Prince Tennyson (10 page)

She felt him? How?

“I had the warmest feeling come over me. It tingled from the top of my head all the way down to my toes, and I felt so comforted and safe, more than I have ever felt since your dad died. I knew in that moment that God was real, that He loved me, and He wanted me to be happy.”

God wanted Mom to be happy.

I thought about that. I thought about it while she hugged me again and then while we ate breakfast and all the time while Grandma asked her lots of questions. It was still on my mind as we raced to school. As a matter of fact, I couldn't think of anything else.

God wanted Mom happy.

If there was a God, then I could see that He'd want that. And I wanted God to want my Mom to be happy. And she was—anyone could see that. She was so happy it was like a miracle.

It
was
a miracle.

All those months my mom had hardly ever smiled, and now she was like a beauty queen or something.

It wasn't fair. I wanted her to be happy, but it wasn't fair.

I wanted to be happy too, but how could I be?

I was more confused now than ever. Most of me thought that Mom didn't know what she was saying. But then there was this small part of me—a tiny part, really—that asked, What if I was wrong? What if my mom was right?

I kicked a rock out of my way and sat down behind the tree at the playground during lunch recess. It was my thinking spot now. Sarah and Jasmine just laughed at me and told me I was weird, but I didn't care. They would play with me tomorrow when I was in a better mood. They were getting used to me.

I couldn't help it. My grandma would've called me moody if she could see me right then—but I really couldn't help it. My heart felt so different. Like it was cold now, and gone.

Never mind.

I was glad my mom was happy. I was glad her heart was warm and her eyes had sparks in them. I was glad, really.

Chapter Eighteen

“HEY, YOU.”

I didn't look up when I heard Tyler's voice.

“Hi.” My hands played with the grass. I didn't pick it and throw it, though. We learned in science about how alive grass was. I didn't want it to die anymore, so I didn't pick it.

“Can I sit down?” Tyler asked.

“Sure.” I shrugged, but he was already starting to sit.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” He began to pile a bunch of small rocks together. He liked to throw rocks now that we didn't pick grass anymore.

My fingers trailed over the soft grass and I let it tickle my palm. Tyler always came over and talked to me when I sat here. I didn't sit here a lot, but some of the other kids were starting to say that he was my boyfriend.

Some people could be so dumb.

Tyler didn't freak out about it, though, and I was glad. I wouldn't want him not to sit by me just because other people were being dumb. He was a boy. He was my friend. But he wasn't my boyfriend.

I sighed. “Mom found out God was real today.”

“Really?” Tyler tossed the smallest rock first.

“Yeah, she said she could feel Him and she got all tingly and warm and everything.”

“That's what happened to me,” he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

“I know.” My fingers stopped trailing over the grass. “What do you think about that? What if God is real?”

Tyler threw two more rocks and shrugged. “Then He's real and we were wrong.”

“But . . . ” I turned a bit and looked at him. “We aren't wrong, right?”

He picked up the whole pile of rocks about three inches and let them fall back to the ground one by one next to his side. “Chelsea, I don't know. It sure felt like God was in my room when I was crying, but I don't know. What I do know is that I felt happier because of it, and it made me feel like getting up and not hiding anymore.”

“Oh.” I didn't know what else to say.

“Your dad was a soldier, right? And he was strong and brave and everything, right?”

My fingers left the grass and climbed my jeans to wrap themselves together around my knees. “Yeah, he was really brave.”

“And he got to do cool brave military things too, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But what does—”

Tyler looked right at me. “Because someone once told me that you had to be really brave to believe in God.”

“Brave?” My brows lowered. I didn't get it. “How?”

“It's really easy to believe God isn't real, since you can't see Him anyway. But the people who believed in God—even though they couldn't see him—were brave, really, really brave. They were much more brave than anyone else because they let their hearts talk to them when everyone else told them to listen to their heads.”

I thought about that. “My dad was really brave.”

“Do you think he believed in God?”

I played with the grass again. I didn't want to answer that question. Instead I asked, “Who told you that? About being brave if you believed in God?”

Tyler took a deep breath and threw a bunch of rocks at once. “My uncle Travis. He's a brave soldier too.”

***

Later that day while Mom and I were on her bed getting ready to read scriptures, I asked, “Do you think Dad believed in God?” It was something I'd never asked before, so my mom was pretty surprised.

“Uh, yes, he did. Didn't you know that, Chelsea?”

Why didn't anyone ever tell me that before? “No.”

“Oh. I thought you knew, and that's why you wanted to find out about God in the first place.”

“No. I wanted to find out for me, and you, and I wanted to know if I'd see Dad again—I didn't know Dad believed in Him.”

Mom put the Bible down, pulled me to her, and wrapped her arms around me. We sat like that for a while until Hannah came in the room and jumped on the bed. Then Mom opened her arms wider and Hannah crawled in them too.

We all giggled.

Hannah was good at giggles. She was especially good at making our mom giggle.

That was a good thing.

Grandma must've heard the commotion because she came in the room with Cameron wrapped up in a damp towel. We all laughed when Cameron wiggled out of Grandma Haney's arms and the towel, and ran around bare until she could catch him again. My baby brother sure loved to be naked.

He's a silly boy.

I think he likes being silly, because when my grandma caught him again and wrapped him back in his towel and plopped him on us, he just snuggled lower into our arms and laughed and laughed.

Grandma must've thought we were having a party. She plopped down on the bed too. Then she did the craziest thing ever. She started to tickle all of us—even Mom! It was so crazy. And we were squealing and screaming and laughing so loud. I never knew Grandma was such a good tickler.

I hadn't been tickled since before Dad left. He used to tickle me and Hannah a lot. But now it was Grandma's turn.

It was fun.

Really fun.

Even Hannah thought so.

While we were walking back to our bedroom to get our jammies on, she said, “I hope Grandma Haney tickles us again. That was super fun, huh, Chelsea?”

I chuckled and nodded my head as I remembered the way Mom had looked when Grandma tickled her. That was the funniest part. I didn't know moms could be tickled too.

After we got our jammies on, Mom came and tucked us into bed. She went to Hannah's bed first and I was surprised to hear her ask, “Would you like to try to say a prayer tonight?”

I couldn't understand what Hannah said, but it must've been yes, because the next thing I knew, my mom and my sister were both kneeling down.

Hannah's voice was loud and strong as she copied what Mom said. It was a cute prayer about how she was thankful for her friends, and family, and school, and lots of little things like that. Then Mom had her say something like, “Please keep Daddy happy and tell him we love him and miss him.”

I didn't listen to the rest. I turned over in my bed and pulled the covers up. When Mom came over and asked if I wanted to say a prayer too, I pretended like I was asleep. I don't think she was fooled, but she didn't tell me I had to pray. Instead, Mom kissed my head and said, “I love you.” Then she turned off the light and walked out of the bedroom.

Long after I could hear Hannah's deep breathing, my eyes finally closed and let me go to sleep too.

Chapter Nineteen

HANNAH PRAYED EVERY NIGHT for a whole week. My mom would come in and kneel by her bed and help her. Every night. Then she would come over and ask me if I wanted to say a prayer too, and I always pretended to be asleep, so she would kiss me instead.

I didn't want to say a prayer. I didn't know why, exactly. I just didn't want to even try it.

I wished I had.

Oh boy, I wished I had learned to say a prayer. Especially after school two weeks before it was supposed to be my dad's special day. Two weeks before I had planned to have the worst Wednesday of my life, my plans failed.

All of them.

Because that Wednesday—a week after Hannah learned how to pray, and two weeks before my dad's special day—
was
the worst day.

I can't decide which day was worse, actually. The day I found out my dad wasn't coming home, or the day I lost everything.

I hate Wednesdays.

I don't think anyone really knows how much that day scares me. I don't think I can handle Wednesdays anymore. I don't. They're too scary.

Maybe I should talk to the President about it? Then maybe he could change Wednesday to a different day—you know, just call it something different. Trick Wednesday into thinking it was something else like Goodday or Happyday or Funday.

Grandma was in the shower getting ready to go to her Bunko game that night with her friends. My mom was at the store doing some shopping for dinner, and I was watching Hannah and Cameron.

I guess I wasn't watching them very well, because my favorite show was on TV and I was watching that instead.

Thank goodness for Hannah. Thank goodness she was so smart and ran to warn me, or even worse things could've happened. Much, much worse.

“Chelsea, Chelsea! There's a fire, Chelsea! A fire! Hurry!” Hannah dragged Cameron all the way from the living room into the family room while she shouted.

I couldn't move, or believe her right away. I kept thinking it was a joke. “What? What are you talking about?”

Hannah was freaking out. She could hardly talk. All she kept doing was shouting. “Fire, Chelsea! Fire! Hurry! Fire!”

My heart started to speed up really fast and I got nervous I got out of the chair and followed Hannah into the living room There where her candle used to be was a huge fire. Oh no! The kids must have played with the candle. All of the curtains were on fire, and it was crawling its way up to the ceiling too! I panicked. I had never, ever seen anything so scary before. It was like watching a movie or something the way the fire kept growing and building so fast.

It was hot! The whole room was scorching hot!

And then I snapped. Something in my brain said, “Run!”

I shoved Hannah and Cameron out of the room and grabbed the phone on my way out. I took them to the back door, since the front door was too close to the fire and everything was so hot.

Smoke was coming fast.

Very fast.

What do I do? What do I do? Cameron was crying when I pushed them out the back door, but Hannah didn't say anything. She just looked really scared. “Here. Take the phone and Cameron.” I thrust them at her. “Call 911. Go around to the front to the neighbor's house and get help. Go now! Run!”

She ran three steps with Cameron, but then came back to me just as I was shutting the door on her. “Chelsea! What are you doing? You can't stay in there!”

“I have to get Grandma. Hurry—get Cameron away. Go!”

Hannah ran. She was so scared.

I
was so scared.

I whirled around, and already the fire was coming into the hallway.

“GRANDMA! GRANDMA!” I dashed up the stairs as quick as I could. The smoke had started to climb up there. I tried to remember what to do. Stop. Drop. Roll. But it didn't make sense, so I didn't do it. Instead, I banged on the bathroom door.

Already the house felt warm and the smoke was coming.

“Grandma! Grandma! GET OUT!” I yelled as loud as I could. “FIRE! There's a FIRE, Grandma! You have to get out NOW! Hurry!”

I couldn't hear anything at first because I was yelling too much and my heart was pounding too fast and my hand was pounding too hard.

But then I heard Grandma freaking out and yelling inside. “Okay! Okay! Honey! I'm out. What's happened? How bad is it? Did you call 911?”