Still Life in Shadows (37 page)

Pretty soon, Fresno was on his own. He didn’t have the typical hesitations that most of the escapees had upon seeing an application for the first time.

Mari watched him for a moment, smiling as his brow furrowed and tongue stuck slightly out as he concentrated. “I’ll put in a good word for you,” she said. “The manager at Piggly Wiggly comes in here every Tuesday at one for lunch.”

Fresno thanked her, his eyes still intent on the application. “What’s my address?” he asked.

Gideon told him, and Fresno filled in the appropriate lines.

Mari refilled Gideon’s cup with hot tea, and he liked the way she was attentive to him today. He thought back to what a support she’d been for him ever since Moriah’s death. The first time he’d entered this tearoom under her management, he’d been captivated by her poise and beauty. But over the last month, she had become so much more to him than someone to enjoy looking at. Ever since the trip to and from Pennsylvania, he felt stronger and more capable to do and say what he wanted to.

As she added more half and half to the pitcher on the counter, he
decided to go for it. He’d been practicing in front of the mirror all morning. Perhaps now was as good a time as any. “Mari.” He produced a tight smile and tried to make it more relaxed.

“Yes?”

What if she said no again? Gideon wished his doubts could be dismissed. “I see you took down the Christmas decorations.”

“Well, it is February.”

“Is it really?” He feigned surprise. “Mari?”
I better hurry and ask or else she’ll think I’m a lunatic.
“I’d like to go to church with you and Kiki on Sunday.” He was grateful that his voice didn’t crack, even though his insides were feeling like twisted knots of bark.

“Church on Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

Gideon lowered his cup. What was she getting at now?

“We spend days together driving up north, and all you can come up with is that you’ll go to church with me?”

“I thought you wanted me to go to church.”

She smiled. “I do, of course I do. I thought that was a given now that you know how I feel about my Savior…. But I was also hoping …”

He searched her eyes. They were like warm rays of sunshine.
She’d been hoping?
Was that what the extra glimmer was within those irises? “What were you hoping?”

She offered a slight smile. “Remember when you asked me out?”

How could I forget?
He nodded, feeling even more nervous than he had that day—that day when he’d planned out his words and moves, only to have her say no, thank you. He’d never forget that blow to his ego.

“Well, I want to know something. Was that my only chance at a date with you, or do I get another?”

He smiled, reached over, took her hand.

Amos whistled.

Fresno stopped writing and said, “I drove all the way from Carlisle
with these two. I could feel something brewing between them when they shared a milkshake at Burger King.”

Gideon knew he’d better do this right. After all, he had an avid audience. One of Mari’s silver rings that held an emerald jewel twisted, so he straightened it, noting as usual how dirty his own fingernails were. He could never deny what he did for a living, his hands told all. Just as he was about to say something about her many rings on her fingers, Fresno asked for another pen; the one Gideon let him borrow was out of ink.

Della handed the boy a pen from her apron pocket and said, “Sugar, today is your lucky day. And it looks like it’s a pretty good day for our couple here, too.” She winked at Gideon and Mari as Fresno took the pen and thanked her.

Gideon felt his heart beat like a woodpecker’s beak against the bark of a pine tree. “I’d like to ask you again,” he said, but the minute the words left his mouth, he remembered how Mari had once used Kiki as an excuse as to why she could not date him. “But who’s going to take care of Kiki?”

“I’ll send her over to Angie’s grandma’s. Kiki told me that Luva is a good cook, and she needs something besides my usual grub.”

“You will?” He liked the way that she had given this so much thought.

“Yes.” Demurely, she looked at him. “So are you going to ask?”

Clearing his throat, he felt his heart like the wings of a hawk soaring deep into the sky. “Mari, would you like to go out with me?” He hoped he’d asked the right way.

By the look of her face, he figured he had mastered this. She was smiling like she often did—dimples shining like two jewels from her cheeks. But today, this day, he saw more than just a friendly smile revealed in her brown eyes. He saw a future beckoning him to embrace it, to take the risks, to show his heart, to forgive and be forgiven, and to live.

K
iki paced around her desk until Mr. Lincoln ordered her to sit down.
What was the matter with him? He’s getting too teacher-like this morning. Wasn’t he ever a kid? Doesn’t he remember what it’s like to be nervous before making a speech?

Although Mari had told her that she did a good job when she practiced at home last night, Kiki was fearful she’d forget one of the lines. With a green ink pen, she’d written them out on a pack of index cards. She’d printed as neatly as she could, and the tediousness of it made her hand cramp. Her sister asked why she’d used green ink, and Kiki replied that she could see better when things were written in her favorite color.

“Take it slowly,” Mari warned her after Kiki read from the cards. “Breathe. But don’t hold your breath. Stand up straight when you talk.” When Kiki started over again, Mari instructed, “Look out at the audience. Out, not at your hands.”

Out into the audience. This morning, Kiki swallowed and then looked up and out into the classroom. The other students were talking and laughing. They didn’t seem nervous at all, and that wasn’t fair. Why
should she be the only one feeling like her heart was going to beat right out of her skin? Soon the adults, the guests they’d invited, would be here at school, right here at her middle school. And then, one by one, each student would be called up front to present their guest to the class. Kiki ran her fingers over the edges of her note cards. When Angie asked if she was nervous, her fingers clutched her second note card so tightly that it folded in half. “Yeah,” she blurted so loudly that Mr. Lincoln told her to keep it down. Tapping her shoes against the metal foot of her desk, she straightened the card.

Mr. Lincoln walked behind her, his leather shoes squeaking until he stopped abruptly, a hand on her shoulder. “Kiki, would you like to go first? Would it be easier for you to get it over right away, or do you want to wait?”

Kiki thought for a moment. She supposed that her teacher was trying to be kind, but she’d rather not have the choice. “Just put me in the middle,” she said. “I don’t want to know beforehand when I’m up. Just put me in the middle.”

Minutes later, Mr. Lincoln announced that it was time to go into the auditorium for the program. In a single file, the group of twenty-two eighth graders in Mr. Lincoln’s health and well-being class walked down the hallway, past rows of lockers, past the media center, and in through the auditorium’s double doors.

Inside the auditorium, dozens of adults were gathered, all seated in those stiff wooden chairs school auditoriums were famous for. Kiki spotted the back of Gideon’s head. She knew it belonged to him because of the ball cap. Relief filled her; he was here. He had showed up. Mari was seated next to him. She seemed awfully close and as Kiki observed further, she saw that the two of them were holding hands! Kiki was tempted to whoop and holler like Ormond might, but she knew that there was a time and place for everything, and this was neither the time nor the place to cry out like an animal.

As the students filled in the first rows of the room, Mr. Lincoln made his way to the microphone on the stage. He welcomed the guests.
“Role models are vital for all of us,” he said. “I recall the ones I had growing up. We might have a tendency to look up to celebrities or athletes, but a role model is a person we can come in contact with in our everyday lives. Today each of you is here at the request of one of my students. You have been invited because you are someone’s role model.”

Kiki thought back to when Mr. Lincoln first told the class about this event. She asked lots of questions to make sure she understood just what a role model is. She realized it had nothing to do with a good-looking man or woman on the cover of
Allure
or
Vogue
magazine. Apparently, a role model was a regular person that might have gray hair or a big nose and be fat or thin. This person was someone you knew and considered your hero. Kiki needed no further explanation after that. When Mr. Lincoln said the word
hero
, Kiki understood. She wrote down the name of her role model on her assignment sheet and smiled.

Kiki realized she’d been daydreaming. Quickly, she sat straight and directed her attention to her teacher. He was calling her name! Pressing her fingers into her index cards, she rose from her chair. This was it. This was her moment. If only Yoneko was allowed to be with her. Yoneko had such a calming effect on her, even though Dr. Conner reminded her that she was going on fourteen and needed to leave her puppet-cat at home more often.

From somewhere near her, she heard Angie say with enthusiasm, “Go, Kiki.”

With feet that felt like boxes of Pennzoil, Kiki climbed the short set of steps onto the stage. She walked to the center of the platform just as her other classmates had done. The mic was her target. Once in front of it, she looked out at the audience. There were so many strangers. Their faces were all intently focused on her, just as Mari said they would be. She stepped closer to the microphone because Mr. Lincoln was gesturing to her to do so. Moistening her lips, she began. “Mr. Gideon Miller,” she said and motioned for him to stand.

He smiled, stood, nodded at the others.

Now it was her turn. Other kids had shared who their heroes were
and why. She must present Gideon to this group of people so that they would see just how important he was to her. “Gideon is my role model because …” Kiki felt all eyes on her. Her head spun a little like it did when she jumped to her feet too quickly.
Steady
, she told herself.
Steady.
She took in a deep breath. “He’s my role model …” Her voice cracked over the PA system. This was not as she’d planned. With a look of
help me
, she found Mari’s eyes. They were filled with affirmation, so unlike the two boys seated in the front row that were holding back laughter. She must pretend that she was rehearsing as she’d done over the last weeks. “He’s my hero because he’s my boss at Russell Brothers Auto Shop. He let me work there.” She was not following her cue cards. Knowing that Mari was looking uncomfortable because she was way off track, Kiki tried again. Her eyes met Gideon’s.

She saw his mouth move to form the words, “You can do it, Kiki.”

With his encouragement, she felt fueled to continue. Speaking slowly, but not too slowly, she found a comfortable pace. Mari had told her to give her lines with confidence, using the same confidence she did when she put on her pirate hat, wielding her sword, and pretending to be seeking treasure. With those words giving her assurance, Kiki continued. “I met Gideon because I ruined his parking lot. I didn’t realize that he’d just paved it, and I rode my bicycle around it. Someone told on me.” In her original speech, she’d said that someone was Angie Smithfield, but Mari advised her to leave Angie’s name out. “Gideon came into Principal Peppers’ office, and that’s where we met for the first time. I was embarrassed and nervous.” Kiki paused, and then added without looking at anyone, “Just like I am now.”

She heard some laughter from the audience, and it felt good to her ears. With her eyes on her index card, she carefully read her next line. “But the reason Gideon is my role model is because … Gideon forgives.”

When the class and guests clapped, Kiki beamed. She looked around to see that even Mr. Lincoln was applauding. She could give a speech. She wasn’t stupid.

“Gideon is talented, too. He makes keepsakes boxes.” With that,
Kiki flew down the steps to her chair and from under it, withdrew the box. Flustered that she’d forgotten to take it up onto the stage with her the first time, she hopped back to her spot behind the mic. Lifting the box, she said, “Gideon made this for his brother.” The box shone in the spotlight. As students craned their necks to see her visual aid, she removed the block of wood from it. “And one day, Gideon is going to make a pirate ship out of this piece of wood.”

Although the class laughed, Kiki continued. “Right?”

Now it was Gideon’s turn to say something, responding as each of the previous adults had. He stood, turning like the other adults had, facing partially toward the crowd and partially toward the stage. “I think it is interesting that Kiki has chosen me as her role model. Of course, I am honored.” His smile grew then. “But the truth is, she’s my role model, too. Sure, she can be bossy and silly, but her humor and persistence keep me on track. She is a hard worker—but more than that, she’s a friend who keeps me in check. There are no neglecting responsibilities when Kiki is around. And I like that. With Kiki, I know I can’t go wrong.”