Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. He grabbed his wallet, tucked it into his back pocket, and hurried to the door. His pulse quickened as an image of Ainsley’s soft face and marbled eyes came to mind.
He opened the door to find Gina standing in front of him. She flashed a toothy smile. “Hi!”
“What’s up?”
“You’re coming to church, right?” Her eyes sparkled. “No sense in us all taking separate cars. Besides, Ainsley’s church is out in the boondocks of the boondocks, at the end of winding country roads. I’d hate for you to get lost. Why not ride with us?” She spoke quicker than a toddler on Kool-Aid.
“Did she send you over?” He sounded like a prepubescent middle schooler. Does she like me? Check yes or no.
“Something like that.” Her grin widened. “Can you meet us in five?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. This situation was more than awkward. But then again, it was just a car ride. And he did need to find a good, Bible-preaching church. “Sounds good.”
Gina beamed, waved her hand like a parade float queen, and spun around. She bounced down the steps and across the lawn. Shaking his head, he closed the door softly.
Why do I feel like I’m about to step into something?
He looked at his watch. His mom was probably in full fight mode, giving the nursing staff enough flack to keep them from taking her to chapel. Which was why he needed to call and defuse their flimsy excuses at the start.
He grabbed the phone and dialed his mother’s private extension.
“Hi, Mom. It’s Chris.”
“Good morning, dear. It’s so good to hear your voice. Are you coming by today?”
Mornings were her best times, and apparently, this one was especially good, although there was no telling how long reality would remain.
“After church. Which is why I’m calling. Are you going to chapel?”
“You know I don’t like to go down there. All they ever talk about is having peace like a river—every Sunday. Same old message. Most of those folk don’t pay attention, not that I blame them. Then there’s the piano music, if you can call it that.”
He waited patiently while his mother vented. This had been a hard transition for her. Losing her husband, her independence, her church home. He’d bring her with him, but new situations scared her. Besides, he didn’t have a church home himself. Although, Ainsley’s sounded nice. Small and quiet.
“You need to go, Mom. You can’t stay locked in your room all the time.”
“Those people are crazy, you know. They’ve all lost their mind.”
Chris pleaded with her for a while longer then hung up and headed to Ainsley’s. The garage door was open and the car running. He started to go to the front door when the girls walked out carrying nearly identical purses.
Ainsley glanced up, her green eyes filling with the same childlike timidity that had colored her features when she answered the door earlier. Her pink lips hovered near a smile.
“Good morning, Chris. I’m glad you can join us.” She walked to her car then paused with her hand on the door. She glanced first at Gina then Chris.
“I’ll sit in the back.” He slid in before either of them could protest.
Ainsley’s face smoothed into a smile. She moved into the driver’s seat and tucked her purse beside her.
A handful of gray clouds dotted an otherwise clear, blue sky, but a band of black lined the east horizon, poised to swallow the midmorning sun. Bare trees covered in melting ice bent beneath the steady wind.
Gina angled her body to look Chris in the eye. “So, how are you adjusting to the midwestern winter?”
He caught Ainsley’s gaze through the rearview mirror. Her green eyes rounded and a splash of pink colored her cheeks. “I’m adjusting.”
“It’s been a warm winter so far. Well, minus the occasional storm.” Gina talked fast, as if she had a head full of words and a limited amount of time to release them. “Although it’s still early. Wait until February when blizzard season hits.”
She launched into one story after another while Chris pretended to be engaged, nodding at the occasional pause and offering a smile here and there, but mostly he watched Ainsley. The more Gina talked, the more Ainsley appeared to relax, and although she rarely joined in the conversation, she smiled and laughed. She had the sweetest laugh.
They continued north. Storefronts gave way to long stretches of brown grass covered in patches of snow. The road narrowed and wove around quaint farmhouses surrounded by barren trees.
Fifteen minutes later, Ainsley turned onto a narrow gravel road cutting between two fields. After another five minutes, she turned onto another dirt road and continued toward a single-story church with a tarnished wooden cross. A handful of cars filled the makeshift lot.
She parked beside a brick-colored Camry and cut the engine. “As I said, it’s small, and not fancy by any means, but . . .” She smiled. “It’s home.”
Chris and Gina followed her across the lot and into an entry-way about the size of a bathroom stall. Wood paneling covered the walls and soft organ music poured from a wooden archway leading from the foyer to a nineteenth-century sanctuary.
“Ainsley, good morning.” A woman with silver hair, a wooden cane in her hand, enveloped Ainsley in a hug. She pulled away and her smile widened. “And Gina, I’m so glad you are here! How have you been, dear?” Before Gina could answer, the woman turned to Chris. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Chris, my new neighbor. Gina brought him.” She spoke quickly and glanced around as if avoiding the woman’s gaze.
The woman offered Gina a knowing smile. “I see. Well, welcome, my dear. I’m Deborah Eldridge. Ainsley’s old third-grade teacher.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
Ainsley smiled. “Deborah was the first person to tell me about Jesus and the first one to invite me to church. Drove me every Sunday for almost nine years.”
“Until you grew up on me and started driving yourself.” Deborah squeezed Ainsley’s hand. “How are things with your mother?”
She shifted, her smile vanishing. “Good, thanks.”
Deborah gave her a sideways hug. “We’ll talk later.” She stepped aside, scanning the area. “If you see Michelle, can you tell her I’m looking for her?”
Ainsley nodded then led the way into the sanctuary. She slid into the pew farthest back and moved to the center.
Gina giggled. “Ainsley likes to barricade herself in. Make it near impossible for anyone to say hi.”
Frowning, Ainsley blushed.
Gina gave her a squeeze. “You know I love you, my sweet little hermit friend.” Then she launched into three stories in quick succession, not stopping until everyone else stood and broke into song.
Chapter 34
insley slid onto the driver’s seat and waited for Chris and Gina. When they hopped in the back, she angled the rear-view mirror to catch Gina’s gaze. “Nothing I like better than playing chauffer.”
Gina’s cheeks colored. “I’m sorry. I thought Chris would . . . Want me to come up there?”
“No, it’s fine.” She turned the engine and eased out of the parking lot, waving to Deborah as she left.
“Oh, my! Is it that late already?”
Ainsley glanced back to see Chris staring at his watch.
“Is everything OK?”
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize your service went so late. I normally eat lunch with my mom on Sundays. How long does it take to drive back? Twenty minutes?”
Ainsley shrugged, a lump forming in the back of her throat as she thought about her own mother. They hadn’t spoken since the salt-dough experience.
Love initiates, expecting nothing in return. How many times had she heard that message? How many prayers of surrender had she offered? But somehow her determination dwindled once she left the sanctuary.
She studied Chris’s reflection in the mirror. “We’re a
bout twenty to thirty minutes out, depending on how many tractors or escaping cows we encounter along the way.”
“It’ll be close. I hate to ask, but . . . A crooked smile began to emerge. “You guys wouldn’t happen to like overcooked country fried steak and mashed potatoes, would you? My mom does much better with routine, although there’s a good chance she’ll forget our luncheon. But if she does remember and I don’t show up, or I show up late . . . His forehead creased.
A turkey wobbled across the road and Ainsley slowed. “No biggie. I’ll drop you off. Where is it?”
Gina leaned forward. “But how would he get home?”
“Right.” There could be worse ways to spend her Sunday. “Country fried steak sounds lovely.”
They spent the rest of the drive engaged in small talk, Gina asking enough questions to fuel a national trivia contest while Ainsley stifled a giggle at Chris’s two-to-three-word answers. They pulled into the Shady Lane Parking Lot exactly twenty-two minutes later.
Once parked, Chris jumped out and led the way up the sidewalk, into the nursing home, and through a sparsely furnished lobby. Ainsley and Gina scurried after him.
The rich aroma of roasted meat and melted butter drifted down the hall, followed by a steady clanking of silverware and the agitated chatter of voices. One woman’s voice dominated them all.
“Hermon, I just took you to the bathroom. Eat already before I take your food away.”
Chris stormed down the hall and around the corner, hands fisted. He didn’t slow until he stood in front of a woman dressed in a faded smock. Gina and Ainsley gathered behind him, exchanging glances.
Upon seeing Chris, the woman’s scowl smoothed into a stiff smile. “Mr. Langley, I thought perhaps you weren’t coming today.”
Chris’s eyes blazed. He turned to an arthritic man sitting beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hermon, my buddy! How you like them mashed taters?”
Hermon’s gray eyes lifted and a smile emerged on his food-speckled face. He mumbled something, every third word punctuated by a chuckle.
“You better eat your supper, buddy, before these hungry ladies steal those tender peas of yours.” He shot Gina and Ainsley a wink. “Mind if I take a taste?”
After a little more banter, Hermon picked up his spoon.
The nursing assistant muttered something under her breath then wandered to another table, her plummeted eyebrows casting a long shadow over her face.
Ainsley stared after her. “That lady’s a little low in the compassion department, huh?”
Chris’s steely eyes softened when he turned to Ainsley. “You know what they say about those who are overworked and under-paid, although most of the staff’s pretty good.” He scanned the dining room then strolled toward a woman sitting three tables down at the end. The woman glanced up when they approached.
“How are you?” Chris leaned over to kiss her, but stopped short when she flinched and pulled away.
“Do I know you? You look so familiar.” She wrung a napkin in her hands.
He motioned to an empty seat. “Mind if we join you?”
She studied each face in turn, smiling when her gaze met Ainsley’s. “Now aren’t you a pretty little thing, just like an angel dropped straight from heaven. Have you eaten yet?”
“We were about to fill our plates.” Chris smiled. “Will you hold this seat for us?”
Ainsley followed Gina and Chris to the buffet counter, smiling at the residents she passed. Most of them lit up when their eyes met.
A woman in a paisley sweatshirt grabbed Ainsley by the arm. “Such beautiful curls. They’re natural, aren’t they?” She lifted a wrinkled hand to touch Ainsley’s hair. “I used to have curly hair.” She ran her hands across her silver locks. “Used to be a blonde too.”
“Least you still have hair.” A baldheaded man with age spots speckled across his arms rubbed his head. “What do you say? Think you can spare a few strands for me? Get me some Super Glue, and I can make myself a wig.”
When she finally made it to the tray table, Chris grinned and handed her a plate. “You ladies appear to be quite the hit. I’d say you’re gonna have to come back next Sunday.”
Ainsley turned around and found the woman who’d touched her hair still watching her, still smiling. Like those down at the shelter, it took so little to make these women happy. “You may be right. They certainly pull on one’s heartstrings.” She looked at the partially empty tables all around her. “Do many of them get visitors?”
Chris’s face fell. “No, not normally.” He motioned for the girls to go ahead of him. “If you scoop from the middle, you’ll avoid most of the clumps.”
Once food filled their plates, they meandered back through the residents to Mrs. Langley who appeared to have lost all interest in eating.
Her face caved in a deep set frown and she clutched the collar of her shirt. “It’s freezing in here.” She struggled to stand, entangling herself with her chair. “Where’s my husband? James, where in the heavens have you gone?”
Chris set his plate down and grabbed his mom’s elbow. She flinched like his hand felt hot and turned on him. “Who are you and what do you want?”
He stepped back and spoke in a low, soothing voice. “I’m here to help you. Would you like a blanket?”
Ainsley clasped her hands in front of her, at a loss as to how to help. Her heart ached for Chris and his mom.
Mrs. Langley glanced around, chin quivering, shoulders hunched. “I left my sweater in my apartment.” Her gaze swept right then left. “My apartment is . . . My apartment . . .”
“Your apartment is at the end of the hall, remember?” Chris guided her through the cafeteria and around the corner.
Ainsley and Gina followed a few steps behind while Chris continued to speak softly to his mother. Rounding another corner, they nearly ran into a nurse with spiked hair and big hooped earrings.
The nurse smiled and came to Chris’s aid. “Mrs. Langley, would you like to rest?” She nodded to Chris and he moved aside.
Mrs. Langley trembled. “Where’s my husband? Have you seen my husband?”
Chris stopped in the middle of the hall and shoved his hands in his pockets. When the nurse and his mother disappeared through a wooden doorway, he turned back around. “So, you wanna finish, or should I say, start, your lunch, or would you rather hit a burger joint?”
Gina glanced back toward the dining hall. “Uh . . . burgers sound great.”
Silence fell over them as they passed the cafeteria and continued to the parking lot.
Once in the car, Ainsley paused with her hand on the ignition key. “You’re so patient with her. How do you do it? I mean, that’s gotta hurt, to have her forget who you are.”
Chris shrugged. “I mourned her a while ago, although I suppose I still mourn her. But I’ve come to realize this is who she is, and I love her for who she is and not who I’d like her to be.” He stared out the window, as if remembering times past. “It’s hard, but it’s beautiful, too, because it helps me see god’s love for me.”
“I don’t get it.”
“When Heather, the nurse from the dining room, looks at my mother, all she sees is her behavior—her mood swings and agitation. But that’s not how I see her. When I look at my mother, I see her sickness, Alzheimer’s. Often we have the same shortsightedness. When we look at each other, all we see is the behavior—bouts of anger, selfishness, snide comments. But when God looks at us, He sees our sickness, sin.”
Ainsley swallowed, her thoughts jumping to her mother. Like Chris’s mom, her mother was sick. Only her sickness, sin, wasn’t as easily diagnosed. And yet, did loving her mother for who she was, and not who Ainsley wanted her to be, mean giving up hope for change? She could understand it in Chris’s case, but her mother chose her disease. Jesus offered a cure for sin.
Then again, a cure only proved useful to those who sought treatment.
Chapter 35
insley’s cell phone trilled on the
coffee table. She checked the number then answered. “Good morning, Mom.” Sleet pattered on her roof, adding rhythm to the moaning wind. Nestling into the corner of the couch, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “Are you on your way to work?”
“No. I quit my job.”
“You what?”
“It stressed me out, and the way my boss treated me. It wasn’t right.”
“But how will you pay your bills?” like Mother, like daughter? How did the saying go? You can trim the foliage but can’t sever the roots.
“Oh, I’ve got a few months’ worth of unemployment coming.”
“You don’t get unemployment when you quit. Only when you’re fired.”
“Oh . . . then Social Security? With all the money the government’s stolen over the years, I’ve gotta have something coming.”
Ainsley closed her eyes and rubbed them. “Was there something you needed?”
“Are you going to Aunt Shelby’s for Christmas this year?”
“Same as I do every year. Although I’m planning on spending time at the women’s shelter. Why? Has something changed? Did Aunt Shelby decide not to host this year?” A smile emerged as the idea of Christmas, minus the drama, blossomed.
“No, of course not. So you’re going then?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Then you won’t mind if I don’t? Stephen’s taking me to the Bahamas.” Her tone lightened. “Isn’t that exciting?”
“Minus the whole, ‘my mom’s shacking up with a guy she met a few months ago’? Sure, yeah. Exciting.”
Her mother huffed. “You and your religious babble. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an adult, not a teenager in bobby socks. In fact, girls don’t wear bobby socks anymore. They even wear,” she gasped, “pants.”
“Listen, Mom, I’m not interested in a debate, and I know you aren’t calling to invite me to join you. Since you don’t have any pets needing to be cared for, I’m stumped.”
“Aren’t you edgy today? Your boss pile on the workload again?”
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