Mother's Promise (18 page)

On Sunday, Justin and his mom rode their bicycles to the small church in Pinecraft that John and Hester had taken them to the weekend they arrived. Then, everything was so new that Justin had barely noticed other people filling the church's benches. Now as he parked his bike next to about a dozen others and looked around, it seemed to him that everyone waiting to go in for the service had one thing in common. They were old—as in his mom's age or, more likely, as old as his grandparents were. There was not a kid even close to his age in sight. And if there were no kids, then how could there be a school?

“Let's go in,” his mom said, steering him toward the entrance.

He barely heard the sermon. All he knew was that it was hot and his good wool pants made him feel like he was boiling. Once everyone was inside he did notice a few other kids, but they were either older by at least a year or so or much younger. Not that it mattered while he and his mom were living so far out of Pinecraft.

The way he saw it, this whole move-to-Florida adventure had been a big mistake. And now his mom seemed determined to have him be friends with Sally, but Justin was sure that Derek wouldn't like that—wouldn't like him. After the game the day before—a game where Sally had spent her time sitting on the bench and cheering on her teammates—his mom had urged him to go meet the boys on Sally's team.

Reluctantly he had climbed down from the bleachers and stood at the wire fence that marked the dugout. Sally and the rest of the team were laughing and talking all excited about winning the game and they sure didn't notice him, so he stood there a minute then turned away.

He'd rather spend his time with Zeke anyway. Zeke wasn't like other adults. He didn't talk about rules or manners, and he knew how to do just about everything—work with tools, fix a boat motor or the conveyor belt in the packinghouse, play the guitar. And he lived wherever he felt like living, did whatever he felt like doing when he felt like doing it.

“Hey,” he'd heard Sally call out. “Hey Justin.”

His mom had been watching him so, even though he had preferred to keep walking, he turned around. “Hey.” He retraced his steps until he was once again at the fence. The rest of the team was walking away, and Sally had just picked up her glove and started around the end of the fence.

“Did you like the game?” she asked, like he was some foreigner and had never seen a ball game in his life.

Irritated, Justin frowned at her. “I do know how to play,” he grumbled.

“I know. I just …” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay, let's try this one more time. Would you like to be on the team? I was telling the other guys about you. I saw you tossing the ball with those guys at school. You've got a good arm, and we could use another pitcher while I'm … until I can play for real.”

“You had another pitcher today,” Justin pointed out, still looking at the ground as they walked back toward their parents.

“Mickey? Oh, he was filling in. He plays for another team, the team we play next week. So what do you say? Want me to ask coach to give you a tryout?”

Justin thought then about the two days he'd spent at school—the way Derek Piper and his friends had watched him. The way Derek had asked casually on Friday if Justin wanted to go with them to the mall.

“Can't,” Justin had told him.

Derek had smiled. “Oh, I suppose you have to walk your little girlfriend home.” He'd nodded toward where Sally was loading her backpack with books.

“I have to be at the hospital.”

Derek's eyes had widened. “You sick or something?”

“My mom works there, and we're staying with friends so we have to take a bus.”

“Well, maybe next week,” Derek had said, apparently satisfied that Justin had a good excuse.

Recalling that moment with Derek, he'd come up with an equally good excuse for turning down Sally's offer. “I can't try out. I have to work in the garden and help my mom,” he told her.

“Oh, we can work around that,” Sally said with such confidence that Justin got even more annoyed with her.

“Look, I don't want you to work around anything. I don't want to play, okay?” And he'd kept on walking while Sally stopped. He had felt her watching him as he sat down on the first row of the bleachers and waited for his mom to notice. But Mom had been talking to the doctor, laughing and smiling, her voice all high and excited the way it got when she was having fun.

Finally Sally had walked past him, punching her glove with her fist and not even glancing his way. “I'm tired,” he'd heard her say to her parents. “Can we go?”

“Sure, honey.” Her dad had bent down so he was eye level with her. “You okay?”

Justin remembered now how he had looked at Malcolm Shepherd. He'd seen something in the man's face that he hadn't thought about in a long time. Sally's dad had stopped thinking about the other adults around them. He was giving Sally what Justin's dad used to call his
undivided attention.
The sight of it made his heart ache.

So Sunday during church as he heard the minister droning on and on, Justin thought about those times when he and his dad had spent time together—fishing, working, talking. He could talk to his mom of course. But that was different. He missed his dad so much and there was nothing that would ever make that any better.

He thought about the promise his mom had made that life would be better here in Florida. How could she know that? How could she make that happen? Oh sure, it looked like things were better for her—she loved her job and she talked about friends she was making at the hospital and all. But what about him? Hadn't she promised him that
his
life would be better too?

He looked over at the boy whose sister was in jail.
Matthew,
he remembered Hester telling his mom. The guy looked as miserable as Justin felt. Maybe if his mom would agree to move to Pinecraft so he could attend the school there, he and Matthew could be friends. The hospital wasn't that far away, and there was a bus that went between there and Pinecraft. Hester had said so.

In Pinecraft they would be close to shopping and the church and everything and, most importantly, he could go to school right here with kids like him. It wouldn't be the same as living on the farm back in Ohio or having his friend Harlan close by and it certainly wouldn't make missing his dad any easier, but it would be a start.

He would talk to his mom as soon as they got back to the guesthouse. It was the perfect time. It would be the two of them because the Steiners were going straight to the home of the girl that had died in the car accident. Having made up his mind, Justin stood with everyone else for the singing of the final hymn.

But even after he'd told his mom all the reasons why it made sense for them to move to Pinecraft right away, she still didn't agree.

“I know it's hard right now, Justin. But we've barely been here a week. You have to give this a chance to work.”

“I am. I will, but …”

“We took a big risk in deciding to move here,” his mom told him, and the way she spoke he understood that she was struggling to find the right way to explain why his plan wouldn't work. “I have to prove myself in this job before we can be sure that we have enough of an income to support us.”

“But what difference does it make where we live while you do that?”

“This place is free, Justin. If things don't work out we'll at least have some savings from my salary that we can use to live on….”

“And then what?” he asked.

“If I can save most of the earnings I make at the hospital while I'm on probation, then we would be able to rent a little place and maybe I could work as a private nurse like I did before.”

“But we'd stay here—in Florida?”

His mom looked at him, her lips moving but no sound coming out. Finally she sighed heavily and got up to get the pie she'd baked the day before. She set the pie on the table and cut a slice for him. “Justin, you're going to have to trust me that I am doing the best I can—for both of us.”

After that they ate their dessert in silence; then he took his dishes to the sink and rinsed them. “I have homework.”

She looked surprised. “I thought you finished at the hospital on Friday.”

“I want to go over it again.”

He wasn't exactly mad at his mom, just disappointed. It seemed she was making all the decisions now that they were in Florida. Actually, it had begun even before they'd left for Florida. She sure hadn't asked if he was okay with her taking the job or enrolling him in the public school or taking this place. These were all things he wanted to say to her, but he knew better. His dad would not like it if he questioned her.

“Okay?” he asked when she didn't say anything.

“Ja.”

He was already inside the small bedroom when he heard her call out, “Maybe this evening when it cools off we will go back to the park? I saw an ice cream shop near there.”

“Okay.” He heard the water running over the dishes and closed the door.

Outside, he heard Sally squealing as she and her dad played some stupid game in the yard. He stood at his window watching them. In spite of the heat she was wearing long pants and a long-sleeved top and a stupid-looking hat. His mom had explained about Sally needing to protect herself from the sun because of the medicine she had to take.

Justin closed his window to shut out the sound of Mr. Shepherd's deep voice. Then he flopped down onto the single bed and stared up at the ceiling. And not once did he move to wipe away the tears that ran down his face and onto the quilt his grandmother had made especially for him. They couldn't go back to the farm. His mom didn't know it, but he'd overheard Uncle Luke saying they would take him back but not her. He'd felt really good when his mom had told Uncle Luke that there was no way that would ever happen. But he knew what that meant—like it or not they would have to find a way to make this place work out.

Chapter 11

P
aul Cox had explained to Rachel that in order to qualify for her position in the spiritual care department, she would need to become a certified pastoral counselor. “Here in Florida that means you hold either a license as an LPC—licensed professional counselor or LMFT—licensed marriage and family therapist,” he explained.

“Do you have a preference?” Rachel asked.

Paul grinned. “Sure do. The one that gets you certified the quickest.” He shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. “Eileen!”

“You bellowed?” Eileen pushed open his half-closed office door with one hip while she rummaged through a thick folder in her hands. “Is this what you're looking for?”

“The woman is a mind reader.” Paul grinned.

Eileen turned to go.

“And I do not bellow,” Paul added as he perched reading glasses on the end of his nose and scanned the paper Eileen had given him.

“How about howl or roar or perhaps bark then?”

Paul peered at his assistant over the top of the glasses and grinned. “Bellow it is. Thanks, Eileen.”

Rachel could not help smiling. She had come to enjoy the banter that flew back and forth between Paul and Eileen throughout the day.

“Now then,” Paul said as he ran his finger down the page. “In your resume you show that you took some credits in social work. Is that right?”

“Ja. Yes.”

He turned to another paper. “And in the transcript from the university I see that you completed the required hours of fieldwork.”

“Yes, when I was a school nurse.”

“Supervised? The fieldwork?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. “Comparing your transcript and credentials to the checklist of requirements for certification, it would appear that you've already fulfilled several of the requirements. We'll need to submit all of this to the powers that be in Tallahassee. They'll test you and evaluate you for competence to receive certification.”