A Promise to Remember (8 page)

Several filing cabinets neatly lined the far wall, a wall filled
with pictures of boys from the youth group involved in various
activities. Jeff's smiling face could be seen in almost all of
them.

She walked over and allowed her fingers to trace one of the
frames. The boys were barely recognizable beneath a thick layer
of smudge, the victors after the annual "mud war." Jeff stood
grinning, his arm around the boy to his right, his left hand
raised in victory.

Why him? Why did he have to be at precisely the wrong
spot in that curve? Ten seconds difference, maybe even five,
maybe three, is all it would have taken, and her son would be
alive today. Why?

Why?

Jake joined her at the wall. "Things will never be the same
without him." He cleared his throat. "You want to sit?"

She moved away from the wall and sat on a worn vinyl chair.
Jake settled in its twin just a few feet away.

Melanie waved her hand around the office. "You know, in all
the times Jeff told me the youth group met at Jake Sterling's
garage, I pictured a garage to your house. I never knew you had
an actual, you know, garage. No wonder Jeff always came home
with grease on his hands and jeans."

What else had she missed in her son's life? Her throat tightened. "Funny, I always prided myself on knowing where my
kids were and with whom. It's hard learning about your failings
when you don't have a chance to change them."

She managed to clamp her mouth shut against further ramblings. Jake Sterling must think her a blabbering idiot. Still,
somehow more words forced their way out. "Of course, there's
still Sarah. I still have a chance with her."

"Mrs. Johnston-"

"Melanie."

He smiled. "Melanie, no mother knows exactly where her
children are and what they are doing all the time. You knew he
met with a group of guys to study the Bible in a garage. What
does it matter if you didn't know what the garage looked like?
You knew what he was doing, and that it was something most
parents only dream about their children doing."

Melanie shrugged. In fact, his words did help.

Jake continued. "It was obvious in Jeff's life that you were a
very strong presence. The boys always talked about eating your
homemade ice cream. You were 'a cool mom' because you not
only allowed them to watch motocross on TV but you actually
watched with them. You shouldn't have any regrets."

A flash of a half-dozen boys, sprawled across her living room,
eating pizza and watching dirt bikes on TV, filled her mind.
The smell of pepperoni and popcorn, the dirty feet all over the
furniture, the good-natured insults and raucous cackling. It all
seemed so precious now.

She felt herself disappearing again into the memories, times
when Jeff still laughed, and roused herself sufficiently to remember this visit was not about her. It wasn't even about Jeff. It
was about Sarah. "Sarah tells me that the youth group is having
some trouble getting the funds to go on the mission trip. She
believes I have something to do with that. Do you have any idea
what might have given her that impression?"

Jake Sterling studied his right hand, flexed his fingers, then
clenched them. He repeated the process with this left hand,
never making a sound. He finally looked up at her. "What made
you come to me with this question? Why did you not go to Sue
Jameson, the director of the girls' group?"

Melanie had expected this question and was prepared. "If I
may be frank, Mr. Sterling-"

"Jake. And frank is good."

"Okay, Jake. I've met Sue Jameson on a few occasions. My
gut impression is that she avoids conflict at all costs. I don't
want to waste my time on someone who will only tell me what
they think I want to hear."

Jake gave a single nod of begrudging agreement. Melanie
pounced on the opportunity. "Also, the impression I got from
your sympathy card was that you were available to help during
this time in any way that you could. In fact, you specifically
said to feel free to visit or call if I ever needed to talk. Well, I
need to talk about this."

He tilted his head forward, peering at her in bafflement.
"From all the cards you must have received, you have that clear
a memory of mine?"

"I have a clear memory of all of them. I've tied strings across
Jeff's room and hung every condolence, every prayer, every note
Jeff received on them. I couldn't afford a big statue in the cemetery, so this is the memorial I could offer. I just don't want him
to be forgotten."

Jake leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His
face had taken on a serious cast that Melanie found unnerving.
"Melanie, Jeff will never be forgotten. He is with his Father in
heaven right now. With the One who loves him more than even
you. He will spend eternity loved, and with his name known
and praised because of the life he lived."

Anger began to burn in the pit of Melanie's belly. "Perhaps
that's the way you look at it. To me, a father who loved him that
much would have let him live a full life before bringing him up
to heaven." She spat out the words with more venom than she
had intended but did not regret it. She spoke the truth.

He flinched, but his expression didn't change. "I understand
this is a difficult time for you." He looked at her and waited.

This man had some nerve. Where did these religious people
come off thinking all that mumbo jumbo was comforting? Now he was patronizing, which was worse. "I am not here to discuss
Jeff or me. I'm here because Sarah's all upset about the trip.
Can you help me with that, or not?"

"Do you want help understanding the problem, or do you
want help fixing the problem?"

"Both."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Why don't we start with
understanding?"

"I'm all ears."

"Our church is full of young people and working-class families. Most do not have a lot of extra income, so when they give
money to send the youth on a mission trip, it might mean that
they cut back on the grocery budget for a week or two."

"I've lived on a tight budget my whole life. You're not telling
me anything I don't completely understand. What I want to know
is, how does that have anything to do with Sarah or me?"

"Do you read the News-Press?"

"Yes."

"So do a lot of our church members. When that whole spate
of articles came out this week about the lawsuit, your lawyer
made it very plain that he expects to handily win this case, and
that he expects to get you a whole pile of money in the process."
He paused and looked at her, as if to see if she understood his
words.

"And?"

"Would you shortchange your family to support a soon-to-be
millionaire?"

Heat surged through every vein in her body. She jumped to
her feet. "This is not about the money. This is about sending a
message to parents that they are responsible for their children.
If those other parents had done their job, Jeff would still be
with us today."

"Whether or not it is about the money, the fact is, a large
amount of money is involved."

"I can't believe what a bunch of hypocrites you Christians
are. How dare you judge me when you've never lost a child?"

Jake's head jerked back as if she'd slapped him. Good. Point
made. She started toward the door.

He jumped from his seat and blocked her. He extended his
left arm and gestured at her chair. "Please. Sit. I didn't mean
to sound judgmental, because I don't judge what you're doing
at all."

He motioned with his head toward the red vinyl. "Please. You
did say you wanted to understand what the problem was."

She couldn't argue that. Begrudgingly, she took a step backward, but made no move to sit.

He sat on his chair and folded his arms. "We do have a few
other options."

Melanie finally perched on the end of the seat, her hands
against her knees, prepared to jump up at a second's notice.
"What other options?"

"The kids will have to do twice the fundraising as normal.
Usually, with this type of thing, we do a couple of fundraisers
and the church matches the amount we earn. In this particular
case, we may just have to raise all the money ourselves."

Melanie relaxed against the back of her seat. "I don't get
it." She stretched her legs out. "It's not like Sarah is going to
Mexico on vacation. She's using part of her summer vacation
to build houses for people who need the help. She won't be
staying in some fancy hotel; she'll be living in a tent with six
other girls."

"You don't have to explain that to me. I'll be sleeping in a
similar tent with the boys." He rubbed his face.

The lines around his eyes suddenly seemed deeper, and his
eyes faded into a dull weariness. His hands had left a smudge of grease on his forehead. "Just give this a little time, okay?
Most likely, it will sort itself out. If not, the kids will have to
work a little harder this year. There's no harm in a little hard
work, now, is there?"

"No. I suppose not."

"I'll talk to Sue Jameson and make sure she puts a stop to
the whispering in the girls' group. Sarah should never be faced
with something like that."

Melanie nodded her head. "I'm sorry I lost my temper." She
stood and offered him her hand.

He shook it with a warm and firm grip, then opened the door.
"I understand why you were upset. How about if we meet again
in the near future? I'll update you on anything I've learned. You
can tell me how things are going with Sarah."

Melanie nodded. "Sure." Her feet didn't seem to want to
move forward. In fact, her entire being screamed at her to stay
put. It was as if Jake Sterling held the answers to questions
she didn't even yet know how to ask. And what did he mean
by "the near future"?

"Thank you." She forced her legs to carry her out of the
garage. Since Jeff's death, her normally placid emotions often
surprised her with an unexpected reaction, like not wanting to
leave right now. Would her life ever regain an even keel? Jeff's
life was snuffed out forever. So what if she felt a little out of
whack?

Tony looked up from his spot on the floor and smiled. "Bye,
Mrs. Johnston! Come back around so we can talk sometime,
all right?"

"Good-bye, Tony. I'll make a point of it."

Melanie pushed open the swinging doors that led from the
storage room to the front of the store. Her time back at work had passed in a blur of well-wishes, awkward moments, and
mind-numbing pain. Today, the aisles were surprisingly empty
of customers. She looked at her watch. Nine o'clock. Although
Monday was not their biggest day, or morning their busiest time,
the store felt empty.

By the time her lunch break rolled around, she had immersed
herself in work, but an uneasiness played on her nerves. Most
likely because she was still awaiting a confrontation about the
lawsuit from Andie Phelps or one of her rich friends. She almost
wished it would happen and get over with, so she could quit
thinking about it.

She took her lunch bag and sat in the employee break room
beside Joe. She pulled out her yogurt and peeled open its foil lid.
"Where is everybody? I don't remember ever seeing a Monday
this slow. How are things in your department?"

Joe choked on his sandwich and took a sip of Red Bull. "Uh,
it's a little slow for us, too."

"The sun's shining. Maybe everyone loaded up and went to
the beach today, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." Joe took another bite of his sandwich and
stared at the squares of bread as if he expected them to move.
He looked around the empty table, then leaned forward. "Look,
Melanie, there's something you probably need to know."

An opening like that could only mean bad news. "What?"

"Word is, the Hope Ranch women have banded together and
are boycotting this place."

"Why?"

Joe didn't answer.

"Because of me?"

Joe shrugged and looked back toward his sandwich, now
sitting on the table. Not exactly you. But the lawsuit. You
know?"

Those arrogant rich women. "How long has this been going on?"

He looked up at her. "Things started to slow down the end
of last week. Today is even slower."

"Does management know about this?"

"Yeah. They know. Mr. Mortensen says they'll just monitor
the situation for a while. Expects it will fizzle out after a few
weeks."

"Fizzle out?"

"Yeah. He says the Hope Ranch women will get tired of driving
across town for groceries. They won't like losing the precious
hours from their stables and tennis courts. He says they'll give
it up soon enough." His words might have reassured, except for
the expression on his face.

"What if they don't?"

He stared at the table, his face draining of color. "Potential
layoffs if it stays this way."

Melanie gasped.

Joe shifted in his seat and looked away. He always avoided
controversy. He wouldn't have said a word if things weren't
really serious.

"How bad is it?"

"I've had several major orders canceled. I know some of our
standing company events have been canceled, as well." He
began to put away his mostly uneaten sandwich. "You won't
have to worry, though. I'm sure your job is secure. The ACLU
would be all over them if they laid you off because you filed a
lawsuit."

She chose to ignore the last comment. Joe had stuck out his
neck to tell her any of this; she wouldn't demean that. "Thanks
for telling me."

"Well, I've probably said too much. But you're going to hear
it anyway Better to hear it all at once from a friend than in bits and pieces of gossip that float around the store." He hurried
from the break room as if afraid he'd have to keep talking.

What more did those women think they could do to her?
Did none of them have any shame, care about anything besides
money?

She sat in her chair and seethed. What was she going to do
about this? She needed to talk to someone. But who?