Chapter Thirty
Sarah
THE FOOD SMELLED like a Southern-fried heaven. The table was set, candles lit, and the five Towsons plus Tom Boomington sat together holding hands as Scott recited a prayer he’d memorized as a child. He usually repeated this prayer every time he prayed but mixed a few of the words to sound original. As he ended the prayer, Tom squeezed Sarah’s hand, and she turned pink and sat perplexed beside their guest.
Since he’d arrived, Sarah understood the price she had to pay for lying to her parents. This was the one massive thing they all agreed to as punishment: Tom would come over for dinner. Sarah prepared the food as well, and as she dug into a handful of mashed potatoes, she hoped it wouldn’t be too terrible. At least she hadn’t spat into it or anything too dirty.
Sarah peeked out of the corner of her eye. Tom was smiling as he said, “Mmm mmm mmm. So good! Thanks again, Sarah.” He’d only uttered that phrase twenty-four times since his arrival.
“You’re welcome,” she replied yet again.
“So, Tom, tell us about your missionary plans this fall. I’m not sure if Sarah has heard about your decision yet,” Helena said with a smile. She winked at her daughter, as if Tom was the love of her daughter’s life. If he was, Sarah would update his wardrobe.
“Oh, yes, tell me,” Sarah mumbled.
Zach kicked her leg under the table, shooting her a look that said, Don’t screw this up.
Tom wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Well, I’m heading to the Patagonia in Argentina for a few weeks. I’m going with a missions team from Savannah, and we’ll be gone from October until Christmas. Yet I’ve been called to do this, and I’m really privileged to be able to spread God’s word.”
Sarah genuinely smiled, because no matter what anyone said, Tom Boomington was an honest man. Just not her man. “That’s great. Argentina! I’m going to study abroad in Buenos Aires.”
“That would be amazing.”
“I went to Argentina once,” Scott cut in, before cocking a grin, “but it was only in my dreams.”
“Oh, honey,” Helena said, holding his hand before squeezing it hard in admonishment. She turned her gaze toward Tom. “Well, I think what you’re doing is the greatest thing in the world, Tom. Your parents are so proud of you, I’m sure.”
Sarah wanted to cocoon herself into a hole and never emerge. She was bored by the conversation which Helena continued to spark about nothingness and randomness. Zach said nothing, and Scott said little also. Tom included Sarah in everything, trying his hardest to gain her interest, but she halfheartedly responded to him, unless Zach berated her by kicking her shins. Then she was lively for a few more minutes.
Zach wondered if his sister was depressed. She had not been like herself in a long time, and he knew part of it was the familial drama, including the revelation they had a sister who died. He also wondered if Joel had any part in Sarah’s change in behavior, and this frightened him, because he had never seen Sarah’s response to a boy before. What if Joel had broken her heart? What if he promised her the world, but only gave her the Philippines? What if he promised her a room full of books, but only gave her the Human Manifesto II?
Zach twisted his pinkie finger, the skin curling. “Well, Tom, have you always wanted to be a pastor?” It was the first question he’d asked in a long time. His presence in the conversation was enough to elicit a smile from Sarah, who batted her eyelashes at him in thanksgiving.
“No.” Tom took a heap of corn and stuffed it into his mouth. A speck of green appeared in the brown of his left eye. In the light, he looked somewhat handsome. Attractive even. Sarah tried to suppress any semblance of feeling in her gut. She appreciated his honesty at answering Zach’s question. “I originally wanted to be a doctor, but then I discovered the word of Jesus Christ, and when I got saved, I felt this calling, deep in my core. I didn’t understand at first, but over time, I understood I was meant to go into the ministry. So I’m at my dad’s church while I finish seminary in Savannah, and I will say this. This is a blessing, Mr. and Mrs. Towson,” and he turned his eyes so they landed on the young woman’s, “and Sarah. I’d like to share something with you all. I’ve been offered a job pastoring a small Baptist church in Kalispell, Montana, and another in Pomona, as in Los Angeles.”
“Pomona?” Sarah asked, her spoon dropping with a clack against the dish. “Pomona? And you didn’t tell me! Tom!”
“Yes,” Tom said, grinning. “I applied as a youth leader at the Pomona church, but Kalispell would give me a full opportunity to preach. Both are incredibly far away, so I may need your advice as to coping with leaving all I’ve ever known.” He winked in her direction.
Scott cleared his throat. “You have an interest in California and Montana? How did you even know of the pastor jobs over in those places?”
“My mentor at seminary has a lot of connections. He knows I’m interested in missions work far from home, and we’ve had long talks about how giddy I am to leave. I’ve always been interested in saying aloha to Georgia, even though I love it with all my heart. Breezewater has my mind, but God has the power to move anything.”
“Honey, that is so exciting!” Helena said. She bustled away, leaving them in her wake.
Sarah stared at her friend. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me you might have a job opening in the same area I live. Tom, come on.”
“I found out a few weeks ago, and I’m still trying to comprehend it. I mean, I’ve still got a whole semester before I graduate. The job opens in January of next year. How perfect is that? All I know is God is working in my life.”
“You wouldn’t be on your own. We would be somewhat close to each other,” Sarah said, her eyes sparkling. She hoped she wasn’t coming across as flirty, because everything she spoke came from a place in her heart which could only be defined as friendship. “I mean, Los Angeles is a metropolis, but…”
“You’re so kind, Sarah,” whispered Tom as Helena appeared with a crisp apple pie and vanilla ice cream.
“As a token of our support,” Helena said as she doled out slices onto everyone’s plate. “Who knew! Tom Boomington, world traveler?”
Tom smiled only at Sarah.
SARAH KNOCKED ON the Sealets’ front door, praying for a moment no one would answer. Joel’s Jeep was parked in the driveway, and Juliet’s little coupe was nowhere to be seen. As she waited, Sarah assessed the poor conditions of the gardens and grass. Joel had been gone for a week, and in his absence, sprouts of weeds had pushed up from the earth. The flowerbeds were in need of desperate repair, and little pieces of wood were chipping off the paneling. The house was in major need of TLC.
A few minutes later, a groggy Joel appeared at the front door, his face yellow and his eyes sad. “Joel!” Sarah screamed. “You look terrible.”
“I feel terrible, but not as bad as I did on the trip back.”
Sarah followed him inside the house, where he plopped down on the living room couch. The place smelled uniquely fresh, which surprised her, as she expected to see mountains of dirty clothes and half-eaten boxes of pita pockets lying on the ground. Instead, he curled into a ball on the sofa, cuddled in a fuzzy blanket. The TV hummed nearby, but he quickly muted it and blinked a few times, which made him look much younger and quite adorable.
“I feel terrible. I should have brought you a care package. I think that’s what respectable Southern women usually do, right?”
“I don’t want a care package. All I wanted was to see you, and here you are.”
“Oh, Joel,” Sarah said, sitting on the floor beside him. “You’re losing it. Your illness has made you lose your brain.”
“I promise, I’m feeling better. I haven’t puked in twenty-four hours. I’ve just got a killer headache, and I’m taking pain pills like I used to smoke weed. There, honesty. Do you like my honesty?”
“Joel,” Sarah said, sighing, “I understand why you smoke, and the like, but trust me, I would like you even more if you didn’t.”
“If you didn’t catch what I said, I said, ‘I used to smoke weed.’”
“You were smoking it a week ago.”
“And you were running away from home a week ago.”
“Touché.”
“I guess.”
“How was the beach? Did you fall in love with some blonde with no clothes?”
“I love your sense of humor,” Joel said, smiling as he coughed. “Unfortunately, that was impossible, because my mind was thinking of someone else. I could try to be indirect, but it just isn’t fun. I was thinking of you every time I saw some other girl.”
“Don’t lie. Lying is ugly.”
“Well, it’s true. The only girl I wanted to see was you.”
Sarah tried to suppress whatever was hurtling across her insides. “Well, I don’t have to believe what you say. Why are you sick? How are you sick?”
“It started Saturday morning. My stomach was in a whirl. Now I’m feeling better, just skinnier. Is that a positive?”
“No.”
“Honesty is the best policy.”
“Of course it is.”
“Thank you for coming over and lending your support. I really am so thankful,” Joel stated, his tone casually sarcastic. “Want to play a game or something?”
“A game? Are you serious?”
“I need distractions. I’ve been cooped up in this boring little house for two days straight, and unfortunately, I haven’t had many visitors.”
Sarah leaned forward. “It’s not about the quantity of visitors, Joel, but the quality of the visitors.”
“Thank you, wise sensei. Now go get Monopoly, or something that is super long.”
“Great, just great.”
Sarah and Joel proceeded to play the game of Monopoly for the next two hours, although Joel continued to lazily mope around, and Sarah entertained him with stories of California. He questioned her about her friends there, and her field of study, and she even asked him about his life as a college student in Savannah. She revealed a few things about herself she didn’t like discussing about, like her burgeoning interest in anthropology and the fact she had also obtained a special internship at an anthropological institute in San Jose, but she’d declined it to come back home. Joel listened to her stories with actual interest, because Sarah was living a life he could only dream about. The way her nose crinkled as she related the bustle of Los Angeles… The formative sparkle in her eyes as she discussed a trip to ancient Native American dwellings belonging to the Hohokam tribe…
“So, you gave up on one of your dreams to visit Breezewater?” Joel asked as he fiddled with a chance card. He was lying on his stomach, curled under the blanket, as light streamed in through the windows. Already he appeared to have gained more strength, and Sarah fed him all sorts of snacks she rummaged from his pantry.
“What dream?”
“It’s obvious. You want to be an anthropologist. You want to study cultures and whatnot.”
Sarah blushed. “My parents want me to be something real.”
“And anthropology isn’t real? Come on.”
Sarah stared away for a minute. She picked at her black nail polish. “Well, they want me to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or anything that makes money. They want me to happy, of course, so I could broaden my interests. Maybe by becoming a nurse, or an accountant.”
“But none of those things interest you.”
“Exactly. I’ve always had a problem with direction.”
“Says the girl who moved three thousand miles away.”
She smiled as she moved her little dog tchotchke down the board. “Joel, what do you want to be?”
“Precisely, I don’t know.”
“You should be a board game maker.”
Joel pulled his blanket to the top of his curly hair, hiding his face inside, just for a moment. “Sarah, you have direction. I have nothing. You have a compass, I have nothing.”
The doorbell rang.
Joel stood up to get it, stretching in the process, his long limbs outstretched. He headed for the door, knowing that if it were either of his parents, they would’ve entered through the mudroom. Instead, a familiar face belonging to Miss Taya Gunney appeared through the glass. Joel opened the door, the chirp of birds louder than anything he’d heard in a while. A gentle breeze played with the middle aged woman’s hair so that a piece landed on her lip.
“Joel, hi.”
“Hi, Miss Gunney. How can I help you?”
“You… You need to come with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s been…” The woman’s face turned gray like something out a movie. Joel felt something lodge in his gut, and time seemed to draw out, like an outstretched arm. A thought played at his mind: His dream at that beach. The realness of experiencing his parents’ deaths. If anything happened to either of them, he would be heartbroken and might not be able to forgive himself. He closed his eyes and told himself to breathe. Why was Brie’s aunt here? Why was she slowly mumbling to herself?
Miss Taya Gunney’s lips moved, but Joel heard nothing.
“Excuse me?” Joel asked again. Then he felt Sarah’s presence behind him, and he wanted her to return back into the dark comfort of the house. “I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?”
“Your friend. Manny Dominguez. He was killed this afternoon.”
Joel burst out into laughter. “My friend. Manny Dominguez. That boy’s my favorite person in this entire world.”
Sarah grabbed Joel’s arm, feeling his sinews underneath her fingernails. She tried not to respond to him in this moment, because she felt closer to him now than ever before. He was in disbelief. Maybe even shock. Or perhaps he hadn’t heard Taya Gunney’s words.
“Manny… Manny was killed in a car accident today. Out near your father’s shoe store, actually. Joel, I’m really sorry. Please, I can drive you anywhere you need to go right now…”
“Manny’s fine, Miss Gunney. I was just texting him not two hours ago. He was planning on coming over tonight. He told me, ‘I have a gift for you.’ He was going to give me a gift. We just got back from the beach, too. He’s fine. He’s not dead.”
“Joel,” Sarah whispered, though he didn’t hear.
Joel stood there like a marble statue.
“Sarah,” Miss Taya said, her eyes surprisingly calm. “Can I talk to you privately?”
“Sure, absolutely.”
Joel disappeared into the confines of the house. Sarah heard things shifting around, like he was in a violent rage. She wanted to cry, because she had grown up with Manny in a sense. He hadn’t been her close friend or anything, and he wasn’t even that nice to her, but he was still Manny. He still represented a piece of her childhood, and now it was sliced away. Eaten.
How was this even remotely possible?
Sarah and Miss Taya stepped into the damp grass. A summer thunderstorm loomed over the horizon, but Sarah prayed it would be nothing of significance. Miss Taya’s eyes were blotted and she said, “It was a car wreck. At Massey and Poindexter. A drunk driver hit him from the back, and Manny’s car slammed into an oak.”
“You can’t be serious.”
The woman nodded. “Unfortunately, I am. The women at church are holding a joint prayer right now, but I could take Joel where he needs to be, or anything to help you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll drive him.”
Taya nodded. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sarah, you know how much Manny means to him. Joel’s going through a rough patch, and please let him know there is a prayer circle devoted to helping him through this time.”
Sarah nodded, almost forgetting Taya Gunney was the aunt of Joel’s latest ex-girlfriend. Instead, she decided to place her emotions in check, and she found herself inside the house. She quickly prepared a cup of water, drank it in one gulp, and headed upstairs, finding Joel in his bedroom. She’d never been in the place, but it smelled just like him. She ignored the clothes haphazardly strewn
over the floor. She walked over and said, “I can take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I feel like I’m going to puke all over myself.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you need to go, Joel.”
“Please, take me to his mother. They are my second family, and I need them.”
“They need you, too.”