by Tricia Goyer
“Hi, Andrea.”
“Hey.” Andrea touched her arm. “I spoke with my mom and she needs me to hang out with my little brother, so I have to take the bus home. Can we get together Saturday? She says you can come to our house.”
“Uh, sure. That will be cool.”
Andrea handed Emily a piece of paper. “It is the phone number to my house.” Another slight smile lifted the corners of Andrea’s mouth as she hurried to the bus line.
“Okay, I guess I’ll go find Sam and let him know I need a ride after all,” Emily mumbled, waving to Andrea’s back.
She hurried outside and pulled her hoodie over her head. The air was crisp and stung her nose. Emily tugged on her skirt as if her efforts would make it longer. She wished she had more than leggings on.
Emily spotted Sam unlocking his car.
“Hey.” She hurried over to him. “I’m glad you’re still here. I’m going to need a ride after all.”
“Fine.” He unlocked the door and tossed his backpack in the backseat. Then he climbed in, leaned across the seat, and unlocked her door. Sam seemed to be in a grumpy mood, but Emily didn’t say anything. Mentioning it to Sam only made it worse.
“So have you ever talked to that girl Andrea Zikova?” Emily slid in and slammed the door.
“Who?” Sam adjusted his mirror and then paused with his hand halfway to the ignition.
“You know, that foreign-exchange student. We’re doing a project together for American history.”
“Oh yeah, a few times. She’s in my math class, even though she’s not supposed to be in twelfth grade.” He smirked. “I think she has the best grade. Maybe there’s something in that European water that makes kids over there so smart. In San Diego the exchange students were always the smartest too.” He started the car, but his eyes weren’t focused on the dashboard or on Emily. Instead, he was focused on his rearview mirror.
“Yeah, I wish I could talk in another language like that. It must have taken her a long time to learn English though,” Emily said.
“Duh, it’s only Americans who have a hard time learning a second language.” Sam opened the door and shut off the car. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” She called after him. He didn’t pause. She turned in her seat and noticed a small yellow Volkswagen parked behind Sam’s car. A pretty girl was in the driver’s seat. Sam waved, and she motioned to the passenger seat. He flipped his hair, showed off a broad smile, and then climbed in.
Emily had seen that girl before, but she’d never talked to her. She thought her name was Kennedy or Keith or some other weird boy name. Emily had never seen her hanging around with Sam’s usual friends. The girl always looked kind of suspect, like she was hiding something, or as if she didn’t feel anyone else was worthy to hang out with her.
Emily could see them chatting about something. The girl laughed and tossed her head back. Her black hair perfectly framed her pixie face and swished as she talked to Sam.
Then, as if feeling Emily’s eyes on her, the girl turned her head, locked onto Emily’s gaze—and winked.
Emily felt heat rising to her cheeks, and she quickly turned back around to face the dashboard of the car. Anger gurgled in Emily’s chest like Grandma’s coffeepot in the morning. She didn’t know what made her madder, the fact that the girl had watched her watching and mocked her or that Sam was hanging out with another girl. He and Arielle had just broken up. Who did he think he was? It’s not like he was some heartthrob like Brad Pitt or anything.
A few minutes later Sam climbed back in the car. She resisted the urge to turn and watch the girl drive away.
“You could have left the car running.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest and pulled them tight to her. “It’s freezing in here.”
“I wasn’t gone that long, Emily. Don’t be a baby.”
“Whatever.”
Sam started the car, and Emily pointed the heating vent in her direction.
“You have to wait until the engine heats up. It’s just blowing cold air.”
“I know. I’m not stupid.” Emily closed the vents and then locked her eyes on Sam. “So what were you doing with Kendrick?”
“It’s Kendall. And it’s none of your business.”
“But you just broke up with Arielle.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Do you like her?”
“No, Emily.” He tapped the flat of his hand against the steering wheel. “I always hang out with people I absolutely hate.”
She sat silent most of the way home and thought about what it would be like to be an exchange student in another country. Emily tried to imagine traveling across the world, being away from her family, and going to a school where they spoke another language. The thought scared her, and a wave of loneliness washed over her as she remembered her first few months in Bedford.
“Have you talked to Andrea much?” Emily asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something that wouldn’t make Sam so mad. “I was talking to her today, and she was talking about her host mom. She just calls her mom. I don’t think it’s right.”
“Why not?” Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
“It’s just weird. I think it would make her real mom mad, don’t you? I don’t think I could call someone I didn’t know mom or dad.”
“Yeah, what about our dad?”
“But he is my dad.”
“You didn’t know him when he came. You still don’t very much.”
“That’s different.”
Sam nodded, but didn’t continue down that path. “So what’s your project on?”
“On the railroad coming into Nebraska. You know, how it affected settlement and stuff.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Ha, thanks. It will be cool, I suppose. Maybe Grandma knows about it.”
“Gee, Emily, she’s not that old.”
Emily chose to ignore that comment and Sam’s sour attitude.
“I’m going over Andrea’s house on Saturday.”
Sam’s head flipped around. “You’re going over to the Cunninghams’ house? No thanks.”
She felt the skin on her arms grow cold, even colder than it had been when she had the air blowing on her.
“Andrea lives with the Cunninghams? They’re her host parents?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know that?”
This can’t be happening to me. First I’m going to do all the work. Second I’m going to have to be tortured as I do it. Emily moaned. “Poor thing. To have a mom like Mrs. Cunningham who always has to put her nose in everyone else’s business. And then there’s Lily …”
“I overheard Andrea saying they share a room. Maybe they’ll ask you to spend the night.” A spurt of laughter burst from Sam’s lips.
“Haha, very funny.” She playfully slugged Sam’s arm.
Their car passed Bedford Community Church, and Emily was surprised to see so many cars there this late in the day.
“Is there a church party we didn’t get invited to?” Emily asked, looking closer.
“Gee, a party. A celebration. What a concept.”
Sam turned his head and eyed the church as they went by.
“I’m not sure, but is Grandma’s car there? Did you see it?”
“I think I did. Bummer. There’s no cookies and milk waiting for us on the table. I thought today was just like any other day,” he smirked. “I was wrong. It’s even worse.”
Emily ignored Sam’s comment. And his pouting. Then it hit her, and she held in a smile. Sam thinks we forgot his birthday. She didn’t want to interrupt his sour mood to tell him that there was going to be a party with at least two presents. She’d helped Christopher wrap one yesterday. She’d made and wrapped something too.
“I hope everything is all right at the church.” Emily pulled her cell phone from her bag and thought about calling home. Then again she doubted Grandpa would answer, or Christopher either.
“Every
thing’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about Grandma; you have enough to worry about.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Like what to pack for the sleepover.”
“You’re so funny.” Emily sunk lower in her seat. “What am I going to do?”
“I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to deal with Lily. It’s Andrea you’re working with, and—”
The chirping tune of Emily’s cell phone interrupted Sam’s words. Emily fumbled with her phone, trying to flip it open. Finally she answered just before it went to voice mail. “Hello.”
“Hi, Emily. This is Andrea, from school.” As if Emily couldn’t tell from her accent.
“Oh, hi.”
“I got your number from Ashley. I hope that is fine.”
“Yes, uh, not a problem.”
Sam looked at Emily, confused.
Andrea, she mouthed.
“I talked with my sister and her partner was given twice. Mrs. Lorenz says she should be in our project. The good news is there will be now three.”
“Three?” Emily’s eyes widened. Lily. “Are you sure? I mean I can find someone else. Maybe you should just be with your sister. It might be easier …”
“Oh, no. I would not think of that. Maybe on Saturday you could spend the night.”
“Uh,” Emily cast a desperate glance at Sam, who was cracking up. “Okay. Sure.”
Andrea let out a squeal, said good-bye, and hung up.
Emily looked at the phone in her hand.
Sam turned onto the dirt road leading to Heather Creek. “Let me guess. You have a new partner?”
Emily didn’t answer. She just jammed the phone into her pocket, covered her face with her hands, and moaned.
Chapter Four
As the day wore on, the women of the church continued working, nourished by the leftovers in the kitchen and by each other’s conversations. Yet what should have been a delightful time of reconnecting with friends after a long winter had transformed into an awkward afternoon. Not only had all the dust and mildew of boxes that had been sitting for decades given Charlotte a headache, but something was also wrong with the women—or rather, with their interaction with her.
Charlotte looked again at the faces around her. She’d known these women her whole life. She’d gone to church with them, had attended Bible study with them. She’d held Mary Louise’s hand when she learned her mother had cancer. She had often walked the county fair with Maxie. And now their friendship was transforming with the marriage of Pete and Dana. Maxie would now be family. Yet she felt that the tone of the day had changed, and it was as if she, not her Granddaddy, had been accused of stealing funds from the church.
After Hannah showed her the news article about Elijah Coleman, Charlotte had attempted to get back to work as if nothing had happened. But the truth was, everything had changed.
Hannah approached her with a sympathetic look. “Charlotte, it’s getting late. Don’t you need to get home? Isn’t today Sam’s birthday?”
“Yes, we’re having a family dinner. Bill’s family, Dana, and Rosemary are coming over.” Charlotte glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened. “Four o’clock already?” She brushed her hands off on her pants. “I can’t believe I’ve been looking through these boxes for so long. But I’ve found some interesting things, you know, for the display.” She forced a smile and waved a hand to her “display” pile.
Hannah’s furrowed brow told her she was seeing through the charade. “Do you think you’ll find anything more about your great-grandfather?”
“Besides more accusations? I doubt it, but I’m hopeful.” Charlotte wished that Anita would have given her at least a hint of whatever information she had. It didn’t seem fair to have to wait another day, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. And this wasn’t the first time the scandal of her Granddaddy had ruined Charlotte’s day.
Charlotte’s mind took her back to the week before her own wedding. Opal, her mother, had taken Charlotte to her old cedar trunk, showing her family and wedding photos of her and her husband, William, Charlotte’s dad. It was the passing of the torch, so to speak, a history of their family and its traditions. Yet when they’d come across similar news clippings about Elijah Coleman, dark clouds had descended upon that bright day too. How could one man, long dead, continue to stir so many questions?
Charlotte rose from the folding chair. A pain shot up her back and down her leg, evidence of the hours she’d sat there sorting.
Hannah lifted Charlotte’s coat from the back of her chair and handed it to her. “You know, you’ve done more work in one day than I expected anyone to do. You’ve put in your fair share. Don’t worry about digging through this old stuff anymore.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after too.” Charlotte’s voice rose an octave, and all eyes in the room turned in her direction. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to find out the truth about my great-grandfather and his dealings. It needs to come out in the open. The truth is the truth, and hiding it—”
“The truth is that he’s innocent.” Anita interrupted. Then she used her cane to help her stand. The old woman’s cheeks were brushed with rouge and powder, but she wore no smile. Anita straightened her shoulders.
All eyes turned her direction.
“And Anita Wilson, how would you know that?” Mary Louise spouted.
“I know it ’cause my mama told me. Also, I have evidence back home …. something I’ll share privately with Charlotte. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I can see I need to say something now.” She jutted out her chin. “What the newspaper doesn’t say is that Elijah Coleman was accused by the state, but not by the church members of Bedford. In fact, the men of the church …” Anita’s eyes welled up with tears. “They believed in him so much they went in and asked to serve time with him. It’s said that so many men filled up that lone jail cell that the judge dropped the whole thing—no farming was getting done. The general store was closed. No one was there to meet the train.”
Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand. “Really?” Her throat felt tight. “I wonder why my mother didn’t tell me.”
“Why, your mama wasn’t there. Your grandmother either. They weren’t even born. My guess is, since the mystery was never solved your grandfather didn’t want to bring it up.” Anita smiled. “Sometimes it’s easier just to treasure the truth in your heart than try to explain it.”
Charlotte finished buttoning up her coat, and then she moved to Anita’s side. “Can I walk you to your car?”
“I’m getting a ride with Nancy, but I’d like that.”
Charlotte extended her arm, and Anita slipped her own arm around it, using Charlotte to help her balance.
“Hope you can make it tomorrow, Charlotte.” Mary Louise’s voice rang out like a church bell over the prairie.
“I’ll be here. You can count on it,” Charlotte assured her. “You better believe I’m not only going to find the facts. I’m also gonna prove that my great-granddaddy is innocent and do a spring cleaning on my family’s name.”
CHARLOTTE COULDN’T HELP but notice Sam was especially quiet as he ate his piece of birthday cake after dinner that evening.
Sam, Charlotte, Bob, Bill, and Pete sat at the table while the other family members sat in the family room eating their cake. Rosemary hadn’t arrived for dinner, and Charlotte was starting to worry about her. The phone had been busy when she tried calling earlier, so maybe she was just held up at home.
Sam had been quieter over the last few days, and Charlotte was reminded of last February, when he’d run away to find his father. So much had happened since then.
Thank you, Lord, for being with us through it all. Now please be with Sam as he considers his future. So much, she knew, depended on the choices he made now.
“Is it good, Sam?” she asked, pouring more milk into his glass. “I used your mom’s recipe.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s good, Grandma. It tastes
just like hers.”
“It’s a very special day, Sam. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you. We are.” Charlotte looked toward Bob, hoping he’d join in.
Bob winked at her, getting the hint.
“Yes, Sam, like your grandmother said, you’ve done a lot of growing up. And I guess you’re officially a man now.”
Pete chuckled and waved his hand toward Sam. “Um, yeah, Sam, you’re a man, which means starting tomorrow you’re taking over all my chores, and I’m retiring.”
Laughter filled the room, and Charlotte was glad when Sam played along, giving a shocked expression. “Do I have to be responsible? Actually, Uncle Pete, if it comes with more chores, I think I’ll pass. I don’t mind being seventeen again.”
“If only it could work that way.” Bill patted his gut. “I’d still be twenty-one and able to jog a mile without having to stop and catch my breath.”
Bob pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. “Well, since you’ve decided not to have a birthday I’ll keep this.” Bob waved the envelope in the air.
Charlotte had tried to talk Bob into something typical—a nice card, a few presents—but Bob said that those things were kid stuff.
As Sam eyed the envelope, his mouth slid into a lopsided grin. “Well, in that case.”
Bob slid the envelope across the table.
“Wait, Grandpa.” Christopher interrupted. “He can’t open that until we give him our stuff first.” Christopher grabbed the box on the table wrapped in Sunday comics and handed it to Sam.
“Thanks, Christopher. I love the comics.” Sam held the box up and began reading, chuckling to himself. Then Sam shook it around and listened to the rattling. “Is it a puzzle? Or maybe a box of rocks?”
Christopher wagged a finger at him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy or something?”
“Okay, fine, I’ll open it.”
Sam opened the box and peered inside. Then he reached down and pulled out a candy bar.
“There are eighteen of them.” Christopher smiled. “And I promise I won’t sneak into your room and eat any.”