda and sat at the table. “My two older brothers were straight A students. So were my three sisters. The first time I brought home my report card and my family found out I was average, they thought it was because I was the baby. They blamed themselves and by second grade I had a tutor. I think, at that time, I was the only Clark who didn’t touch things and have them turn to gold. I had to work twice as hard at everything.”
“Mason, why aren’t you married?”
A cool breeze swayed the curtains of the window above the sink. Reba had lined the ledge with flowers. An embroidered sampler exclaimed, “Kiss the Cook.” Mason knew somewhere there was probably a similar stitching urging, “Hug the Chef.” His mother had the same decorations in her kitchen. “After I left Shiloh, I went to the University of Lincoln for my postgraduate work. I dated, even got engaged, but never found exactly what or whom I was looking for. Tell me about … Ray?”
“I met Ray because of Roger Howard. Mr. Howard was my Bible teacher when I was here. He liked me. Said my answers to his Bible tests weren’t rote. He stuck up for me, you know.”
Mason knew. Roger had quoted Scripture about forgiveness and cited examples of other students who had made similar mistakes and yet not been expelled. Not that Mason had been in attendance at the impromptu school board meeting that late Saturday night. He’d just had family on the school board, family who was sure there’d been a mistake about Mason’s involvement.
Mason had stuck up for her, too, but he’d bet she didn’t know that. He’d demanded that he be expelled, along with her. He’d threatened to call the Shiloh newspaper and report discrimination. Sunday morning, instead of going to church, he’d headed to Reba’s dorm, determined to sit down with her and mastermind a plan—a plan to what, he hadn’t known—but it hadn’t mattered. She wasn’t there. By Monday, she hadn’t just left the school, she’d left Iowa. And Mason had always felt slightly guilty that he’d graduated two weeks later when she’d lost all her credits.
“I knew that.” Mason wanted to take her hand, tell her he was sorry, but now was not the time. “Mr. Howard’s quite a man. I had him for Bible, too. I’ve always respected him.”
“I went to live with his sister.”
“What about your family?”
Reba choked back a laugh. “They were so mad. Here I was, with opportunities beyond belief. As Mom said on the phone that night, ‘We’ve spent so much time on you.’ I was the first Harper to go to college. I’ll bet you didn’t know that. When Mr. Howard offered to get me into another school, they were thrilled. Guess how old I was when all that happened, Mason?”
He shook his head.
“Sixteen.”
And she’d looked twelve, he remembered.
“My parents thought by sending me to a Christian college, I’d be safe. Me, I no longer cared, but when I got here I loved it. It was the first time I didn’t have to fit in some predetermined mold. Even better, my sisters weren’t telling their boyfriends that I was weird. I could take whatever class I wanted, sorta, and make friends, but everyone was …” She didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at her glass.
“Was?”
“So different. Mature. They knew things I didn’t. Things you couldn’t read about in books.”
“How old was Ray?”
“Nine years older than I. Thirty when he died. He was the son of the family I was staying with. Mr. Howard’s nephew.”
“You married pretty fast.”
She started twirling the soda again. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, Hannah’s five. It’s only been six years since I last saw you.”
“Oh.” The glass slid toward the edge of the table. Reba stopped it and took a breath. “Ray already had Hannah when we married, but in all the ways that count, she is my daughter.”
Chapter 7
Reba wrote PLEASE DOUBLE-SPACE across the top of a freshman English composition. Five down, forty to go. Gray, heavy clouds hung low in the sky. They hovered, close, seeming to eavesdrop on the music Reba’s radio played. October already, and there’d be snow soon. Hannah could hardly wait. Reba checked her watch. She had fifteen minutes before day-care ended.
Footsteps sounded outside, hesitating at the door. Reba waited, trying not to anticipate. She and Mason had formed a tentative friendship. He hadn’t pressed for more information after the night he’d helped fix up her house, and Reba hadn’t finished analyzing exactly why she’d opened up to him. Had she felt free to discuss her past because Mason Clark had participated in one of its turning points? He might well be the only person who could understand what she’d gone through. Had the wall gone tumbling because he genuinely seemed to want to know about her?
Truthfully, she was amazed he’d stuck around long enough for a friendship to form. What a riot to find out he’d had a crush on her. He’d seemed so removed from everything she’d been doing back then.
“You need anything else, Mrs. Payne?” Cindy stepped into the office.
“No, I’m fine. You go.”
“Jag’s babysitting for you tonight. Can I come over?”
“Not tonight.” Reba wanted to say yes. She had to respect that Cindy bothered to ask. That spoke volumes about what kind of girl she was. And Jag was a find. Not only could he make Reba laugh, but he knew exactly when to interrupt conversations. He’d picked exactly the right time to barge into the kitchen for a soda that Saturday—before she’d told Mason too much.
Never in her wildest imagination had Reba thought to hire a male babysitter. Linda Simms, the department secretary, recommended a handful of girls, but Jag came with Cindy. Within a few minutes, Reba knew who Hannah felt more comfortable with. His references were impeccable. He had three younger sisters to prove experience, and his school records were carbon copies of Reba’s own. No wonder his hair stuck straight up and his arm was tattooed; he was making a statement, telling the world not to assume.
Maybe if she’d had more of his self-assurance, she’d have had an easier time. Jag�
�s parents had allowed him to go to a regular school after elementary, plus they’d kept him in an age-appropriate grade.
She put the rest of the essays into a folder, locked the office, and walked to Hannah’s school.
“Hey, Mama, guess what?” Hannah left the kindergarten line and skipped toward Reba. The safety patrol student hurried to keep up. Hannah shoved a handful of papers in Reba’s hands and hugged a bunny-shaped backpack. “Next Thursday is Open House, and Mrs. Henry wants you to send brownies.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yup; she said that it would be nice for mommies to bring brownies and be on time. Didn’t I give you that note last week?”
“Thursday? Oh, Hannah, I’ve got a volleyball game.”
The backpack hit the ground, and Hannah dragged it for a few feet before saying, “But you’ll come here first?”
Searching the papers in her hand, Reba found the notice. Seven. The game started at four thirty, and she was in charge because the head coach had a doctor’s appointment. Reba bit her lip. At the earliest, it would end at seven … but it was a half-hour drive away. “I’ll see what I can do, Hannah. I promise.”
Times like this, she really missed Ray. With two parents, at least one could surely schedule important events such as Open House.
“We’re working on ‘G’ today. I colored Gary the Great Dane who eats grapefruit. I really wanted to color Gloria the gorilla who eats gumdrops, but Marky grabbed that one first.”
Hannah skipped ahead. She looked both ways and waited for Reba to catch up before they crossed the street. Heading for the backyard, she kept her promise to feed Bark each afternoon. For some reason, Hannah had the idea that taking good care of Bark was a habit that would earn her a cat.
Reba opened the door, turned the television on for noise, and went into the kitchen. Two hours until Wednesday night services. Reba had been slow finding a place to worship. The church on campus was convenient, but going there with her own students left her open for attending church as a teacher more than as a fellow Christian. When worshipping, Reba wanted to make friends, deepen her walk, and be a part of a family. Mason spent a lot of time rehashing homework assignments after the closing prayer. Maybe if she didn’t have Hannah, she’d be more open to that kind of accessibility, but she wanted Hannah to understand that you went to church for worship, not to interface about school schedules.
Still, Mason and Tiffany acted like her attendance at their congregation was like a gift. Reba found it hard not to look forward to such a welcome. Hannah had switched allegiance from Mason to Tiffany and liked the college girls who taught the kindergarten class.
Opening the kitchen window, already knowing the answer, Reba hollered, “What church do you want to go to tonight? Community?”
“No,” Hannah shot back, “our church, across the street. I like that one. I can hear Bark barking when we stand outside.”
Well, that was certainly an important consideration when deciding on a church home. Shiloh didn’t have volleyball practice on Wednesday, and the Christian elementary school didn’t assign homework, so Wednesday was actually a pretty easy day. Reba stirred macaroni and cheese into a dinner, kept one eye on the backyard, and read her curriculum book for tomorrow’s lesson. Mason said teaching got easier. She believed that. Right now she had to do every assignment the students did, trying to predict where questions would arrive. Already she’d discovered textbooks weren’t perfect. She’d had to go back and change grades after her first test because of comma splices.
She was deep in the world of “commas of address” when the phone rang.
“Hi, Thelma.” Reba settled down on a kitchen chair. Ray’s mom was a talker. During their half-hour conversation, Reba agreed to return to Albuquerque for Thanksgiving. Hannah needed to spend time with her grandparents, and Reba missed them, too.
Ray’s parents were the best thing that had happened to Reba. What an amazing awakening to suddenly live in a home where the family sat down to dinner together, discussed daily events, thanked the Father for all His blessings, and enjoyed board games more than television.
Living with the Paynes had also been eye-opening about how carefully some families had to budget money. Reba’s family made and spent money in the same breath. Darrel Payne, a minister, had budgeted God first and everything else after. That first year living with the Paynes had done more to prepare Reba for life than all the fancy preparatory schools.
After agreeing to let Thelma and Darrel pay for half the plane fare, Reba put Hannah on the phone for a quick Granny hello.
By the time Hannah hung up the phone, Reba had set supper on the table, but her appetite was gone. They were going back to Albuquerque. November would have been Ray’s birthday. It made sense that Thelma and Darrel Payne wanted family close. What would it be like to sit across from Thelma and Darrel and face Ray’s empty chair? Also, Reba never felt comfortable knowing that the men who shot and killed Ray hadn’t been caught.
The service project for October was going door-to-door in the neighborhood and passing out fliers inviting people to church. Mason didn’t canvas. Instead, he paced the sidewalk, trying to keep all the students in sight. His older brother Richard remembered taking sodas and munchies from strangers. Mason didn’t trust that much. He put two males and one female per group. They handed out a handwritten invitation to attend services, a business card with the address and phone number of the church, and a one-page Bible study. If anyone expressed interest in the Bible study, the students were to offer to sit outside, whip out their Bibles, and help explain the paper. They’d spent four weeks going over the Bible study in class, role-playing the questions people who’d never been to church might ask. Mason loved it because it gave opportunity for the students to ask questions they, themselves, might have but were too self-conscious to ask.
The good news was, about every fifth house already belonged to a church family. The bad news was, not even every fifth house was willing to give time to the students. It wasn’t by accident that Mason ended the excursion in Reba’s neighborhood. He knew she and Hannah spent lots of time on the front porch. Any excuse to be in the neighborhood got him a little closer to gaining her trust. Actually, he figured Bark would be harder to win than Reba, but that was more a physical battle than an emotional one.
Cindy and Jag already cuddled on her porch swing. Tiffany danced across the front yard with Hannah riding on her feet.
“We already ordered pizza,” Jag said.
Reba smiled weakly.
The sweet sound of a campus devotional drifted across the lawn.
“Mommy, can I?”
After getting permission, Hannah dragged Tiffany across the street. They were followed by a troop of students. Hannah started young on her college experience.
“She already knows more songs than I do.” Reba scooted over so Mason could sit on the porch swing.
He sat down, purposely not hugging the edge and purposely sitting close enough so his hand could accidentally brush against her hair after he rested it across the back. “I have two nephews who can speak Spanish simply because their next-door neighbors speak Spanish. Children are amazing.”
“How did your service project go?”
“We managed to hand out twenty information packs. As for how it went, well, we won’t know that until we see visitors at services.”
“I don’t remember anyone ever knocking on our door,” Reba remarked.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Arizona.”
“Ah, not exactly the Bible Belt. I know you said your parents sent you to a Christian college because they thought it would be safe, but how did they decide on Iowa?”
“Pure happenstance. I was in a program for advanced kids called Vanguard. I’d completed their curriculum. Only a few colleges were open to the idea of letting a sixteen-year-old live in the dorm. One of the Vanguard counselors recommended Shiloh. She’d attended here and loved it. She made a few phone calls. I wound up being part
of a study charting how starting college early bodes for younger students. They especially were interested in the differences between small versus large campuses. Needless to say, I’m not part of a success ratio.”
“You were straight A.”
“I was also racking up demerits at the speed of light.”
She stopped, and Mason wondered if her next thought was, Before I got kicked out. Someday they needed to broach that subject, get it out of the way, and at least for him, start forgiving.
“Enough of that,” Reba said. “Let’s talk about you.”
“Me? I’m not nearly as interesting as you.”
“Just how big is your family?”
“Big enough to still be front-page news. You were the only reporter to poke fun at how many pews my family took up on Visitor’s Day in chapel.”
“I was amazed.”
“You should see us at Christmas. Speaking of which, my mother said you could come to our place for Thanksgiving. It’s about a two-hour drive. There are tons of children Hannah’s age.”
“Thanks, but Hannah and I are flying to New Mexico. Ray’s parents really want us to be home for the holiday.”
It was unreasonable to be jealous of a dead man, but it seemed no matter what topic Mason and Reba settled on, Ray was a part. Mason preferred Bark as competition.
Chapter 8
It was amazing how quickly Creed, Iowa, had become home. Reba’s shoes crunched through snow as she made her way to the front door.
“Mommy, let’s call now so Bark can come home! Hurry.”
Mason “dog-sat” while Reba and Hannah had enjoyed Thanksgiving in New Mexico.
“Let’s just get the suitcases unpacked.”
Mason had been true to his word. Reba had been afraid he’d forget to come over and turn on the thermostat, but heat greeted their arrival.
Hannah raced up the stairs, her suitcase bumping behind her.
Two seconds later she was back. “Can I call now?”
“Let’s go check your room first?”
