“Well. Even so, I do believe in this.” She ducked back inside the tent.
“I know you do. I do know it’s not just about control. About controlling the city anyway. Part of it is about controlling me . My destiny. My decisions.”
“You think I did all of this for you?”
“For me, for Thomas, for other people’s children. You said exactly that to Ms. Austin.”
“But I did it for me, too, Savannah. I did this because I believe in those words up there. I try to live them the best I know. I fail miserably and often. I do try to control too much. They should have made that commandment number eleven: Thou shalt not control . Then I would have successfully kept from breaking four.”
Ooh, she had me wondering now. “Which three of the real ones have you not broken?”
“The ones about killing and the stealing. And the one about adultery. Who would want something else, when you already have the best?”
“You’ve used the Lord’s name in vain?” I asked in complete shock.
“It slipped.” She clearly felt shame over this.
A smile crept across my face as I looked at this naïve, bright, frighteningly pure woman.“I love you.”
“You what?”
“I love you . You’re completely strange, and completely abnormal, and completely perfect,” I told her.
She started sniffling.
“Do not cry . We have to make you beautiful . You are going to see the president today.”
Poor thing sucked up her tears and beamed in a most lamentable way for such a grown woman. But by the time we unzipped that tent and removed it from around her, she was beautiful. I mean, she was “local dignitary” quality. And she knew it . Those around her gasped. She beamed.
“Now, go get ’em.”
“And where will I take ’em when I get ’em?”
“To the heart of who you are.”
“You think they’ll see it?”
“As long as you let them share it with you . They won’t miss it.”
I gave her a kiss. Packed up my tent. And left her there to think. And she was thinking . You could always tell. Thinking for Vicky required extreme quiet. A rarity. And extreme furrowed brow. A BOTOX miracle . Who knew what she would uncover in the process, but at least she would look good doing it.
I slipped away to till, making a stop at my old house for Duke and some clothes. Duke looked refreshed from his and Dad’s evening indoors. About halfway around the corner I saw the long raven ponytail of one Ms. Austin flopping in front of me. I slowed my pace as she continued around the park. After yesterday’s adventure I wasn’t too sure that she would want to see me. Or I her, for that matter.
I eyed her as she headed around the corner of the back end of the park . When Duke and I turned the corner shortly thereafter, she had made her way to a park bench, facing the artsy-district side of the park. I would have to take either the mature route of pass and acknowledge, or the favored route of hightail it and run . With my very maturity questioned yesterday, I tiptoed onward.
“Hello, Ms. Austin,” I said as I neared her bench.
“Savannah,” she stated as if noting a minor detail in a mundane event. Just, “Savannah.” Flat, dry, colorless. Not, “Hey Savannah!” with a singsong effect. Not, “Hey, Savannah!” with surprise. She wiped her face with a towel.
“May I sit down?”
“It’s a public park. Public bench.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s an I-really-don’t-give-a-flip.” Well, at least she was offering some expression. “I’m leaving anyway.” She stood.
“Please wait,” I said, reaching out for her arm. I let go of her and sat down on the bench. She hesitantly followed. “This is Duke.”Maybe his charm could ease the tension.
“I don’t like dogs.”So much for that . Duke heard her and turned his back on the both of us.
“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”
“Everyone will be talking about yesterday . Your picture is on the front page declaring you a thief, and your article pretty much identified everything you’ve discovered in this situation. And you made it clear what you thought of me too.”
“I didn’t even mention your name.”
“No, you referred to me as a ‘type.’ Yes, I believe that was your word.”
“No, I referred to your position as a ‘belief,’ Ms. Austin.”
“My name is Faith,” she said as if my calling her Ms. Austin was patronizing. She was right.
“I’m sorry . We all believe in something, Faith. And I said that in the course of this debate over whether this monument should stand or not, the core of people’s beliefs are the issue.”
“You know what I don’t get, Savannah? This nice act of yours. You know, the one you like to play on people. As if you are so naïve and innocent.”
“I think I made it clear in that article that I can manipulate with the best of them . Trust me, I learned a thing or two about myself this week.” Then I noticed the look on her face. I could tell she thought I had tried to manipulate her.“I genuinely liked you. And you have the same ‘nice act,’ as you call it, need I remind you.”
She glared back.“What are you talking about?”
“A few people warned me you could be vicious, but I didn’t believe them. Then I caught a glimpse of it in your opinion of Jessica, and then with the cruel things you said to my mother.”
“You never liked me, Savannah . You were looking for a story the entire time. I figured you out the first day I met you.”
“Then you need to gear up on the discernment, sister. Because I not only liked you, I admired you . Your style . Your beauty . Your professionalism. My word, I even tried to dress like you.”
“You did not.” Surprise replaced her offense.
“Did too.”
“You did?”
“Didn’t work.”
“Didn’t?”
“Ended up under a car.”
“What?”
“Long story,” I assured her. “But you know what? I like you now. I don’t agree with you. I don’t believe in your cause. And I sure don’t like your technique. But I have to appreciate your passion.“
“You have a great deal of passion yourself, Miss Sugar Daddy Stealer.” She laughed.
“I can’t believe you got that out of me.”
“I can’t believe you shouted it in front of rolling television cameras.”
“And snapping flashbulbs. Please don’t forget the flashbulbs.”
We both laughed.“You know, it’s funny . You resent in me the very things I resent in myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, the hypocrisy,” I said, leaning back on the park bench. “The expectation that someone should be something that I have trouble being myself. Like the anger I felt when you talked about Jessica—I’ve called her worse in my head. The things you said to my mother’s face that I’ve probably thought a thousand times. But I do try. I try hard to live the things I believe.”
“I used to believe like you, Savannah. I used to have Sunday dinners with my family too, like you said in your article you have with your family. Back before Sunday ran like any other day of the week . We didn’t work . We didn’t fuss . We just were.” She leaned back against the park bench herself, and you could see her mind drift back to those memories.
“Where were you raised?”
“The suburbs of Chicago.”
“Cold?”
“Bitter. But home.”
“You miss it?”
“I miss living. I’m tired of schmoozing and acting like I like people. And always being on call. And my cell phone always ringing.”
“I think you already took care of that small matter.”
She chuckled.“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“I would think your life would be total excitement.”
“Parts are . The travel. Many of the people. But some days I just want to live. Live for me.”
“I read something one time.”
“You do a lot of that, I notice.”
“Can’t help it. I’m addicted.”
“Could have a worse one.”
“I do. Coke.”
“Savannah?! You?”
“Coca-cola.”
“Oh, girl, you better be careful how you say that.”
“I’d say you’re right. But anyway, one of my favorite writers is a man named Frederick Buechner. Brutally honest novelist. Has scared his share of people in the evangelical world. But he’s just real.”
“I like real.”
“Me too. He said in Now and Then in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”
“You remembered that?”
“Couldn’t help it. Changed me too much to forget it.”
“You really believe it?”
“Have to. It’s always been true.”
“You mean every moment in your life has been a key moment?”
“Every one has led me to where I am now. Every moment of joy—like getting my job at the paper. Every moment of shame— like being exploited by that same paper,” I said, trying to wipe the frustration from my face.“Every moment of pain—”
“You don’t know pain, Savannah . Your life is too perfect.”
“No life is perfect.”
“My life was.” She paused, eyes staring across the street at nothing. “Everything was perfect, until one day my perfect husband came home to tell me our perfect life was perfectly over.”
“I’m so sorry, Faith.”
“Oh, I don’t care. He was a jerk who sat on the second pew of our local church and was remarried to the blonde choir member on the third row, fifth seat, in no less than three weeks, when she was three months pregnant. All that in a church.”
“Could happen anywhere you find a human. Do you have any children?”
“Thank God, no.” She turned her attention back to me.
“Be careful what you say. That stone monument might have influenced you more than you know.” I smiled at her.
She chuckled.“Need to guard my figures of speech I guess.”
“Not having a child sounds like a gift in a situation like that.”
She stared deep into me.“A key moment of grace.” I studied her.
“You know, we’re not that different.”
She turned and looked at me. “Yes, we are, Savannah . We’re very different . You want a fairy-tale world to be a reality. I want a world that is progressive and moving forward, not trying to revert to stereotypes, slavery, and a takeover by a small fraction of society’s extremists.”
“Is that what you see?”
“From this side of the bench, that’s what I see.”
“That’s funny. Because that’s not what I see from this side of the bench . You know what I see?”
“I doubt that is a rhetorical question.”
“I don’t see fairy tales; I see a heritage. Ronald Reagan said Winston Churchill had the gift of vision, the willingness to see the future based on the experience of the past. I think if you throw away the past, Faith, you throw away the ability to rightly determine the future.”
She considered this before standing up to leave. “Well, the court will make the final decision here, and they’ll do it today.”
“Maybe about the placement of a one-ton piece of stone, but not about the indelible imprint its engravings will leave on a heart.”
She turned around. She had heard me. And I believe she knew they could strip every monument from here to Hawaii and not be able to erase the commandments from our hearts.“You’re odd to me . You make me crazy, in fact. But you do have a sense of grace about you, Savannah . You really do.”
Her words caused me to stop . More than being named Savannah, my name was Savannah Grace. I thought of Joy and smiled.“It’s my name. I don’t have a choice.”
“What?”
“Savannah Grace Phillips. That’s my name. So I don’t have a choice.”
“You need rest.”
“My names declare me a woman with a calling for this city and hopefully the grace needed for the people here. Do you know what your name is?”
She refused to answer. I did it for her.
“When you were born, you were placed into your mother’s arms and she looked at your face, and declared you to be Faith . The very thing you were destined to be is the very thing you have so much trouble with . The faith to believe in something.”
“Oh, I believe in something, Savannah.”
“Okay, then how about the faith to believe in someone again?”
She looked at me. And extended her hand. I responded in kind . This would stop here. I had made my point. She would make hers as well. Only time would tell whether she believed me, a woman who didn’t share her views. I may never know for sure. But it didn’t change what I saw in her.
“Do you respect me, Savannah?”
Odd coming from a woman whose mere presence seemed to demand it.“Does it matter?”
She paused.“Actually it does.”
“I respect passion, Faith. I’ve just learned that passion and unbridled anger aren’t the same thing. My mother taught me that one. She is passionate. But not angry . That is one reason I can’t help but admire her.” I paused myself. “And learn from her, I must say. And trust me, I’ve learned much the hard way this week.”
She stared into me. Not with a question. Not with a thought. Just with a stare.“It was a pleasure to meet you, Savannah Phillips.”
“And you as well, Faith Austin.” I took Duke’s leash, but he still wouldn’t look at either of us. I hadn’t defended him. He was none too happy about it either. I looked up at her as she turned to go. “I hope you find what you’re really looking for. And I think when you do, you’re going to be shocked that it was really seeking you.”
She didn’t respond. She just walked down the sidewalk of Forsythe Park and out of sight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It was buried in the back. Buried behind the red ruffled blouse and the canary yellow lace pants. I don’t know when she bought it for me. Obviously, I had refused to wear it. But today I was surprised that I had hidden it. It was exactly what I would have bought myself . Wearing it could prove dangerous. Mother might think we should start shopping together . Worse yet, she might tell people she was dressing me. But if she could just keep it coming and keep her mouth closed about it, we might form a rather nice relationship.
I slipped it on . The neckline was curved, causing the straps to look as if they laid across my shoulders . The black fabric was complimentary of the rest of my wardrobe. And the dainty white polka dots that covered the entire dress gave it a feminine effect. But it was the pink flower that resided on the left side that down right took it over the edge . This dress was no where near the “tad” category. It took me to the land of down right daring. I looked almost as good as Miss Amber Topaz herself. The flowing skirt fell just below my knees.
“I can’t go out in this. It will ruin me. Amber will want to buy a matching outfit.” I turned in front of the mirror. I simply looked too good not to risk it. For a moment I wondered if Joshua would laugh . Then I decided I didn’t care what he thought. I was free to wear those canary yellow pants with the red ruffled blouse if I wanted to, though if I wanted to, I would need to be committed. I was free to do anything, no matter what Joshua North thought. But he would think something. Of that I was sure.
The black, small-heeled flip-flops—or maybe you would call them thongs, who can be sure these days?—with the faux silver buckle at least gave me some semblance of familiarity. I gave myself one last gaze, running my hand over the front of my waist and down the sides of my skirt . Then I remembered . The president was coming. Who in the world would care what I was wearing?
“Nice dress.” Mervine spoke.
“Did you know the president’s coming today, Mervine?”The humming dishwasher caught my attention. “Duke,
I do believe these people have been liberated.”
It was the busiest time of the day at Dad’s shop, people clamoring for their morning coffee. I filled up Duke’s water bowl and checked to see if he had eaten the steak. He had. Only the bone remained. And that was being generous. Apparently he felt life had returned to normal. If normal is eating steak out of a dog trough at eight in the morning.
I reached for a Coke. A ritual of mine for the last 365 days of each of the past nineteen years of my life, and a few more if you count leap years. But today as I looked at the fountain, I wondered who controlled whom. Faith ate and drank anything she wanted simply because she wanted. Until this exact moment I had done the same. But for some reason, today, I felt I needed to make a statement to myself. To my own personal “demons,” as Joshua tried to remind me. And as much as I loved that Coke in the morning and, granted, the afternoon, and as an end to a perfectly good day, well . . . if it controlled me, then I had to change.
No one wants such change . To stare a new revelation in the face and deny it is for some an everyday occurrence. But with what I now knew, especially what I had realized over this past week, that would not be possible for me. I took my shaking hand and got some ice. A magnetic force tried to pull me to the Coke. It was a war like few others my mind had ever waged. But it was one I would win. I wasn’t giving up Coke. I was just letting it know who was boss. I drank water.
For the first morning in nineteen years, I drank water. Had anyone seen me, they would have had me committed. Had I not just lived through this entire week, I would have committed myself. The only thing I knew was that Savannah Phillips had learned something: any priority above the ultimate priority is out of priority . Well, Joy had said something to that effect. Maybe I would have her just write it all down.
Dad’s eyes scanned me.“Nice dress, Savannah.”
“Did you know the president’s coming today?”
He laughed.“Yes I did, actually. So, did you have a nice evening?”
I tried to sit down at the counter.“A painful one.”
“Painful how?”
“There are two kinds? Oh, yes,we are speaking of Vicky now, aren’t we?”
“Savannah, it is Mother to you, not Vicky.”
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