“I, um . . . I was looking for you,” she finally sputtered out. “I was wondering if you had a spare copy of the Book of Mormon.”
Henry pulled his keys out of his pocket and moved past her on the porch. “I think I do. What for?”
“It’s funny, really. Flip just asked me if he could have one.”
“Flip? Really?” Henry pushed on the screen door and held it open, ushering Eliza inside. “I never would have guessed.”
“I know. I said the same thing. He said he was hoping to read some while he’s on excursion.” Eliza stood by the front door and waited while Henry went into his bedroom to retrieve the book. The inside of his apartment was similar to Eliza’s, but her eyes were quickly drawn to those things that made the room uniquely Henry’s. His desk was neat and orderly—no surprise there—and his bookshelf was crammed with books. She crossed the short distance to the shelf so she could study the titles.
She first noticed the titles she knew and loved herself—The Good Earth, East of Eden, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, among others. Of course, she wasn’t surprised when she noticed not one but four different copies of To Kill a Mockingbird. Henry had mentioned it was his favorite. She turned at the sound of his voice.
“Here you go.” He handed her the Book of Mormon. “I keep meaning to get a bigger shelf. I’ve still got boxes of books in the bedroom that I don’t have room for out here.”
“Forget the library,” Eliza said. “I think you might actually have a more impressive collection right here.”
Henry smiled. “Do you like to read?”
“Yes,” Eliza answered a little wistfully. “I wish I had more time for it now, but books really meant something when I was a kid. They helped me through a lot of tough times, you know?”
She watched as Henry’s eyes scanned his shelves. “Here.” He reached for a title. “Have you read this one? It’s one of my favorites.”
She read the title: How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn. “No, I haven’t read it.”
“It’s a simple story, but the writing is beautiful. I think you’ll like it.”
Eliza liked this Henry—the relaxed, comfortable, talking-about-books Henry. She smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll like it if it’s one of your favorites. And thanks for this too,” she added, holding up the Book of Mormon.
“Don’t mention it.”
Eliza knew she needed to get back to Flip but was surprised to realize how much she wished she had a reason to stay with Henry a little longer.
After leaving, she stopped by her own apartment long enough to drop off the book Henry had loaned her and give herself a quick glance in the mirror. Not because she wondered how she would look when she got back to Flip but because, suddenly, she was worried about how she had looked when she was with Henry.
She couldn’t help but compare the two men. She liked them both, but there was something different about Henry. Flip was fun, and there was a spark of chemistry between them, but when Eliza was around Henry, she felt more than just flirty chemistry. She felt connection.
Get a hold of yourself, Eliza. Shaking off her distractions, she hurried back to the admin building, where, fortunately, Flip was still sitting on the porch. He was leaning against the wall behind him, his arms behind his head and his legs stretched out. His gear was completely packed at his feet.
“Sorry it took so long,” she said. “I had to track a copy down for you.”
“I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”
“No, I didn’t have a spare copy, but Henry did. You can keep this one.” She handed him the book.
“Thanks.” He slipped it into the outside pocket of his pack.
“So, I guess let me know if you have any questions. Between Henry and me, I’m sure we can help with anything you want to know.”
“Between you and Henry,” Flip said lightly. “What if I only want answers to come from you?”
“Then I’d question your motives and maybe even take that book back right now.” Eliza kept her voice light, even though she meant every single word of what she said.
Flip laughed. “Don’t question my motives. I really am interested. You’re just so much prettier than Henry.”
Eliza rolled her eyes and punched Flip gently on the arm. “You’re terrible.”
“Nope, just honest.”
She said good-bye and headed back to her apartment. It was close to dinnertime, but she wasn’t in the mood for the cafeteria. It was hard to give up Belinda’s cooking, but living where she worked provided few moments for solitude. As much as she loved being with everyone at Rockbridge, sometimes it felt good to spend an evening on her own.
As she climbed the steps to her apartment, she heard the phone ring inside and hurried to unlock her door. She answered the phone just in time.
“Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Eliza? Is that you?”
Eliza recognized her Aunt Barbara’s voice and immediately sensed the trepidation of those first four words. “Barbara? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
Eliza heard Barbara sigh. “It’s Gina. She’s come here again, and I just didn’t know who else to call. It’s bad this time, Liza. She’s real bad.”
Eliza sank onto the bar stool next to her kitchen counter.
“How long has she been there?”
“Three days. Showed up in the middle of the night saying your mother locked her out and she’d only stay the night, but then she just never left. Liza, I love your sister, but she can’t stay here. My kids—they’re still so young. They don’t know what to make of her, how to understand what she’s going through. And I just can’t have her drinking in this house. Not with my babies around.”
“Barbara, you have nothing to explain. Of course she can’t stay at your house. No one would ever expect you to endure such a thing. Have you spoken to Mom?”
“I’ve tried, but I figure she knows Gina’s here. She won’t return any of my calls. They must have had some sort of blowup for your mother to act this way. Gina won’t tell me anything either. I hate to bother you, being so far away, but I just didn’t know who else to call.”
“She’s drinking?”
“She was at first. Her friend, that dark-haired man that’s always coming around, he came by the second day she was here and must have brought her something. But then I told him he wasn’t welcome in my home, and well, I don’t keep any liquor in the house. If she wants to drink anything else, she’ll have to leave to find it. But she’s not even getting out of bed. She just sleeps all day. I can hardly get her to eat. I just . . .” Eliza heard her aunt’s voice crack, could almost see the tears running down her cheek. “Eliza, I’m so sorry.”
Eliza leaned forward, pressing her forehead into the heel of her hand. It was time for this to stop. Gina was hurting too many people, taking advantage of too many family members. She needed someone to step in and stop her before it was too late. Eliza felt small—weak and completely incapable—as she looked at the mounting task before her. She wanted to hang up, to run away from her sister’s problems and never look back. But then what? Leave Barbara to deal with the mess? Eliza knew she could never do such a thing. This wasn’t Barbara’s mess. This was Gina’s mess. And Eliza was her sister.
“Barbara, I want you to listen to me. It will take me just under five hours to drive to your house. I’ll leave as soon as I can and drive straight there, okay? If you can keep Gina from knowing that you’ve called and that I’m coming, that really would be better. Otherwise, I expect she’ll leave before I get there.”
“I won’t tell her,” Barbara said. “I’m sorry you have to come so far.”
“Please don’t apologize. She’s my sister. I can’t let her do this to herself. Not anymore.” Eliza hung up and ran into her bedroom, where she started throwing a few changes of clothes into her overnight bag. She couldn’t think. How long would she be gone? What would she need? With increasing intensity, she shoved random blue jeans and shirts int
o her bag.
She was struggling to keep her anger and frustration under control. She was angry that she was leaving, that it was her responsibility to clean up her sister’s life—again. But more than that, she was angry at herself for resenting the fact that she had to be involved.
She’d been fooling herself the past couple of months, thinking she could leave Nashville and leave her family struggles behind. This was her cross to bear. No matter where she lived, she was still Gina’s sister. That wasn’t something Eliza thought she should ever resent. Fiery hot tears dripped onto her bag as she finally zipped it closed.
The tears continued to fall as she carried her bags outside. After loading them into the backseat, she leaned on the side of her car and begged the Lord for strength, for the patience and tolerance and love she knew she would need but doubted she would have.
Chapter 9
“Eliza, are you all right?” Henry found Eliza sitting on the curb beside her car, her face damp with tears and her eyes strained with worry. She wiped at her cheeks when she saw him approaching.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, rising to her feet. “I just . . .” She hesitated. Her shoulders dropped as she closed her eyes. She was a picture of discouragement. “I’m not fine,” she said softly. “My sister’s in trouble, and I have to go get her. I’m leaving right now.”
Henry was concerned. It was obvious Eliza was in no condition to drive herself anywhere. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, I think. I do need to get going though. It’s a five-hour drive, and I really should have left by now.” She glanced at her watch as if to confirm.
Five hours? Surely she didn’t intend to make the trip alone in such an emotional state. “Eliza, you can’t drive five hours alone. Are you sure you’re even okay to drive at all?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. I have to go. My sister needs me, and she needs me right now.” She moved to the driver’s side door, but he stopped her, placing both hands on her shoulders.
“Eliza, stop for just a minute. You can’t get in the car this upset. Let me get you some water. You can sit for a few minutes. I’ll sit with you.”
“You don’t understand, Henry. I’ve wasted enough time as it is, and I’m the only one who can do this. It has to be me. I have to be the one to go . . .” She seemed agitated, almost frantic, and tried to push Henry away, but he held firm until she collapsed against his chest, her angry sobs soaking his shirt front with tears. He hardly knew what else he could do but wrap his arms around her and let her cry.
After several moments, she finally raised her head, and he released his grip. “I’m sorry, Henry. This whole thing . . . It’s just my family . . . I guess my emotions are running pretty high.”
“Eliza, does anyone know you’re leaving?”
She looked momentarily confused. “I didn’t even think . . . No, I haven’t talked to anyone.”
“Listen. Go find Natalie. With Jeff on excursion, she and James will have to stay on campus the entire time you’re gone. You need to make sure she knows you’re leaving. While you’re doing that, I’m going to get a few things together, and then I’ll drive you wherever it is you need to go.”
Eliza looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You would do that? What about work and AJ? You’re sweet to offer, but I can’t ask that of you.”
“I really don’t want you to make such a long trip on your own, not when you’re feeling this way. Work will be fine, and AJ is out of town with his mom. Besides, you didn’t ask. I volunteered.”
Eliza wiped the last of her tears off her cheeks and gave Henry a hug. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Henry. That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He watched her as she walked up the sidewalk to find Natalie. As he headed to his own apartment to pack a bag and gather a few things he’d need for the trip, he wondered if he hadn’t just jumped into a deep end he was ill equipped to swim in. He had no idea what was wrong with Eliza’s sister or why Eliza had such a desperate need to go get her. All he knew was that he had known without a moment’s hesitation he couldn’t let her make the trip on her own. Whatever the reason, he felt she needed him somehow. He hoped he wouldn’t let her down.
* * *
“What did you do about your classes?” Eliza asked.
“Russ is going to cover them.”
“Russ, the creative arts director?”
“It was either him or Gerald.”
Henry was happy to hear Eliza laugh. They’d been driving for nearly two hours. At first she had been quiet, speaking only enough to tell him where they were going. Once he’d started down the right interstate, heading west into Tennessee, she’d leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. She’d quickly fallen asleep and slept long enough for Henry to grow used to the quiet. When Eliza asked him about his classes, it startled him to hear her speak.
“Has Russ covered your classes before?”
“A few times,” Henry said. “He does a good job.”
Eliza glanced at her watch and yawned.
“You slept for over an hour.”
“I’m surprised. I don’t normally sleep well in the car. I didn’t snore, did I?”
Henry smiled. “Only a little.”
“Well, that’s extremely embarrassing,” she said. “Let’s move on. Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”
“Sure. Do you want to stop or just pick something up to eat in the car?”
He watched as the light in Eliza’s eyes went dim. It was as if she’d momentarily forgotten the ominous reason for their journey and his question brought the weight of it onto her shoulders tenfold.
“Let’s do something quick,” Eliza said. “Something we can eat in the car. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Whatever we need to do.”
Eliza was quiet for a few moments, then spoke quite suddenly, her voice calm but thick with emotion. “My mother was an alcoholic.” Henry waited for her to continue, a knot of dread growing in his stomach. “My dad died from cancer when I was eleven, and my mother had a terrible time getting over it. She’d always struggled with depression, and my dad had been her lifeline—her anchor. When he died, her depression became all-consuming, worse than it had ever been before, and she started drinking. It was like her grief was choking all of us—slowly, you know? It was draining the light out of everyone in the house, and we didn’t realize how dark it was getting until it was almost too late. When I was fourteen, I came home from school one day to a quiet house. My mother was drunk, still in bed, with her curtains drawn and her door closed. I went into her room to tell her I was hungry.”
Eliza shifted in her seat, pulling her feet up and wrapping her arms around her knees in a way that made it easy for Henry to see her as a child suffering under the indignities of her mother’s illness. “There wasn’t anything to eat in the house. She didn’t respond the first time I asked, so I went to her, shook her, told her there was nothing to eat.” Eliza let out a muffled, scornful laugh. “She rolled over, told me there was cash on her dresser and I could take the car into town and buy myself whatever I wanted.” Eliza turned to face Henry. “I remember standing there, looking at this poor woman, completely broken, utterly incapable of taking care of me, and I knew I had to get out. I needed help; we both did. So I took the car. I drove myself to the police station and turned myself in to social services.”
Henry was surprised. “Can kids even do that?”
“Not technically,” Eliza said. “Not without a pretty thorough investigation as to why a kid would want to leave in the first place. It took a couple of months, but that day was when the process started. I was assigned a case worker, who visited my mother and our home to see what needed to be done and to determine how desperate our situation actually was. They wanted to make sure I wasn’t just a disgruntled teenager looking to get back at my parents. Finally, my mothe
r went to rehab, and I went into foster care. Gina—she’s four years older than me—she was already eighteen, and there was little they could do for her. So it was just me.”
“How is your mother now?”
Eliza finally smiled. “She’s been sober for eleven years. She’s an artist and has a studio right in her home. She’s doing pretty well selling her own work and is really making a name for herself. I’m proud of her.”
“That’s great,” Henry said. “I imagine it doesn’t always work out so well.” He scratched his chin and gave Eliza a sideways glance. “It seems a little out of character for a teenage girl to want to end up in foster care. Weren’t you scared?”
“I wasn’t at the time. Though, in hindsight, especially now that I’ve worked so much in the system, I realize how terribly wrong it could have gone. Foster care isn’t always the best care, you know? But I got lucky. I was placed in the best possible home. And my mom? Rehab worked.” Eliza sighed. “But my sister wasn’t so lucky.”
“It must have been really hard on her, losing her dad during such a critical time of her youth. And then to endure your mom’s drinking. I’m sure it was tough.”
“I think she just felt like there wasn’t anyone who really cared. She managed to graduate from high school, but she never went to college and hasn’t ever had a steady job. Drinking, drugs, she’s done it all. She’s an artist just like Mom, or at least, she could be if she could stay sober long enough to try.” Eliza wearily pressed her face into her hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when we get there, Henry. I just don’t know what to do.”
With Eliza’s story now out in the open, Henry didn’t hesitate to ask a few questions. “Where exactly are we going?”
“Gina’s at my Aunt Barbara’s house in Hendersonville, just outside of Nashville. She’s been there for three days because my mother kicked her out and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. But she can’t stay with Barbara because Barbara has young children. She’s in no position to have a drug-addicted alcoholic living under her roof. So we’re going to get her. I just hope we get there before she leaves on her own. If that happens, who knows where she’ll end up.”
Mountains Between Us Page 8
