She went back to arranging the lettuce on the plate, the shame burning her face. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s the truth.” She stared out the window toward Keith, who was now sitting beneath the shade of his favorite oak, rolling the football around in his hands while he talked to Ethan. “I’d never believed in God until Keith was born. I realize now that God knew all along that I needed Keith, and that Keith had a special place in this world. I am so grateful that it happened the way it did.” It was absolutely true, in spite of how hard her life often was.
“Do you really believe, you know, that Keith sees angels?”
“Yeah, I do. I think maybe he is less distracted with the things that distract most of us, so he’s able to see the things we all miss.”
Ann rubbed her temples with both hands, as if this thought gave her a headache. “If there are angels with him, why don’t they at least him help catch a football when there are jerk-boys driving by? I mean, what’s the point if all they do is go around haunting people?”
“Haunting?” Tammy looked at Ann. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”
Ann shrugged. “What else would you call it? A bunch of spirits flying around making random appearances but not doing much else.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tammy looked outside where Ethan was demonstrating some sort of football grip and Keith was smiling, but his head was leaned back against the tree. “There’s a verse in the Bible about angels that says, ‘Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?’ I think they serve him in the way he needs to be served—not with physical strength, but spiritual. Keith has a heart problem, which often leads to lung problems. He gets ill for long periods of time. The angels may not make him well—only God can do that—but he always emerges on the other side stronger, and with more peace, than before he got sick.”
“He and Ethan sure have a great time together. Keith already looks worn out from the fun.” Ann’s voice took on that extra-cheery tone people always use to redirect a hard conversation.
“Yeah, Keith doesn’t have a lot of stamina. He’ll be asleep before we eat if we don’t get this stuff to the table.” Tammy leaned forward and called out the window, “Hey, Ethan, will you get the burgers off the grill for me? Everything else is almost ready.”
Ethan hopped to his feet. “You got it.” A few minutes later Ethan walked in the door with a plate full of burgers.
Ann moaned. “I’m not much of a meat eater—in fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a burger—but I’ve got to tell you, the smell of the charcoal and smoke makes me glad I decided to lay aside my healthier tendencies for the day.”
“I knew we’d win you over eventually. You’ll be eating fried chicken in no time.” Ethan set the plate on the table.
Tammy recognized the gleam in his eyes. He was falling for Annie; there was no doubt about it. She started to insert a comment of her own but didn’t want to interrupt any chemistry that might be happening.
“Oh yeah?” Ann laughed. “Don’t count on it. I’m thinking you’re due a visit to a sushi place.”
“Yuck. Don’t count on it.” He made the motion of sticking his finger down his throat, complete with gagging sound.
“That’s it, the gauntlet’s been thrown. My new goal in life is to see you eat sushi.”
“Sushi? I love sushi. Can I come with you?” Keith blinked up at Ann with a crooked smile on his face.
“Honey, you’ve never had sushi.” Tammy kissed him on the forehead. “Now go wash your hands.”
Keith walked over to the kitchen sink and did as he was told while saying, “Doesn’t matter, I still like it.”
“And how would you know that?”
“If Annie likes it, then so do I.”
Ann walked over and hugged him. “Then you should definitely come with us. Right, Ethan?” She looked over her shoulder, a dare in her eyes.
Ethan picked up a ketchup bottle from the kitchen counter and carried it to the table. “Hey, buddy, she doesn’t like to be called Annie. Call her
Ann
, okay?”
“Really?” Tammy looked at Ann, hoping for an argument. “We’ve been calling you Annie this whole time. Why haven’t you said anything? I feel terrible.”
Ann shrugged. “That’s what everyone called me when I was kid—when I lived here. When I moved to New York, I thought it was time to grow up a little. I’ve been Ann ever since. Of course, to Sarah, I was always Annie.” Ann returned to her seat. “However, I don’t believe we were talking about my name. I think we were talking about sushi, and how Keith wanted to come with us.”
Keith was bouncing up and down saying, “Sushi, sushi.”
Ethan looked toward him, then shook his head. “Looks like I’m outnumbered.”
Tammy swatted him with the dish towel. “I’d say it was more like
outsmarted
. Either way, you lose.”
“Seems like cheating to me.” Ethan sat down in his seat, but the look on his face made Tammy think that maybe he’d been the winner after all.
Ethan stood beside Ann at the sink. He rinsed the dishes, then handed them to her so she could load them into the dishwasher. She was so close, so very close, and every time she turned her head, a nice fruity fragrance filled the air. He wanted to lean closer and breathe it in. Instead, he scrubbed at the remnants of ketchup, mustard, and baked beans with a little extra vigor.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so completely stuffed. It’s been years since I last had a hamburger.” Ann put one hand on her stomach and groaned.
“Admit it, though. When you took that first bite, you were wondering what ever possessed you to give them up.”
Her shoulder brushed against his. “Okay, I’ll admit it. But right about now, I remember exactly why I gave them up. Blah.”
“I’ll bet in New York you eat at fancy restaurants all the time.”
“Not all that often.” She loaded a plate in the dishwasher, her face thoughtful. “But sometimes.”
Ethan wondered who took Ann to nice dinners in New York. He could almost picture the guy—wearing an expensive suit and speaking with a European accent. “Charleston has some nice places too, you know. I should have told Tammy we were going out tonight.”
“I’m the one who told her we would come over, if you recall. And to be perfectly honest, I can’t remember when I’ve had such a nice dinner.” She toyed with the trio of forks in her hand, then put them in the tray. “It’s funny, as much as I’ve avoided coming here for all these years, somehow at dinner tonight, I felt almost as though I’d come . . . home.” She straightened up.
Ethan’s hand seemed to move of its own accord. It would not stop until it touched her hair; he knew this, yet he didn’t seem to be in control of it. Her dark brown hair was simple—long and straight—and it looked so soft, so amazingly soft. He’d wanted to touch it ever since he first saw her. His fingers were an inch away when he heard the sound of Keith’s door closing in the hallway behind them. His hand dropped to his side, goal thwarted. At least for now.
“He’s sound asleep,” Tammy said as she moved back in to join them. “Thanks to both of you for coming over tonight. You have no idea how much it means to him, and to me, to have company.”
“Thanks for having us over,” Ethan and Ann said at the exact same time. All three of them laughed.
“Well, I guess I’d better walk Ann home.” Ethan hoped his voice sounded sufficiently casual to be cool, although he was pretty certain it sounded more like the desperate dork he was.
“What, do you think I might get mugged between here and there?” Ann looked at him, her eyes shining with . . . either flirtation or irritation. How was a guy supposed to know the difference?
“Well, usually I’d say no, this is a plenty safe neighborhood. But I’ve heard a rumor that some crazy New Yorker has been seen in the area recently. You know how those Yankees are. There’s no telling what they might do. I think we need to set up a neighborhood watch, and, well, I just don’t want to send you out into the night alone to face that kind of danger.”
Her laughter fed the hope that it had been flirtation. “Don’t tell me a southern gentleman would let a little bitty girl from up north scare him.”
“First off, I didn’t say
I
was scared; I said I’d better stick around to protect
you
. Second off, don’t ever confuse me with a gentleman.”
“My mistake.” Ann reached over and hugged Tammy, which seemed to surprise both of them. “Well, good night. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.” The way she said it, it sounded like she was looking forward to it. A very good sign.
“Count on it.” Tammy hugged Ethan, then went to hold the door open for them. “Good night.”
Ethan and Ann walked slowly across the lawn toward the house. They were close enough that Ethan could easily reach out and take her hand; his fingers twitched at the thought. But he didn’t want to do anything dumb at this point, and how was he supposed to know how she would react?
By now, they were at the kitchen door. Ethan mustered what was left of his courage, reached out, and touched her hand. “Hey, do you want to go to church with me in the morning? It starts at nine, and Tammy and Keith will be there too.”
“Church? Um . . .” Ann looked him in the face, and her voice came out firm, almost hard. “I don’t do church.”
“Really?” Ethan knew his voice did not hide his surprise. “I . . . well, living in New York I would think there would be lots of churches to choose from, but maybe in a city that size it’s hard to find one with just the right mix of people, huh? I think you’d like the one here. Sarah went there and lots of her friends. Tammy goes there, and Keith—I already said that, didn’t I?”
“Ethan, when I say I don’t do church, what I mean is, I don’t do the God thing.”
What?
How had he been so oblivious that he’d never picked up on that? He pulled his hand back to his side, the finality of it burning through his veins. She was off-limits. As a nonbeliever, Ann was off-limits for anything more than friendship. And he certainly was feeling more than friendship toward her.
She was still looking at him, a dare in her eyes, waiting for a response, but the shock made it difficult for him to think of anything coherent to say. “Really? I just assumed, I mean, you’re Sarah’s sister, and your grandmother . . . well, she was . . . you know . . . and I guess I just figured that with that kind of family, you would—”
“Yeah, that kind of a family. Just look at where it got them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my grandmother suffered terribly for months before the cancer finally took her. Sarah was killed two days before she graduated with her master’s in social work. And even Tammy. She believes, and she has a handicapped son—who means the world to her, I’ll grant you that—but her life is just plain hard. If there was a God, why wouldn’t He take better care of the people who actually believe in Him?”
Ethan leaned against the door frame and looked at her. More than any other time he’d been around her, he wished he could think of the right thing to say. Speaking about his faith came so naturally down at The Washout. His words just seemed to flow there, in the midst of testosterone-fueled—or some other substance-fueled-adrenaline junkies trying to catch a wave. Here, away from the surf and on the same porch he’d stood on a thousand times, he could say nothing. The right words always seemed to elude him around her, even now when it really mattered.
God, help. She’s got a well of hurt that she’s afraid is going to drown her
if she lets it out. Help me show her that she’s not facing it alone
. “Well, I’m not sure that I can understand God, and I certainly won’t try to explain Him. But I do know that He loves your grandmother, and your sister, and Tammy, and even you, more than you could ever imagine.”
“If believing that works for you, then fine, but it doesn’t work for me.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
This was not going well. It was not
going
to go well. Ethan didn’t think he was the right person to have this conversation with Ann, and he needed to get out of here before he made things worse. “I guess I’ll just . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Stay with it Ethan—she’s worth it
. “It’s just that . . .”
Something flickered beneath the hard glint of her eyes, and in that moment, Ethan understood. She was a scared little girl hiding behind words that she thought would keep her safe.
“I wish you’d open your heart, Ann. You need to deal with your past instead of trying to pretend the pain doesn’t exist.”
“And how would you know that?”
“It’s as plain as the wall you build around yourself. You need to learn to believe in something again.”
Ann looked hard at him, and just a hint of moisture gathered in her eyes. “I . . .” She blinked twice and looked away. “I don’t know how.” Then she opened the door, walked inside, and shut it behind her without looking back.
He’d said the wrong thing again. All he wanted to do was help her, but all he kept doing was messing things up.
When Ann finally settled down on the sofa with her blanket that night, she couldn’t begin to relax and fall asleep. The tiny space prevented her from tossing and turning as she might have in bed, so she finally got up and paced—as best she could around the furniture piled up everywhere.
She saw the old letter they’d found in the wall on top of Sarah’s nightstand and thought about what Eleanor had said. Better to face these things right away. And a little at a time. Yeah, maybe she could just read the first paragraph or something. She carried the paper, still rolled, back to the couch and sat.
For a few minutes, she simply held it in her hand, trying to decide what she was going to do. It was silly, her aversion to opening this. How bad could it be? It was just a letter from her mother written who knows how many years ago? Likely it didn’t have anything to do with anything. Still, there was something about this whole situation that set off all sorts of warning bells. Finally, she unrolled it.
April 3, 1988
Ann looked at the date and dropped the paper. This had been written the day before her mother left them for the last time. How was it that she’d found the time to write this letter, but she hadn’t been able to work in even one little word of goodbye to her family?
Coward
. Anger surged through Ann, making her feel suddenly stronger, less vulnerable.
All right, Mama, let’s see
how you tried to explain yourself away. Don’t expect me to buy in, I’ll tell you
that right now
. She unrolled the paper again.