Trust.
How could he get a boy he hardly knew, who seemed set on keeping his distance, to trust him? Lowering his head into his hands, he offered a silent prayer, a plea for guidance and understanding. Before he’d even concluded his prayer, a thought came over him with such gut-wrenching force he dared not question its source.
Not that. There has to be another way.
It wasn’t a possibility, no matter the prompting or the good it might do. There simply wasn’t a way he would ever share something so personal with Daniel, with anyone.
Chapter 6
Eliza hadn’t meant to insult Henry. He was a good teacher. Many of the students she worked with had good things to say about him and his classes, but he was being too careful with Daniel. She suspected that nothing would happen until Henry decided to give of himself a little, to reach out in some way.
Eliza glanced at her watch. She wanted to think more about Henry’s situation, perhaps even talk with Jeff about Daniel’s individual counseling sessions, but it would have to wait until later. She had one last group-therapy session before dinner. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it on time.
Her schedule followed a fairly predictable routine. She had fifteen students she met with on a weekly basis, assessing individual growth and discussing any issues or difficulties they were experiencing. Meeting one-on-one was Eliza’s favorite part of the job. She loved having the opportunity to really talk to the kids and get to the center of what it was they needed.
In addition to providing individual counseling, Rockbridge had several group-therapy sessions, covering everything from substance abuse to dealing with family upheaval, such as divorce. The session Eliza was nearly late for focused on self-injury. It was the hardest session of Eliza’s week. It pained her to see kids who were in such a dark place emotionally that inflicting personal pain actually brought them some relief. Because of Rockbridge’s thorough supervision, it was difficult for such behavior to continue once kids were enrolled, but therapy wasn’t just about preventing poor behavior. The key was to teach kids coping mechanisms that empowered them to take control of their lives—to feel capable of choosing a different behavior.
Eliza gathered the knives and bowls still sitting on the picnic table in front of her and made a stack of supplies to drop off in the kitchen on the way to her session. Realizing she had more than she could carry on her own, she was happy to see Flip coming toward her.
“I’ve been sent to retrieve Belinda’s knives,” he said with a good-natured grin. “That woman doesn’t like her kitchen meddled with, does she?”
Eliza laughed. “I had to beg her to let me bring everything outside, but it was such a nice day, it seemed a crime not to enjoy it.” Once Flip’s arms were full of Belinda’s bowls and knives, Eliza hurried to gather her personal belongings.
“Where are you off to now that I’m handling Belinda?”
“Group therapy,” Eliza said. “I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”
“Mind if I hurry with you? I was hoping I could ask you a question.”
“I’m not sure Belinda will appreciate the detour.”
“Don’t you worry about Belinda,” Flip said. “I’ll sweet-talk her into forgiveness. She’s always had a thing for the Irish.”
Eliza laughed again. It was hard to imagine a circumstance where sweet-talking from Flip wouldn’t be effective.
“All right, then,” Eliza said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. It’s only . . . Well, I was hoping you might be interested in having dinner with me Friday night.”
Eliza paused. “Flip,” she said playfully, “are you asking me out on a date?”
“Something like it, I think. It’s only dinner. That’s not a big deal, is it?”
Eliza thought of a conversation she’d had with Natalie earlier in the week.
“Is it getting serious with you and Flip?” Natalie had asked.
Natalie hadn’t believed her when Eliza had insisted they were only good friends. “Eliza, don’t be stupid,” she had said. “You and Flip spend a lot of time together. When he isn’t on excursion, he’s with you. If you aren’t more than friends in your eyes, you better take a look at his. ’Cause I think you mean more to him than you realize.”
Eliza suspected Natalie was right. The question, then, was how did Eliza feel about it? She liked Flip. It was impossible not to like Flip. He was funny, charming, and handsome. Her only hesitation stemmed from the fact that Flip wasn’t LDS. But it was only dinner, and Flip was such a good friend. What harm could there be?
“I’m not scheduled off this weekend,” Eliza finally responded. “I’ll have to ask Natalie if she can cover for me. If she can, dinner on Friday sounds great.”
“So I’ll check with you tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” Eliza paused outside the door of the group-therapy room and shifted her bag higher onto her shoulder. She gave Flip one last smile and whispered a hasty “See you later” before ducking into the room.
* * *
Friday evening, Eliza stood inside her apartment listening to the messages on her answering machine. It had been an adjustment for her to once again rely on a landline telephone and answering machine. She often wondered why she still had a cell phone. Of course, she used it when she drove into Rose Creek, but at Rockbridge, it was completely useless.
She had three messages on the answering machine. The first was from her mother. Everything was fine. Gina was fine. She’d just wanted to hear Eliza’s voice. Eliza smiled. She missed her mom. She would have to plan a weekend home to see her soon.
The second message was someone on the activities committee at church. Was she planning on attending the Pioneer Day celebration later in the month? Could she come early to help decorate? Eliza hurried to the counter and grabbed a pen just in time to jot the woman’s telephone number down on the message board she had hanging in her kitchen. She didn’t think she’d be able to get away that weekend. She was almost positive Natalie already had that weekend scheduled off.
The third message was Kate Porterfield inviting her to dinner Sunday evening.
“Dinner is at seven,” Kate’s message said. “We’ve invited Henry and AJ too, and they’ve already confirmed they’ll be there. Maybe you can catch a ride down the mountain with Henry?”
Eliza reached for her phone to call Kate back. She would love to have dinner with the Porterfields.
“So you’ll come?” Kate said once Eliza had her on the line. “Please tell me you’ll come.”
It was hard to refuse Kate’s enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you’re still cooking for people, but yes, I’ll come. I’d love to.”
“Cooking is a distraction,” Kate said. “Everything has been ready for this baby for weeks. If I’m not cooking for people, I’m sitting around waiting, and that’s far too stressful. Besides, Henry’s coming, and Andrew really wants to get the two of you together.”
“Why is that?”
“Haven’t you heard? It’s the latest trend—branch presidents turned matchmakers.”
“Kate, I don’t know how I feel about matchmaking—”
“Okay, okay, I’m kidding. He just wants Henry to socialize more, you know? Get his feet under him again. I promise it’s nothing more than that.”
Eliza wasn’t so sure.
A sharp knock sounded on her door, and she glanced at the clock. Flip was already there to pick her up for dinner, and she had yet to even glance at her reflection in the mirror. She ended her call with Kate and ran back to her bedroom to change clothes.
“Just a minute,” she called to Flip. “I’ll be right out!”
* * *
Flip took Eliza to a small café situated, of all places, in the corner of a building that also housed a gas station. At first Eliza questioned his choice, but once their food arrived, her doubts quickly dissolved. The food rivaled anything she’d ever eaten at even the fanciest of restaurants in the city.
“With food thi
s good, why not change locations?” she asked Flip. “Build a restaurant somewhere that doesn’t happen to share a parking lot with the Hot Spot?”
“It doesn’t seem to be hurting their business.”
Flip was right. The restaurant was packed, every table full and lines of people waiting out the door.
“Gas station chic,” Eliza joked. “I wonder if it will catch on.”
Over dinner, the conversation was light and funny. Eliza had expected to enjoy Flip’s company. She always enjoyed being around him and hadn’t doubted they would continue to get along on a date. But for the first time, she allowed herself to push past her reservations and actually consider the possibility of a relationship with Flip. It surprised her how quickly the idea crystallized into something desirable.
“I can’t believe I haven’t asked you this before now, but is Flip really your name?”
Flip shook his head. “I’ve been Flip since I was kid. My real name is Frederick.”
“Middle name?”
“Finnegan. It was my mother’s maiden name. I wish there was a funny story about a younger sister saying my name wrong or something else that makes sense about why they called me Flip, but my mother said she always felt like Frederick was too serious for me.”
As they ate dessert—a huge slab of house-made chocolate cake—Eliza told Flip about the time her mother had dragged the garden hose into the house, pulling it all the way into the bathroom where Eliza’s dad was taking a shower.
“We all crept into the bathroom, trying so hard to be quiet, which was really hard, considering the obnoxiously heavy garden hose we were hauling through the house. The hose kept getting tangled around corners and on chair legs, and we laughed every time it did. It was totally ridiculous. But the timing was perfect. Just as we made it into the bathroom, Dad turned off the water and reached for his towel. Then Mom snaked the hose over the top of the shower curtain and doused him in icy water. I’ll never forget the sound he made—for years, my sister called it the shriek heard ’round the world.”
“That’s a great story. It sounds like your parents were a lot of fun.”
Eliza only reflected for a moment. “Yeah, we had some pretty good times.” The air between them suddenly felt thick with the words Eliza wasn’t saying. She was having fun. Flip was fun. If she were to unleash her history, crack into the hardened, calloused shell that was her family, it would do nothing more than spoil the party.
Instead, she licked the crumbs off the back of her dessert fork and changed the subject. “I’m so full!” she said. “I don’t think I’ve eaten that much in months.”
“I always feel that way after I come here. What do you say we go for a walk. That’ll make us feel better.”
“You walk; I’ll roll.”
They left the restaurant, and Flip drove across the street to Rose Creek’s Greenway Park.
“If there’s one thing Rose Creek doesn’t have,” Flip said as he opened Eliza’s door, “it’s a night life. Instead, we’re left on our own to commune with the birds and the bees.”
“And the flowers and the trees,” Eliza said.
Flip immediately started to laugh. “You just quoted a Dean Martin song.”
“You started it.” Eliza joined him in laughter as they walked down the paved path that hugged the bank of the Little Tennessee River.
“It’s beautiful here,” Eliza said.
Flip stopped walking and reached for her arm, turning her to face him. “There’s a part of me that wants to say it’s not as beautiful as you, but I’m afraid it might sound a little corny.”
Eliza blushed. “Maybe a little.”
Flip was leaning closer, looking at her in a way that could only mean one thing. When his lips were just inches from hers, Eliza couldn’t help but feel herself surrendering to the moment. Flip moved his hand to the small of her back and pulled her a little closer, closing the distance between their lips. He was good at this—very good. But it wasn’t right. As quickly as she had felt herself surrendering, Eliza felt a need to retreat. She dug her fingernails into her palm, willing the pain to snap her back into reality. She pulled away from the kiss.
“I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?” Flip asked. “Are you all right?”
Eliza took a slow breath and looked at Flip. There was one particular thought desperately working its way to the front of her mind. All night she’d been pushing it back, losing herself in the pleasure of his company. It was only dinner, after all; she had no reason to stress. But a kiss like that? It was too much for Eliza to ignore. She had to be honest with herself, and more importantly, she had to be honest with Flip. She walked to a nearby bench and sat down, motioning for him to join her.
“Here’s the thing. Flip, I really like you. You’re fun and easy to be around, and I enjoy your company.”
“I sense there’s a ‘but’ to that sentence.”
Eliza sighed. “For me to let this happen wouldn’t be fair, not to me and not to you.”
“Eliza, let what happen? What are you getting at? It was just a kiss.”
“When is a kiss ever just a kiss? People kiss because they like each other. And when people like each other, they wind up in relationships together, and even if they aren’t serious at the start, they often end up serious, which leads to even more serious things like marriage and families and little mini Flips running around.”
Eliza paused. Flip was looking at her quizzically, his eyes wide with surprise.
“You just jumped from a first kiss all the way to marriage and family in one breath. Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?”
“But am I really? I realize I’m running the risk of sounding like every guy’s first-date nightmare, but I like you too much not to be honest. The trouble is when you kiss me like that . . . I just . . . I can’t ignore how easy it is for me to imagine myself in a relationship with you.”
“Then that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Flip reached for her hand. “I’m not sure I understand the trouble.”
Eliza kept her eyes down. “Flip, my faith is the most important part of who I am. It’s everything. It’s the biggest part of what I want my future to be, specifically when it comes to my marriage and my future family.”
“Ah, now I see. The trouble is that I’m not a Mormon.”
“It probably makes me sound awful. I’m just past wanting to date around and have fun, you know? I can see myself falling for you, and I can’t risk that. Not when I know in the end things couldn’t work out.”
Flip leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, letting his chin rest in his hands. “It doesn’t make you sound awful, Eliza. This isn’t exactly what I expected, but I can’t say I don’t understand where you’re coming from.”
“I probably should have said something sooner.”
“Nah, if you’d said something sooner, I might not have gotten in that kiss.” Flip gave her a good-natured grin, but Eliza could still see the disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He stood and extended his hand, pulling her up from the bench. She didn’t mind when he didn’t let go. As they walked back toward the car, Flip asked Eliza what made marriage for Mormons so different. She gave a brief overview of the doctrine but focused mostly on her desire to have a marriage where her faith could be central to the relationship.
They arrived at the car, and Flip walked Eliza to the passenger side, where he unlocked her door. Before he opened it, he leaned in, his face just inches from hers once more. “So, what if I decided to become a Mormon?” Flip asked. “Would you kiss me then?”
It was tempting to kiss him again right then. Eliza swallowed and took a very intentional breath. “Well, you’d have to do it for the right reasons. No insincere church joining allowed.”
“I’ll seriously consider it,” Flip said. “Otherwise, you might wind up with Henry. Imagine how boring your life would be then.”
&n
bsp; Chapter 7
When Henry woke up on Saturday morning, he found a note and a small basket of peaches on his front porch.
“I can’t eat them all myself—Enjoy! P.S. Want to ride to the Porterfields’ together tomorrow?”
He took the peaches inside and set them on the kitchen counter. He appreciated Eliza’s thoughtfulness. It had been another hard day. His morning classes had gone well, but several students in his afternoon group were struggling, and Daniel was still refusing to cooperate.
Henry tried to push aside the idea that had immediately sprung to the forefront of his mind when he first prayed about Daniel. He knew God was trying to tell him something. Every time he thought of Daniel, the very next thought was of his book.
With growing frustration, he walked to his desk and opened the left bottom drawer. There, under a stack of manila envelopes and a stapler, sat his first finished manuscript. He pulled it out and read the title page—One Day in Ten by Henry Jacobson. It had taken him six months to write it, and no one, not even his family, knew it existed.
When Henry was thirteen, he’d read To Kill a Mockingbird for his eighth grade English class. The following summer, he’d read the novel three more times. Somehow, the words had changed him. It wasn’t just the story, compelling as it was. It was the words—the ability the author had to weave simple lines and phrases into a piece of profoundly moving literature. It was still his favorite novel—still the one he turned to when he felt worn or weathered or in need of inspiration.
He looked up at the now-tattered copy of the book sitting on the corner of his desk. More than one friend or family member had since purchased him a newer copy, but he still held on to the old one. To throw it away would be to throw away a very real part of him. It was that copy of the book he’d been reading all those years ago when Allison had first approached him in the park and plucked it out of his hands to casually flip through its pages.
Mountains Between Us Page 6