by Toni Shiloh
“Okay, I get it.” He took a sip of his coffee. Perfect. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Church.”
“Okay, go on.” Evan had avoided going ever since he’d made the offer. He didn’t know if he could handle all the looks. Just being in here made him want to climb out of his skin, or at least the chair.
“When are we going to go, and what do I do once we get there?”
Evan wanted to smile at his friend’s sober look but kept his face neutral instead. He searched his memory for a time he saw Darryl at church and realized he never had. He leaned forward. “Have you ever been to church, man?”
Darryl shook his head, gripping the coffee mug in front of him.
A whoosh of air parted his lips. “Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve been to church here. But usually, they do worship.”
Darryl looked at him blankly.
Right, no church lingo. “We sing songs about God to God.”
“Okay.”
“After that, they do tithes and offering. A lot of believers give ten percent of their paycheck to God, some offer whatever they can, and there are those that do both.”
“Ten percent?”
He nodded at the skepticism in his friend’s voice. “It seems like a lot but when you think about it, it’s not. God doesn’t ask more of one person. He’s asking the same from us all. Plus, when you operate under the principle that it’s His money and He blessed you with it to begin with, it becomes moot.”
“I’ll take your word for it. What then?”
“Then the pastor preaches a sermon. It’s always based on Scripture from the Bible. He’ll use it to show us how we should be living.”
“So, do I need to read the Bible before I go?”
“No. I don’t know if they announce what will be preached ahead of time, but sometimes they keep it a secret just in case they end up changing the sermon. You’ll be fine, man.”
Darryl ran a hand through his hair. The boy should really consider cutting it for a more professional look.
“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Darryl could have texted his questions. Evan felt exposed sitting out in the open with his back to the crowd. It felt like the whole town bore holes into his t-shirt, watching him sit in the blasted chair.
“Well, yeah.”
“Man, you could have called me for that.” He frowned, trying hard not to roll backward and make a break for it.
“You have to get out of your parents’ house, Ev. You can’t hide forever.”
“What are you talking about?” How did he know? Sometimes having a friend since infancy was a pain. He sighed.
“Please,” Darryl smirked. “Besides, you get a blueberry muffin out of it.”
He stared at the muffin. Somehow it had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object. His friends and family knew how much he loved LeeAnn’s muffins.
“It’s not going to bite you, Ev. And no one’s going to bother you either.”
The first bite of the muffin was good. He tried his best to blend in with the crowd. Yet, the feeling of eyes following his every move didn’t go away. Could he thank God that Darryl didn’t bring up church again? It seemed sacrilegious to thank the Lord for not going to church.
I’ll get there, one of these days.
Chapter Eleven
Excitement coursed through her. Jo leaned against the porch railing, watching as Michelle slowed her white BMW coupe to a stop in the driveway. They were going to look at places to rent. She wanted to skip to the car with glee; instead she strolled down the steps in case her mother watched. Freedom was a signed lease away. It would be great to be a normal adult once again.
She opened the door and sank into the leather seats. “Good morning.”
“It’s too early to be good.” Michelle sounded half asleep.
“You do know nine isn’t early?”
“It is if you don’t have to be at work.”
Jo shook her head. How had Michelle managed to be the first associate in to work when she was the farthest thing from a morning person? Then again, the girl had been highly motivated. It looked like her motivation flew right out the window when her job ended. “Where are we going?”
Since she wasn’t all that particular about where she lived, she told Michelle to pick the places. As long as her mother wouldn’t be residing there, she couldn’t care less where they lived.
“Did you know they built new townhomes on Second Street?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we’d check those out.”
“Sounds good.”
Jo placed her head back against the headrest and settled in. She eyed the speedometer and glanced at her friend. “Are we in a hurry?”
“No, why?”
She pointed to the speed limit sign. However, the way her girl zipped right past it, she doubted Michelle had had a chance to read it. “You know, now that you’re back in Freedom Lake you’re going to have to start driving slower.”
Michelle laughed. “Says who? Besides who would want to pull over a lady driving a BMW other than a man in want of a date?”
Jo shook her head in bemusement. Sharing a place with Chelle was going to keep the laughter flying. It beat the tomblike silence at her mother’s house.
In no time, Michelle pulled into the future-resident parking spot positioned right in front of the leasing office and let out a low whistle. “This looks nice. I never imagined Freedom Lake would have a place like this.”
“Well, the town committee is trying to entice people to move back here. I hear they’re going to throw a huge Juneteenth celebration next year.”
“Why didn’t they do it this year?”
“The new hotel on First isn’t finished yet. It’s supposed to be done in March.”
“How come you didn’t work on the construction?”
“The town’s residents keep me pretty busy with odd jobs here and there. Plus, I don’t do commercial construction.”
They walked into the leasing office where the sounds of soft jazz streamed through the overhead speakers. Jo loved jazz; of course, she’d rather listen to the pioneers than the contemporary ones they played in every generic office setting. She inhaled, noting the distinct scent of vanilla.
“JoJo, I’m loving the ambiance.” Michelle looked like she might explode with excitement.
“It’s nice.” But a little too high class for Jo’s taste. How could she be comfortable in her own skin in a place this fancy?
“Good morning!”
They turned at the sound of a perky voice.
Maybe Chelle is right, it’s way too early for that.
“Hi, I’m Camille. How can I help you two ladies?” She beamed a smile at them and offered a hand. Her red hair had been gathered in a French twist and freckles dotted her nose. She had the perfect office look, classy but friendly.
If she had a job like this, Jo would love to wear her outfit. The green silk blouse paired with gray slacks said feminine but business woman. She glanced at the shoes. Heels. Nope, she lost her. Jo avoided those death traps at all cost.
“We’re interested in renting a two bedroom with a den.” Michelle smiled back and winked at Jo.
“Not a problem, follow me this way.”
Camille escorted them down a hallway, asking for their drivers’ licenses. “As you may already know, we’re brand new. If you decide to rent from us, you can rest assured knowing you’re the first to live here. We have 24-hour maintenance available via email or our intranet website.”
Jo started zoning out as Camille droned on. She was only here as moral support for Michelle. She didn’t really need a lot of space, since a home was simply a place to lay her head. Being gone almost all day, from job to job, didn’t leave time to enjoy her surroundings. But one day she’d love the perfect home. She’d take time to slow down and smell the flowers...or whatever. Settle in a home she could relax in and be herself without anyone complaining where she put her feet.
&n
bsp; Her dream floated through her mind. Perhaps a farm house with a porch. Warm tones throughout the house. A kid or two...nah, just one. And someone to share it with. She frowned as Evan entered her thoughts. Why did he always invade her mind? He was like those subliminal messages they snuck into infomercials. Her mind needed to be retrained.
Jo tuned back in to Camille in time for her to point out some of the amenities, and she took the opportunity to scrutinize the construction. Sometimes people did shoddy work, hoping no one would pay attention. However, it looked like they had hired the right people because everything seemed to be in perfect order.
Finally, Camille led them to one of the townhomes. Michelle had asked for one on the end, so the leasing agent brought them to the last available one.
“Being on the end is a popular request, so if you decide you want this one, you’ll need to put a hold on the place right away. They go like hotcakes!” the redhead said with a grin.
She pointed out the two-car garage as they made their way up the stairs leading to the front door. When they stepped in, Jo immediately took in the split-level floor plan. Ugh, stairs for days. Nothing like having to climb a bunch after a long work day. But she kept her mouth shut.
“The stairs leading downstairs go to your garage and family room. The stairs leading upstairs go to the bedrooms. And since this is the main area, it houses the living room, kitchen, and guest bathroom.”
They moved from room to room and Camille pointed out little features that made it homey. Jo repressed her groan as they climbed another set of stairs.
“There are a lot of stairs in this place,” Michelle said with a grimace.
“Yes, ma’am, but it helps maximize the square footage. That way you get the most bang for your buck.”
Rolling her eyes, Jo held back a snort. They could probably rent a bungalow for cheaper and have the same space with no stairs. In fact, as soon as they got back in the car, she’d mention it to Michelle.
“WHEN ARE YOU GOING to leave the wheelchair behind, Mr. Carter?”
Evan frowned at Drew as he did his hip abduction exercises. He clutched the parallel bar as he breathed in and out. “I told you to call me Evan.”
“When are you going to stop using the wheelchair, Evan?”
He glanced at his chair as he switched legs. “I can’t get around without it.”
“Why do you think you see me on a regular basis?”
Evan wanted to ignore the man, but Drew was right. Occupational therapy wasn’t about strengthening his limbs—it was more about helping him function with one leg. “So I can figure out how to be independent.”
“Exactly. Let me hook you up with an appointment with Julie so you can get a prosthetic and start living again.”
“I’m living.” He hated the implication that he wasn’t. He just didn’t know how to adjust to life with one leg.
“How? Is your dad still moving you to and from the chair?” Drew raised a bushy eyebrow.
The urge to wipe that smirk off his face was strong, but his therapist meant well. “I told him to stop. I can do it now with no problem.”
“Good, what about transferring to a car from the chair.”
He felt his face heat up. His dad did it for him this morning. “No.” The quiet tone of his voice barely hid his embarrassment.
“You want me to have a talk with Senior? I know he loves you but he has got to let you find your way. Alone.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes as he stood there. Standing gave him a rush after so many years of taking it for granted. He wanted to stand and brush his teeth. Stand and take out the trash. Just stand.
Then get the prosthetic.
“Okay,” he rushed out. “Make me an appointment with Julie.”
“Yes,” Drew said with a fist pump. “I’ll do it right after we finish.”
He nodded. He was going to get a prosthetic! Evan swallowed around the lump that seemed permanently lodged in his throat these days. If he could truly get his independence back and regain his freedom, then what did he have to lose? Wearing a prosthetic couldn’t garner him any worse looks then the chair did.
Drew was right. It was time for him to live. He stared at his chair and then down to his foot. His left pant leg hung there, oddly flat. Holding on to the parallel bars, he took a step. Then another. And another.
It was oddly exhilarating. Why had he waited so long to consider the freedom a prosthetic could offer him? Why relegate himself to that confounded chair when something could help him stand. And stand without falling.
“Have a seat and I’ll be right back,” Drew stated.
Evan sat down in his chair and shook his head. Stubborn pride had made him think dependence on his parents was the only way he could live. But now he could see how wrong he was. It was time to stop sequestering himself from everyone. Maybe he should reconsider the support group Drew always harped about. It’d be nice to be around people who understood his plight.
At the sound of footfalls, he looked up. Drew appeared, his eyes crinkling and mouth smiling. You’d think he just made the decision instead of me.
“You’re all set. I got you an appointment for next week with Julie. She’ll walk you through the process. Pun intended.” Drew slapped his back and laughed.
Evan just stared.
“You’ll get your sense of humor back sooner or later. Hopefully it won’t take as long as your decision to get a prosthetic.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Evan rolled his eyes. “I get the point. I was wallowing.”
“Oh, you’re still wallowing. But now you’ll be standing when you do it.”
He shifted in the chair. “How can I still be wallowing? I agreed to the artificial leg, didn’t I?”
“Sure, but when’s the last time you were around a group of people? When’s the last time you went somewhere without caring what people thought? When’s the last time you went out on a date, huh?” Drew laid a hand on his shoulder. “When you stop letting fear lead you, then we’ll talk.”
Not knowing what to say to Drew’s insight, he simply nodded. A niggling feeling tingled at the base of his skull. Drew had a point, but it wasn’t something he’d admit to freely.
Chapter Twelve
Jo pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door opener. She groaned. Her mother’s jaguar gleamed in one of the parking spots. Should she go in the house or leave to avoid any possible drama? If she didn’t, where else would she go? She was hot and tired but thankful that the Lancaster job was finally done.
“Here goes nothing.” She took a deep breath and pulled in next to her mother’s car.
After she walked into the mud room, she took off her boots. Quietly, in stocking feet, she headed for the kitchen. Her stomach had been making its complaints all the way home. If she didn’t get food into her system soon, she might pass out from hunger.
Loud laughter echoed from the direction of the dining room.
What day is it?
Tuesday. The day her mother’s bridge club met. Hopefully the added company would prevent harassment from her mother. Quickly she made a sandwich, thankful for easy meals. Please don’t let her hear me! Jo tiptoed past the dining room doorway and held her breath.
“Jo Ellen, come in and say hello.”
So close. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her shoulders slumped as she entered the dining room. Three other ladies turned and looked at her.
“Hello, Mrs. Corneal, Mrs. James, Mrs. Simpson.” She smiled at each of them. “Mother.”
She tried to keep a false smile in place, but her face threatened to crack from the force of it.
“What brings you in so late, Jo Ellen?”
She glanced at her sports watch. It was only seven. “I wanted to finish a job tonight.”
“Whose house did you just make better, Jo Ellen?” Mrs. Simpson asked her.
“The Lancaster’s.”
A chorus of ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ echoed about. She gave them a smi
le and waved good-bye.
“Wait a minute, Jo Ellen.”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Cassidy was just telling us that her son is moving back to Freedom Lake. He’s single.”
The sing-song voice her mother used sounded like nails on a chalkboard. As nice as Mrs. Corneal was, her son fell far, far away from the fruit tree. He was a slob and a self-proclaimed ladies’ man. She’d always been happy he had been two years ahead of her in school, saved her from sharing any classes with him.
“I’m sure you’re happy to have him back, Mrs. Corneal.” She smiled at her, hoping it looked sincere.
“Oh yes, it’s been awhile since he’s lived here. Would you be willing to give him a tour of all the new sites?”
Mrs. Corneal stared at her expectantly, and Jo felt the color drain from her face. Being set up was worse than hearing Chloe talk about God. Suddenly, a friendship with Evan didn’t seem so distasteful. Not as dismal as hanging with Joe Corneal.
“I’m really busy these days, but maybe if I have free time.” With that, she hurried out of the room and up the stairs. She could only hope Mrs. Corneal wouldn’t take her up on her vague commitment.
SENIOR TURNED DOWN the street, headed toward Darryl’s place. Evan wondered how hard it would be to drive with a prosthetic. Was it even possible? And more importantly, could he do it? His thoughts redirected as his dad pulled up to Darryl’s house.
Turned out Darryl lived on the street behind Mr. Joseph’s place. If Evan stood in his soon-to-be backyard, it would face Darryl’s. Who knew they would end up living so close to each other? When they were in high school, Evan had lived in the B&B—before it had been turned into one, that is—and Darryl had lived in the low-income housing area in downtown Freedom Lake. Funny how growing up changed everything.
Senior unlocked the doors as Darryl walked up to the van. His friend sported a dark gray suit and a purple shirt. His curly hair covered part of his ears. Evan was more surprised the boy owned a suit.
“Good morning, Darryl.” Senior gave a nod as Darryl got into the back seat.
