I wrap my hand around the metal railing and wait for my breath to slow. Resting my leather sandal on the dock, I step all the way up. And just stand there.
Water swishes all around me, quietly slapping at the sides. My stomach lurches as my sense of gravity is challenged by the motion. I hang on to the railing with both hands, clutching it until my fingers hurt.
But I can’t go any farther. I can’t walk to the end and look out at the water. And I’d rather strip naked and sprint across Connor’s backyard than stick my legs in and let the coolness lap at my calves.
In the distance, a boat slowly sails to its destination, fearlessly surrounded by the vast lake. And I can’t even move from this tiny spot. “Why can’t I remember what happened that night?” I whisper in the dark, my voice shaking. “God, please help me. What’s it going to take?”
But there’s no answer. Just the call of a frog. The faraway motor of a boat. And once again, God says nothing.
Holding on to the rail like a lifeline, I turn around to leave.
And find Connor standing behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I nearly jump out of my skin as I see him standing there. “Would you quit doing that?”
“What?” he asks, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“That lurky, creepy, there-every-time-I-turn-around thing.”
The comment bounces right off of him. “I couldn’t find you and got worried.” His eyes roam to the lake, then back to me. “You okay?”
“Yes. Just . . . relaxing. Like you told me.”
“Relaxing?”
“Uh-huh.” I inhale and exhale on a forced happy sigh. “I could stay here all night. So lovely.” My teeth grind behind my smile.
“You want to take your hands off the rail?”
I blink. “No. I’m good.” I give it a little tug. “Besides, I wanted to test its sturdiness—in case one of the kids came down here.”
Connor takes another step closer. “I dare you to let go.”
I fake a yawn. “I’m too tired for dares.”
“You ready to hop off there then?”
“Yeah, you go on ahead, and I’ll be along shortly.” I tilt my head toward the sky and let my hair fall over my shoulder. “Just want to take in some nature for a moment.”
“Maggie?”
I study the faint stars above me. “Yes?”
“I’m proud of you for getting this far.”
He walks away, and I stare at the ground his feet just left. Loosening my hands a little, I stand for a few seconds and take one quick peek at the dark water below.
Okay, good enough.
I jump down and run the rest of the way back.
I check on Riley, who’s screaming her head off in an intense game of water-gun tag. My dad sips on lemonade and lobs yet another horseshoe at a stake. Everyone is doing something. But me. I could join the volleyball game. I could squeeze into someone’s conversation. I could just sit and listen to the men playing bluegrass.
I go to the kitchen instead. Give a loner a job, and she’s a happy girl. The dishes sit in tall, leaning stacks on the granite countertops. I run my hand under the tap until it’s hot enough to scald some caked on-baked beans, then fill the sink with soap and get to work, humming as I go. Sometimes there’s just something comfortable about menial tasks. Even if it gives me prune skin.
An hour and a half later, I’m elbow deep in suds and ready to dry the last batch of dishes.
The door slides open and Connor steps inside. His hair is wind-blown, his cheeks pink from the cooling night air. “You just can’t relax, can you?” He walks to me, pulls the dish towel out of my hand, and throws it on the counter. “What are you doing?”
And he’s the one with his doctorate? “Dishes.”
“Well, stop. You should be out there with everyone else.”
“Not when there’s baked-on grease to tackle.”
He leans against the hard counter, inches away. “You are one messed-up woman, Maggie Montgomery.”
“I don’t know anyone out there.”
“You know me.”
“Too tempting to brain you with a horseshoe.”
“You met my mother. My dad. There was Pastor Thomas and his family.” He lists off a dozen people. “It’s okay to get to know some of these folks. They’re not going to hog-tie you and force you to stay in Ivy.”
At that, we both fall silent.
Connor picks up a serving tray from my hands and takes it to a nearby cabinet. “Your dad and the girls went home already. My parents took them.”
“Why didn’t they come and find me?” I would’ve jumped at the chance to leave.
He shoots me a knowing smile. “I guess my mom offered first. Your dad said as long as you were with me, you could stay out an extra hour past your curfew.”
“Oh, you’re just oozing with charm tonight.”
“Remind me of that when you’re walking home.”
I laugh and hand him a bowl. “You throw a good party.”
“And you know this according to your view from my kitchen window?”
“Look, Connor, I’m leaving soon. There’s no point in establishing connections here.”
He steps forward, his face looming over mine. “You’ve got issues like I’ve got stray dogs.” His forehead rests on mine as he pulls me to him. “Life’s boring without people in it who care about you. Not everyone is going to suddenly leave you like your mother.”
I move away. “She didn’t leave. She drowned.”
“Yeah, and you’ve been waiting for everyone in your life to disappear just as suddenly. But if you don’t get attached, it won’t matter as much. Won’t hurt like it did all those years ago.” His eyes hold me in place. “Like it still does.”
“Right back at you.” I reach for another towel and twist it in my hands. “You’re the one who’s still bitter from your last breakup.”
He snorts. “Bitter’s for girls. Besides, just because you don’t like my plan doesn’t mean it’s not sound.”
“Is this how you thank everyone who does your dishes?”
He grabs the towel and draws me to him. “Talk to me.” His words are soft, entreating. Makes me want to spill it all—thirty years of things I’ve never shared with anyone. But I can’t.
Desperate to break the moment, I scan the kitchen for something to focus on. I pull away and walk to the fridge. “What’s this?” I point to a picture of a young child.
At first, I think he’s not going to answer me. Then finally, he sighs and joins me. “That’s Lutalo. He’s my sponsor child from Uganda.”
I run my fingers over Lutalo’s one-dimensional face. “He’s beautiful.” I can almost hear him whispering his story to me.
“His parents both died of AIDS. He helps raise his three younger brothers and sisters. He has an uncle who watches out for him, but mostly I think he’s on his own. World Vision, the organization that brought us together, came in and changed his life. They can go where I can’t.”
Lutalo’s face smiles back at me, and once again, I feel tears press against my eyes. I don’t know why. But something in his face calls to me. Begs me to look longer. “How did his life change?”
Connor moves behind me, his chest against my back. He reaches across my shoulder and lifts the boy’s picture off the fridge and hands it to me. I hold it with both hands.
“They brought in a water collection system, a latrine, some agricultural help—things we totally take for granted. Then he got money to go to school. You know what he said in a letter?”
I shake my head slowly, unable to take my eyes off the picture.
“He said that in all this darkness, God showed up and brought him hope.”
I turn around, my back to the fridge, so close to Connor I can feel his breath. “I . . . I have this video footage. Hours and hours of it. It would take days to watch it all.” I swallow and listen to the pounding of my own heart. “I’ve been collecting it for the last couple of
years.”
He makes no move to touch me. Just watches me intently. “Of what?”
“Children. Probably close to a hundred of them. Everywhere we go on location, we see the best and the worst of a city. But normally we only show the best, the reasons to travel there. Make the place seem like paradise. But I began to notice this flip side. God just began opening my eyes to the darkness out there for all these children.” I blink back tears. “Hunger, prostitution, land mines, terrorism, assault.” Sniffing, I wipe at my cheeks. “But we don’t show that. Who wants to see that side?”
“But you saw it. And you couldn’t let it go.”
I nod and look at this child’s face in my hands. “Someone needs to tell their stories. They’re dying to be heard—literally. And they have no one to stand up and be their voice.”
His voice is soft as the evening breeze. “Then maybe that’s what you do.”
“I can’t. I mean, I thought I was supposed to. Thought God was telling me to do something. But I’ve pitched it and been turned down five times. No one’s interested. Even sent it to my producer, and she told me there was no market for it. She thought it was the dumbest idea ever.”
Connor reaches out his hand and caresses my cheek. “You’re going to let that stop you? You’re Maggie the Fearless. Maggie the Bold.”
I lean into his hand and give a watery smile. “We both know that isn’t true. I retired those titles a long time ago.”
“Maybe it’s time to reclaim them.”
“It’s not a good time now anyway. There’s so much up in the air—with Riley, with Allison.”
“If this is the call God’s placed on your life, you have to see where it leads.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, keeps his lips there for a moment. “I believe in you. Wish you would.”
“It’s not that easy.” I close my eyes and drag in a breath. “It’s just not that easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be. Besides, since when have you liked easy, Miss I-climb-mountains-at-two-in-the-morning? You obviously feel strongly about this project. You have to keep looking for the right person to see your vision.”
I wrap my arms around Connor and hug him close. “It’s kind of hard to stay mad at you.”
Connor’s fingers smooth over my hair. “Go out with me, Maggie.” I start to lift my head, but he puts it right back down. “You, me, dinner. No fighting. No reunion errands. No bats hanging overhead.”
“I’m not the girl you’re looking for. I’m never going to be that sweet domestic princess, you know.”
“It’s dinner.”
I search his face. Is that really all it is? “I don’t know, Connor. I leave Monday morning for that interview with National Geographic. Why start something we can’t finish?”
“I didn’t want to resort to this.” He sighs deep.
“Don’t say it.”
“I dare you.”
“That’s not playing fair.” I smile as I lean back and stare into his playful gaze. “Okay. Fine.”
“Sunday night. There aren’t any evening services this week. And you clearly need a night away from everything.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “I swear I’ve never shed a single tear in front of a guy before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I don’t know whether to be honored or uncomfortable.”
“Thanks, Connor.” I rest my hands around his neck, like that’s where they belong. “Thank you for . . . I don’t know—just being you. I wish I hadn’t been such a snob and had known you in high school.”
The heat from his smile could light the Vegas strip. “You’re not gonna start scribbling my name on your notebook or anything?”
“Um, no.”
“Tattoo my name on your butt?”
“Definitely not there yet, either.”
“Ask me to make out with you in the back row of the movie theater?”
“So cliché.”
Connor leans in, brushes his lips across mine. “Then I guess I’ll have to settle for the kitchen.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Riley studies her plate Sunday morning. “You call this breakfast?”
“Eggos? Breakfast of champions.” I hold up the waffle box. “And it even has bits of blueberries in it, so don’t tell me I’m not hitting some additional food groups these days.”
She rolls her eyes, but I see that smile she covers with her milk glass.
Dad walks in and glances at the table. “Waffles?”
I wait for his caustic remark.
“Seems to me those would be better with eggs.” He puts the paper down in his chair. “Who wants some?”
I choke on a sip of Folgers. Did he get beaned in the head with a horseshoe last night? Who is this man?
“I like mine scrambled,” Riley says.
I cough and try to clear my throat. “I guess that sounds okay.”
“With cheese,” she adds.
“Now you’re talking.” We are so related.
Dad reaches below the stove and pulls out a pan. He sets it on the burner, then rubs his shoulder.
“Working six days a week is getting to you.” I scurry to the bathroom and come back with some Tylenol. “Here. You should take it easy today. I don’t know how you do it.” My father should be fishing and puttering around like other men his age who’ve already put in their forty years of work.
“Thanks.” He sets them aside and pours the whisked eggs into the skillet. “I don’t mind working. I kind of like knowing I’ll be there when the place closes down, just like I was there when it opened.”
“You’ve worked hard, Dad. It’s something to take pride in.” Minus the part where you filled your every waking hour with work and left your family alone all the time.
In a few minutes, the three of us are gathered around the kitchen table, eating steaming scrambled eggs and cold toaster waffles. And somehow it tastes just right.
Riley tells us a story about Josie tripping a boy who chased her with a frog, and she and I burst into giggles. “You don’t mess with Josie,” she says with awe in her voice.
“Her mom was the same way. Hard to believe my motorcycle-riding best friend is now the sweetest mom in town.”
Dad clears his throat and lays down the sports section. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Hurts the head, doesn’t it, Grandpa?”
My eyes widen, and I start to defend my niece’s attempt at humor, but Dad’s face splits into an uneasy smile. He reaches out and tweaks Riley’s nose.
I rub my eyes and replay the image in my head. Yep, tweaked that kid’s nose. What is going on here? Did I wake up in a parallel universe?
“I talked to Connor last night, and I thought I’d go pick up that puppy this afternoon.”
“What?” Riley and I say at once.
“Dad, do you have a fever?” I move my hand toward his forehead, but he swats it away.
“Of course not.” He studies his coffee mug. “But if the dog means that much to Riley, then she should have it.”
Riley clasps her hands to her chest. “Oh, Grandpa! Do you mean it?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“But, Dad”—my brain sputters like a dying train—“she wants to keep it. Forever. You know, take it with her wherever she goes.” And we don’t know where she’s going to go. “And you don’t like animals.”
“I like animals okay.”
“When they’re on your plate.”
“Ew.” Riley scrunches up her face.
“Riley, do you want this puppy?” he asks.
“Yessss.” She draws out the word like she’s savoring it on her tongue.
“Then I’ll go get it.”
Squealing in the upper decibels, my niece leaps from her seat and throws her arms around my dad. With a small smile, he pats her back.
I guess if Jesus can help Peter walk on water, he can do a miracle in my dad too.
Because that’s all that can explain this.
&nbs
p; I help Riley with her hair, promise her ice cream after lunch to get her in a skirt, and finally, we’re out the door for church.
When we get there, Riley sees Josie in the lobby. As I shake a deacon’s hand, my niece hesitantly approaches Beth’s oldest daughter. Riley contemplates her shoes as Josie finishes her conversation with another girl. Yet when she sees Riley, Josie’s face splits into a wide grin and she pulls my niece to her in a big hug. The two dissolve into giggles. As they walk toward children’s church, Riley looks back over her shoulder and waves good-bye.
“What a difference a few weeks make.”
I turn around and find Connor standing near.
Glancing back at my niece, I can’t help but smile. “She’s slowly learning not everyone is going to reject her.”
His eyes level on me. “Good lesson to learn.”
I quickly change the subject. “Why’d you ask my father about the dog?”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“I told you.”
Connor’s fixed smile is a sharp contrast to his challenging tone. “Is the issue that I asked him anyway or that he said yes?” He waves to a church member passing by.
I stare at the small emblem on the pocket of his button-down. “I don’t like you butting in.”
“We can discuss it tonight. Over dinner.”
“I think I feel a headache coming on.”
“Wrong thing to say to a doctor.” Connor darts a quick look at my tush. “I’ve got a shot that could take any pain away.”
“I better grab a seat.” I step past him, only to be caught by the hand and reeled back to his side.
“I’ll pick you up at six.” He sniffs near my neck. “And wear that perfume.”
Strangely addled, I move out of his loose grip and manage to find my way through the double doors of the sanctuary. Imagine. Trying to seduce a girl in church.
And imagine . . . me liking it.
“Hey, girl.” Beth moves her purse out of the empty seat beside her, and I sit down.
She and her husband look so happy. Mark has his arm wrapped around her, leaning into her side, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just lose his primary means of supporting his family. Like his wife doesn’t have to deliver pizzas at night. How do you get that? That peace, that sense of knowing God’s gonna take care of things so you might as well not even worry about it? If it were a drug, I could bottle it and make billions. Not to mention I’d down them on a regular basis myself.
Just Between You and Me Page 18
