Fraying at the Edge (16 page)

Was that how he'd come across? “I didn't mean it that way.” He needed to tell her the truth. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm not too good at communicating.”

“Anyone over the age of seven doesn't need to be shown how to pour coffee.”

“I know. I'm just trying.”

“Trying what? To be annoying?”

Abram watched Skylar's smoke disappear into the black night. “Trying to have a conversation with you. Could be about pouring coffee or about the weather. Anything to stop the silence between us.”

She held out her cigarette to Abram.

He shook his head. “I don't smoke. I've never tried it.”

She gestured again for him to take the cigarette. He took it, put it to his lips, and sucked in. It felt as if something had caught in his throat, and he coughed as he handed the cigarette back to her. He gagged and spit on the ground. “That's disgusting.”

She laughed, looking at the cigarette as if she were seeing it for the first time. “You're probably right.” She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. “But I'm hooked.”

He didn't know what to say, so they sat in silence until she finished her cigarette.

“Do you still need help with the café?”

A
riana pulled the pillow and covers off her head, stretched from the fetal position, and put her feet on the floor. Spending most of Sunday morning wallowing in remorse and regret wasn't helping. She had to pull herself together.

She reached toward the nightstand and ran her hand across her tattered Bible. Some witness for God she'd turned out to be. She pulled the Bible into her lap and opened it, feeling the thin, delicate pages before skimming a few passages. It was no coincidence that the Word fell open to Luke, and her eyes immediately connected with the passage “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”

“Sounds great, God,” she muttered. “And I mean no disrespect, but how? I have no idea how to stop judging. Apparently I would fare just as well if You told me to stop longing for home. How?”

A clinking sound pulled her from her reading. Was a bird pecking on the glass? She set the Bible back in place, put on her housecoat, and walked to the french doors that opened onto a balcony. She peered out. There weren't any birds tapping.

She turned and went to her closet and heard the noise again. Something was definitely hitting the glass on the doors. She unlocked the balcony doors and stepped outside.

Something tiny and sharp struck her forehead. “Ouch,” she yelped.

“Sorry.” Cameron's eyes were large with an oh-no look, but she laughed and held up a straw-type thing. A horn tooted, and she looked at the car waiting by the curb and held up one finger before turning back to the balcony. “I guess slinging rocks at you when you're at Brandi's isn't sufficient. I felt it necessary to travel across town to bring my game to Nicholas's.”

A hint of mirth stirred deep inside Ariana, as if it were waking from a long winter of sleep. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Cameron grinned, looking free of embarrassment or resentment over their argument yesterday. It was pretty cool outside, but the girl just had on shorts and a thin, baggy jacket over a T-shirt.

Ariana wasn't sure how to feel about Cameron, but she liked the girl's fearlessness in being herself and not taking life too seriously. Ariana could use a dip in that pool.

Cameron held up the peashooter. “I really am sorry for hitting you just now. I found it funny because if I spent all day trying to smack you with a pebble, I couldn't do it again.” She shoved the peashooter into her pocket. “I only have a minute, so let me say what I need to say.”

“You're going to throw pebbles at me just to talk to me from there?”

“Yes, it's all very Romeo and Juliet of me.”

“And look how well that story ended.”

“True.” Cameron laughed. “I don't need to say much, and I'm not knocking on Nicholas's door for anybody.”

In this moment Cameron reminded Ariana of her younger sisters. She had Susie's pluck and wit, and although Cameron looked and sounded older, she was the same age as Martha. Because of those things, Ariana wasn't letting Cameron go as easily as she'd hoped. “Yes, we need to talk.”

“Not really.” Cameron glanced back at the car. “I was wrong to make fun of you and think it would go over your head. You were right to call me on it. The end.”

That was it? Ariana heard no remorse whatsoever. “Why, Cameron?”

“Why what? Why am I standing here and apologizing for something I did wrong?” She held both hands out, palms up. “Because Dad said it had to be face to face before I could meet my friends at the park for a game of extreme Frisbee. I've done it now, so—”

“Why would you make fun of me in front of your friends? I can tell you exactly why I screamed at you and why I shouldn't have.”

“I don't know.” Cameron scoffed. “Because you were an easy target?”

“So that's what you do to everyone who's an easy target?”

“What? No.” Cameron's carefree and dismissive attitude disappeared. “Okay, okay. If we're going to do this, could you come down from your ivory tower?”

“Give me two minutes, and I'll let you in.”

“Are you hard of hearing as well as technologically impaired? I'm not coming into Nicholas's house.”

It sounded as if a door below Ariana had swooshed open. “Cameron?” Nicholas's voice was matter-of-fact, and the humor of it skittered through Ariana.

Cameron backed up as Nicholas stepped onto the front lawn.

He looked up at Ariana and then at Cameron. “Ladies, is there no cell phone service? Did an apocalypse take place and you're unable to text each other?”

Cameron dug her hands into her shorts pocket. “I needed to talk to her.”

Nicholas gestured toward the front door. “I'm sure the neighbors would like a quieter approach on their Sunday morning.”

“Really?” Cameron asked Ariana. “You can't just accept an apology and let me go?”

It wasn't what Ariana wanted, but she would free her. “Go.” Ariana gestured toward the car.

“Wait.” Cameron studied her for a moment. “I know how this works. You say
go,
but then you'll tell Brandi I did a drive-by smoothing, and Dad will ground me.”

Before Ariana could respond, Cameron pursed her lips and walked to the car waiting at the curb. While she talked to someone in the vehicle, Nicholas studied Ariana, and his face held parental concern. He had dark circles under his eyes, and she wished she could redo yesterday and respond with grace. He turned his focus to the cell in his hand and began tapping on the screen.

Ariana remained in place, watching her dad. She no longer needed to ask herself what was wrong with her. After a fitful night of drunken sleep, it was very clear—she was like those she judged. Regardless of her knowing right from wrong, shortcomings of many kinds easily entangled her. They might not be the shortcomings others had, but, nonetheless, they were a part of her, and they were strong. Her disappointment in others caused her to hurt them, and that wasn't at all Christlike. The perfect One didn't throw stones at sinners or those who'd hurt Him—although she'd like to know how He'd managed that.

Still, no matter what she saw or understood, it wouldn't stop her personal struggles with this mess. It wouldn't end the grief of losing a family that wasn't hers or help her love the family that was hers. But for now she saw her dim reflection in a mirror instead of the sins of others. She understood more today, her grief and offense were milder, and she was more ready to repent than accuse.

The cell phone in her housecoat pocket pinged, and Nicholas looked up again. She knew the message would be from him, and she pulled out her phone and read it.

Tears welled. The words reminded her of what Quill had said about her value to him and his family, and Ariana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Would God want them to undo the affair? She wouldn't be here without it. Did
she
want them to undo the affair? Seems as if she should because of the sin, but the whole situation left her miserably confused. What had happened to her black-and-white world?

She needed to talk to Quill. If anyone could make sense of her thoughts, he could. Even if he viewed her similar to how Nicholas did, Quill had gone out of his way last night to get to her and to protect her from herself. She needed to apologize
and
thank him.

She wiped her eyes, looked up from the text, and smiled at Nicholas. “Thank you.”

His taut body seemed to relax.

Then she texted:

Nicholas read it and nodded, a faltering smile slowly forming on his lips. “Me too, Ari,” he said.

Cameron walked toward the house, waving at the vehicle as it drove off. Nicholas gestured from her to the front door, and while they ambled in that direction, Ariana hurried inside to brush her teeth and hair and change. But she stopped cold when she saw an envelope under the door. She picked it up and opened it. Inside was the bucket list with a note on top.

Let's rethink this bucket list. If you don't want to do anything on it, I accept that. If you're willing to do the ones I've highlighted, I'll be very grateful, so much so I'm willing to reward you with various types of contact with family and friends.