by Gail Sattler
He expected the squirrel to dart away with every small movement he made, but the squirrel remained still. He’d never moved so slowly in his life, but by using very slow movements, Mike managed to give the squirrel the pieces of bread, and it didn’t run away.
The squirrel wasn’t afraid of him. It was as if the little animal trusted him not to hurt it. In the same way, Patty’s father had shown him in not so many words that he, too, trusted him.
Mike wondered what they knew that he didn’t.
Deliberately, he kept his movements slow and steady, so as not to frighten Patty’s squirrel. He held out another piece of bread, then kept perfectly still so the squirrel would again take it from his fingers.
Suddenly the squirrel darted away.
“Sorry I took so long.”
Mike caught his breath, fumbled with the bag, and dropped it. The few remaining pieces of bread fell out onto the ground.
He looked up to see Patty standing behind the bench, both hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking, and her eyes sparkling with glee. She’d never looked so beautiful.
“Don’t say a word,” he mumbled as he bent over to pick everything up.
“Me? Never.”
“Yeah, right,” he grumbled.
“I hope you don’t mind, but after Daddy reminded me of your famous submarine sandwich creations, he got me started talking, and I think Daddy is going to join us for lunch sometime soon.”
Mike smiled. Strangely, he didn’t mind. In fact, he looked forward to it. “Not at all. Now finish your sandwich, because I’m not giving you your dessert until you finish your lunch.”
Patricia sighed as she started the next load of laundry, wishing she could be outside in the sunshine on a beautiful spring day instead of downstairs doing laundry. Since she had been busy every night that week, Saturday afternoon was the only time left to do her housework.
In the background, Patricia thought she heard a noise. She pushed in the knob on the washing machine to turn it off, tilted her head, and sure enough, she heard the doorbell again.
She ran upstairs and peeked through the blinds to see Mike at the door.
“What are you doing here?”
He grinned. “Hi. Got a bucket?”
“A bucket?”
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the driveway. “My car is dirty. I came to wash it.”
“You came all this way to wash your car?”
“Patty, the dirt will damage the finish.” He shucked off his backpack and pulled out a sponge.
“I could have given you a sponge. You didn’t have to bring one, you know.”
“Yes, I did. This is a special sponge, manufactured in particular for use on cars. I bought this at the car show a couple of years ago.”
She stared at the sponge. It didn’t look different from any other sponge. She didn’t want to ask how much he paid for it. “It’s really not so dirty that you had to come all this way. I washed it last weekend.”
Mike froze. “What did you use?”
Patricia cringed. “Dish soap. That’s what I use on my own car.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then smiled tightly. “That’s fine, but from now on, please let me wash it myself, okay? Would you mind if I came by every Saturday afternoon to do it?” He removed two brightly colored bottles from his backpack. The labels boldly stated a guarantee to preserve and protect the finish on fine cars.
She nodded woodenly and left Mike outside while she ran into the house for her bucket. The last thing she had left to do was wash the floors, but she owned only one bucket, which Mike was now using. “Want me to help? I don’t have anything else to do.”
He removed the sponge she stored in the bottom of the bucket and left it at the side of the driveway. “Nope. But you can keep me company, if you want.”
He carefully rinsed the bucket out three times with the hose, then turned to the house. “Can I have some warm water? It works best with the stuff I brought.”
“You bought that stuff at the car show too, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t buy a bucket at the car show.”
He frowned, and his eyes narrowed. “Let’s not get ridiculous.”
She led him to the laundry sink where he filled the bucket with water exactly the right temperature, measured exactly two capfuls from each bottle into the water, and returned outside. He very diligently and tenderly scrubbed every square inch of the car, the whole time making sure not to touch it with his fingers until he had carefully washed away every speck properly, chatting very little as he worked.
When everything was cleaned to his satisfaction, he instructed her how to hose it down, two and three times in some places.
Patricia gritted her teeth. She didn’t know how he trusted her to drive it when he didn’t trust her to wash it.
After she hosed all the suds off, he double-checked it, then began to wipe it down with a special leather cloth.
“What are you doing? It’s a warm day. The car will dry by itself.”
He shook his head. “The water might spot. If you’ll excuse me, I have to do this quickly.”
Patricia couldn’t stand it anymore. She would show him spots.
“Oh, Mi-ike …,” she drawled.
He glanced over his shoulder while he continued to wipe the car. “Yes?”
She opened the hose full blast for a few seconds, catching him squarely in the center of his back, then ran into the house, laughing every step of the way. He would forgive her if she made something special for dessert.
Mike guided Patty by the elbow as they entered Claude’s church. Since she was the pastor’s daughter at her own church, Mike understood Patty having strong ties there. For today, though, he wanted to be here. Claude’s church was very similar to Patty’s, except for one big difference.
Bruce wouldn’t be here.
Mike realized he was placing Bruce in an awkward spot, but he couldn’t help it. As Mike’s probation officer, Bruce’s relationship with Mike was supposed to be strictly professional, and seeing Bruce at church encroached on Bruce’s private life. He knew cops and other law-enforcement professionals couldn’t mix their private lives with those over whom they had authority, and Mike could well understand that. After all that had happened, nothing lessened his respect for Bruce’s authority, but if things continued the way he wanted, the situation could become very complicated.
Patty had driven him to a few of the required AA meetings, but he didn’t want her to get involved, so he had now found other ways to get around. He knew some of the things said at the meetings would make her uncomfortable. Sometimes they made him uncomfortable, but they were things he needed to hear. He also had some thoughts of his own that he had shared at meetings that he didn’t want Patty to hear.
The Monday meetings at Claude’s house were closed to all except the specific people who had committed themselves to the intense twelve-step meeting. It was there that he could really let himself go, and he had.
Over the last three weeks, he’d shared some very ugly things about himself to the group, things he had never told anyone. Having to sort himself out in an honest and open manner among people who shared the same addiction forced him to take a hard look at himself, and he saw many things he didn’t like.
He would work on those things. God had forgiven him for them, Jesus died to erase them, but he had still done them. A lot of what the meetings were forcing the participants to do was to deal with things from the past so they could move on. Of course he could see the wisdom of doing so, but that didn’t make it any easier to do.
He jolted himself out of his thoughts when Patty touched his arm. “Look, there’s Claude. Let’s go talk to him.”
Her touch made him want more. He would have liked to slip his arm around her waist, or failing that, hold her hand while they walked around as strangers in a new setting, but he didn’t think that was appropriate in a church.
He
wanted to show Patty how special she was and how much she meant to him.
Seeing her at lunch every day was satisfying to some degree, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to date Patty properly, which brought him back to seeing Bruce in a non-professional setting.
Bruce had seen him at his worst, and therefore, Bruce’s opinion of him was understandably low. It was obvious to Mike that Bruce wasn’t pleased about him spending so much time with his sister. However, Mike was determined to rise above Bruce’s perception of him. He fully intended to treat Patty with the respect and dignity she deserved, and, with Jesus in his heart, Mike also intended to prove himself as a decent human being in Bruce’s eyes. However, Mike didn’t want to think about proving himself to Patty’s father, the pastor. The very thought struck fear in his heart.
As they reached the circle of people, Claude introduced them to the small group, not as acquaintances through AA, but as friends. Mike liked that.
He said little, since Patty seemed to be doing a good job of holding up their end of the conversation. He also wanted to follow her lead if anything personal came up.
He only half listened to the conversation concerning the upcoming ladies’ function, and his attention wandered to other happenings in the large foyer. Some people milled around a table containing books and pamphlets, and almost everyone else in the room stood around, chatting in small groups.
A family of a man and woman and two small children were greeted heartily when they joined the group standing next to Mike and Patty. Mike really wasn’t listening, but when he heard the words “broken arm” and “car accident,” he stiffened from head to toe.
The new man in the group had a cast on his right arm, and Mike didn’t want to listen, but the words “drunk driver” echoed in his brain.
Mike felt sick. If the man attended this church, he probably lived nearby, and it wasn’t far from here that he had his accident. His lawyer told him the lone occupant of the vehicle, a man, had only a broken arm, and it wasn’t too bad.
He couldn’t help it. He completely ignored Patty talking to Claude’s wife about their baby-sitting ministry and listened to the group next to him. It appeared the whole family hadn’t been to church for four weeks because his wife, who had been staying home with the young children, had had to go out and get a job while he wasn’t working.
Four weeks. The time frame was too close for comfort.
Mike thought he might throw up.
He had to know.
Very gently, he tapped Patty on the shoulder and whispered in her ear that he had to have a quick word with the man in the group next to them. Sucking in a deep breath, Mike took two steps toward the group beside him.
Their conversation stopped.
The man with the cast on his arm blinked in surprise, then smiled. “You must be new here. Welcome to Faith Bible Fellowship. I’m Darryl. Sorry I can’t shake your hand.” Then he actually smiled.
Mike felt two inches tall.
“I’m Mike. Uh, Darryl, would you mind if I asked you something, uh, privately?”
Everyone in the group stared at him, but he couldn’t find out what he wanted to know in front of them. It was hard enough facing only one person.
Darryl looked hesitant, but then nodded and smiled to his wife and stepped to the side with Mike, where they were still close by, but out of that circle of conversation.
Mike forced himself to look into Darryl’s face and kept his voice low as he spoke. “I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation—that you were in a car accident involving a drunk driver. If you wouldn’t mind me asking, what night was it, where was it, and was it a hit-and-run?”
Darryl smiled. “I don’t know what to say. It was on May seventh, on Main Street, in front of Hank’s Outdoor Store. But it’s okay. They caught the guy, so if you witnessed the accident, everything is all in motion. I’m just waiting for a court date to testify. It’s nice of you to be concerned.”
Mike’s knees shook. He wished he could run away, but he couldn’t.
He cleared his throat and rammed his hands into his pockets. He stared at the ground, because he couldn’t look Darryl in the face as he spoke. “I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that. You see, I was the drunk driver.”
Chapter 10
Patricia glanced to the side briefly while she listened to Claude’s wife. The woman was a joy to speak with, full of love for the Lord, but Patricia really didn’t want to leave Mike alone. Being her father’s daughter, she was a key figure in the church and was very used to making conversation with relative strangers, as everyone always felt they knew her and spoke freely to her. As much as some people felt they knew her, she often didn’t know them. Sometimes she didn’t even know their names. All her life, the one-sided familiarity had helped her develop the art of holding a good conversation versus meaningless chitchat with people she didn’t know very well.
She thought it nice to see Mike meet up with someone he knew. From the little he’d said of his usual friends, it didn’t sound like any of them ever went near a church, so this was a pleasant surprise.
Patricia turned to glance at Mike as he spoke to his friend one more time, and as she did, she lost all track of the conversation she was supposed to be paying attention to. All the color had drained from Mike’s face. He was staring at the floor while the other man was staring at Mike. Neither of them was talking.
“Claude, do you know that man Mike is talking to?”
“No, not really. I think his name is Darren or something like that.”
“Excuse me,” she said, and quickly walked to Mike.
“Mike? Are you okay? You don’t look well.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll be okay. Uh, if you wouldn’t mind, I have to speak to Darryl, alone.”
Patricia blinked and backed up a step. “Oh.” She glanced back and forth between the two men. Neither of them appeared pleased to see the other, but she would respect Mike’s request and leave them alone. “I’ll be with Claude and Michelle.”
She watched Mike and Darryl while she listened to Claude and his wife. Instead of talking, Mike pulled a pen out of his pocket, they exchanged phone numbers and separated. Mike walked back toward her, so she quickly turned around, but first she watched Darryl as he rejoined his group. He said only a few words, and a woman in the group grasped Darryl’s arm and stared wide-eyed at Mike’s back.
Patricia stared up at Mike as he returned to her side.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, then turned to Claude. “I think I need to go sit down. If you’ll excuse us?” He nodded politely, and without another word, he led Patricia into the sanctuary where he chose seats in an empty section.
He sat in silence for a few minutes, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular as more people entered the large room. She was starting to worry in earnest when he finally spoke.
“That was the guy I hit.”
A knot formed in the bottom of Patricia’s stomach. Her first thought was that Claude had set Mike up for this meeting, but that wasn’t fair to Claude. She knew Claude wouldn’t do something like that without discussing it with Mike first. He also had said he didn’t know the man, nor did Claude even get the man’s name right.
She waited for Mike to continue, but he didn’t. He continued to face the front in silence.
“Mike? If you want to leave, I’ll understand.”
He shook his head slightly but otherwise didn’t move. “No. I need to be here.” Very slowly, he turned to her and rested one hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very good company.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
The lights lowered, the congregation stood, and the first song began.
Midway through the worship time, Mike recovered his composure. He actually sang the last song, which they had sung at Patty’s church one of the times he was there, making it the only song familiar to him. When the pastor began his message, Patricia found herself only h
alf concentrating. Most of her thoughts centered on Mike.
She felt sorry for him. It was true that his actions had caused someone to be injured, and it was his fault, but knowing him personally versus thinking of him as the unknown bad guy altered her perspective in what should have been a black-and-white case of right and wrong.
The difference was that instead of passing it off, Mike was actively trying to change. She wanted to say something to let him know that he had her support, but sitting in church in a public setting while they were supposed to be listening to the pastor’s sermon was neither the time nor the place. The only thing she could think of to show Mike she was on his side was to take his hand and hold it.
He flinched in surprise when she grasped his hand, but Patricia didn’t let that bother her, knowing the last thing Mike would have been expecting would be for her to touch him. He turned to her and raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and Patricia gave his hand a gentle squeeze as an answer. Mike smiled and held on for the rest of the service.
After the closing prayer, as Patricia hunched over to gather her purse from under her chair, the man Mike had been speaking to appeared beside them. Mike stood abruptly while she remained seated.
Darryl nodded down in greeting at Patricia and then turned toward Mike. “When you first came to me, you really threw me for a loop, but I’ve had a little time to let it sink in. I think I’m ready to talk to you now.”
Mike looked down at her. “Would you mind? I won’t be long.”
She didn’t know what she was going to do in a strange place, but Mike needed the time. “Take as long as you need.”
Mike and Darryl left the sanctuary and turned the corner, going down the hallway to speak as privately as possible, leaving Patricia alone. Fortunately, Claude and Michelle sought her out, and when she told Claude that Mike had gone to talk to someone, they said they would stay with her until Mike returned.