“Why was that strange?” Sam asked.
“Because the Samaritans were a mixed race,” Janelle said. “Jews of that day looked down on them and wouldn’t even speak to them. Jesus knew exactly what He was doing when He made the Samaritan the good guy.”
“Oh my goodness! I am such an idiot.” Excited, Stephanie started turning pages. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. Where is it . . . ?” She flipped back and forth until she found it. “Sam, I think this is it right here.”
Sam rose up on her elbows so she could see the page. “What does it say?”
“The woman at the well,” Stephanie said. “Okay, Jesus was traveling on foot, and He decides to go
through
Samaria—and like Janelle said, Jewish people didn’t roll like that; they avoided Samaria like the plague.” Stephanie skimmed the verses. “So He meets this Samaritan woman at the well, and they go back and forth to where Jesus lets her know
all
her business, and she’s, like, ‘How you know
my
business?’”
Stephanie acted it out, and Sam smiled.
“And then it just clicks,” Stephanie said. “And she realizes, ‘This man ain’t just a Jew or a prophet or nothing like that. This is the Messiah.’
Blew her mind
. Homegirl went and testified to
everybody
in Samaria about Jesus.”
Sam sat back, taking it all in. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“Like Janelle said, the Samaritans were mixed-race people, biracial,” Stephanie said. “You’re biracial. This woman had to deal with people who treated her differently because of that, just like you. But Jesus Himself made time for a one-on-one conversation with her.”
“Don’t you love it?” Janelle said. “She was special to Jesus. And that conversation with Him changed her forever.” She smiled at Sam. “I think in giving you that name, your grandmother wanted you to know that
you
are special, to the most important Person in the universe.”
Sam was quiet a few moments. “I don’t even know a lot about Jesus. I wish they hadn’t canceled that joint service, because I felt like I learned something there.”
“But you can still go to Calvary or New Jerusalem, Sam,” Janelle said.
“My mom said she’s never stepping foot in either of those churches, so I don’t think I’d better either.”
“Well, how about this?” Stephanie said. “The Soul Sisters Bible study starts in an hour. Your mother hasn’t said anything about that, has she?”
S
am waved bye to Miss Stephanie as she drove off, then unlocked her front door. It was dark inside. She turned on a lamp and picked up a bowl with tomato soup stains from the coffee table. Her mom must have come home for lunch.
Carrying it into the kitchen, she sighed at the sink full of dirty dishes. With volleyball tryouts looming, she’d let them pile up the last few days, too tired to deal with them after all the extra practice. Lot of good that did.
She squirted dishwashing liquid into the sink and filled it with hot water, washing the glasses, plates, and bowls. She dried them and put them away, then wiped down the counter and swept the floor. Her mom would be pleased with a spotless kitchen when she got home . . . whenever that would be.
Sam went into the bathroom next—
yuck . . . need to clean this
too
—and took a quick shower. Snug in her pj’s under the covers, she curled up with her journal, pen in hand. It was the one place she could truly bare her soul.
I didn’t make the team. Coach Willoughby said today she was focusing on endurance, tomorrow skills. Couldn’t even show
her I finally got my overhand serve down. Figures. That’s always been the question, hasn’t it? Whether I can endure . . .
There was a bright spot, though. Miss Stephanie came to tryouts and saw what happened. She took me to her house, and I got to have dinner there. A real dinner at a table. She and her cousin Janelle were nice to me, like they really wanted me there. And then they took me with them to the diner for a Bible study.
I was the youngest one there, and I thought they’d be super serious and talking about things I had no clue about. But they were laughing and having a good time talking about patience, or lack of it—and I actually enjoyed it. They asked me to come back next week. I might.
Sam chewed on her pen, thinking about the part she’d saved for last.
One more thing . . . Miss Stephanie showed me where my name comes from. A woman in the Bible who’s mixed race like me. But it was her native people that were mixed. I bet her mom and dad were the same, not one from one race and one from another. I bet her mom and dad were married too.
Miss Stephanie and Miss Janelle said it was a big deal that Jesus talked to this woman and told her who He was, while other people treated her like she was nothing. She was special to Jesus, and I guess Grammie wanted me to know I was special to Him too.
I know that’s supposed to be a good thing, but all I could think was I wish I was special to Mom. Maybe if she didn’t have to work two jobs. Or if Hank hadn’t said he’d marry her if he didn’t have to take me as an added burden. Maybe then I’d be special.
I think I’m just not a special kind of girl. That’s why I
didn’t have what it took to push through tryouts, let alone make the team. That’s why I don’t have any friends. As nice as Miss Stephanie is, it’s not like we can be
real
friends. She’s at least ten years older. She’s got her own adult life.
A single tear rolled past Sam’s nose.
I’m still sure of one thing—it would’ve been better if I’d never been born.
L
ibby took the exit off the New Jersey Turnpike that led to Neptune, relieved the journey was almost at an end. She wasn’t good at driving long distances alone, and after eight hours, she’d run through her keep-awake stash of Starbursts, gum, pretzels, and popcorn. Right now a supply of CDs playing extra loud was keeping her alert—that plus a surge of excitement when she thought of the visit that awaited her.
She glanced at the directions on the console.
Keep right, merge onto another toll road for a few miles
. After that she was good as there.
It still boggled her mind that Aunt Gwynn had even invited her. She’d been such an enigma for so long that there was no expectation of even a Christmas card, certainly not a relationship. Not that this visit meant they’d now
have
a relationship. But who knew? Libby had no idea what to expect. She just felt she had to come.
She merged onto the toll road, stopping at the booth. It had been years since she’d come to New Jersey as a girl with her parents, but for some reason she remembered the tolls. She’d bagged up all the loose coins she could find around her apartment for the trip.
Her cell phone rang and she glanced at it, ready to ignore it if it was Janelle. She’d called once today already, following at least two voice mails during the week. It’s not that Libby was avoiding her cousin. She was simply in a weird space. She’d been feeling alone when contact with Travis and Omar was cut off. But now it was as if she
needed
to be alone, needed time to think, time to assess her life.
Libby smiled when she saw it was Keisha.
“I’m almost there,” Libby said. “My directions haven’t let me down yet.”
“Yay!” Keisha said. “We’re all at Mom’s, excited to see you. Holler if you run into any problems.”
Libby knew her parents, Janelle, and everyone else would be shocked to know where she was. But even this she wanted to keep to herself for now.
The remaining miles passed quickly. Libby made her final turn and pulled up to the house on the corner. That was what she remembered most, that it was on the corner. Looked smaller—because
she
was bigger—and quaint, with pretty flower beds and nice, manicured shrubbery.
She got out and stretched, enjoying the cooler breeze here up north, taking in the surroundings. Keisha and her family lived on the same block, but she wasn’t sure which house.
Libby heard voices and looked in the direction of the house. The whole gang was coming toward her—Aunt Gwynn, Greataunt Floretta, Keisha, and her husband and son.
Libby left her things in the car and went to greet them. It shouldn’t have thrown her to see Aunt Gwynn with an easy smile, but it did. Months before in Hope Springs, she’d looked so pained and uncomfortable, her jaw firmly set.
“Welcome to Neptune.” Youngest of her siblings, Aunt Gwynn was in her fifties but looked like she kept herself in shape. She
hugged Libby and stepped back, looking her in the eye. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too,” Libby said. “I’m really glad to be here.”
Libby walked a few feet to meet Aunt Floretta, who was lagging behind the rest. Grandma Geri’s little sister was in her early eighties now. It had felt good to see the two of them visit with each other at Grandma Geri’s birthday party.
“Aunt Floretta, it’s good to see you again.” Libby hugged her.
“Third time this year,” Aunt Floretta said, counting the funeral. “It’s really something, isn’t it?” She winked at her. “I’d say God is up to something.”
“I’ll say amen to that,” Keisha said. “Give me a hug, cousin.”
Libby was struck once again by how much Keisha’s facial features reminded her of Todd—the eyes and eyebrows, in particular. Her café au lait skin was a definite blend of her parents, her hair dark, wavy, and layered short like her mom’s.
Keisha turned to her husband next. “You remember Wayne from the funeral . . .”
“Absolutely. Nice to see you again.” Libby smiled as they exchanged a quick hug, then focused on the boy in his arms. “And I definitely remember this little cutie pie.” She held out her hands. “Can I have a hug, Jason?”
He turned into his father’s chest.
“Jason, I thought you were a big boy,” Keisha said. “You told me you were almost four and old enough to go on that ride down on the boardwalk. But if you can’t hug your cousin, I don’t know . . .”
He reached out his arms and wrapped them around Libby’s neck, and she laughed, bear-hugging him back. “Thank you, little sweetie,” she said.
The women and Jason headed to the house while Wayne got Libby’s things from the car. Soon as they walked inside, she smelled a feast in the making. “Okay, who’s the cook around here?”
“Used to be me and Gwynn.” Aunt Floretta headed for a seat at the kitchen table. “But my knees hurt so bad she does the lion’s share now.”
“Mom doesn’t mind.” Keisha helped Jason to a banana he was reaching for. “She’s always cooking up something.”
“I guess some things run in the family,” Libby said. “You’re just like your sisters, Aunt Gwynn.” She added, “But for some reason the cooking gene skipped me.”
“You too?” Keisha said. “I can make a few things, but thankfully, Wayne’s our resident gourmet.”
Aunt Gwynn was checking something in the oven. “I’m more than willing to hold a cooking clinic this evening,” she said, amusement in her voice. “You girls aren’t too old to learn.”
Libby sat down at the table. “Aunt Gwynn, my mother has tried every kind of clinic and gifted every kind of cookbook. It’s hopeless.”
“Maybe you just haven’t had the right motivation.”
“Hmm.” Keisha wagged her eyebrows at Libby. “I think there was some hidden meaning in there.”
Libby crossed her legs. “And I’m letting it stay hidden.”
They all laughed.
“Libby, there’re a couple of trays on the table with things to nibble on till dinner,” Aunt Gwynn said. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Water will be great.”
Wayne stepped into the kitchen doorway. “I put Libby’s bag in the guest room,” he said. “No offense, but I think I’ll let you ladies have your time alone to chat. I hear ESPN calling me.”
Jason ran to his side and announced, “I’m going with Daddy.”
Keisha stood with her arms slumped, looking dejected. “Okay.” Then she winked at him. “You’ll be back when dinner’s ready?”
Jason nodded. “Yep.”
“Aww.” Libby watched them walk off hand in hand. “That’s so cute. Says a lot about Wayne.”
“He’s a great dad,” Keisha said, making herself comfortable at the table. “By the way,” she said, “I got a chance to watch the family reunion DVD you sent Mom. Made me wish I’d come this year.”
Libby tossed her a look. “How many texts did I send to try to convince you?”
“I know, I know. I admit I was thinking about myself and not wanting to deal with all the questions.” She grabbed a raw carrot from a vegetable tray. “But when I saw all the kids on the video, I thought of Jason. He met some of his little cousins at Grandma Geri’s funeral, and it’d be nice if he could get to know them and grow up with them.”
Aunt Gwynn joined them. “I thought about that when I watched the video too,” she said. “Not about Jason, but about you, Keesh. You could’ve been running around with Libby and Janelle at the reunions when you were younger.” Her eyes showed a measure of regret. “I guess I was trying to exact my own personal revenge—wanting Momma to hurt as much as she hurt me.”
“And what have I always told you?” Aunt Floretta was calm but assertive. “She wasn’t
trying
to hurt you. I’m not saying she was right, but she was trying to protect you. I think you forget how crazy the times were down there back then.”