by Anna Schmidt
“Have you found a place to live yet, Rachel?”
“I have. Do you know Malcolm Shepherd? He and his wife, Sharon, have rented me their guesthouse. Justin and I can walk to everything—his school, the market, the post office, even to work if I want to, although that’s a bit more of a hike.”
“Malcolm’s brother, Zeke, and Geoff are best friends,” Jeannie said.
“So what will you be doing at the hospital?” Geoff asked.
“I’m to be a spiritual counselor for the children’s wing. It’s quite a facility they’ve built there.” She cut a piece of her chicken. “Have you always lived in Sarasota, Geoff?”
“My family moved here when I was ten.”
Jeannie laughed. “But he’s still not considered a Floridian. People who were born and raised here can get pretty picky about that.”
“Like your sister?” Geoff said, and then he forced a smile.
Jeannie hesitated, and he understood that she was trying to determine if his mention of Emma was innocent or intentional. In order to break the uncomfortable silence that followed his comment, she answered Rachel’s obvious question, “Emma has always teased Geoff about being a transplant from Iowa even though he barely remembers when his family lived there.”
“So, Rachel, what exactly are the duties of a spiritual counselor?” Geoff asked, wanting to move the conversation away from Jeannie’s sister and her family. To his relief, Rachel seemed happy to oblige. While they finished their supper, she regaled them with tales of how she had first learned of the job, and they laughed together about Hester’s habit of assuming she could find a solution for just about any problem.
“So, how do you like Sarasota?” Geoff asked.
“It’s so clean and quiet,” she marveled.
“Just wait until the snowbirds arrive,” Jeannie warned as she pushed back her chair and began stacking their plates. “It’s such a lovely night, why don’t we have dessert out on the lanai?”
“Let me help you clear,” Rachel offered.
“No thanks. You and Geoff go sit and get better acquainted. Geoff, Rachel was a school nurse and guidance counselor before leaving Ohio.” She handed Geoff a tray already stacked with coffee cups, flatware, and dessert plates for him to carry out for her.
“Really?” Geoff took his cue and escorted Rachel out to the lanai while Jeannie turned on the coffeemaker and prepared to slice what looked like his favorite peanut butter pie.
By the time Jeannie arrived, carrying the coffeepot in one hand and balancing the pie in the other, Geoff was beginning to relax. He liked Rachel. She had the kind of no nonsense manner that worked well in dealing with kids—especially teenagers. He couldn’t help but think that the decision to cut her job for budget reasons was a great loss for the school where she’d worked before.
It occurred to him that Rachel might be a good person for Jeannie to confide in. Their other friends were too close to everyone involved, but here was someone who was not only trained in counseling, but had also suffered her own terrible and sudden loss. The fact that she was a lot further down the grief path than they were might help Jeannie through the worst of this. Given the circumstances of her husband’s death, Rachel might even understand why it was important for him to tell Tessa’s side of things in court.
He leaned back in the rattan chair and accepted the large slice of pie that Jeannie handed him. “My favorite,” he said, smiling up at her.
“Duh,” she replied with a little laugh.
For one incredible moment, life was normal again. He and Jeannie were spending an evening with a new friend. And while Tessa would have shared the meal with them, by now she would have excused herself to go up to her room or out with her friends. Geoff could imagine that this was just another such evening, and he allowed himself the moment of fantasy.
Rachel and Jeannie were talking about the fruit co-op that Hester and John managed, when Rachel said, “It’s so easy to underestimate the impact a program like that can have on the lives of people. It’s like that with the VORP program.”
Jeannie went suddenly very still and silent, her eyes flicking back and forth between Rachel and him, almost as if she were warning Rachel about something.
“What’s a vorp?” he asked.
Rachel set down her pie plate and coffee cup and leaned forward, her eyes riveted on Geoff. “It stands for Victim Offender Reconciliation Program.” She waited.
Jeannie took a sudden interest in watching a bird outside the screened lanai. Geoff felt his throat tighten.
He should have gone with his first impression: This was a setup.
He stood up.
“It was nice meeting you, Rachel. I hope you and my wife have a nice visit, but if you’ll excuse me, I have some schoolwork that needs my attention.” His voice sounded foreign to him—too tight and high.
“Geoff, hear her out, please,” Jeannie pleaded.
But Geoff was already back inside the house and walking away from her—away from her plot to get him to forgive Sadie—as if he ever could. As if she ever should.
Chapter 30
Matthew
When Matt left the athletic field, he did not go home. He rode his bike up and down streets, turning corners without thought until he found himself in a strange neighborhood with no idea of how to get back to Pinecraft.
It was nearly dark. The houses he passed were small and crowded close to one another, and their yards were filled with stuff—old cars and rusted pieces of metal and tires. The fences—where there were fences—sagged, and a few of them had whole sections missing. The streets were narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass, especially in places where cars were parked along the road.
Every once in a while he would ride past a house and hear voices coming from the darkened porches or see the flare of a match followed by the scent of cigarette smoke. A couple of times he heard laughter coming from inside houses with the shades drawn but the windows open. Families gathered together the way his used to.
He kept turning down new blocks, trying to find his way back to a main street, and then he realized that he was riding in circles. A car came down the street fast, nearly hitting him. The driver blared his car horn and yelled something foul at Matt as he roared past.
As dark as it was, it had to be well past his curfew. He wondered if his parents would even notice that he hadn’t shown up yet. These days they focused all their attention on Sadie or Sadie’s lawyer or Sadie’s case. His mom called his aunt Jeannie pretty much every day and left messages that Matt could tell were desperate attempts to break the silence between the two families. As far as he knew, Jeannie had yet to call back.
He’d been giving some serious thought to running away. There were a couple of good reasons why that was a good idea. One, maybe it would make his parents wake up and realize that life couldn’t be all about Sadie all the time. And two—what exactly was there for him around here anymore? Uncle Geoff had made it clear that he blamed the whole family, including him, for Tessa’s death, even though at the time of the accident he had been at school working on his math, totally unaware that Sadie had stupidly driven Dan’s car and hit Tessa.
Of course, running away meant he would need some money. He could take some food with him and his bike, of course, but the food was bound to run out pretty fast. He’d been trying to think of some way he might be able to earn some cash and save it up until he had enough, like maybe twenty dollars.
Then Sadie’s lawyer had told them about VORP, and Matt had gotten really excited. Here was something that might actually work, that might get his uncle Geoff to stop ignoring him and talk to him again and let him come back to practice and all. If that happened, he could probably stand the stuff at home. Uncle Geoff would understand. He would listen like he had before. Geoff was always teaching the team—and Matt—that no matter what, there was a way through the other team’s line—a way to win. And this VORP thing sure sounded like it had potential.
But Matt had blown i
t. Why did he have to blurt out Sadie’s name the very first thing?
He stopped to get his bearings then decided on a shortcut through a park where he heard voices and laughter. He saw a group of boys, their bikes carelessly abandoned on the ground as they gathered around a picnic table under a streetlamp.
“Three kings,” one of the boys crowed triumphantly. “Read ‘em and weep.”
Matt edged closer. The boy picked up some coins from the table and turned to go. “My ma is gonna kill me,” he told the others when they protested that he couldn’t leave yet.
He went to pick up his bike when he saw Matt. “Hey, kid, wanna take my place in the game?”
Matt looked around and then realized that the boy was talking to him. “Me?”
“Yeah. Go on. Hey, guys! Fresh blood,” he shouted as he pedaled off.
The other three boys turned around. They weren’t much older than Matt was. In fact, one of them looked like he was at least a couple of years younger. Two of them were white, and the third boy was black.
“Wanna play or not?”
Matt realized that they didn’t know that he was Mennonite. It didn’t seem to dawn on them that he was wearing the plain clothes of his faith. For once in his life he could be just another boy. And if this was what boys outside of the faith did and they wanted him to play, then why not? He was already late, and he could probably get these boys to help him find his way home once the game was over.
“Sure.” He dropped his bike alongside theirs and sat down in the empty spot the first boy had abandoned.
“Next hand,” one of the boys muttered as he dropped two cards on the table and held out his hand to receive two fresh ones. The golden glow of the streetlamp cast just enough light over the table for them to see the cards.
The boy looked at his new hand and groaned. “I fold.”
“Me too,” the other white kid said.
“Ante up,” the black kid said as he scooped up the pile of coins and placed a dime in the center of the table.
Matt stared at the coins as each boy put one in the pile. One of the older boys shuffled the cards. “You got to pay to play, kid,” he said.
Matt started to get up. “I don’t have any money with me,” he told them, hoping they wouldn’t get mad at him. “And I don’t know how to play this game.”
“No worries,” one of the kids said with a grin. “I’ll spot you.”
No worries? Matt wondered if it was possible that they knew Zeke. The kid put another dime on the table and explained the game. It seemed simple enough. Every player got five cards to start. You tried to make the best hand you could, but you could also turn in cards you didn’t need in hopes of getting ones that would give you a better hand.
The black kid explained what a good hand was. A pair, two pair, and so on. At school, Matt’s best subject was math, and somehow this all seemed to make sense to him. He nodded and checked his cards.
“I’ll take two,” the boy next to the dealer said.
“Three.”
“I’ll keep what I have,” Matt said, and three pairs of eyes glanced his way.
“Pass,” the first boy said.
“I’ll bet a nickel,” the second boy said and tossed five pennies onto the pile of dimes.
“I’ll see that,” the third kid said, adding a nickel to the pile. “Up to you.”
“I don’t…”
The dealer slid a nickel his way. “At this point, you either fold—as I’m going to do—or you put the nickel in the pile.”
“Then I owe you fifteen cents.”
“Yep. If you want to raise the bet, then you’ll owe me twenty cents. What’s it going to be?”
Matt checked his cards. If he won, then he could pay the boy who’d loaned him the money and still have some left. He picked up the nickel and tossed it onto the pile, enjoying the clink it made as it hit the rest of the coins.
“Pair of sevens,” one boy said displaying his cards.
“Beats me,” the second boy said. “Let’s see what you’ve got, kid.”
Matt laid out his cards—three twos, an eight, and a six.
“And we have a winner,” the boy who’d loaned him the money said as he slid the money toward Matt, taking care to remove his fifteen cents. “Deal,” he told the black kid.
“Ante,” the black kid replied as he shuffled the cards.
They played several more hands until a car rolled slowly toward them. “Outta here,” one of the boys muttered as he divided the money left on the table between them and gathered the cards. “Same time tomorrow?”
He was looking at Matt, but he didn’t wait for an answer.
The car stopped, and Matt could hear the crackle of a two-way radio that indicated a police car. He glanced toward the car, and when he turned back, the other three boys and their bikes had disappeared. A police officer was walking toward him, shining his flashlight over the area.
“Hey, kid, it’s pretty late to be out here in the park,” he said.
“I took a wrong turn and got lost,” Matt replied, shielding his eyes from the brightness of the beam.
“Won’t your folks be worried?”
“Yes sir.”
“Where do you live?”
Matt gave his address, and the police officer released a low whistle. “You did take a wrong turn, half a dozen of them. You’re a couple of miles from there.” He turned the flashlight toward Matt’s bike. “That yours?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, let’s load it in the back of the patrol car and call your folks. I expect they’ll be pretty worried by now.”
“They won’t answer. The phone is for my Dad’s work. They don’t answer it after supper. If you just tell me the way back, I can get there.”
“Amish, are you?”
“Mennonite.”
The officer reached inside the patrol car and picked up the two-way radio. He turned away while he talked to someone on the other end.
“Okay, come on,” he said, lifting Matt’s bike into the trunk and then fastening the lid closed with a bungee cord. “We’ll give you a lift.”
Matt started to back away.
“You’re not running away, are you?” the officer said, his tone laced with fresh suspicion. His partner started to get out of the car.
“No sir.”
“Then get in the car,” the partner said, opening the back door for him.
Matt did as he instructed. He stared out the window as the officer drove, trying his best to get his bearings. He had just made over a dollar playing a game, and he wanted to be sure he could find his way back to play again.
Chapter 31
Lars
When Lars and Joseph had followed Matt to the school, they’d seen Matt talking to Geoff. Since the two of them were walking across the field together and Geoff seemed to be listening, Lars had thought it best to give this possible break in the stalemate a chance. He’d told Joseph that everything seemed okay, and Joseph had driven him back home.
“Jeannie is probably serving them both huge bowls of ice cream right now,” Emma said, clearly hoping that was the case. “I would call her, but she’s not picking up.”
“He’ll be along soon,” Lars assured her, but it was past eight o’clock, and he saw by Emma’s anxious glances at the clock that she was as worried as he was. “You know, maybe I should drive over to Geoff and Jeannie’s and pick Matt up. I mean, I don’t like the idea of him riding his bike after dark.”
“I’ll go with you,” Emma said.
“Nein, stay here in case he’s on his way home and I miss him.” He took his hat from the peg by the door and picked up the car keys.
He was outside with Emma standing in the doorway to see him off when the police cruiser pulled up in front of the house. Lars felt the breath rush out of his chest when he saw the official car and the officer getting out of the driver’s side.
“Mr. Keller?” His partner had also gotten out and was opening the back door.
“Ja… yes?” Lars’s heart was in his throat and beating hard as Matt got out. The boy did not look at either of his parents, just walked to the back of the cruiser to get the bike one officer was unloading.
“I’ve got it,” Lars heard Matt say. “Thanks for the ride.”
But the officer who’d been driving followed him up the driveway while his partner waited. He tipped his hat to Emma and then focused his attention on Lars. “Your son said he took a wrong turn. He was over in Payne Park.”
Payne Park was the opposite direction from their house, Jeannie’s house, or the school. Lars looked at Matt for an explanation. “What happened?”
“He…” Tears were rolling down Matt’s cheeks.
Emma put her arm around their son. “Come inside,” she said. “It’s time for your shower.” She ignored the officer as she ushered Matt past him and into the house.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Keller?” The officer was watching him closely. Then he blinked and looked even closer. “Keller? Any relation to…”
“She’s my daughter. Our family has had some difficult days.”
The policeman nodded. “Your son was awfully quiet on the ride home. I tried to draw him out—you know, in case somebody had… approached him. Sometimes a park, especially after dark…”
“I’ll talk to him. We appreciate your bringing him home to us, officer. And now if there’s nothing else?”
The policeman looked toward the lighted window of the kitchen and then back at Lars. “Glad to be of service.” He walked back to his cruiser, shut the trunk, and got in. His partner got in on the passenger side, but they did not leave immediately. Instead Lars saw the two of them conferring, looking up toward the house as they talked.
Lars went inside and closed the door and shut off the porch light as well as the kitchen light. A minute later, he heard the police car pull away. They would file a report, and once again his family’s name would be part of an official record.