Chapter Six
Joel
JOEL UNDERSTOOD THE basics of a family dinner. They were hard to come by in his house, because someone was always doing something. For example, Tuesday nights were designated as game night for his dad. That meant poker and a few beers, away at some other location, while his mom, sister, and he foraged for themselves. Wednesday was church night, and though Ethan Sealet never went—and Joel had been slipping in attendance himself—Juliet and Chloe always attended. That left Monday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Well, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were immediately canceled because the weekend rush was always filled with Joel and Chloe’s leaving to be with friends. Monday was the day Chloe had intensive dance practice, from four-thirty to seven o’clock, and the day that Juliet worked her longest hours. Thursday was the best option, but sometimes Ethan worked overtime, other days Juliet was not in the mood to cook, and others, Joel had previous engagements.
Family dinners were as rare as a blue moon.
That is why, when he returned home, on this almost-summer afternoon—a Saturday—he blankly stared at the heavenly smorgasbord on the dining room table.
He took care of his putting away the purchases as Juliet hurriedly placed turquoise plates of warm spaghetti, green beans, and Italian bread on the dining table. She was doing the homemaking thing all by herself, like usual. Normally, Joel’s father Ethan would at least ask Chloe to help with the entire food process, while Joel was required to wash the dishes. It was a good balance, but today, Joel saw that his father was nowhere to be found, and neither was Chloe.
“Mom, you need help,” Joel said, filling the sink with soapy water. Then he started placing the dirty dishes inside.
Juliet pulled a wisp of sandy hair behind her ear. “Chloe is upstairs, and I did not want to argue with her tonight. Your dad’s in his room, doing work-related stuff. Did you bring the milk? And the waffle syrup?”
“Syrup? You said nothing about syrup?”
“You smell funny,” Juliet pointed out.
“What do you mean?”
“Smoky, almost. But hey, I’ve been dreaming a lot today. Can you go get your sister?”
Joel went upstairs, passing the collection of family photos that he’d assessed from various points in his life. Yet on this Saturday he did not feel like looking at more photos.
He went to Chloe’s bedroom, finding the girl perched on her bed and on her phone, of course. Her brown eyes surprised him as they, in a split-second, focused in on him. “So, Mom told me you’re taking me to the dance.”
“Are you up for it?”
Chloe sat up with a sigh. “I mean, I guess it’s cool. It’ll make me stand out.”
“That’s always your mission,” Joel snapped. “Mom wants us downstairs for food.”
Chloe grabbed his arm and said, “You know, she and Dad were screaming. Bigtime. While you were away, they started arguing about stuff I did not understand.”
“They were arguing?” Usually his parents were so scattered they did not have time to fight.
Chloe nodded. “It was bad, Joel.” She winked at him. “We could use this to our advantage.”
He shook his head. “Cut it out, and come on downstairs. You’re the next contestant on the Price is Spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti?” Chloe made a choking sound.
The two headed downstairs, casually hearing their mother humming to herself as she sat down at the table. This was not unheard of: Their mother loved to sing.
“Chlo,” Juliet said as her kids entered their cramped kitchen, “can you go get your dad?”
She disappeared from view, leaving Juliet and Joel by themselves. His mother looked stressed out as she lifted a hand through her hair. Joel wanted to say something to comfort her, but he did not know what the proper thing to say would even be. He sat beside his mother at their dining room table in silence, wanting to fill her in on what all had happened with Brie and Mrs. Trantridge, but Juliet did not look like she wanted to talk.
Eventually, Chloe and their father entered. Ethan looked tired, too, and he bitterly scowled at his wife, which angered Joel. He did not want to come home to find his parents fighting, and he knew this would be an interesting mealtime conversation.
“How was dance?” Joel asked as he took a bite of spaghetti into his mouth.
His mother silently prayed over her food before looking up. Chloe watched this in confusion. Finally, she answered, “Fine, I guess. I have a competition in Atlanta two weeks from now.”
“Atlanta,” Joel said. He was trying to be the mediator, but he was failing at it. “Atlanta’s a nice, big city.”
“Did you tell them what happened?” Ethan suddenly snapped.
Juliet looked up. “Why would I tell them?”
“Because don’t they deserve the right to know?”
“What’s going on?” Chloe mumbled. In this moment, she was not the usual carefree girl who ruled the middle school hallways. She looked like a kid again, even past the makeup caked on her face, the highlights in her hair, and the piercings in her ears.
Juliet put her head in her weathered hands. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”
It took a moment to compute. This was not what Joel and Chloe were expecting in the slightest. Their parents were known to sometimes bicker but make up a few minutes later. Joel had expected her to say she had lost her job, or she wanted to try the Methodist church this Sunday, but instead, she had bitterly told them her marriage was over. That was pretty horrendous.
Chloe started crying while Ethan angrily stared at Juliet.
Joel did not know what to do, so he stood up and bumbled outside into the summer night air. It was still light out, but fading, and he moved out of the backyard into the front yard before breaking out into a sprint. His long legs urged him on, pumping oxygen throughout his long body. He was not a sprinter; he was a long distance runner. He’d been a runner in high school, but even now he knew his leg muscles were rusty and his lungs would blister with a mixture of exhilaration and disuse at faster speeds.
He did not have a destination pinpointed on the map, a place where he could go in this time of desperation, but he knew he did not want to break down in front of his parents, especially when he did not even know why they were separating.
His childhood had not been a painful one. His parents loved each other, even through the normal stresses and day-to-day management of two kids while working their grueling jobs. He got pretty much everything he wanted, including their help in his paying for college.
A lightning bug jumped out before him, spraying the approaching darkness with yellow, and he stopped in his tracks. With a quick assessment, he knew he had run nearly a mile away from his house, so that he was near Lanceling Creek, where most of the locals swam in the spring and summer months, including him and Brie.
He thought of Brie. Would she be like Juliet when he broke up with her? Would he become Ethan? Maybe there was not a reason why his parents were calling off their marriage. Maybe they were simply tired of each other. He could understand that, especially after twenty years of long marriage. He could not even handle one girl for a few months.
It was mid-May, one of his favorite times of the year, especially since he had just completed his freshman year of college. He had a few months off to celebrate, and he was not sure how he was going to celebrate. But now with his parents’ union in demise, he was not sure if he wanted to stay at the house.
But the dark corners of his mind reminded him that he could not leave. So he started the long walk back.
THE NEXT MORNING was a bright Sunday morning with no clouds in sight. The blue of the sky seemed ethereal, like a baby blue blanket, and Joel was eager to get to church. The atmosphere in his house had been suffocating, and he still did not understand what was going on between Ethan and Juliet. They had not spoken a word to him about his nightmare, and when he returned home after his jog, the table had been cleared, Chloe had gone over to a
friend’s house, and there was bitter silence.
Sunday mornings meant church. Usually, Juliet, Chloe, and Joel left at eight o’clock sharp so they could stop for doughnuts on the way to their place of worship, where they congregated with others for an arduous three-hour time interval. Joel did not mind spending three hours there, but Chloe hated it, and it was always a struggle to convince her not to run out of the church doors without screaming her head off.
Juliet was a Sunday school teacher, while Joel went to the young adult class, and his sister had recently started to come with him. There were only nine other kids in their youth group, and Joel was the eldest. There were a few high school and some middle school students interspersed, with their teacher, the pastor’s twenty-four-year-old son Tom, leading worship. After Sunday school, everyone joined together in the sanctuary, which was nearly fifty years old with the classic look to it: stained-glass windows, old, crotchety pews, and a large, white cross in the center of the pulpit.
That morning, though, Juliet called in sick to church. She urged Joel and Chloe to go anyway, so she and Ethan could have some “alone time” to discuss important things. Joel understood his mother’s meaning, so he and Chloe dressed themselves in their best Sunday attire before they got into his deathtrap of steel, the old Jeep. The thing had lasted nearly twenty years, and it was nearly dead. In the small town of Breezewater, there was no considerable issue with driving the automobile around town; in Savannah, there was a complete other story to be told.
“How was your friend?” Joel asked.
“I went to Claire’s. We had some fun. Claire keeps me sane.”
Joel glanced at his sister out of the corner of his eye. She was getting older, and he knew it; but he did not have to like that she was approaching some of the hardest years of her life.
“Why are they breaking up?” she asked, her voice barely a squeak. “Why now?”
“I don’t know. They’ve gotta tell us eventually, right?”
“I hope.”
They stopped for doughnuts at their favorite shop, before taking a scenic detour through the young day to the Baptist church. Joel and Chloe were used to the white steeple, the traditional aura oozing from the doors. They had not grown up here, but in the past year of living in Breezewater, it felt like more of a home than they realized.
They entered to find a group of well-dressed individuals congregating in the lobby. They were mostly the elders in the church, but a few young people also laughed and chattered too. Joel steered his younger sister in the direction of the youth room on the edge of the building, past the sanctuary and other classrooms. When they entered the somewhat large but old youth room, they saw the normal crowd. Joel noticed one familiar mop of hair, and he tensed.
“Why doesn’t Brie come to these things?” Chloe whispered. Chloe did not like to go to church by herself, even if some of her friends went too. Her best friends were all non-denominational, not Baptists.
Joel shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
He was distracted by a young man in the center of the room, who was swarmed by middle and high schoolers, all staring up at him. Joel walked over, his hands in his pockets. “Alex?”
Alex McFarland looked up at him, shame covering his face. “Hey, Joel.”
“I’ve never seen you go to church here! How’re you doing, buddy?”
Alex’s face twisted into a painful look. “I’m okay. You?”
“I’m fine. Hey, I saw you working at Johnny J’s yesterday. I wanted to call out…”
“I saw you too.”
“You did?” This time Joel was surprised.
Alex shook his head. His hair was growing out more, just like a mop. He was wearing nice slacks and a matching dressy shirt, but the sleepiness in his eyes was apparent, and his lips were stained pink. He did not look miserable, just a bit sad, and this even surprised Joel.
“Hey, want to go out to lunch after church?”
“I can’t,” he curtly said. “I’ve gotta do stuff with my dad.”
“Oh,” Joel replied. He nodded in understanding. “Another time?”
“Sure.”
Joel turned back to look for Chloe, who was already engaged in a deep conversation with another middle school girl who wore way too much makeup for a girl her age. At the same time, a familiar form glided in, one he could not help but stare at, even in the awkwardness of his conversation with Alex.
It was California again. Sarah Towson, the girl he’d seen twice yesterday, the girl now from California. Her long brown hair glittered down her back, and her bright blue eyes were lined with charcoal. She wore a conservative dress, one that barely showed any skin, but she did not look anything but beautiful. Joel stared at her, and so did Alex. He resisted the urge to catcall.
Sarah knew they were staring at her, so she shyly looked away. She headed for the youth pastor—Tom Boomington—and when he saw her, he yanked her into a tight hug. “Sarah Towson!”
She was choked to death as he hugged her, but she was used to his big hugs. Her mother secretly desired for Sarah to be a pastor’s wife. That was the only request she’d ever given Sarah. You’re qualified to be a pastor’s wife. Why don’t you be a pastor’s wife?
Sarah gulped every time she had that thought. It was something her mother would say over and over again, just in passing, but it always stung. Sarah did not want to be a pastor’s wife. As she passed Alex and Joel, deep down, she wanted to talk to them. She wanted to be popular for once in her life. As she reconnected with Tom, Alex and Joel stared at each other.
“Is that Sarah? As in the old maid Sarah from high school?” Alex observed, shocked. Most people would have been angered with his statement, but not Joel. He had thought the same thing.
In high school, Sarah Towson was infamous for not wearing an ounce of makeup, or letting her brown hair loose from its ponytail. She was gorgeous but never let anyone see her beauty, and this kept her somewhat low-key at school. She did not want to be known for her looks; she wanted to be known for her intelligence, and it worked out in her favor. Plus, in reality, Sarah did not think she was that pretty, and this affected how others viewed her too.
“Yeah, I think it is,” Joel responded. He was used to being cool around girls, but he had a different response to Sarah. He did not want to be a jerk toward her. He did not want to conquer her, either.
“How?” Alex whispered, moving some of his shaggy hair to the side. “Just how?”
“Did California change her?” Joel asked.
“No,” Alex muttered. “I think the people in California changed her.”
“I don’t even think that’s what happened,” added in a high schooler who was overhearing their conversation. “I think Sarah changed herself.”
Alex and Joel turned to each other, their eyes alit. Not only had they just seen a girl, but she had been a pretty girl. And suddenly she was walking up to them, her long hair fanning down her shoulders, perfect.
“Hey, guys.”
“Sarah Towson, how are you doing?” Joel asked, stealing the limelight from Alex.
“Good. You?”
“Fine,” interjected Alex, rolling his eyes at Joel. “You’re back from California.”
Sarah’s eyebrows raised a few millimeters at Alex’s attempt at conversation, but it was endearing. She smiled a bit, which relaxed the two young men before her. Alex was just as serious as she remembered, and Joel was just as arrogant. He practically stood like he thought he was big stuff, big man. “I am.”
“California was nice to you,” said Joel, hoping the comment did not offend her.
She looked at him, and this time Alex was the one to smile. “Well, thanks, I guess. It’s different than life here, that’s for sure. Anyway, I was going to ask you guys if…”
Suddenly a scream emitted from a teenager at the door. “Old Mother Elsie Brandon’s dying! Does anyone know CPR?”
Joel rushed off after the teenager, not giving it a second thought. The rest of the room
quickly followed suit, because Mrs. Elsie Brandon was their favorite woman in the universe, and she was about as ancient as the universe. Mrs. Elsie Brandon was eighty-nine-years-old, but that did not stop her from being the most popular foster parent ever, well into her seventies. She housed what seemed like hundreds of children, all of whom called her Mother Elsie, instead of Mother Teresa, of course. Mrs. Elsie was an upstanding citizen, environmental activist, and a vocal Blue Dog Democrat who vowed never to vote Republican until she gave up voting altogether, finding no satisfaction in governmental principles.
Mrs. Elsie Brandon had been a grandmother figure longer than the teenagers of the youth group could remember, and she was the golden apple of their eyes. Of course, if Mrs. Elsie was dying, they were going to save her life. Eighty-nine was far too young to die, at least by her standards. Mrs. Elsie’s mother had lived to be one hundred and six and her sister one hundred and four. Unfortunately, while Mrs. Elsie had hundreds of relatives, they all lived in the Atlanta area, so the Breezewater citizens, along with her flock of children, could not rely on the genetic, amazing ability of Mrs. Elsie Brandon’s longevity.
Sarah and Alex rushed together to the sanctuary, where hundreds of eyeballs stared at the elderly woman lying on a pew, her arms outstretched. “Jesus, why not now!” she screamed, before falling limp.
Even in the church atmosphere, people pushed and shoved, left and right, trying to get to Mother Elsie. Sarah and Alex stayed in the back with a bunch of the middle schoolers, who were standing on their tiptoes trying to see anything.
“So, how has Mother Elsie been since I’ve been gone?”
Alex shrugged. “Well, I spent the year in Athens, and I rarely came back to Breezewater. This is my first Sunday this year here, actually.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “I would think that if you’re reasonably close to your family, you’d want to come back more often.” Her heart soared at the thought of seeing Zach more.
“No, not really. But I did pick up a job at Johnny J’s here.”
She smiled at Alex’s honesty, because he was known to put things bluntly. It was his shtick. She wanted to know if he knew anything about Karli’s life, but Alex had never been an extreme social butterfly, even if he was included in social events. Joel was the one to ask, but Sarah did not like him, and as a result did not want to be alone with him if she had to ask him anything.
Eventually, an ambulance appeared in the old parking lot. EMTs, like gilded angels, appeared with a stretcher. The Baptist churchgoers parted the sea of humans like it was the Red Sea, and Mother Elsie was resuscitated. She opened her eyes and said, “I still didn’t die? Come on, God!” Then she fell asleep, and the Baptist congregation broke out into cheers.
“Mother Elsie’s still alive!” they shrieked.
Above the furry heads, tall Sarah saw her parents standing by the pastor. Even pregnant Alison and Jerry were nearby. The children were still cramped in the daycare section, but then a loud squeak like a trumpet, entered the sanctuary, and various teachers and babies appeared. Zach, ever the pleasant sixth grader, appeared, standing like Goliath over the pre-schoolers.
“Mother Elsie!” the young children cried.
Mrs. Elsie woke up again and waved like a princess waving to her people. When they left, the craziness of the past few minutes died down as the pastor led a widespread prayer with a thousand utterances of hallelujah and amen. When the prayer ended, everyone filed out, heading back to their respective zones.
Sarah’s question was forgotten, and Joel forgot about Sarah.