Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope (3 page)

With the hanging bag draped over my shoulder, I followed Zach upstairs. Mrs. Fairmont was in the kitchen.

“Gracie already fixed supper,” she said.

“And your daughter is going to come by in the morning to check on you,” I said.

“Christine called earlier. She’s not going to be able to make it. Something about a charity golf tournament at her club.”

“Can’t she skip it?”

“No, she’s one of the patrons. And she drew a foursome with Peg Caldwell, who’s coming in from St. Pete especially to see her. She and Christine were classmates at the Academy.”

“But what if—” I stopped.

“I drop dead and no one knows about it except Flip? Do you think that’s going to happen this weekend?”

“I believe the number of our days is in God’s hands.”

“Then pray he doesn’t drop me soon. In the meantime, I’m going to brew an afternoon cup of coffee and drink it black.” Mrs. Fairmont gave me a wrinkled smile. “Decaf, of course, and don’t worry about me while you’re gone. If I feel this good tomorrow, I may get Nancy Monroe to come by and take me out for crumpets and tea.”

I shifted the hanging bag to the other shoulder.

“Have a nice weekend, and let your parents know they can come for a visit,” Mrs. Fairmont continued, smoothing her dress with a diamond-bedecked hand. “Bring the whole family if you like.”

I nearly laughed. I could never dump all seven members of my family in a house that was more like a museum than a home. One of my brothers might break something simply walking through a room, and the twins would want to inspect every antique.

After a good-bye pat to the top of Flip’s head, I followed Zach out of the house.

“Mrs. Fairmont is having a good day, isn’t she?” Zach asked.

“Yes. And the longer I stay with her, the more I like her.”

“She feels the same about you.”

“Are you sure? Her daughter mentioned a cousin might be coming to town before the end of the summer. If that happens, I may have to move out.”

Zach put the luggage in the trunk.

“I have two extra bedrooms at my townhome. We could be roommates.”

I jabbed him lightly on the arm. Even casual contact with a male was a new experience for me.

“That’s not funny. And please don’t make a joke like that in front of my parents.”

“Who’s joking?”

“You are. Or at least you’d better be.”

The car rumbled across the cobblestone street. I’d spent enough time during the summer with Zach that I felt safe. His kidding didn’t threaten me because he’d shown respect for me and my beliefs. That, too, was new for me, and explained why I’d invited him to visit my family. However, the butterflies in my stomach weren’t totally still. Zach’s respect for me didn’t keep him from having strong opinions. That could create problems. My parents wanted me to meet a man with strong convictions—so long as they weren’t too different from our own.

WE LEFT SAVANNAH and drove north. The flatlands of the coast gave way to the gentle swells that guarded the southern approach to Atlanta. The first time I saw the city with its skyscrapers and twelve-lane freeways it seemed like an alien world. God would have to speak to me in an audible voice before I would consider living there. It still overwhelmed me. I preferred being surrounded by millions of trees to countless people and their cars.

Zach, used to driving in Los Angeles, calmly navigated through the perpetual traffic snarl that surrounded Atlanta. Leaving the city behind, we watched the sun dip below the dark hills of the north as they rose to meet us.

“Tell me more about your basketball career,” Zach said as he flipped on the car’s headlights.

“I wouldn’t call it a career. I played on the local high school team for four years.”

“Four years on the varsity?”

“Yes.”

“How many ninth graders were on the varsity besides you the first year you played?”

“None.”

Zach nodded. “That’s impressive. I want all your statistics: points per game for each year, rebounds, assists, and how well the team did in your conference, including any tournament games.”

“I’m not sure I remember all that stuff.”

Zach turned his head and encouraged me with a nod. “Yes, you do.”

I’d loved playing basketball and had a knack for recalling statistics. Zach wouldn’t let me leave out any details.

“There was a four-game stretch my junior year when I had more turnovers than points and missed half my free throws.”

“Did the coach ever bring up your bad games after you made the game-winning shot in the play-offs?”

“No. All he cared about was how we performed in pressure situations.”

“It’s the same with Joe Carpenter,” Zach answered. “That’s why he praised you for standing up to him in the Moses Jones case. If you didn’t give in when he had the power to fire you, he figures a lawyer on the other side of a lawsuit won’t intimidate you either.”

Even though criminal law wasn’t his area of practice, Zach had mentored me in the Jones case.

“I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“And believed that was more important than anything else. It’s one of your strengths. The danger is confusing wrong and right.”

“Such as thinking that Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Braddock were co-conspirators in covering up Lisa Prescott’s murder and wanted to send Moses to prison for a crime he didn’t commit?”

“Yeah,” Zach answered with a grin. “That would be a glaring example. But they won’t ever find out about it from me.”

We passed an exit for a field that was the location of a Civil War battle during Sherman’s march toward Atlanta.

“Mr. Carpenter brought me into a new client meeting this afternoon.”

“Litigation?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of case?”

I stared out the window. “I really don’t want to talk about the office.”

“Careful, don’t be obstreperous. That violates the rule that sum-mer clerks take advantage of every opportunity to talk to one of the lawyers.”

“Right now, you’re my driver, not my boss.”

Zach laughed. “I’m good with that. Lawyers who can’t leave the office behind are an unhappy lot.”

We rode in silence for a few miles.

“Would you like to play some one-on-one when we get back to Savannah?” Zach asked.

“What?”

“Basketball. You’d probably beat me, but there are courts at the YMCA where I work out. I’d love to see your jump shot.”

I’d never played coed sports in high school or college. Trying to guard a sweating man, or worse, having him guard me, didn’t sound like a good idea.

“No, maybe we could play a game of horse.”

“Or obstreperous.”

“I’m not sure I can spell it.”

“That will be my problem,” he said. “I’ll be the one missing shots.”

WE PASSED A REST AREA. Trucks with running lights that looked like Christmas tree decorations were parked for the night. We turned north onto a secondary road. In about an hour I would be home. The jittery feeling in my stomach at the thought of Zach meeting my family returned.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Hungry. Do you want to stop at a convenience store for a snack?”

“No, I mean about meeting my parents.”

Zach moved his hands to different positions on the steering wheel. “Are you trying to take away my appetite?”

“You’re nervous?”

“Not enough to get a haircut.”

“I didn’t ask you to cut your hair—”

“Which let me know there’s no Delilah in you,” he answered, pulling on his ponytail. “Not that I’m claiming to be much like Samson either. I’m a bit apprehensive about meeting your family, but I believe I know a lot about them because I’ve spent time with you. The strength of their influence in your life makes Samson look weak.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Mostly.”

“I want them to like you, especially my parents, but Mama has a lot of discernment and forms strong opinions quickly.”

“Is she going to tell me all my secret sins?”

“She believes it’s better to confront sin than ignore it. Anything less is insincere love.”

“You’ve seen her do that?”

“Only with family members.”

“What if the Lord lets me see her sins? Should I tell her?”

The thought of Zach confronting Mama was so bizarre that I laughed.

“No,” he said, shaking his finger in my direction. “There’s nothing funny about sin.”

“And there’s no use worrying about any serious discussions with Mama and Daddy tonight. I’ll give everyone a gift, then we’ll go to sleep. Saturday is a big workday about the house.”

“I’m counting on you to get me a job suitable for a boy who grew up in L.A.”

IT WAS ALREADY LATE when we passed through the tiny town of Powell Station. Zach slowed to the speed limit, and I talked rapidly as I tried to point out every building. Both of the town’s traffic lights were green, and even going twenty-five miles an hour, we were on the other side so fast that I didn’t get a chance to mention the old-fashioned ice cream offered at Jackson’s Pharmacy. The chicken plant where Daddy worked wasn’t on the main road.

“And Oscar Callahan is still recovering from a heart attack,” I said, referring to the town’s only lawyer. “He went to law school with Mr. Carpenter and gave me a good recommendation to the firm.”

“Where is your church?” Zach asked.

“Not on this road. It’s in the country about three miles from here. The original church was in town, but a mob burned it down.”

“A mob?”

“When the revival started, a lot of people opposed it. My grand-mother says the fire that destroyed the church wasn’t nearly as hot as the Holy Spirit’s power to burn away sin and unbelief. Some people who joined the church lost their jobs, and there were physical threats and violence. But that all happened a long time ago. Compared to the pioneers, we have it easy. The only persecution now is criticism.”

“Is your grandmother alive?”

“She lives in Florida with one of my aunts. Mama is a lot like her.”

We turned onto Beaver Ruin Road. Even in the dark, I pointed out landmarks that couldn’t be seen.

“We’ll come back in the daytime,” I said, realizing what I was doing. “Putnam’s Pond is a pretty place. Do you like to go fishing?”

“No, I’m a vegetarian.”

I froze. I quickly tried to remember the times Zach and I had eaten together. I’d gone to lunch several times with Vince, and I’d seen Julie take big bites from a hamburger. But Zach and I had never been to a restaurant together. I tried to remember what he’d put on his plate at the firm luncheon my first day on the job.

“Is that a strong belief?” I managed.

“No, it’s a lame joke.”

I punched him again on the arm, hard.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Good.” I touched the dashboard with my hand. “There’s my driveway. And remember, don’t try to be funny about things like that at my house.”

Zach braked and turned onto the red-dirt driveway. The car skidded slightly but stayed on the track.

“It would serve you right to eat some of that dirt,” I said. “With a bug or two thrown in.”

Exposed tree roots made our driveway bumpier than a cobblestone street. We passed a large tulip poplar and parked beside our family van. The lights on the front porch were turned on in welcome. The rambling white frame house was prettiest at night when its flaws weren’t visible. Our two dogs came running across the yard and barked at the unfamiliar car.

“Ginger and Flip,” I said, getting out and roughly rubbing the sides of their heads in quick succession. “My Flip leads a much different life from Mrs. Fairmont’s Chihuahua.”

The dogs left me and carefully sniffed Zach.

“Leave everything,” I said. “We’ll meet everyone, then distribute the gifts.”

The front door opened and my twelve-year-old sisters, Ellie and Emma, ran onto the porch. Mama was behind them.

“Girls!” she called out.

“Hey, Tammy Lynn,” they cried out in unison as they looked past me at Zach.

I saw Ellie put her hand over her mouth as they turned back toward the house. Zach and I climbed the front steps. I gave the porch swing a slight push as we passed. The swing was one of my favorite spots. Zach opened the screen door and held it for me.

My family was standing in a cluster in the middle of the front room used for everything from homeschool classes to church prayer meetings. Mama, wearing one of her nicer dresses, had her arms around Ellie and Emma. Daddy stood beside Mama. He’d combed his dark hair and put on his Sunday shoes. He stepped forward, kissed me in the usual spot on top of my head, and shook Zach’s hand.

“Walter Taylor,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

Zach introduced himself, then shook hands with my eighteen-year-old brother, Kyle, and my sixteen-year-old brother, Bobby. My brothers weren’t as tall as Zach, but Kyle, who loved working with livestock, was thicker in the shoulders and chest. Bobby, the musician in the family, was slimmer.

“Mama,” I said, “this is Zach Mays, one of the lawyers I’m working with this summer.”

Zach stepped close and gave her a hug. I could see the surprise in Mama’s eyes and inwardly kicked myself for not giving him guidance on how to greet her. Hugging was reserved for blood relatives. No man in our church hugged a woman except his wife or daughter. As they separated, I could see Mama staring at Zach’s ponytail.

“Hi, Mama,” I said as we embraced, and I kissed her on the cheek.

“And this is Ellie and Emma,” I said to Zach. “We’ve shared a bedroom since they were born.”

“Tami has told me a lot about you,” Zach said. “You’ll have to be patient with me if I get you confused.”

Seeing Zach through the twins’ saucer-sized blue eyes made me realize what a chance I’d taken.

“It’s okay,” Ellie answered. “For you, I’ll answer to Emma.”

“There’s pie in the kitchen,” Daddy said formally. “After that, the girls need to get to bed. It’s already past their bedtime, and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Mama led the way. I lagged behind. Zach put his hand on my back to guide me. I jumped.

“Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

Zach held up his hands in front of him. Emma turned around at the sound of my voice and gave me a puzzled look.