“That’s good. And that boy…the one who’s been giving you so much trouble?”
“Corey.” Carin found a glass in the cabinet and poured Lilly sweet tea. “I talked to his brother, and he’s doing better.”
“You spoke with his brother?” Lilly’s eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed reading glasses. “But where are his parents?”
“They died…in an accident. I don’t know the details.”
“You should find out, dear.” Lilly took the glass Carin offered, drew a sip, and smacked her lips loudly. “It might help.”
“Maybe I will. His brother is the pastor of East Ridge Church.”
“Pastor…of a church, you said?”
“Yes. I visited there last Sunday, and it was nice.” Carin gazed out the picture window, to the graceful fountain in the center of an ample pond. Water arced in a fine spray, casting a mist into the air. Weeping willows danced in the breeze, their fine, wispy branches like ballerinas swaying in unison to a silent symphony. Ripples of water shimmered beneath waning sunlight. Carin’s pulse eased as she drew a deep breath. Gazing at the pond always seemed to calm her.
“Then you should go again this week, Carin. You should go back to church.”
“I don’t know.” A cardinal swooped from a willow to rest on the ground peppered by leaves. The crimson color stood out like a splash of blood. “I…can’t, Lilly…not yet.”
“Oh, don’t let that man…what he did was wrong, oh, so wrong—”
I should have never told her.
It was a mistake to burden her with the dirty secrets in my life. I’m supposed to be here for her, not the other way around.
Yet Carin had needed someone to talk to, and Lilly was a good listener. The elderly woman had been a teacher for over thirty years, so their bond had been strong from the beginning. And somehow, Lilly had a way of drawing things from Carin that she was loathe to share with anyone else.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Carin lifted a crocheted baby cap from the basket at Lilly’s feet. “This is a pretty shade of pink.” The cap was tiny—just the right size for a newborn’s delicate head. “How many caps did you crochet this week?”
“I’m not sure. Would you count them for me?”
“Of course.” As Carin counted, she separated the caps into stacks of baby blue and soft pink. “Nine, so far. How do you do it, Lilly?”
“The good Lord guides me, and the exercise chases arthritis away.” She massaged the gnarled knuckles of her mottled hands. “I might be able to crank out a few more before the hospital volunteer stops by to pick them up in the morning.”
“I’ll help, if you like,” Carin offered. “You can teach me the stitches after we eat. Do you think I can learn how to crochet, too?”
“Of course you can learn.” Lilly smiled and patted a canvas bag full of colorful skeins. “We’ll go step by step and do it together.” She delved into the bag. “I think there’s another hook in here.”
Lilly crocheted the caps for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Children’s Hospital as a gift for each baby who was admitted following birth. She said a prayer over each cap as she tied the final stitch, and confided in Carin that she hoped each brought a special blessing to the infant who wore it.
“Are you hungry, Lilly?” Carin took chicken and mashed potatoes with brown gravy, warm and steaming, from the to-go container and arranged a helping for each of them on plates she took from one of Lilly’s cabinets. “We should eat before the chicken gets cold.”
“Chicken?” The older woman’s eyes glazed over, and Carin’s heart sank at the faraway look that was becoming all too familiar. “OK, Elise. But we really should wait for your father. He’ll be home from work soon.”
Carin’s heart lurched.
This was the main reason Lilly and Carin had been matched. The counselors thought more conversation might keep her brain alert and stave off the effects of the Alzheimer’s, at least for a while. Sometimes it seemed to be working, but other times…
“Lilly,” Carin busied her hands, removing foil cartons from the white to-go bag. “I’m not Elise. I’m Carin.”
“Carin? Where’s your father, Elise? He should be home from work by now.”
Carin patted the older woman’s shoulder. The counselor had said it was best not to reason with her, as that only agitated her further. “It’s OK…” Carin’s throat felt stuffed with cotton as tears burned her eyes. She forced her voice to steady. “How about we take a walk to the pond while we wait? The food will keep and we can take the yarn with us to crochet another cap. The babies need them.”
****
Jake checked his watch as he slipped past the receptionist’s desk and down the hall of the senior center. Good thing Patrick’s distress call had come in as Jake neared the center, or he might not have had time to make the visit before he was due to pick up Corey from football practice.
Pastor Julian, a resident at the senior center, was agitated again, and the only thing that seemed to calm him was a visit from Jake. When Pastor Julian lost his ability to walk following a fall that broke his hip, he was moved to a new room in a higher-level-care section of the center. The change had caused a turn for the worse. The doctors told Jake it was just a matter of time. The poor man’s body was simply worn out. Jake forced the thought from his mind.
As Jake wound his way down the long hall to the last room on the left, he reflected on how they’d met during a youth event nearly two years ago, when he, Patrick, and Julie brought a group of kids to sing in the community room. Pastor Julian had been the first to arrive for the singing and the last to leave, and Jake had helped him back to his room, taking him by one arm while he leaned heavily on his cane with the other.
Back then, Pastor Julian’s body was weakened by the progression of time, but his mind was sharp. Oh, the stories they shared over the weeks and months that followed! Pastor Julian had ministered to a series of little country churches for nearly sixty years, and Jake found himself fascinated by the rich history in simple reflections of a life well lived. What Jake had thought would be nothing more than a passing community service event for the youth had grown into a deep friendship. Jake assumed he’d counsel Pastor Julian, but in the end, the reverse was actually true—over the months Pastor Julian had become his anchor in a sea of chaos.
But Pastor Julian had begun to have episodes of confusion due to the onset of Alzheimer’s. And these episodes took the life from him, like a leech slowly sucking away bits and pieces of what was good. Pastor Julian had been married to his high school sweetheart, Ava, for sixty-two years before a massive stroke claimed her a few winters ago. They had no children of their own, and Pastor Julian never elaborated as to why. But Jake quickly became the grandson Pastor Julian never had, and their bond grew as strong as the trunk of a solid old oak.
As Jake neared the end of the hall, he turned his attention to a burst of commotion. Something inside Pastor Julian’s room—most likely the cane he still insisted he was capable of using— tumbled to the floor. Then the door swung wide, and a nurse let Jake in. Pastor Julian was sobbing. Big, sloppy tears covered his mottled face like a flowing river, wrenching Jake’s heart. Jake went to the wheelchair, fell to his knees and slipped his hand into Pastor Julian’s.
“Hey there.” Jake stroked the man’s callused fingers, and he relaxed almost immediately at the sound of Jake’s voice. “What’s the matter?”
“I smell the spearmint, Jake, and I see her.”
“Ava?” A shiver snaked down Jake’s spine. He smelled the strong scent of spearmint, too. How could that be?
“Yes.” Pastor Julian tugged at Jake’s shirt with his arthritic hand. “She’s near the pond, and I have to go. She’s waiting for me.”
Jake turned his attention to the huge picture window that overlooked a large, tree-shaded pond beyond a black-topped walking trail. A pretty white gazebo stood at one end, its interior filled with bench seats. Majestic willows swayed in the breeze, their long, narrow leaves scattered across the water and along the bank. Pastor Julian liked to visit the pond, especially on warm fall days, and gaze at the water as leaves fluttered and danced along the surface. On occasion, he swore he saw Ava standing on the shore waiting for him.
Sometimes the pond was crowded with residents, most in wheelchairs or leaning on canes. Other times, it was deserted. Now he caught a glimpse of a woman with a shock of white hair. She sat in a chair with oversized wheels as she was pushed back toward the center by—
Is that Carin?
“Let’s take a walk, Pastor Julian.” Jake glanced at the nurse, and she nodded slightly. Then he reached for Pastor Julian’s wire-framed glasses and slipped them over the older man’s bulbous nose. “It’s a nice evening to go down to the pond.”
“Hurry, Jake.” The man’s arthritic hands trembled, but his voice filled with youthful enthusiasm. “I don’t like to keep Ava waiting.”
Jake felt the same measure of excitement as he gazed through the window, to the lithe woman with curls that danced on a breeze.
6
There was no football practice that Friday afternoon since the high school team used the field for a game, so Jake picked up Corey from school, and they headed to the greenway for a quick run. Running was something they’d gotten into together soon after Corey came to live with Jake. Corey had a lot of trouble sleeping, and when he did finally fall asleep each night, more often than not he was plagued by nightmares. So Jake had taken him to the pediatrician, who’d recommended running. They’d hit the greenway that same afternoon, and Corey slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Now they scheduled a run together at least twice a week.
“How’s English class?” Jake asked as they slid into the second mile. The weather felt perfect for a long run—slightly cool and dry, with a mild breeze. The scent of mulched leaves filled the air with the musky scent of fall.
“OK. It’s school.” Corey breathed easily, as if taking a lazy summer stroll. Jake struggled to control his panting as his heart rate spiked.
“You fill up that journal yet?”
“I’m trying. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”
“Most things aren’t.”
“Miss O’Malley said I’m doing a lot better. She said to tell you…um…hi, too.”
“Is that so?” Yesterday evening at the senior center, Carin and the ashen-haired woman in the wheelchair were gone by the time Jake made it to the pond with Pastor Julian. Now he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. He’d visited the center at least once a week for the past year and had never run into Carin there. So, what was she doing there now?
Finding his second wind, Jake picked up the pace. “Is that all Miss O’Malley said?”
“What else did you expect?” Corey matched him before edging into the lead then glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, no. Hold up a minute. I know where this is headed. You’re not gonna embarrass me and ask her out, are you?”
“I thought you prayed for me to find a girlfriend.” Jake lengthened his stride and pushed a little harder, taking the lead back. “Change your mind?”
“No, but not
her
.” Corey’s legs pumped double-time to match Jake’s pace. “Because that would be totally gross—you dating my teacher. I’d never survive it, so just wipe the idea from your mind.”
“That bad, huh?” Jake frowned at him.
“Well, yeah.” Corey jabbed a finger at his own throat and pretended to gag, all the while not breaking stride. “Just shoot me now, and get it over with.”
“Not until I race you to the finish line.” Jake motioned down the greenway, pointing out a stand of trees that marked the unofficial finish. “You’re going to lose.”
“Not today.” Corey leaned into the breeze and pumped his arms harder.
“We’ll see.” Jake broke into a sprint. Corey’s tennis shoes slapped the pavement as he adjusted his pace and worked to close the gap. They shared the lead until Jake burst ahead, just shy of the finish line. His longer stride gave him an edge, but it wouldn’t last much longer. If Corey hit another growth spurt or two, he’d match Jake in height soon enough. Jake crossed the imaginary finish line and put on the brakes, doubling over to catch his breath. “Sorry, buddy, but you’re gonna have to work harder than that if you want to beat me,” he gasped.
“Just wait ’til next time.” Corey leaned forward and sucked air. “I’m getting faster every week.”
“True.” Jake swiped sweat from his brow, urging his heart rate down a notch. “But so am I.”
Corey was sure to sleep like a baby tonight.
Mission accomplished.
When they both caught their breath and cooled a bit, they headed toward the Jeep. Sweat-soaked clothes clung to flushed skin.
Corey lifted the passenger door latch. “I edited the first two stories for the school newspaper this afternoon,” he shared as he climbed into the seat.
“How’d it go?” Jake tugged off his sweatshirt, wiped his face in the cotton, and tossed the soiled shirt into the back seat of the Jeep before slipping into the driver’s seat.
“It was awesome. Miss O’Malley gave me my own pack of orange pens. She said I can’t use green, ’cause that’s her own special color for slashing essays, but orange is even better, I think. It stands out more.”
Jake laughed. “It does, huh?”
“Yeah. I got to rip apart Stu Bishop’s story on the football homecoming game. He’s such a wise—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Guy. I was gonna say guy.”
“Sure, you were.”
“Anyway, I felt the power. Rip, rip.” Corey’s hand slashed the air like a sword. “It was pretty cool.”
“Sounds like Miss O’Malley may have unleashed a monster—Slasher Junior. Just don’t let it go to your head.”
“I won’t.”
“Famous last words.” Jake cranked the engine. “Let’s grab a quick shower and head to church. You have your guitar lesson tonight, and I’ve got some work to finish up before that groundskeeper’s meeting tomorrow. Then we both need to hit the hay, because there’s a lot of work to be done.”
“There’s always a lot of work to be done,” Corey groaned. “But it gives me something to write about—besides you, that is.”
“Yeah. We should talk about that—you using me for your essay fodder.”