In Between (32 page)

My hand sweeps the theatre. “It’s not good enough. Isn’t there anything we can do? Work more hours? I could stay longer.”

Sam shakes his head. “We may be running behind here, but I happen to know the Big Guy is right on schedule.”

“James?”

“No. God.”

“Whatever! Look around you. All I see is the theatre’s nowhere near finished. Do you have any idea how this is going to break Millie’s heart? She thinks Amy’s coming next week, did you know that?”

“All we can do is our part. Whether the theatre gets done or whether Amy Scott comes back home is out of our control.” Sam’s patient eyes meet mine. “I’ve been praying for God’s help. Have you?”

I swallow a rude comment. “No,” I sigh. “I haven’t prayed about this.” I really don’t think I’m qualified.

“You want to help, girl, then you start praying.” He gives my nose a tweak. “Tonight.”

Dragging my feet, I follow him into the theatre. The conversation turns to school and church as we return to a painting project started last week. I pour some red paint in a tray, and with small brush strokes begin to touch up a damaged mural on the wall. Sam works beside me, filling in a gold Art Deco sun which completes the picture.

I load my brush with more paint. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is this about Maxine?”

“No.”

“Then shoot.”

“Why doesn’t James ever come to the Valiant?”

Sam finishes a sun ray before answering me. “I’ve known James all his life—love him like a son. And that man can preach the Word like nobody else. But somewhere along the way, I think he got so busy ministering to others he didn’t stop and minister to himself. James and Millie are dealing with their hurt in their own ways.”

“Do you think Amy’s coming?”

He draws his brush back and surveys our work. “It’s not for me to say.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

With a weathered hand, Sam points out a spot I missed.

“Sam, the theatre isn’t going to be done on time, is it?”

He sets his brush down and wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Have a little faith, Katie.”

“Just like that? It’s that simple?”

“Kid, it’s all we’ve got.”

I leave Sam and go to the bathroom to wash out my brushes, my mind on overload. Sam makes this faith business sound so easy. My algebra teacher makes math sound easy, but my report card tells a different story. Some things are just beyond me.

When I return to the theatre, Sam is nowhere to be found. I take the opportunity to grab a juice box and a pack of peanut-butter crackers and sit down to watch the
Romeo and Juliet
rehearsals.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end . . .”

“No, Stephanie, quit smiling. This is the serious part, remember? We talked about this last week. You just woke up to find your true love’s body next to you, and he’s dead. Dead, Stephanie, okay?” Bev runs a hand through her short hair and paces back and forth next to the stage. “Imagine you just broke your flat iron. Think how upset you’d be. Got it?”

Stephanie nods, her ponytail bobbing enthusiastically.

“Pick it up from your last line.”

Stephanie thinks for a moment. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end . . . um . . . um . . . Don’t tell me. I know this.”

I quietly finish her line. “O churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them.”

Laughter behind me makes me jump.

“You know you’ve been spending too much time here when you can quote the lines better than the actors.”

I smile. “Hey, Millie.”

Maxine appears behind her. “How’s it going, Sweet Pea?”

“I think we’re making some progress.” I hope my expression is more believable than my voice.

Millie smiles. “Good. I know you are. We’ve made some progress too—on the Harvest Ball. We finally have the menu set and all the decorations purchased.”

“Yup.” Maxine drops into a seat. “This event planning has been hard work.”

Millie looks to the ceiling and blows an exasperated sigh out her lips. “I think I’ll go touch base with Bev.”

Maxine twirls a ring around her finger, looks behind us, and begins to absently hum a little tune.

“He’s here somewhere.”

My foster grandmother faces forward with a jerk. “I have no idea who you are referring to.”

“Yes, you do. Sam—he’s in the building somewhere. But he’s probably avoiding you.”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a haughty pout. “I had hoped we could be adult about this, but I can understand him being too devastated over losing me to stick around.” Maxine’s eyes roam the theatre. “Seeing me would probably bring him further pain, and I do so hate to see a grown man cry.”

“You are an angel of mercy.”

Maxine digs in her purse and stick a piece of gum in her mouth. “I believe it’s Romeo who says, ‘Live and be happy.’”

“Prosperous.”

“What?”

“Romeo says, ‘Live and be prosperous.’”

Maxine studies my face a moment before giving a careless shrug. “Whatever.” She takes a nail file out of her giant gold purse and works on her nails. “No matter. That ship has sailed.”

“So who will take you to the Harvest Ball this weekend?”

“Oh, Katie, my dear. The burden of being Maxine Simmons is that there is only one of me for all of my gentlemen admirers. Maybe one day you’ll understand.”

“You can’t find a date, can you?”

“Not even if I paid cash.”

A plan begins to brew in my head—bits and pieces of ideas swirling around.

“Maxine, maybe you just gotta have some faith.”

“Girl, I got faith.” She pops a blue bubble. “What I need is a date.”

“W
hatcha working on?”

Totally bored, I pop my head into James’s study. He’s been holed inside for hours.

His chair creaks as he swivels to greet me. “Wow, don’t you look nice. Tell me again how you got roped into going to the Harvest Ball?”

I take a seat in a worn leather chair, settling my black skirt over my legs. “I volunteered to help.”

James grimaces. “And I thought you were such a bright girl.”

“Very funny. I think it will be fun. And besides, Millie needs some help.”

“It’s very nice of you to go.”

“Plus, since I’m grounded for life, this gives me a chance to break out of the house.” I look over James’s shoulder and catch a few words on the computer screen. “Working on your sermon?”

He leans back in his chair and sighs. “Yes. It’s not coming together like I thought it would. Sometimes it’s like that. One week the sermon will almost write itself, and other times I’m still struggling with it as I take the pulpit.”

“What’s it about? Maybe I can help you.” I grin. “I did get an
A
on my persuasive essay in English last week.”

“I saw that on the refrigerator. Does your teacher always put giant smiley face stickers on your papers?”

My face warms. “No, but Millie does.”

James laughs. “It was a good essay. Definitely deserving of a spot on the fridge.”

“See, so maybe I could help you out. What’s the topic? If it’s about how God thinks grounding from TV is a sin, you can use some of my material.”

“Ah, no. But what an interesting topic—God’s thoughts on you being deprived of cable.” He’s doesn’t seem too concerned with my plight. “Actually I’m planning on teaching about forgiveness.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Heavy topic.”

“And what are you going to say about it? How about ‘forgiveness: you should do it.’”

“Very catchy. I thought I’d go a little more in depth though. I’ll probably talk about how God’s forgiveness is ours for the asking. That Christ died on the cross for all of our sins so we would be forgiven.”

“Last Wednesday night Pastor Mike said a lot of people ask for forgiveness, but then don’t let it go.” My eyes are glued on James. “You know, like they go through the motions of asking God to forgive them, but then they hang on to their guilt. He said it can really weigh you down.”

James laces his fingers and studies his hands.

“But what do I know? I’m new to this.” I jump out of my chair, my skirt flouncing. My work here is done.

“Just can’t get anything past you kid.”

I stop in the doorway and turn to find James watching me.

“Many will try, James. Few will succeed.” I smile, not sure what to do with this awkward moment I’ve created.

He unclasps his hands and relaxes them on the chair, his head tilting as he studies me. “You know, I wasn’t sure about you.”

My heart stutters. “I hear that a lot.”

“No, I mean . . .” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m botching this up—kind of like my sermon. What I’m trying to say is . . . I wasn’t certain I wanted a foster child in my home—at my age and with my track record as a parent. Millie and I . . . well, Amy isn’t a success story for us. Yet.” His eyes are steady on mine. “I didn’t know if we—if
I
—was qualified to be a parent again.”

“I think you’re doing an okay job. At least your omelets are good.” And I mean it. I think James has come a long way. We both have.

I take a step out the door, then a thought occurs to me. “Hey, James . . . Maybe kids are like parents—we don’t pick them, you know? We just gotta work with what we’ve got.” I think of my mom and how there were good times too. I remember the Christmas I got a puppy. How we’d sing Disney songs in the car. Or watched
Gilmore Girls
reruns together.

“Yeah, God picks them. And you want to know something cool?” His mouth turns up in a smile. “We requested a boy foster child.” He laughs at my face. “Millie and I specifically asked for a boy to be placed in our home. But when the call came, we knew we couldn’t walk away from you. You’ve been one of the best surprises of our lives.”

I clear my throat and stare at the floor, not wanting James to see the tears gathering.

“That, Katie, is God.”

When I reach my bedroom, I shut the door and settle onto my bed. Bowing my head, I close my eyes and try to think of all the prayers I’ve heard since I hit In Between. All the pretty words. All the churchie phrases.

But nothing comes to me. Nothing that sounds right.

I stink at this talking to God stuff.

I jump off the bed and move to my desk. Reaching into a drawer, I drag out the stationery from Mrs. Smartly and lay it out. With pen in hand, I stare at an empty sheet of paper for a full ten minutes.

Dear Most Gracious Heavenly Father,

Lord, I praise you and thank you

Um . . . no.
So
not working. I crumple up the paper and try again.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Lord, I come to thee today and offer thou

Definitely not. Sounds like Shakespeare just invaded my body.

Life would be a lot easier if I could just shoot the Big G-Man an e-mail. God seriously needs some Gmail.

Dear God,

It’s me, Katie.

Look, I don’t have all the fancy words for this, so I’m just gonna spit it out. We really need your help. I know I haven’t been the model child here, but I have really been trying. Somehow, some way, the Valiant needs to be ready for the opening. I know it’s all impossible, but well, you do have that whole God thing going for you.

Millie and James need this. And I guess so do I. These people are important to me.

Please help. You’re my last shot.

Later.

Amen.

“A
re you sure
Sam said he would be here?” I wring my hands and eye Frances.

“Yes, he promised me. You should’ve seen me. I deserve an Oscar for that performance. I told him with both of my grandfathers living so far away, I thought of him like a grandpa.”

“And then you told him you would be here helping out.”

“Right.” Frances’s face glows as she reenacts the story. “I said, ‘Sam, it would mean the world to me if you would come to the Harvest Ball and dance with me.’”

“And what did he say?”