Summer Sanctuary (13 page)

Dinah looked up at me. “Sorry I couldn't get here yesterday,” I said.

“That's okay. I figured you'd be stuck at home with the rain and all.”

The maple leaves still had drops of rainwater on them. Every now and then there'd be just enough breeze to rustle the leaves. Droplets fell on my face. I
took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and clean. This would still be a great place to hang out, even without Dinah. Not with Kyle or anybody else, though. For me alone.

“Here's the last library book,” Dinah said, handing me the harmonica book. We both held the book together for a second before she slowly looked up into my eyes. Her fingers let go of the book. Her eyes said thank you without any words at all.

As I tucked the book into my backpack, Dinah said, “It's too wet to eat here today. Let's meet at the picnic tables back by the park. Around noon, okay?”

I nodded. We would meet at noon today. At noon tomorrow she would meet her mom at Jerry's. I opened my mouth to say something like, “Sure, let's meet at noon,” but nothing came out. Dinah shifted her backpack from her shoulder to the middle of her back. “See ya then,” she said. I watched until she disappeared into the woods. Then I closed my mouth.

I'd been thinking about all the books I was using in the library. Now that I had my formula, calculations, and proof, all I needed to do was go back through the books and pull out the supporting principles and explanations so that I really understood the proofs. I had
to be able to explain it all to Mom and Dad and answer all of their questions, too. Dad would probably be more excited about the faith moving mountains part than he would about the time dilation stuff.

Before I settled in with the books, though, I wanted to check e-mail and see if the NASA astrophysicist would confirm what Jeeves gave me. I logged into Yahoo. There was nothing from the astrophysicist, but I had two new e-mails from Dinah. One was from yesterday, the other from Tuesday. I decided it would be better to read them chronologically and clicked on Tuesday's e-mail.

PK,

Thanks for the e-mail. I'll send you my poems as long as you keep writing back. I wrote this one last night.

Sometimes the rest of the world is asleep,

And I find that I'm all by myself.

I realize I'm not what I seem to be,

But neither is anyone else.

BHD

I pulled out my notebook and copied down the poem on the back page. Then I clicked on Wednesday's e-mail.

PK,

I guess the rain kept you in today. I missed you. I guess I'm really going to miss you next week. Here's another poem.

Being Invisible

Cold and Hungry

But not Freezing or Starving

Tired and Lonely

But not Exhausted or Depressed

Invisible, I am Invincible

But if you see me,

I may disappear forever.

I wrote that when I was still sleeping in the playhouse at the park. Hope it's sunny tomorrow so I can see you.

BHD

I copied that one down, too. Then clicked on reply.

BHD,

Thanks for the poems. Before I met you I thought this summer was going to totally suck. Instead it's been the best ever. I'm glad you're my friend. PK

I didn't even want to think about how much I was going to miss Dinah. Definitely more than I'd missed Kyle.

W
HEN I GOT
to the park, Dinah had a huge picnic spread out for us on one of the tables.

“Wow!” I said pulling out the lunch I'd packed. “Where'd you get all this food?” There were black olives, cans of tuna, boxes of crackers, a can of Cheez Whiz, Pop Tarts, and a can of mandarin oranges.

“Today we get to clean out my food stash,” laughed Dinah. “Look.” She handed me two little glass jars filled with little red pieces of something. “I've been saving these for you. I couldn't believe it when I found them last week!”

“So what are they?” I asked.

“They're pimentos!” Dinah said. “Didn't you know they sell jars of pimentos without olives?”

I shook my head. “I've only seen them in olives.” I popped open one of the jars, dug out a pimento, and popped it in my mouth. “Thanks,” I said. It was pretty
good, but it didn't taste the same apart from the olives. I offered some to Dinah and ate the rest of the jar. “Can I save the other jar for later?” I asked.

“Sure,” said Dinah.

“Here,” I said handing her my sack lunch. “You can have this for dinner, since we're cleaning out your stash.”

“Thanks,” said Dinah. “Want some soy milk?”

“Soy milk?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

“Here, try some,” said Dinah, pouring a little into a plastic cup for me. It looked like milk, only a little brownish. “It's even better cold.” Dinah poured a cup for herself, too, and chugged it. “I found ten boxes of the stuff during my garage sale fest.” She poured herself another glass. “It doesn't have to be refrigerated either. At least not until after it's opened. I've been drinking half a box warm at night before I go to sleep. Then I put the other half in the church fridge, and drink it the next morning.” She chugged the second glass.

I held the plastic cup to my nose. It smelled more like dried leaves than milk. I took a sip and shrugged. It wasn't cold. It wasn't creamy. It definitely wasn't milk. “It's okay, I guess.”

“That's what I thought on the first box,” Dinah nodded. “Now that I'm on the last box, I'm hooked. I think I'm going to have cravings!” She picked up the box and started reading the nutritional facts from the side panel. “It's got lots of protein and calcium, and look at this.” She held the box for me to see. “One cup of this stuff has half of the Vitamin B
₁₂
you need for a whole day.”

“Let me see that,” I said, taking the box. “Each box has six servings. You say you've had ten of these boxes?” Dinah nodded. “Well that's enough B
₁₂
to last you for the next month!” I calculated.

Dinah took the box back. “Well, it doesn't have any warnings, so it can't hurt me. Maybe I'm just making up for the last month!”

Next Dinah opened the tuna, put a little on a cracker, and squirted the Cheez Whiz on top. “Here you go,” she said handing it to me.

I popped the whole thing in my mouth and chewed. “Not bad,” I said as soon as my mouth was moist enough to talk again. I dug my sports bottle out of my backpack and took a big drink. As long as there was water, Dinah could have the soy milk.

We worked our way through Dinah's feast until I was as stuffed as a trash bag at Christmas. The sun was out now, and the grass wasn't quite so wet. Only the sidewalk was dry, though. I stretched out on my back on the warm cement, hands behind my head. I closed my eyes and wished that this moment would never end.

After a few minutes, I heard Dinah gathering up the trash. I got up to help her.

“I checked on MapQuest,” Dinah said. “It's almost nine miles from the church to Jerry's house. I'll be out of the church by 7:00 tomorrow morning.” She paused long enough that I thought she was waiting for me to say something. I didn't know what to say. If I said anything, it would probably be something stupid. Like, wouldn't you rather stay here hiding in our church than go back with your mom? Duh. If I tried to tell her how much I was going to miss her, I'd cry for sure. Just the thought pushed the tears out of my head and into my eyes. So I stood there with my hands in my pockets, staring at the ground.

“I'll make sure that I lock the door when I go,” she said finally. I nodded. How could I be sad for me and happy for her at the same time? Dinah sat down at the picnic table and pulled out her harmonica. I recognized
the song she was playing. It was the one everyone sings on New Year's Eve—the one they sing at the end of
It's A Wonderful Life
. Zuzu's little voice echoed in my head, “Teacher says that every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”
Auld Lang Syne
. That's the name of it, whatever that means. I'd have to look that up.

Dinah played one song after another. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and sat down beside her. I just listened. I knew as soon as I moved a muscle she'd be gone for good. Eventually she quit playing anyway. I watched her put her harmonica back into her backpack. She came over to where I was sitting and reached out. She put her hands on my wrists and pulled them out of my pockets. She held both of my hands in hers. “Matthew,” she said. “It's after 2:00. What do you want to do?”

I shrugged my shoulders and felt tears flooding my eyes and running down my cheeks.
I want you to tell me when I'm going to see you again. I don't want to say goodbye until I know for sure when I'll see you again.
She gave me a hug, and that was it. I was totally bawling like a baby. I kept my mouth shut, though. A bawling baby was still better than a blubbering idiot. Dinah led me back over to the picnic table and sat me down. She took my face in her
hands and said, “Let's throw this trash away and walk back to our tree. We can sit up in the tree until 3:00, then we'll have to go, okay?”

I nodded. She led me through the motions. Only I didn't climb the tree. I laid down in the shade and just watched her up in the tree. She was wearing those jean shorts, dirty-white jogging shoes, and an oversized black t-shirt exactly like the day I met her.
Hard to believe that's the same person I thought was so creepy the first time I saw her.
Now that Dinah was my friend, it was hard to imagine how I could have thought such weird stuff about her.

The ground beneath me was still damp, but I didn't care. I studied the grass around me. I'd never noticed how many tree roots there were. Like a secret maze that peeked through here and there. Or maybe little wooden iceberg tips hinting at what lay below. Were they all part of the same root or different roots crisscrossing underground? One thing for sure—they were all part of this same tree.

I tried to hold perfectly still, but it didn't slow down time. Before I knew it, it was 3:00. Time for me to get on my bike and ride home. Dinah led me to my bike. We walked in silence. She crossed her fingers and held
them up. “I'll see you again soon,” she said. I nodded. I crossed my fingers and held them up, too.

“Promise you'll write?” Dinah asked.

I nodded again. She gave me a quick hug and disappeared behind the library. What could I do? I got on my bike and rode home.

I
DIDN'T GO
to the library at all on Friday. I went to the church and played piano for hours. I'd played just about every hymn I knew out of the hymnal when Dad came in and sat down on the front pew.

“You're becoming a fine pianist, Matthew,” he said. “I'm proud of how hard you've studied and practiced this summer.” The only time Dad ever used the word proud was when he talked about one of us kids. He'd tell Mark he was proud of him after a game. He'd tell Luke that he was proud of him when he put a puzzle together real fast. I couldn't remember the last time Dad told me he was proud of me, though.

I'd played out all of my emotions. All I felt was numb. It was a good thing, too. If he'd said that an hour ago, I'd have probably burst into tears. Try explaining that to your dad.

“Come here and have a seat,” Dad motioned to the pew beside him. I closed up the hymnal, put it back in the piano bench, and went to sit by my dad. “How's your project coming along?” I took a deep breath and felt some of the excitement from all I'd learned rushing back into me.

“Good,” I said. “I think you and Mom are going to be surprised when I present it to you next month.”

“I'm looking forward to that,” Dad smiled. “Do you have any questions or need any help to get it ready?”

I shook my head. “I don't think so. But if I do, I'll let you know.”

Dad nodded.

“Has Mark asked you for help yet to calculate all of his averages and statistics?”

I shook my head again. “Nah, the season isn't over until the first week of August. He'll just be gathering his data until then. It may take him at least a week after that to realize he's going to have to do the math.”

Dad laughed. “You're probably right.” He stretched his arms out across the back of the pew, one behind me and one reaching all the way to the other end of the pew. “I love this sanctuary,” he said. “God talks to me here. I hope he talks through me here, too.”

I nodded. I decided to practice what I'd learned with Dinah and just be quiet when I didn't know what to say. It still felt a little awkward, but not near as bad as saying something stupid.

“You know in medieval times, sanctuary was more than just the holy place in the house of God where people gathered to worship.”

“Really?” I asked. I shifted in my seat. My palms were getting sticky.

“That's right,” Dad continued. “People who were in trouble with the law would seek sanctuary inside the church. As long as they were in the church, the king and his armies couldn't touch them.”

I suddenly panicked.
Dad knows about Dinah! He knows that she stayed here in the church hiding from the child welfare. But she's gone now. She's back with her mom. There's nothing they can do now, is there?

Dad kept right on talking. “In modern times, it's not the building that gives sanctuary, but the living Body of Christ. It's the members of the church together that have to join together and provide refuge to the least of those among us as well as to those members of greater means.”

He's just working on another sermon!
I let out a huge sigh of relief. Dad stopped. “I'm sorry, son,” he said. “I didn't mean to preach to you. I guess preaching is a hard habit to break when I'm in this sanctuary.”