“I’ve seen you read this thing a thousand different times,” she’d said. “What makes it so special?” A grade behind him in school, she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of reading it for eighth grade English. He snatched it back from her protectively. “You’ll have to read it next year,” he said. “Then you’ll understand.”
“What if I want to read it now? If it’s good enough for you to read so many times, it must be worth it.”
He’d loved her almost instantly. They’d bonded over the book that summer. She hadn’t even laughed when he told her he planned to name his first son after Atticus. That summer was also the season of Henry’s budding desire to become a writer himself. His mind was constantly filled with possibilities, with stories he longed to tell.
But writing wasn’t a very predictable career. There was such risk involved and a real, even likely possibility of failure. An older, wiser Henry had easily decided teaching was a safer, more reliable route. Still, he’d never been able to stop the stories from coming. All through high school and college, he’d filled notebook after notebook with short stories and ideas.
It was only after finishing his English degree that Henry had started writing a novel—a story about a boy and his father and a girl whom no one was supposed to love. It was finished now, and Henry felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. It was enough to know it was there. There was no need for anyone else to know about it, for anyone to read it—not yet anyway.
Except, letting someone read it—letting Daniel read it—was precisely what Henry felt he was supposed to do. Even the thought made his palms sweat and his throat feel tight. It was a risk. And Henry didn’t like risks.
He dropped his manuscript back in place and slammed the drawer shut with a final, definitive thud.
* * *
Because Henry had plans to spend Sunday afternoon with AJ, he turned down Eliza’s invitation to ride together to the Porterfields’. Still, he found he was glad that she would be there. He and AJ had joined Kate and Andrew for dinner before. Kate’s niece Emily was in AJ’s class at school, and the two were good friends. Henry expected that since AJ had been included in the invitation, it was likely that Emily would be there for dinner as well.
Eliza was talking to Andrew in the driveway when Henry and AJ pulled up. Andrew was pointing at the massive white farmhouse situated behind them, gesturing expressively with his hands.
Henry smiled. Andrew had never been good at dampening his enthusiasm when he talked about his wife’s house. With a large wrap-around porch filled with rocking chairs and large whiskey barrels overflowing with flowers, the house definitely had a welcoming charm. To the right of the front door, Henry saw Emily sitting cross-legged on the porch swing, a large book open in her lap.
“Why don’t you go see what Emily is up to,” he said to AJ as he climbed out of the car.
AJ was up the steps in a flash, pausing only briefly to say hello to Eliza and Andrew. “Hi, Sister Redding. Hi, President Porterfield.”
The two laughed as he darted past.
“I hope you aren’t offended that AJ seems to prefer Emily’s company to either of yours.” Henry extended his hand to Andrew. “Thanks for having us over, President. We appreciate it very much.”
“Henry, you call me ‘President’ like you and I didn’t grow up together.” Andrew turned to Eliza. “I spent my summers in Rose Creek as a kid. I knew this guy when he was a scrawny teenager with his nose stuck in a book, and yet, he still won’t call me Andrew.”
“I won’t dispute the scrawny,” Henry said jokingly, “but I did put my books down on occasion. To eat or sleep, for example.” Everyone laughed.
“It’s nice to see you, Eliza,” Henry said.
“Likewise.” She held his gaze just long enough to make Henry’s heart quicken, leaving him momentarily befuddled. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he shook the feeling away, focusing on Eliza’s words, now addressed to Andrew. “How’s Kate feeling? She’s got what, a month left now?”
“Less than that. The due date is just over three weeks away, though her doctor says it could happen sooner.”
“Which is why I think she’s crazy for fixing us dinner.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” Andrew held his hands up in mock surrender. “She insists it gives her something to do to keep her mind busy rather than just sitting around the house waiting all day.”
“She told me as much,” Eliza said. “But I still think she’s crazy.”
As they talked, they climbed the stairs to the porch, where Andrew held open the front door and invited them into the living room. Before they could sit down, Kate called from the dining room that dinner was ready.
After they ate, the four adults moved to the sunroom off the back of the kitchen, where Kate served peach slab pie for dessert.
“This tastes like my childhood,” Kate said. “My aunt Mary used to make it every summer. We’d eat it sitting right here in the sunroom, waiting for it to get dark so we could go catch the fireflies.”
“You grew up here?” Eliza asked.
“In this very house.”
“Then you must have known Henry growing up, and Andrew too.”
“I remember Henry,” Kate said. “He was a year or two ahead of me in school, but I knew who he was. And I was on swim team with Andrew’s cousins. Andrew and I didn’t meet, though, until much later.”
“You didn’t know him from church?”
“Oh!” Kate said, realization dawning. “I wasn’t a member of the Church growing up. I was baptized just a couple of years ago.”
Henry watched Eliza’s face light up. “I was baptized when I was seventeen,” she said. “I didn’t grow up in the Church either.”
Henry turned to Eliza. He’d never thought to ask about her membership in the Church and was curious to hear how it came about. “Seventeen—that’s not very old.”
Eliza paused just long enough to make Henry wonder if he’d asked something wrong, but then she looked up, her eyes bright. “When I was fourteen, I was living in a foster home, and the family happened to be LDS. Their home life was so completely different from anything I had ever experienced before. They were the most wonderful people—kind and thoughtful and respectful. And I was hungry to know everything they could teach me. I didn’t come from a religious family, but I was overwhelmed by the purpose and the joy that obviously came from living a godly life. I knew in a matter of weeks I wanted to be baptized.”
Andrew shook his head. “To know so young is pretty amazing. Did you ever have any doubts?”
“Not once,” Eliza said. “The gospel made sense. Everything seemed so clear. It was as if, suddenly, I was looking at life through a high-definition lens. My foster family worried that they had pushed, that I might feel pressure living in a house full of Mormons, so they suggested I wait until I was back living with my mother before I made the decision to be baptized. It was a good idea, for my mother’s sake as well. But that’s the only reason I waited until I was seventeen.”
Henry was quiet as the conversation continued. He was curious about the details of Eliza’s circumstances that would have landed her in foster care but felt it too invasive to ask. Regardless of how she got there, he enjoyed hearing her speak of her faith in general. Her passion was beautifully applied to the gospel, and he found her testimony rich and inspiring.
When Eliza and Kate retreated to the kitchen, Andrew leaned closer to Henry, a conspiratorial look on his face. “Eliza’s nice.”
Henry looked up. “Yes, she is.” He had an idea where this line of conversation was going.
“Have you thought about asking her out?”
Henry almost laughed. “You don’t waste any time getting to the point, do you?”
Andrew smiled. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. She’s pretty; she’s smart. Why wouldn’t you?”
Henry kept his eyes down, his hands fiddling with his watchband.
“Henry, it’s been two years. It’s
all right for you to think about moving on.”
“It’s not that easy.” Henry struggled to turn his thoughts into words. “I can’t . . . I mean, how do I . . . ?” He took a frustrated breath. “I can’t even keep up a good relationship with my kid. Besides that, why would someone like her ever be interested in someone like me?”
“Someone like you? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that emotionally crippled, divorced fathers aren’t typically at the top of the list of what women want.” He stood. “I’ve got to go check on AJ.”
Henry headed to the back porch, where he’d last heard the children playing. From the door of the screened-in porch, he was able to see them swinging from the low branches of a sugar maple in the corner of the backyard. He watched as AJ swung his legs up over the lowest branch, then hefted himself higher into the tree. At first, his climbing seemed innocent enough, but as he moved higher and higher, Henry grew concerned. He pushed through the screen door and walked across the yard.
“AJ,” he called. The boy seemed to climb even faster. “That’s too high, son. I don’t want you to fall.” Henry’s heart quickened as he approached the tree. AJ was far enough up in the branches that it would be difficult for a man of Henry’s size to follow him. He took a breath, willed his heart to slow, and tried again. “Atticus James, it’s time to come down right now. You’re too high. You’re going to get hurt if you go any farther.”
“Atticus?”
Henry turned at the sound of Eliza’s voice. She stood just behind him, her eyes focused on AJ.
“He’s not coming down,” Henry said. “Every time I call him, he goes up a little higher.”
“Emily?” Eliza asked. “Do you know why AJ is climbing so high?”
Emily looked a little sheepish. “It’s my fault,” she said from her position at the base of the tree. “He dared me to climb to the top, and I said I wouldn’t do it, so he called me a wimp. So I called him a wimp and told him to prove he wasn’t.”
“AJ, you’re not a wimp, son. But it’s dangerous up there.”
“Do you think he’ll make it down?” Emily asked.
“Of course he’ll make it down,” Eliza said cheerfully. “Emily, have you had any of Aunt Kate’s peach pie yet? There’s homemade vanilla ice cream too.” Eliza’s voice was louder than necessary, and Henry immediately realized what she was trying to do. “I think there’s just two pieces left, so you better hurry before Andrew eats the last of it.”
A flicker of movement up above turned Henry’s gaze back to AJ.
“Henry, did you enjoy your pie?” Her voice was still loud and overly enthusiastic.
Henry cleared his throat, not sure if Eliza’s tactic would work, but no harm could come from trying.
“I sure did.” He matched the volume of Eliza’s voice. “It might just be the best peach pie I’ve ever had, even better than Grandma Lila’s.” The conversation continued for a few more moments before AJ, with a soft thud, landed on the spongy ground beneath the tall tree. Without a word, he ran off in the direction of the house but then stopped and turned back to his father. Henry watched as he ran back and stopped directly in front of him.
“I just want you to know I didn’t get out of the tree ’cause you asked me to. I just wanted pie.” Without another word, he turned and raced into the house.
Henry looked at Eliza. He could tell she wanted to laugh. Of course AJ’s rudely expressed opinion would be entertaining to an outsider, but to Henry, it was a measure of his inadequacy as a parent. His son had had no intention of listening to him, no desire to show him even a sliver of respect. He tried to keep the dejection out of his voice. “Thanks for your help,” he said as he and Eliza walked back to the house. “I guess I should have thought of that.”
Eliza shook her head. “No, you were thinking like a concerned parent. I was thinking like someone who’d just finished off a third piece of pie.”
Henry smiled. “And yet, your way of thinking was far more successful than mine.”
As they climbed the steps to the back porch, Henry remembered the questioning tone in Eliza’s voice when she’d repeated AJ’s name.
“It’s from To Kill a Mockingbird,” he said by way of explanation.
Eliza stood just in front of him on the stairs. She turned to face him but didn’t say anything.
“His name,” Henry continued. “I named him after Atticus—one of the main characters in To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“I know the book.”
“Atticus James, so we call him AJ. Allison thought Atticus alone was too much to saddle a kid with, so we compromised. I’m not sure he really likes the Atticus part, but when he’s old enough to read the book, I hope he’ll appreciate more where the name came from and why I chose it for him.” Henry paused. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” Eliza held the door open for Henry. “I think Atticus James is a very nice name.”
Chapter 8
After her last therapy session, Eliza walked slowly back to her apartment, enjoying the cooler temperatures of evening. When she passed the admin building, she saw Flip sitting on the front porch.
“Hey, Eliza,” he called. “You got a minute?”
She headed over to see what he needed. Things between them had been good, if a little strained, since their dinner a week prior. Flip was keeping a little more distance than usual, but Eliza couldn’t really blame him for that. At least he was still being kind.
She found him sitting on the split-log bench beside the front door, in a sea of supplies for his next wilderness excursion. Clearly, there was a lot of gear involved when taking twelve teenagers into the mountains for ten days.
Eliza loved this part of Rockbridge’s therapy. These were not cushy camping trips with campfires, s’mores, and ghost stories. These were difficult treks that included challenging hikes, shelter construction, food preparation, and navigation. She’d only seen one group go and return since she’d arrived, but the successes of that one group alone were enough to convince her the program had merit.
“Hey.” Eliza stepped over a coil of rope and a string of carabiners hooked end to end. “What’s up?”
“Nothing too much; just making sure everything’s ready.”
“Who’s going with you this trip?”
“Adler is going, of course, and Jeff is coming too, I think.”
Adler—a casual reference to Frank Adler, Dr. Adler’s husband and the cofounder of Rockbridge. He didn’t spend a great deal of time on campus, but he went on every single wilderness excursion. It was the part of the program he considered the most beneficial to the teens.
“Is Leslie not going, then?” Leslie was Flip’s female counterpart—the wilderness leader for the girls on campus. The excursions were often coed, requiring separate camps and separate leaders.
Flip shook his head. “No girls going this time, so it’s just us men.”
Eliza had a sudden thought. “Is there a Daniel in the group this time?”
“Don’t know right offhand,” Flip said. “I generally don’t know till we’re leaving, unless I seek out the list. Why? Is he one of yours?”
“No, if he were one of mine, I wouldn’t have to ask. He’s in Jeff’s therapy group, but he’s also in Henry’s English class. I was just curious.”
“How is Henry?” Flip asked. “I haven’t seen him around lately.”
Eliza raised her eyebrows at Flip’s sudden interest in Henry. “He’s good, I guess. I haven’t seen him much either.” She was quiet for a moment, watching Flip fiddle with the straps of his pack.
“I was wondering,” he finally said, his eyes still locked on his bag. “I was thinking about asking you if I could maybe have a copy of the Book of Mormon.”
Eliza tried to hide her surprise.
“After our date last weekend, I did a little research. I went to the website . . . and it seemed . . . nice. I don’t know. If you feel so strongly about something, it can’t hurt for me
to learn a little more, can it?”
“Not at all,” Eliza said. “I can definitely get you a copy of the Book of Mormon.”
“I don’t suppose you have one handy, do you? I might have a bit of time this week to do some reading.”
Eliza quickly cataloged what she knew was on her bookshelf in the corner of her apartment. No extra Book of Mormon. Nothing but her own scriptures. Sheesh. Whatever happened to every member a missionary? Suddenly, it occurred to her that Henry might have a spare copy.
“I might,” she said to Flip. “Will you be here a minute? I’ll be right back.”
On her way back to the apartments, Eliza ran into Jeff. He confirmed that Daniel was going on the excursion, but Jeff had little insight as to why he might be struggling in Henry’s class specifically.
“I’m not sure if it’s a character clash or what,” Jeff said. “But for whatever reason, Daniel has simply decided not to participate. I hope the wilderness excursion will be good for him. I’ll try to see if I can talk to him, find out what’s behind his obstinacy.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Eliza offered. “And I hope you have a nice trip.”
“Oh, it’ll be all right. I’ll be ready for some of Belinda’s cooking by the time we return, for sure. Flip’s a great guy, but he’s no chef.”
“I can’t see a survival experience lending itself well to gourmet cooking, can you?” They laughed together before Eliza said good-bye.
She bypassed her own apartment and headed straight to Henry’s, not doubting her decision until she was climbing his porch steps. It was late in the afternoon, and she knew classes were over for the day, but that didn’t mean Henry would be home. She knocked on his door twice, but he didn’t answer. She saw his car in the parking lot, so he had to be around somewhere. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long to track him down.
“Are you looking for me?” The sight of Henry striding down the sidewalk in her direction, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sunglasses perched on his head, made such an impression that for a moment, she forgot what she was doing there.
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