My Lucky Stars (20 page)

The little girls wanted to sit up front on a middle pew, but Tara insisted on taking a side bench near the doors. If escape proved necessary, she wanted a quick one.

The meeting began with some guy—Jessica said it was the bishop—talking, and then there was a song and a couple of prayers. After that, the older boys in the room walked around bringing trays with little pieces of bread to everyone. Tara couldn’t help but notice the difference between these teenagers—with their white shirts, ties, and respectful manner—and the kid she’d sat next to on the plane. The phrase “doesn’t know any better” came back to her. She couldn’t imagine the annoying kid on the plane reverently serving bread to everyone like these kids were. He wouldn’t begin to know how.
Am I so different?
she thought uncomfortably. Just being in this building felt so foreign.

As the boys reached the row in front of theirs, Tara whispered to Jessica, “Should I take one?” She imagined that everyone’s eyes were on her, seeing through the disguise of Jane’s modest sweater to the inner woman who clearly did not belong in this holy place.

Jessica shrugged. “You can if you want to, but the sacrament is about renewing our baptismal covenants. And since you haven’t been baptized . . .” Her voice trailed off as the tray was passed to them.

Baptized or not, Tara decided the path of most invisibility was to do what everyone else was, so she stuck a piece of squishy white bread in her mouth. As she chewed, she noticed that Jessica, along with much of the congregation, sat with their heads bowed and their eyes closed. Tara didn’t feel the need to do that too. After all, if everyone else was closing their eyes, it was a good time for her to check them out.

Her nonchalant perusal of the crowd did not yield any potential Bens but rather a ton of little kids and a fair amount of elderly people. Apparently the Bainbridge Ward, as Jane referred to her congregation, wasn’t a real hip and happening place.

After the bread came trays with little cups of water—so small it was hardly worth the drink. Then the bishop stood up again and announced who would be speaking. Tara listened a little after that, but between people-watching and keeping the girls’ crayons from rolling off the bench, she didn’t really get a lot out of the sermons.

When it was over—
finally
—an hour and fifteen minutes later, Jessica showed her where to take Maddie to her class. Next they dropped off Allison at the nursery, where Tara had to extricate herself from the crying little girl.

“What now?” Tara asked after she’d managed to get out of the roomful of howling toddlers.

“Sunday School,” Jessica announced. “Come on. It’s probably in the Relief Society room. I’ll go with you.”

“Where else would you go?” Tara asked, following Jessica down the crowded hallway.

“There’s a class for youth my age,” Jessica said. “It’s usually more fun than the adult class, but since you don’t know what you’re doing, I’ll go with you.”

There it is again. Even Jane’s holier-than-thou niece doesn’t think I know anything.
Tara slid a sideways glance at her as they found seats in the back of the room.
Let me tell you something, sister. I know a whole heck of a lot more about the world than you probably ever will.

And that’s a good thing?
The surprising thought caught her off guard as much as Allison’s reluctance to leave her had.

Yes, it’s good
, Tara defended herself from the traitor that had invaded her mind.
I’ve been places. I’ve made big money. I’ve done a lot of things.

That didn’t matter.

She forged on past the negative voice.
I know lots of people.

Who don’t care about you at all.

I’ve been in several serious relationships.

That all ended badly.
Tara’s hands shook slightly as she signed the roll and passed it to the woman seated beside her. She resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears to try to stop whatever was nagging her. Maybe it was just this place, this building for Latter-day Saints, as it said on the outside, that had her feeling so lousy and questioning everything she’d ever done in her life.

It was a relief when class started and the teacher asked everyone to open their scriptures. Tara held the ones she’d borrowed from Jane, determined that she could do this part right, at least.

“We’re getting ready to begin those chapters that deal with the Savior’s earthly ministry,” Brother Bartlett, the middle-aged man who was teaching, said. “Before we begin, what are some of your thoughts about the time Christ spent among the Jews?”

It was a long time ago?
Tara was glad she knew that much, at least.

Several people raised their hands and said various, intelligent, introspective things.
I don’t know. I don’t know
, seemed to chant in her head over and over again.

She felt herself getting angry, just sitting here in this room with people smarter than her.

“Those were all excellent comments,” Brother Bartlett said. “And we’ll delve into many as we look closely at the Savior’s teachings. But today we’re going to look at the overarching themes Christ taught. There are several that we can see when looking at the Savior’s ministry as a whole.”

Themes? This is like being in English class all over again.

“But the overlying one I want to focus on today is one applicable to us all and perhaps the one the Savior most wished to impart. If you’ll turn to Luke, chapter nine, verse twenty-four.”

Tara stared down at Jane’s scriptures and the thumb tabs on them. There were easily a couple of dozen, each with about three names on them.
How am I supposed to find Luke?
From the corner of her eye, she noticed those around her with their scriptures open, flipping purposely through the pages. She opened hers to the middle, thinking that was as good a place to start as any.

Jessica leaned over. “It’s in the New Testament, not the Book of Mormon.”

“Hmm?” Tara asked, trying to sound as if she really didn’t care.
I really don’t care, do I?

But she had to admit she was curious. What was this one thing that was applicable to everyone—even her? She flipped toward the back of the book.

“The Bible,” Jessica whispered louder. “You know, Old Testament, New Testament?”

Tara shook her head slightly. “Never read it; never had one.”

Jessica’s face softened a bit, and she reached over, turning the pages in the opposite direction. After a minute she said, “Here. Verse twenty-four.”

Tara looked down and began reading along with the teacher. “‘But whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.’”

“If you’ll follow the cross-reference at the bottom of the page, we see also that Matthew, chapter ten, verse thirty-nine reads similarly. ‘He that loseth his life for my sake shall
find
it.’ The teacher looked up expectantly. “So. Thoughts?”

That’s it? What does that even mean?
All around her hands shot up, and people started explaining their interpretations of the scripture. She tried to follow, but her head was starting to hurt.

“Thank you,” Brother Bartlett said after several minutes of discussion. “If you get one thing from studying the Savior’s ministry, I hope it is this—that in losing ourselves, we truly can find ourselves.”

Yes. You said that already. But what does it
mean
?
Tara felt her irritation growing. How was she supposed to know anything about religion if no one ever explained it?

Brother Bartlett went on. “The Savior did not lose His life while here on earth; He gave it willingly for each of us. But that is not what He asks of us, and it’s not what He is talking about here.”

Tara fidgeted in her seat.

Brother Bartlett left the podium and walked around the front of the table. “I believe He said this for those times when we feel lost, overwhelmed, or unsure where to go next or what to do with our lives. We become discouraged and disillusioned with everything around us.”

Tara looked up from her clenched hands. Brother Bartlett glanced around the room, his gaze passing hers then returning suddenly.

“The Savior knew we would encounter discouragement and loneliness here on earth.”

Where else would we encounter those things? Mars?

“So He gave us the scriptures and prophets so we’d have specific instructions about how to live, how to stay on that strait and narrow path that will lead us back to Him.”

Back to Him, where—how? This makes no sense.

“But at times,” Brother Bartlett continued, “all of the difficulties of life can seem overwhelming. We feel discouraged and lost and don’t really know what to do next.”

He’s got that right.
Tara thought about the mess that was her life. She had no job. No home. No family. No purpose or plan. No idea what came next.

“At those times I suggest starting over, with this very scripture as our guide. ‘He who will lose his life, will find it.’” Brother Bartlett leaned back against the table. His arms were folded, his face serious as he looked around at the class, as if considering his next words carefully. After several seconds his gaze drifted to the back of the room again, to Tara.

“Brothers and Sisters, I challenge each of you who are feeling a little lost or in need of direction to give this scriptural promise from the Savior a try. Forget about yourself. Focus on others. Do all you can to serve and love them, and you’ll be surprised with the results. You’ll find yourself as you never have before.”

Tara found herself unable to look away from his kind yet piercing gaze.
Does he know how lost
I
feel?
Am I imagining this . . . connection?
A warm sort of comfort seemed to envelop her at the possibility that someone might understand.

A corner of Brother Bartlett’s mouth lifted in a smile, as if he’d heard her thoughts. He turned away and walked around the table to the chalkboard to point out some additional scripture references.

Tara stared at his back, wishing he’d look at her again, wishing she’d somehow been able to record what he’d just said—to her.
To me. He was talking to me. I
felt
it.

She hardly moved for the rest of class, hardly breathed, but tried desperately to hold on to the peaceful feeling that had flooded her soul when he’d spoken. Over and over again she repeated the scripture in her mind.
He who will lose his life, will find it.

It still didn’t make complete sense to her, and it wasn’t as if any of her concerns about her future had been solved. But still, in spite of that, she felt more hope than she had in a very long time.

Twenty-Four

Sunday afternoon seemed one continuous round of Candy Land, Sorry!, and Chutes and Ladders, and Tara thought she’d kill herself if they played one more game where Gloppy Gumdrop, a ten-inch colored slide, or a “return to start” card sent her back to the beginning of the board and added another thirty minutes of play. Each time this had happened, she’d grown progressively grumpier, which only added to Maddie’s and Allison’s delight. By the time four of her markers started over, both girls were rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles.

“You should have had Allison on your team,” Maddie said. “She wanted to be with you, remember? But you said no and now her and Jessica are winning.”

“
She
and Jessica,” Jane corrected from the couch, where she lay relaxing, reading a magazine.

Tara made a face at Maddie that started her giggling again.

Rolling her eyes, Tara said, “What we should have done is play a
real
game like poker where you get cards that—”

“I don’t think so,” Jane said, correcting Tara this time.

“No real fun around here,” Tara muttered. The kitchen timer went off, saving them from further discussion and Tara from further torture. “Lasagna’s done,” she said jumping up. “Who wants to help set the table and make a salad?” The words, inviting “help” from Maddie and Allison, were out of her mouth before she’d realized what she was saying.
I’m starting to sound like Jane. Scary.

“I will. I will.” Both girls jumped up and started to follow her. Tara sighed, wishing she hadn’t opened her mouth. She could have had ten minutes of peace in the kitchen by herself.

After dinner Jessica helped the girls get in their pajamas and settled them down with a movie while Tara did the dishes in the relative quiet of the kitchen. Clearing the table and loading the dishwasher by herself seemed a great luxury. No one was hanging off her leg. No voices chattering a mile a minute in her ear. It was a welcome break.

Jessica’s ride would be here soon, and then tomorrow Tara would be doing the dishes
and
putting the girls to bed. She was tired just thinking about it. Maybe it would be easier as soon as Jane’s other niece went home. Tara sure hoped so. It wasn’t that the little girls were poorly behaved, but they wore her out just the same. Not to mention that taking care of them and Jane’s house all day hadn’t left her any time to look for an apartment or a job.
I have a job—about ten of them
, she thought, though she didn’t feel as resentful about all the work as she had this morning. Jane couldn’t do much right now, but she’d proven she was still a good listener. Having her to talk to at night almost made the crazy days worth it.
Almost.

“Night,” she said awhile later, waving casually at Jane as she headed down the hall. She planned to take a long, hot shower then curl up with something from Jane’s plentiful selection of romance novels. She walked into the guest bedroom, flipped on the light, saw someone on her bed, and screamed.

“Hey.” The giant bubble that had been coming out of Jessica’s mouth popped. She sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs.

“You scared me,” Tara said, holding a hand to her thumping heart. “What are you doing in here? Don’t you need to pack or something?”