The List (34 page)

He spoke out loud, “You know what I've done. You know what I've said. You know what I've thought. Forgive me. Change me.”

As he stayed on his knees, particular incidents of wrongdoing from his past came to mind. At first he tried to dismiss the thoughts as distractions, but then he realized it was a chance to clean the slate. Each memory surfaced, and he acknowledged his deeds as sin and asked for forgiveness. By the time he stopped, the first rays of sun were coming in the window. He let Brandy out for a romp in the backyard while he shaved and showered. As the warm water rushed over his head, he felt clean, outside and inside.

Jo and Mrs. Stokes were in the kitchen when he knocked on the door.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Stokes said. “Is this the new Renny Jacobson?”

“New and improved,” he answered, smiling.

“Coffee?” Jo asked.

“Thanks. My first cup cooled before I finished it.”

Jo went to the counter and poured him a fresh cup. “I thought you were going to the office?”

“It can wait. I had some other business to take care of this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I went to confessional in my kitchen.”

“What?”

“In reading the Sermon on the Mount, I realized some of the creative ways I've sinned.”

Jo nodded. “That makes sense, but don't say any more. Those times are confidential between you and Jesus, your High Priest.” Setting the cup in front of him, she asked, “What's on for today?”

“Since I've done the serious work already, would you like to play tennis this morning?”

“Sure. Are there courts nearby?”

“It's about a mile. We need to go early so we won't have to wait in line.”

“Do you have an extra racquet?”

“I'll let you use my good one.”

“Don't give me an unfair advantage.”

“Let me fix you a good breakfast, Renny,” Mrs. Stokes said. “You may need extra energy.”

The tennis courts were past their prime. The green paint had faded through in spots, and the concrete was pocked with several small dips where moisture had undermined the surface. Jo had a smooth stroke, but Renny was able to hold his own. The first set was tied at five when Renny broke Jo's service to take a one-game lead. Confident of victory, Renny served for the set, but Jo unleashed a succession of crosscourt backhands that left Renny gasping as the shots eluded him.

“You've been holding out on me,” he panted after failing to run down a shot to the back corner. “You can always tell a real tennis player from a hacker like me by the way they hit those ground strokes.”

Jo wiped the perspiration from her forehead with a towel. “You're not a hacker. Remember, you gave me the best racquet.”

“Where did you learn to play tennis?”

“I played on my high school team. One of the other girls was a nationally ranked junior, and all of us who played with her improved.”

Jo broke Renny's serve and won the tiebreaker five to two. Her last shot was a lob over Renny's head as he charged the net. He watched the shot fall a couple of inches inside the baseline, and he sat down in the middle of the court.

“I thought Christians were supposed to be merciful.”

“I was merciful. I could have run you around for a few more points.”

They stopped at the video store on the way back to the house and rented
Anne of Green Gables
.

“We can watch it this afternoon before I take you to dinner,” Renny said. “It's already too hot to do anything else outside.”

“I can fix you some popcorn. It's one of my specialties. Mrs. Stokes offered me some the other night.”

“I didn't know Mrs. Stokes had any secret sins,” Renny said.

“Oh yes, she even melts real butter and pours it on top.”

Renny turned into the driveway. “Have you decided if you can stay through tomorrow? I'd really like to take you to St. Catherine's.”

Jo hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, even though you hit that last ball over my head.”

Jo laughed. “OK, I'll call the travel agency and my friend who agreed to cover my shift at the hospital.”

Mrs. Stokes would be gone all afternoon visiting a friend who lived near the UNC-Charlotte campus. After cleaning up, Renny went downstairs and mentally replayed a few points of the tennis game in his mind until Jo, her dark hair wet from the shower, came into the kitchen.

“I called the travel agency and changed my flight to 5:35 tomorrow afternoon,” she said.

“Did you talk to your friend about taking your shift at the hospital?”

“Yes, she was glad to do it. She's bought a new car and needs extra money.”

“Great.”

“And, most important, I found some popcorn in the pantry.”

Popcorn in hand, Jo followed Renny upstairs to his apartment. Brandy greeted them at the door.

“She's not used to a lot of company up here. She likes you, but she didn't tolerate my friend Morris until he started bringing her a bone every time he came over to watch a ball game.”

Renny gave her a tour of his dwelling. She stopped in front of a collection of pictures from Renny's childhood.

Pointing to a shot of Renny as a small boy sitting beside a sandcastle complete with a tower almost as tall as he was, she asked, “Was this taken at Pawley's Island?”

“No, that was on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We often vacationed on Okracoke, a barrier island with miles of deserted beaches. My parents liked it, but I wanted to go to Myrtle Beach because it was more fun for kids.”

“Did you build the sandcastle all by yourself?”

“I imagine I did. There wasn't much else to do, and my father was not the castle-building type.”

“What about this picture, the one with the golf club?” Jo asked. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen. I look like David Duval with the sunglasses, don't I?”

“Uh, maybe a shorter version.”

Renny ignored the dig. “That was at my father's country club in Charleston, the same course where he had his heart attack. We played a round of golf, and I shot a hole in one on a par three. My moment of glory. I still carry the ball in my golf bag for good luck.”

In the lower left-hand corner of the frame a gap-toothed Renny with short hair and a plaid shirt buttoned up all the way to his chin looked out with childlike innocence. “And this one? It looks like a school picture.”

“That's my absolute worst ever picture. First grade.”

“I think it's adorable,” Jo replied.

“I didn't have an older brother to help me along the way, so it took me a while to learn how to dress for elementary school success. Come on, we'll watch the movie in the living room.”

Jo loved the film. From the opening scene in which Matthew Cuthbert picked up Anne from the train station and drove her in a horse-drawn buggy to Green Gables through the flower-bedecked avenue, until the
Titanic
-like incident when Anne floated down the river lying in the bottom of a leaky rowboat while quoting Tennyson, Jo was riveted to the screen.

Renny paused the picture. “Popcorn time.”

Jo hopped up and went to the kitchen. “Do you have a popcorn popper?”

Renny opened a cabinet door under the cooktop and handed her a stainless steel pan with a lid. “I have some oil in the cupboard next to the sink.” In a couple of minutes the kernels were playing a staccato beat around the inside of the pot.

“I memorized
The Highway Man
,” Jo said, referring to a poem recited by Anne in the film. “I would have thought it was impossible, but once I got started, the story carried me along.”

“I memorized twelve lines of Rudyard Kipling's
Gunga Din
in the fifth grade,” Renny said.

“You're a better man that I am, Gunga Din,” Jo responded.

“That line was repeated enough to let me catch my breath. If I ever own an elephant, I'll name him Gunga.”

Jo laughed. “Good planning. It would be embarrassing to buy an elephant at the pet store and not have a name selected to put on the collar.”

Jo melted the butter in a small pan and poured it over the steaming white kernels. Taking a whiff, she said, “That's the way God intended popcorn, the perfect snack.”

With the popcorn bowl between them on an end table between the sofa and chair, they resumed their seats.

“Do I remind you of Gilbert Blythe, Anne's suitor?” Renny asked before restarting the tape.

“You mean when he teased her about her red hair and she broke a slate tablet over his head?”

Turning sideways, Renny said, “No, my profile.”

“Not as a boy. Maybe as a man,” she answered.

“Hmm, is that good?”

“Yes, it's good.”

Jo cried quietly when Matthew Cuthbert suffered a heart attack in a field and died in Anne's arms.

“That was different than the book,” she said as her sniffles subsided and the film credits scrolled across the screen. “In the book, Matthew died on the steps of the house when he learned they'd lost their life savings in a bank failure.”

“What did you think about Matthew's dying words when Anne apologized for not being a boy who could help on the farm?” Renny asked. “You know, the way he said, ‘You're all I ever wanted, Anne.'”

“Quit it, Renny, you're trying to make me cry again.”

“OK, OK. I thought it was a good scene.”

The popcorn bowl was empty except for a few unpopped kernels rolling around in the bottom.

“Good popcorn,” Renny said, “but don't eat anything else. I am going to take you to a nice restaurant tonight and don't want you to ruin your appetite.”

“I need to go downstairs and get ready,” Jo said.

“Our reservations are for seven-thirty.”

“I'll see you later, then. I enjoyed the movie.”

“Me, too.”