Summer Sanctuary (9 page)

“Milk, please,” I said. Nothing beats cold, creamy milk with pancakes.

Johnny was sitting in his high chair rolling his cut-up smoky link pieces around like marbles.

“Hey, Johnny, want some pancake?” I cut a small bite and raised it to his mouth with my fork.

“Cake!” he said, and gobbled it up. “More, more, more!” said Johnny, tapping his fists together.

I gave him several more bites while I devoured my smoky links.

By the time I was ready for more pancakes, Mark had finished his second plateful.

“May I please be excused?” Mark asked Mom.

“Yes, you may,” Mom replied, putting two more hot cakes on my plate.

“Me, too!” cried Luke jumping up to follow Mark.

“You too, Luke,” Mom replied.

When it was just Mom and Johnny and me, I worked up the courage to ask her something I'd been thinking about while I was wandering out in the rain last night. “Did you ever like anybody besides Dad?”
Anybody creepy? Or anybody named Jerry?
I stuffed a smoky link in my mouth to discourage her from asking me why I wanted to know.

Mom smiled as she thought about it. “Yes, there were a few,” she said as she buttered her own pancakes and reached for the syrup. “Your dad and I didn't meet until college.”

Johnny tapped his fists together again. “More cake!” Mom gave him a bite of hers.

“Did you ever think about marrying one of those guys—before you met Dad, I mean?”

“Oh, I think every girl has dreams of getting married as she's growing up, but I don't think I ever thought seriously about marrying any of those other boys,” Mom said.

“Why not?”

“Well, it always seemed like the boys I really liked, really liked somebody else.” Mom chuckled.

I took a big bite of pancake and pondered while I chewed. “Didn't any boys like you?”

“Oh, sure, there were boys who liked me, too,” Mom said, giving Johnny another bite. “But for some reason I never seemed to like them as much as they liked me.”

I chugged down the rest of my milk. “What about Dad? Did he have other girlfriends?”

“I happen to know of several girls who liked your dad when he asked me out.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” Mom said. “But your dad was always so focused on his own plans, I'm not sure he knew it.” Johnny dropped his sippy cup of milk on the floor, and Mom reached down to get it. This was one of Johnny's
favorite games. He threw the cup back on the floor. Mom played along.

“The first time your dad asked me out, he said, ‘Theresa, God told me last night in a dream that I'm going to marry you. I was thinking we should go out on a date and see if He tells you the same thing.'”

“And did God tell you the same thing?”

“The same thing, but not right away. And not in the same way,” Mom said. “It took me about two years of dating your dad before God just kind of whispered it in my heart. I might not have heard it if I hadn't given it enough time and listened closely.” Mom put her fork down and rested her chin on her hand. “Even then, we both knew we needed to finish college first,” she added. “Finish college first” was one of our family mottos.

“What if God hadn't told you or you hadn't listened?” I asked.

“I guess eventually God would have told your dad to marry someone else. But I'm glad I married your dad.”

“Me, too,” I nodded. “Do you think God will talk to me like that?”

“If you listen, God will talk to you,” Mom said, “but it won't be the same way He talks to Daddy or to me. God speaks to each of us differently. And I think you're already learning to listen.”

I
T WAS JUST
after 1:00 when I arrived at our tree hoping to find Dinah. There was no sign of her as I approached, but when I circled the tree, I found a note stuck to the back of the tree trunk with pink bubblegum. “M—Back @ 2—D.” I thought about going inside the library, but with less than an hour, it didn't seem worth it. I pulled
The Last Battle
out of my book bag, stretched out under the tree and tried to pick up where I'd left off several weeks ago.

I hadn't read a page since I met Dinah. I rolled over on my stomach and kicked my feet up and down. I was looking at my book, but I was thinking about what would happen when Dinah's mom came back next week. Only one week left. One week from today.

Would her mom go back with Creepy Jerry? They just couldn't live there. They had to find someplace else. Someplace nearby. As my mind drifted to Dinah staying at the church, I felt another surge of brilliance.
Mrs. Miller needed someone to live in her guesthouse and help her out. Anybody could do that. Dinah and her mom needed a place to live. Dinah's mom may be a little crazy still, but then Mrs. Miller was pretty crazy, too. All I needed to do was find out a little bit more about Dinah's mom and then convince my dad to hire her!

That would be so perfect! Dinah and her mom could bring Mrs. Miller to church on Sundays and Wednesday nights. Why, if Mrs. Miller had Dinah and her mom sitting on each side of her, she wouldn't need her dogs. That would definitely make my dad happy! I felt myself getting caught up in the excitement. My mom and Kyle's mom could home school Dinah, too.

My mind got stuck on the thought of Kyle. Kyle would be back in August.
What if Dinah doesn't like Kyle? What if she likes him better than me? What if Kyle likes Dinah better than me?
I rolled over in the grass and tried to push the questions out of my head. We'd be like the three musketeers—all for one and one for all. Anyway, three's better than two. What does it say in Ecclesiastes? A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn't even notice Dinah walking up.

“Hey, Matthew,” Dinah said as she sat down next to me. “Listen to this.” She started playing a sweet, bluesy melody. It took me a minute, but I recognized the tune,
What a Wonderful World
. When she finished Dinah started dancing around. “I did it! I did it! That was in G. I can finally play a song cross-harp!”

“That was great!” I said. Dinah's eyes gleamed as she played the chorus again.

“It does kind of make me hyperventilate, though,” she said. “I still need lots of practice. I just wish Steve could hear me!” Dinah played another little blues riff.

“Who's Steve?” I asked.

“Steve's the one who gave me the harp,” Dinah said. “He used to play in a band at the Blues Basement where my mom was a waitress. He'd sit back in the kitchen with me after rehearsal and between sets. He let me play his G harp with him while he played crossharp on the C.”

“Was he your mom's boyfriend?” I asked. He sounded better than Creepy Jerry.

“I wish,” Dinah sighed. “He was the nicest guy I ever met.”

“So what,” I persisted, “your mom just didn't like him?”

“Mom liked him all right.” Dinah paused as she looked at me. “Mom and Steve were just friends … because … well, because he had a boyfriend.”

“You mean because your mom had a boyfriend,” I corrected her.

Dinah shook her head. “Mom's boyfriends come and go. I mean Steve had a real boyfriend.”

“Oh.” I felt my stomach knotting up. It was like Dinah was waiting for me to say something, only I really didn't know what to say. The first thing that popped into my head was something I'd heard Kyle say that made everybody laugh. “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!”

All traces of Dinah's smile vanished from her face, and she just stared at me. I suddenly realized how easy it would be for her to beat me up.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I was just trying to be funny. I didn't mean to make you mad.”

Dinah's shoulders dropped, and she just kept looking at me. “Don't you think God made Steve, too?” Dinah finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I watched as tears began pouring out the corners of her eyes. I could feel my eyes filling up with my own tears. I blinked to keep them back. I was afraid to say anything
now—afraid whatever I said would only make it worse. I hung my head. Dinah still wasn't saying anything. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She really was waiting for me to answer.

“God made all of us,” I told her. “I don't know why he made me so stupid, though.” I looked at her, silently begging her to forgive me.

Dinah lifted the bottom of her t-shirt up to wipe her tears. “Matthew,” she said sniffling a little, “you're the smartest person I ever met.” She smiled, and I could finally breathe again.
Maybe even smart people say dumb things sometimes.

W
HEN
I
WENT
to meet Dinah behind the library on Saturday morning, I was anxious to talk to her about her mom. I'd been thinking more about them living at Mrs. Miller's place, and I was hoping Dinah would be excited, too. We only had six days left.

Dinah was perched up in the tree chomping on a raisin bagel. I dropped my backpack next to hers beside the tree and climbed up across from her. As the branches became more familiar, I was getting a little faster and feeling a lot more comfortable. “Want half a bagel?” Dinah offered.

“No, thanks,” I said. “Dinah, I've been thinking about what's going to happen when your mom gets back.”

“She'll get a job, dump Jerry, and we'll find a new place to live,” Dinah said shrugging her shoulders.

“What if I told you I think I found a job for your mom and a new place for you to live?”

Dinah stopped chewing. “What kind of a job?”

“All your mom would have to do is take care of an old lady who goes to our church. Just be her personal assistant. You know, like drive her around and do her shopping. Stuff like that. She's got a guesthouse right there beside her home where she wants her personal assistant to live.” I climbed up a branch higher. “What do you think?”

Dinah shook her head. “I don't know if Mom's going to be able to drive.” Dinah jumped out of the tree. I climbed back down and over to where she'd been sitting. I thought all parents could drive.
Do they take your license away if they think you're crazy? Maybe she just doesn't have a car.

“Your mom wouldn't need a car. Mrs. Miller has at least three cars that I've seen.” I said before swinging around and dropping to the ground.

“She needs more than a car,” Dinah said and shook her head again. “She needs a driver's license.” Dinah was rummaging through her backpack, but she didn't look like she was looking for anything in particular.

“My dad could help her,” I said. “He's helped other people get their licenses.”

“I don't think so,” Dinah said. “Thanks anyway.”

I was crushed. And I just couldn't understand why Dinah wasn't giving my idea a chance. “Mrs. Miller wants my dad to interview and hire the person. After your mom gets back, I can talk to my dad. He's always helping people. He'd want to help your mom.”

“Let's go down to the creek.” Dinah was still shaking her head. “I guess it's time I told you about my mom.”

I felt a rush of adrenaline as I walked with Dinah to the creek. Her pace was slow, and I tried not to rush her.
She's going to tell me about her mom. Just listen. Don't ask any questions. Don't interrupt. Let her say everything she has to say before you say a word. And don't say anything stupid!

She took her shoes off at the creek and waded into the water. I kicked my shoes off and followed. I picked a sunny spot to enter and watched little fish and tadpoles dart away. The cool water covered my feet and ankles. Smooth rocks massaged the soles of my feet near the bank. As I moved toward the middle, the water rose to my knees and the rocks changed to sand and
then muck. I liked how the muck sucked my feet in and held on each time I took a step.

Dinah was doing her own muck stomp, back and forth like a rocking horse. She turned to face me, and I rocked back and forth, too. “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” I called.

“What's that supposed to mean?” asked Dinah.

“I don't know,” I shrugged. “My dad says it's Shakespeare.”

Dinah lifted her right foot up out of the water and held it out between us. Thick black muck covered her toes and clung to the top of her foot. “Eeooooowah!” Dinah laughed, plopping her foot back into the water to keep from losing her balance.

I curled my toes into the muck and shifted my weight back and forth before bringing one of my muck-covered feet to the surface. First one and then the other. We stirred up enough muck that we couldn't see anything in the water around us.

Just when I thought she'd decided not to tell me about her mom after all, Dinah turned to me and said, “My mom's in jail.”

“In jail?” I heard myself say.
Don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything stupid.
I mean, I knew people went to
jail all the time, but not people I knew. Jail was for criminals—really bad people. How could Dinah's mother be a criminal?

“She was driving without a license, and the judge gave her sixty days, but she only has to do 30 days as long as she doesn't cause any trouble while she's there.”

“I didn't know they put people in jail for that,” I said.

“Usually they don't,” Dinah explained, “but she was already on probation, so they violated her.”

They violated her!
Visions of police officers forcing themselves on Dinah's mother flashed through my mind. Anger shook my whole body as I cried out, “They can't do that! It's against the law! They can't just go around violating women!”

“Matthew,” Dinah put her hands on my shoulders. “What are you talking about? They violated her probation and sent her to jail for a month for screwing up while she was on probation. Get it?”