What was it, he wondered for the hundredth time, that enabled Pastor Harris to hear the answers in his heart? What did he mean when he said he felt God’s presence? Steve supposed he could ask Pastor Harris directly, but he doubted that would do any good. How could anyone explain such a thing? It would be like describing colors to someone blind from birth: The words might be understood, but the concept would remain mysterious and private.
It was odd for him to think such thoughts. Until recently, he’d never been plagued by such questions, but he figured his daily responsibilities had always kept him busy enough to avoid thinking about them, at least until he’d returned to Wrightsville Beach. Here, time had slowed with the pace of his life. As he continued to walk the beach, he reflected again on the fateful decision he’d made to try his luck as a concert pianist. It’s true that he’d always wondered whether he could succeed, and yes, he had felt that time was running out. But how had those thoughts acquired such urgency at the time? Why had he been so willing to leave his family for months at a time? How, he wondered, could he have been so selfish? In retrospect, it hadn’t proved to be a wise decision for any of them. He’d once thought that his passion for music had forced the decision, but he now suspected that he’d really been searching for ways to fill the emptiness he sometimes felt inside him.
And as he walked, he began to wonder whether it was in this realization that he would eventually find his answer.
17 Ronnie
When Ronnie woke, she glanced at the clock, relieved that for the first time since she’d arrived, she’d managed to sleep in. It wasn’t late, but as she climbed out of bed, she actually felt somewhat refreshed. She could hear the television in the living room, and leaving the bedroom, she immediately spotted Jonah. He was lying on the couch on his back, his head dangling off the cushion as he stared intently at the screen. His neck, exposed as if in preparation for the guillotine, was sprinkled with Pop-Tarts crumbs. She watched as he took another bite, scattering more crumbs on himself and the rug.
She didn’t want to ask. She knew the answer wouldn’t make sense, but she couldn’t help it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m watching TV upside down,” he answered. He was watching one of those irritating Japanese cartoons with big-eyed creatures that she never did understand.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“And again I ask, why?”
“I don’t know.”
She knew she shouldn’t have asked. Instead, she glanced toward the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know where Dad is?”
“I’m not his babysitter.” He sounded annoyed.
“When did he leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he here when you got up?”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze never wavered from the TV. “We talked about the window.”
“And then…”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you saying he just vanished into thin air?”
“No. I’m saying that after that, Pastor Harris came by and they went outside to talk.” He made it sound as though the answer were obvious.
“Then why didn’t you say that?” Ronnie threw up her hands in exasperation.
“Because I’m trying to watch my show while I’m upside down. It’s not easy to talk to you with the blood rushing to my head.”
He’d set himself up for any number of snappy comebacks-Maybe you should be upside down more often, then, for instance-but she didn’t give in to temptation. Because she was in a better mood. Because she’d slept in. And best of all, because she heard a little voice inside her whisper, You might be going home today. No more Blaze, no more Marcus or Ashley, no more early mornings.
No more Will, either…
The thought gave her pause. All in all, he hadn’t been so bad. Actually, she’d had a good time with him yesterday, up until the end, anyway. She really should have told him what Ashley had said; she should have explained herself. But with Marcus showing up…
She really, really wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
Pulling aside the curtains, she peeked out the window. Her dad and Pastor Harris were standing in the driveway, and she realized she hadn’t seen the pastor since she was a little girl. He’d changed little since then; though he now leaned on a cane, the thick white hair and eyebrows were as memorable as ever. She smiled, remembering how nice he’d been after her grandfather’s funeral. She knew why her dad liked him so much; there was something infinitely kind about him, and she recalled that after the service, he’d offered her a glass of fresh lemonade that was sweeter than any soda. They seemed to be talking to someone else in the drive, someone she couldn’t see. She walked to the door and opened it to get a better view. It took only an instant to recognize the squad car. Officer Pete Johnson was standing just inside the open front car door, plainly getting ready to leave.
She could hear the engine idling, and as she descended the porch steps, her dad offered a tentative wave. Pete swung the door shut, leaving Ronnie with a sinking feeling.
When she reached her dad and Pastor Harris, Officer Pete was already backing out of the drive, which only confirmed her sense that bad news was coming.
“You’re up,” her dad said. “I just checked in on you a little while ago and you were dead to the world.” He motioned with his thumb. “Do you remember Pastor Harris?”
Ronnie offered her hand. “I remember. Hi again. It’s good to see you.”
When Pastor Harris took it, she noticed the shiny scars covering his hands and arms. “I can’t believe this is the same young lady I had the good fortune of meeting so long ago. You’re all grown up now.” He smiled. “You look like your mother.”
She’d heard that a lot lately, but she still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did it mean she looked old? Or that her mom looked young? It was hard to tell, but she knew he meant it as a compliment. “Thank you. How’s Mrs. Harris doing?”
He adjusted his cane. “She’s keeping me in line, just like she always has. And I’m sure she’d love to see you as well. If you find a chance to swing by the house, I’ll make sure she has a jar of homemade lemonade for you.”
It figured that he’d remember. “I might just take you up on that.”
“I hope so.” He turned to Steve. “Thank you again for offering to make the window. It’s coming along beautifully.”
He waved off the thanks. “You don’t have to thank me…”
“Of course I do. But I really have to be going. I’ve got the Towson sisters leading Bible study this morning, and if you knew them, you’d understand why it’s imperative that I don’t leave them to their own devices. They’re quite the fire-and-brimstone types. They love Daniel and Revelation, and seem to forget that Second Corinthians is even a chapter in the good book.” He turned to Ronnie. “It was wonderful to see you again, young lady. I hope your father isn’t causing you too much trouble these days. You know how parents can be.”
She smiled. “He’s okay.”
“Good. But if he causes you any trouble, you come talk to me, and I’ll do my best to set him straight. He was quite the mischievous child at times, so I can only imagine how frustrated you must get.”
“I wasn’t mischievous,” her dad protested. “All I did was play the piano.”
“Remind me to tell you about the time he put red dye in the baptismal well.”