“My brother? But I didn’t say-”
“But you think it. Maybe you’re too afraid to say it, but that’s what you think.” He took a step closer to her. “Be honest. You think my father’s in hell now, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered back.
“Do you even know what kind of man my father was?” The anger in his voice began to crack. “Do you know how kind he was? How he helped in soup kitchens and gave to charity? How he let other people stay at our house when they were in need?”
A tremor of pain quivered through Curt’s expression. Hannah swallowed hard.
“Do you know what an awesome father he was? How he encouraged me to be a good person and care about others? How he never tried to force me to be someone else? Who I was was always good enough for him. Does any of that even matter to you?”
Curt’s anger was quickly transforming into grief. Hannah stared into his eyes, waiting for the dam to break.
“Did you know he went out with me in the middle of the night during every meteor shower since I was a little kid? Because he knew I was interested in that. And he’d take me out, a few hours before dawn, to lie on the ground waiting for a flash across the sky. And now the eta Aquariids are going to peak tomorrow night, but he’s not going to be there with me? It’s just going to be me out there alone…”
In a sudden, instinctive move, Hannah embraced Curt, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him tight. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
As soon as her arms encircled him, Curt bent down and began sobbing. His cries came out in heaves. Hannah gently pulled his head to her chest, continuing to say, “I’m so sorry” in hushed whispers. They remained like that, alone in the hallway, Curt sobbing in Hannah’s arms, Hannah massaging his back and whispering a prayer for him.
“Hey, so are you coming or what?” a female voice asked from behind.
The sudden reappearance of Jane broke the spell. Curt pulled away from Hannah, his eyes full of confusion as he continued to stare at her. Jane stood frozen in the hallway— and perhaps for the first time in her life—truly speechless. After another moment of the three standing off from one another, Curt grabbed his backpack and rushed off without another word. Hannah watched him leave until he disappeared around the corner.
“Uh, what was that all about?” Jane asked, looking at Hannah from the corners of her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Hannah murmured. “I don’t know.”
7
Racquetball Partners
Justin stood at the counter at Starbuck’s, waiting for his vente latte to be completed. He surveyed the mostly empty store. The morning rush was a few hours in the past, leaving only a smattering of customers scattered around the tables and booths. One person, in particular, caught Justin’s gaze: a tall and thin middle-aged man, with short, dark hair and thick wire-rimmed glasses. He met Justin’s gaze and smiled.
Justin narrowed his eyes at the man and turned away. He didn’t recognize the guy. The barista handed Justin his cup. He turned to leave. As he did, the middle-aged man rose from his seat and intercepted Justin.
“You’re Justin Grant, aren’t you?” the man asked with a smile.
“Yes, and you are?” Justin asked, his body tensing up.
“Oh, forgive me. My name is Jensen Keeler. I’m Pastor at Lifespring Church.”
Lifespring was a large, modern church on the outskirts of town. Much newer than Beaumont Bible Baptist, Lifespring was one of those non-denominational churches always seeking to show the community how hip and cool they were. Justin inched closer toward the door.
“Are you here to tell me about my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?” Justin asked.
Keeler grinned. “No. Not unless you’d like me to. That is a topic I’m always prepared to address.”
“No thanks, I’ll pass.” Justin took a sip of his latte. “How do you know me, anyway? I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”
Keeler shook his head. “No, I’ve never had the pleasure before today. But Matt McDonald told me quite a bit about you. He thought very highly of you. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
At the mention of Matt’s name, Justin glanced out the window. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Did Matt ever mention me?” Keeler asked.
Justin shrugged. “Not that I remember.”
Matt and Justin had discussed a variety of Pastors, particularly as they prepared to battle the Ten Commandments monument. Justin had a habit of zoning out when Matt brought up the different ministers, though. He spoke like they were all different people, but Justin knew better. The differences, in his experience, were merely superficial. At the core, most of these people believed the same irrational and problematic stuff.
“Would you mind joining me for a bit? I don’t want to keep you, but I’d love to have a little chat.” Keeler nodded toward his table.
“Uh, sure, why not,” Justin said.
Keeler returned to his seat and Justin took the chair across from him.
“I have five minutes,” Justin said after looking at his watch. “So you better made this quick.”
“Then let’s get straight to the point,” Keeler said. “Do you plan to take Matt’s mantle in all of the causes he was a part of?”
So that was it. Matt had been gumming up the works for religious wingnuts like Keeler for years. If any civic matter came up that had anything to do with LGBTQ issues or church and state separation (as those two topics had a way of converging), Matt was always front and center.
“Are you asking if I’m going to take over the opposition to the Ten Commandments monument?” Justin asked. That was the more pressing issue at the moment.
Keeler pursed his lips. “I did have some concerns about that, yes.”
Justin shook his head. “You’re just trying to make sure the monument gets built.”
“I think you’ve misread me,” Keeler replied. “You see, Matt and I were friends. We got together every once in a while, played racquetball with each other. We worked together on a few issues over the years-”
“Oh, wow,” Justin said, sarcastically clapping. “You worked with an atheist? Would you like a medal for that? Maybe a patch you can put on your jacket or something?”
Keeler pressed on, unphased by Justin’s strident sarcasm. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I am also opposed to the Ten Commandments monument.”
“Really?” Justin leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t hear you speak at the town hall meeting last week.”
Keeler looked down at the table for a moment before meeting Justin’s gaze again. “You’re right. I didn’t. As you might imagine, this is somewhat of a delicate issue for me. There are some in my congregation that staunchly support the move.”
“Ah, so you don’t want to stick your neck out.”
“I need to be judicious in my approach.”
“Well, have fun with that.” Justin pushed his chair out, preparing to stand.
Keeler maintained eye contact with Justin. “Matt had a way of toning down the rhetoric, of seeking peace, even in the midst of conflict. I wanted to encourage you, and any others in your organization, to follow in his footsteps.”
Justin stood. “I’m going to call things like I see them.”
Keeler chuckled. “Mr. Grant, in our youth we value winning. But as we grow older and wiser, we start valuing-”
“Safety?”
“People. I was going to say people. And relationships.” Keeler sighed. “This town has become a powder keg. And it’s not just the monument issue. The culture wars have hit our town hard. Be careful what sparks you set off.”
Justin took another drink of his latte and smiled. “Sometimes explosions are inevitable. Necessary, even. Besides, seems like if you want to keep the peace, you have your way. Speak out against the monument. Keep this from becoming an us vs. them issue. But you need to be judicious, right?”
Keeler looked away.
“Okay, w
ell, thanks for the conversation. But I need to be going now.”
With that, Justin walked out the door. He wasn’t afraid of the explosion. Sometimes, stuff just needed to burn.
8
The eta Aquariids
“Hannah, what time is your game?”
Samuel’s words didn’t even register to his sister. She stared at her laptop screen, the browser still open to a page describing the eta Aquariids meteor shower. The Wilsons had no wi-fi or internet in their house, meaning Hannah had to load the page before she left school. Her father claimed the lack of internet would reduce temptation (she assumed by that he meant Samuel looking up porn) and the corrupting influence of the world. Mostly, it just made life less convenient. Most days, she returned from school with a double-digit number of tabs opened on her laptop, usually to various articles on history, science, or current issues. Hannah loved knowing how stuff worked; the internet offered plenty of answers, though not all of them were correct.
“Hannah?”
Samuel’s follow-up question roused her from her thoughts. She turned toward her brother.
“What?”
“Why are you acting so spacy?” he asked. “What are you looking at?”
He leaned over her shoulder and peered at the screen.
“Why are you reading about meteor showers?”
“No reason. Did you need something?” she asked, shutting the laptop.
He gazed at her suspiciously before his expression returned to normal. “When is your game tomorrow?”
“Oh, 4:30.”
Samuel nodded. “Cool. This time I get to watch my star sister play.”
Hannah smirked. “Are you sure you’re not just coming to ogle my teammates?”
He recoiled in mock horror. “Of course, not. That would be committing adultery in my heart.”
They broke out in a bout of laughter that terminated after a few seconds, in case their father happened to be lurking somewhere nearby. He had a way of materializing out of nowhere when they least expected him to. Besides, they could only laugh so much at Samuel’s words, which were lightly poking fun at something Jesus said.
Later that night, Hannah lay awake on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Years ago, she’d stuck glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling. She could still remember the winter day as a five-year-old when she and her mother placed them there. A few had fallen over the years, but most still remained.
It was not thoughts of her looming sectional playoff game that kept Hannah awake, though pitching in front of a crowd always made her anxious until she got that first batter out of the way. Rather, it was mental images of Curt, standing alone in his backyard while he watched for glimmers of the eta Aquarrids to streak through the sky. She could still feel his tall and sturdy frame in her arms. The sound of his sobs reverberated through her mind. He shouldn’t be alone.
She rolled over and glanced at the clock: 11:37 pm. Peak viewing of the meteor shower arrived in the hours before dawn. He wouldn’t be out there, yet. Maybe he’d take this year off, too overwhelmed by the recent passing of his father to venture outside. That might have been better for him.
Hannah tossed and turned for another hour. Her mind kept drifting back to her encounter with Curt in the hallway. Beyond some of the moments associated with her mother’s death, it had to have been the most intense experience of her life. She’d never seen a man cry like that. Even as they mourned her mother, Caleb and Samuel Wilson bottled up their emotions, saving them for private moments behind closed doors. The authentic expression of grief intrigued her, captivated her, even. He shouldn’t be alone, Hannah thought to herself over and over.
Hannah jolted awake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Maybe it was too late. The clock read 2:50 am. That should have been about the right time to catch any traces of the shower. Hannah jumped out of bed and threw on a hooded sweatshirt and wiggled into a pair of blue jeans. Though the May days were warm as summer lurked on the horizon, the nights remained chilly.
She crept into the darkened hallway. Everything was quiet in the Wilson house. Her brother and father tended to be heavy sleepers, though she exhibited a great deal of care in the old parsonage. A number of squeaky spots in the hallway and stairs waited between her and the door. Caleb Wilson wouldn’t appreciate finding his daughter sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.
Hannah made it to the door without incident. No lights turned on as she pulled the door shut and descended the cement steps to the sidewalk. Outside, the air was still. She’d never seen the town so quiet or lifeless before. Hannah felt as though she was the last person on earth.
Not a block away from her house, an animal the size of a dog ran across the street. Hannah gasped and stopped where she stood. The animal made it to the nearest lawn and sat down, watching her. She shone her phone at the animal: a fox. The fox scratched its hindquarters and yawned.
“Shoo! Shoo!” Hannah said quietly, willing the animal into the nearby brush.
Finally, the fox rose to its feet and jogged further away from the house. Foxes weren’t scary unless they were rabid. Even so, Hannah looked up and down the street, wondering if she’d encounter any other nocturnal visitors. After a minute of observation, Hannah resumed her journey.
Not long after, she arrived at 21 Orchard Street. Hannah had searched for Curt’s address online at school. She hoped there wasn’t a second Matt McDonald that lived in Beaumont. No one occupied the front lawn of the small cape cod house, adorned by several big rhododendron bushes in front. Watching meteor showers seemed like more of a backyard activity. For some reason, crossing onto the McDonald’s lawn uninvited made her more anxious than breaking her father’s curfew. But she’d come this far.
Hannah stepped onto the damp grass and walked around to the back of the house. That’s where she first saw him. His back was to her as he stood in the center of the lawn, his head craned toward the sky. There was something poetic in his stillness. Hannah stopped, hesitating to go further.
I don’t belong here, she thought. We don’t even know each other. A week ago, they would’ve been de facto enemies, avatars for the culture wars that gripped American society. Hannah chewed on her nail. The twenty feet now separating her from Curt seemed insurmountable.
She took a step backward, prepared to retreat. When she did, Hannah bumped into an azalea bush, rustling its leaves. Curt spun around. His mouth dropped open when he saw Hannah. Her presence made him speechless.
“I, uh, I thought, um…” Hannah should have remained speechless. She couldn’t seem to string together any coherent sentences to the point that Hannah waved the white flag. “I’m sorry.”
She turned to leave, her face turning red.
“Hannah?” he asked.
She stopped her exit and faced him, again. Curt had moved closer: now only ten feet separated them.
She smiled shyly, glancing down at the ground. “I didn’t know you knew my name.”
“Of course I do. We’ve had classes together,” he said, his tone flat.
“Oh.” Maybe the fact he knew her name wasn’t as startling as the fact he’d said her name, which had never happened before.
“What are you doing here?”
“You, uh, mentioned the meteor shower earlier today in the hallway, and I thought, well, I thought you shouldn’t be alone.” She shook her head slowly. “But that was probably stupid. I should go home now.”
Once again, Hannah turned to leave.
“Well, do you wanna see the meteorite shower? You came all this way…”
Hannah inhaled deeply and sucked in the corner of her mouth. She didn’t need to be on Curt’s lawn to see the meteorites. Facing him, Hannah crossed her arms.
“Yeah, okay. So what do we do? Look through a telescope or something?”
Curt shook his head. “Usually we just lay on the ground and look up.” He gestured toward a large white blanket he’d spread out on the ground.
Hannah stared at the blanket and s
wallowed hard. “Just lay on the ground and look up?”
“Yeah. It makes it easier on the neck. Plus, you never know where the meteorites are going to come from, so you can’t use a telescope or binoculars.”
“Okay.”
Hannah smiled at Curt and then walked past him. She settled onto the blanket, sitting first before she laid back. For the first time that night, she noticed the night sky in all of its grandeur. Her thoughts had been so preoccupied with finding Curt’s house and what his reaction to her arrival would be that she hadn’t once cast her eyes skyward.
“Woah,” she gasped softly.
Without any hint of a moon, the stars were naked before her. Never one to remember the names of constellations, she did manage to trace the big dipper and then the little dipper with her eyes. Those were the easy ones. Hannah’s lips creased into an involuntary smile.
“What are you smiling at?” Curt asked, now sitting next to her.
“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
She inhaled, not wanting to sabotage this delicately awkward moment by bringing up religion. But that was honestly what she was thinking about.
“There’s this verse in the Bible, about how the heavens declare the wonders of God. Day after day they pour forth speech,” she admitted, waiting for Curt to mock her.
He remained silent.
“Anyway, that’s what I think about when I see the stars. Even though they make me feel really small, I like that thought. That they’re telling me something about God, reminding me that I’m not alone and that I matter.”
Curt nodded and pulled his knees to his chest. Hannah turned over on her side.
“What do you think about when you see the stars?” she asked.
As an atheist, his perspective was probably far different. Her father and brother often bemoaned the worldviews of non-believers. But she was curious and genuinely wanted to know how this young man saw the universe.
Across the Western Sky Page 4