“Me, too. It’s been such a long week.” She couldn’t help but glance at Brad’s door then back at Sami. “Are you going to the party on Monday?”
“Dixon brothers’ party? Probably. I originally wasn’t because my church has a picnic planned. But Calla wanted to go to the lake, so I’ll probably come, too. She’s my sidekick at church things.”
Valerie paused and looked at her. “Wait. Did I hear you right? You go to church?”
Sami raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Yeeeees?” She dragged it out slowly, made it sound like a question. Then she added, “Why?”
“I just….” Valerie pursed her lips and wondered what else to say. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been reading my mother’s journals for the last couple of weeks.”
“Your mother the missionary,” Sami clarified superfluously.
Valerie nodded. “I’ve been wondering what to do with some thoughts and feelings I have.”
Sami opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a blue straw bag. She walked around the desk and stopped in front of Valerie. “I’m happy to talk to you about it, if that’s what you want. And if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m happy about that, too. Let me know.”
“Thanks.” Did she want to talk to Sami about it? Would that affect their friendship? “I grew up in church, with the Dixons. But when I left home, it seemed less real to me. Because my parents were killed on a missionary trip, it became easy to make God fake and their decisions selfish. But ever since I read my mom’s journals, everything I once believed in so much started to come back to me, and I don’t know if it’s the influence of my environment or if it’s a true conviction from a living God.”
“I can see why that would be confusing,” Sami nodded, her eyes very serious under their sparkly eyeshadow. “I grew up with no church. My mom was intentionally a single parent. She was a career woman who looked at her biological clock one day and realized she was almost too late to have kids, then went out and got pregnant. I was in a church daycare until I was 5, then a Catholic school until graduation. The only basis for religion I had was from that. It took a group in college to really open the door wide for Christ for me. I believe it wholeheartedly and have no doubts. And I’ll tell you something else. I believe God is talking to you through your mom’s journals.”
Valerie raised an eyebrow. “You say that. You think I’d actually be able to hear a voice?”
Sami’s lips pressed together, and Valerie watched her face, saw thoughts come and go as she considered what to say. Finally, she put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “My friend, I believe if you trust your mom’s heart and words and listen—and just let Him in, you’ll hear his voice. No doubt. I think you’ll even be surprised at what you hear.” She straightened and gestured toward her door. “Ready to start this long weekend?”
Brad lifted the string oflights with both hands as he climbed the ladder, using his shins against each rung to help balance himself. The temporary wooden structure would have canvas stretched over the roof once they got the lights strung. While he fastened lights to the frame, he heard the sound of a truck idling. He glanced over and saw the crew unload the large portable restroom facility complete with working sinks and flushing toilets. Ken hooked up the water tank while Jon helped unload another truck full of tables and chairs. He strung lights as far as he could reach, then gingerly stepped down the ladder, shifted it over several feet, and climbed again. From his vantage point, he saw his mom go to the back of his father’s truck and pull out a plastic bin of tablecloths. She carried it into the fishing shack and came back out again for another box.
Growing up, his parents regularly threw Memorial Day parties. His mom liked it because that last Monday in May the summer heat typically warmed the air compared to the Fourth of July heat that beat down like a heaven full of hot hammers. But, for the last seven or eight years, they just hadn’t. His dad would mention it about a month out, and his mom would put it off. Or she’d mention it and they just wouldn’t start working on it. He was glad Ken had initiated the idea this year.
As he climbed down the ladder, he checked his watch. Nearly four, and he wanted to get back home and take care of some emails before the weekend officially started. He plugged in the lights and shielded his eyes with his hands as he looked up into the bright sky and confirmed all the strings of lights lit up, then unplugged them and walked over to his dad’s car. Two more plastic containers remained. He stacked them together and carried them both into the shack. His mom had set up a temporary staging room to prepare the tables.
“Where to?” he asked.
She set a bin next to a worktable and said, “Those are plates and cups. Set them back over there by the sink.”
After he set them down, he said, “I’m going to go get some work done at the house. Call my cell if you need me to bring anything back with me.”
“Thanks, hon, but there’s still plenty of time to figure out what’s missing. I’ll take care of it tomorrow before I come out here to make centerpieces.”
He bent to kiss her cheek. “You realize that people would have been pleased with hot dogs wrapped in tin foil?”
She laughed but shook her head. “Not how I do things. You know that. People are expecting Rosaline Dixon, even though you boys are technically the ones throwing the party.”
“Well, we appreciate you making us so look so good, even if it’s just to keep you from looking bad.” He said it with a smile, and she laughed, clearly knowing he teased her. “See you at home.”
The drive home took twice as long as it should have. Most of the time, he left the lake during the evening on a weekend. Now it was five o’clock on a Friday, on a holiday weekend. Atlanta served as the hub for several interstate highways, and travelers inevitably had to go through Atlanta to get almost anywhere else on the east coast. If he’d thought about it, he would have spent another hour or two at the lake then started home. He would have gotten there at about the same time without the extra hour or so on the road.
He let himself into the quiet house and went straight for the kitchen. In the fridge, he found leftover meatloaf, and he used that to make himself a sandwich. Armed with a plate holding his sandwich, potato chips, and a pickle spear, he went upstairs to his room. He felt energized, even happy, after working with his family on something they all loved to do. He wanted to pour some of that good energy into his work.
Just as he booted up his laptop, the sounds of the doorbell filled the house. From his room, he looked down and saw Valerie’s car in the driveway. His pulse raced as he rushed downstairs, crossed the foyer, and threw open the door, finding her walking back down the steps.
“Hey,” he said as she turned. “Sorry. I was upstairs. Big house.”
The startled look left her face and she smiled. “Hi. Sorry to bother you.”
“No reason for sorry. No reason to even ring the doorbell, for that matter.” He held the door wider. “Come on in.”
As she walked by him, she left in her wake the smell of her light strawberry scent. He closed his eyes and gently inhaled, letting the aroma fill and tease his senses. He shut the door behind her and followed her into the foyer. “Mom and dad are with the guys at the lake.”
At the table in the center of the room, she paused. “Oh. Okay. I’d hoped to talk to your mom.”
