A Discovery of Hope (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 3) (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

Two weeks have passed with me filing an endless sea of pictures and attending class. JP hasn’t had much to say to me. We sort of work in an uncomfortable silence. I show up to his office each day and work on tackling the photo cataloguing with stubborn determination. I’ve made it to the second container now. I was hopeful that maybe I wouldn’t be filing all summer after all. That idea completely vanished after walking in yesterday to find two more containers added to the line along the wall. Great. At least by the end of the summer I will have learned the lesson to never get behind on logging my own photo inventory.

Class is okay. I like the course itself, but Hope is pushing me to make friends with the young boy. I say he’s young, although I guess he is just petite and is probably seventeen or eighteen. I’m not sure due to his special needs. Hope has informed me he is autistic so at least I understand a bit better. The little guy spends class either sleeping or continuously mumbling to himself. He’s quiet about it so it’s not too distracting.

Today, Hope and I watch as he takes his normal seat near the front to my right. “Go sit with him.”

“Can’t you pick a girl for me to befriend? All I do is hang out with guys anymore.”

“Sure. I’ll find you a female friend next time. But for now, this young man is in need of some company, and most importantly, compassion.”

“I thought we already established I’m no good at that,” I mumble under my breath as I look around and find a girl eying me curiously.

Hope nudges my arm and draws my attention back to her. “You need to think of it as a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger your compassion for others will become.” Boy, does she make me feel like a bad person.

Without another word, I pack my belongings and take the seat beside him. “Good morning.” I smile in his direction, but he won’t acknowledge me. “I’m Willow Carter,” I try again.

The guy who always escorts him around looks at me apologetically. “Tony Edge,” he introduces himself. “And this shy guy is Jace Wiles.”

We both look at Jace as he studies his watch. “Only two thousand four hundred seconds left. Someone’s late. Late for our date. Late…”

“Jace, you want to say hey to this lovely lady?” Tony tries and is ignored. “I’m Jace’s shadow. I make sure no one bothers him and he doesn’t wander off.” He smiles at this, but I think it’s a warning to me not to think about bothering Jace. This makes me like Tony even more. He takes his job of taking care of Jace seriously.

The professor bustles in and saves me from having to make any more conversation. She apologizes for her tardiness and launches right in on photo imagery before setting her bag down. Jace dozes off within minutes of her beginning.

Professor Brooks has been propped on the edge of her desk for most of the class when she eases off and taps on Jace’s desk and asks him a question on negative imagery. He rambles off the answer without missing a beat. By the time she’s propped back at her desk, he is back asleep. Well… Maybe he’s just resting his eyes…

After class I voice my concerns to Hope. “I don’t see how I’ll be any help here.” We watch as Jace and his shadow walk past us with him carrying on a conversation with himself.

“He just needs your time. You’ve been blessed with plenty of that. I think you should be willing to share your unexpected gift.” She likes to remind me of this as well. I know I shouldn’t be here. But I am, so…

“Fine,” I agree.

The next class session goes about the same—me sitting beside Jace as he ignores me and lives in his own little world. Today the professor has made a mistake though. She asked Jace to tell us about something he would enjoy photographing. He goes off on a wild tangent on various pizza crusts and how he would arrange the toppings. Professor Brooks and Tony try to rein him back but it’s like he has to get it all out. They eventually give up and we all sit back and get an education on pizza for the remainder of class. Tony ushers him out with him still continuing on about pizza as we all sit stunned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the one and only Jace Wiles.” We all chuckle quietly. “I want to apologize and thank you for your patience today. Everyone will receive a one hundred test grade.”

With this, we are dismissed. Hope follows me to the SUV and goes straight for the radio as always once we’re buckled in. “I don’t get why his parents are wasting their money and effort with college.”

“His parents need hope that he can have close to a normal life, hence the effort with college. They feel responsible for his autism.”

I crank the SUV and pull into traffic. “Well, that really stinks for them.”

“Yes, it does.” She says nothing more, just bounces between radio stations. She never seems to find what she’s looking for.

I seek out the closest pizza joint and order two large pies. One with thick crust and one with thin. I ask for every topping they have except for anchovies and mushrooms. My mouth waters all the way back to the gallery.

I push through the door to JP’s office thirty minutes later with the two piping hot supreme pizzas. JP is at his computer as always. I’m elated to find Duke propped near the window with his sketch pad. Both guys lift their noses to the air and take in the savory aroma I brought with me.

“It’s about time you graced us with your presence.” I eye Duke sternly. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since my first weekend here.

He looks over his shoulder. “You talking to me this time?”

I ignore his jab and nod my head towards the food. “I had a wild craving for pizza. You guys want some?”

Of course they do. They help me polish off one and half pizzas in no time. I send the last remaining half home with Duke and he gladly takes it. I’m too full to do anything so I leave JP to do his thing and head for my room. I push open the door and find Hope waiting on me.

“Can you tell me what I can possibly do for Jace?”

“I already told you. Just listen to him.”

“That’s it?” I don’t think it’s going to be so simple. “I don’t understand half the stuff he jabbers on about.”

“You don’t need to understand. He just needs someone to be present in his world while he gets to openly discuss something important to him.”

So this is what I do on Thursday. Jace finally acknowledges I am sitting beside him and whispers continuously to me about how many more seconds we have in class. As we pack up, I absently ask him what type of movies he’s into and this leads to an entire lesson on Transformers after class. He loses me somewhere in the world of robots and the next thing I know it’s two in the afternoon by the time Tony says they have to get home.

This day is chalked up as a waste, but Hope is there to remind me again that Jace only needed me to listen and I did just that.

As I drive past a small farm stand close to the gallery, my stomach gurgles a reminder that Jace’s robot tangent devoured my lunchbreak. I’m already late, so I park behind the gallery and walk the block back to it. I purchase a small basket of plump peaches along with a pint of strawberries and a small bunch of bananas. By the time I’ve reached the gallery, I’ve enjoyed a few strawberries and begin munching on a banana. I head straight to JP’s office as is my normal routine.

He starts gagging before looking up from his computer. “Get out!” he hollers, completely baffling me. “No bananas! Get those nasty things out of here!” I think for a moment this guy has to be joking, but his eyes are watering and he looks pure miserable. He pushes me right back out the front door. “Don’t come in ‘til you get rid of them things.” JP points to the bananas in disgust. “And be sure to brush your teeth before you come back to my office.” He snaps all of this out to me through the closed door while still gagging.

All I can do is stand at the door and laugh. He’s so tough all the time, yet the faint smell of a piece of fruit wimps him totally out. I stand by the door in bafflement and help myself to another banana as JP bustles through the gallery while spraying a steady stream of air freshener. He glances my way as I take another bite and this sends him to gagging again. Now, that is one serious aversion to bananas. I’ve never seen such in all my life. I’m not a fan of celery, but I’ve never freaked out about it. Gracious me, this has been one strange day.

I drop off the remainder of my banana contraband to Duke and fill him in on JP’s meltdown. This cracks him up. After hanging out a bit with my friend, I head back to the gallery and directly upstairs to wash my offensive banana-breath away.

~~~~~

The weekend arrives and I’m not too happy about it. Dad has a conference out of town so I decide to stay put at the gallery with hopes of buddying around with Duke, but he has plans in Bay Creek. Maybe a weekend alone might be okay, but then I find out JP is staying put, too. Great. This should be interesting with Mr. Anti-Willow.

I try to help out with the gallery on Saturday and it’s another slammed day. After the doors are locked, JP sets out to switching his art as I sweep and dust. We work quietly with the music turned up as we did last time. Once I put the broom away, I wander into the alcove to see what can be discovered this time. I’m sad to find JP’s family album gone, but it doesn’t take me long to get over it as I become captivated by the three huge photos adorning the space now. They are each at least eight feet in height and another five feet wide. They are shots of three very distinct trees and feel close to life-size even though they are nowhere close to the actual proportions. Each has a small plaque attached to the bottom, identifying what type of tree is in the photo. I grab myself a chair this time and sit before the artwork for a spell. My picture-walk begins with the Mossy Oak tree to the left. I’m pretty sure this was taken at Battery Park. I can feel its wisdom and grandeur as it looms over me. The photo in the middle is none other than a Weeping Willow tree. This makes me smile. The long waving branches dip and dance in the wind as sunrays peep along the frame. It feels very happy and whimsical, in spite of the name of the tree. I’m sure this is what he wanted to relay in this photo. The last is of a Palmetto Palm tree. An ocean and sandy beach keep company with the shaggy tree as it bows slightly in the sea breeze. Eventually I decide to call it a day and put my chair away. Once again, I find JP watching me, but I decide not to acknowledge him.

I walk past him and I’m about to head to my room, when he asks, “You heading home?”

“Not this weekend, but I won’t bug you.” I turn to continue on my way with him on my heels.

“I go to church at eleven in the morning, if you want to join me,” he offers before closing his door. He doesn’t wait for my answer.

I think I’m too surprised to give him a response anyway.

As the morning arrives, I find myself dressed and ready to go by ten. JP knocks on the door at ten till eleven, and declares it time to go. He looks casual but nice in dark jeans and a white polo shirt, showcasing his tan. His guarded eyes roam over the maxi dress I’m wearing. This one is in a faded peach hue and extra soft. He seems to like it, but says no pleasantries, just heads out. I wonder why he would invite me somewhere, when it’s obvious he doesn’t care to be around me. It would look too weird to back out now, so I apprehensively follow him out the door.

I’m surprised when we arrive at Battery Park instead of a building. I reluctantly climb out of his Jeep as JP grabs a picnic basket and blanket. We walk close to the center of the park and find a small gathering of people. They are singing a familiar hymn as a guy sits on the edge of the platform of a statue, playing a guitar. JP spreads the blanket and motions for me to have a seat. Everyone is dressed casual as opposed to my home church and I see no offering plate in sight. This is quite unusual to me.

I try to get comfortable as we sing along to a few more hymns. Then another guy, who is also dressed in jeans, opens his Bible and reads Jeremiah 29:11
,
“
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

JP mutters, “Amen.” And this surprises me. I really didn’t see him much in the way of Godliness. Shame on me, again. My eyes keep being opened to my hasty judgment of people.

The young guy speaks about hope, of course, for a while and I find myself comfortable in this small crowd. I don’t worry about the clock as I do most of the time at church. I just sit back and let God’s message resonate in me as the sea breeze finds its way to us through the ancient oak trees. I’m reminded of the verse that says,
“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them."
I feel God’s presence in this small gathering.

After another few songs and a closing prayer, JP gathers the blanket and picnic basket and relocates us to a less congested spot. I’m quite impressed he has made sandwiches and packed all of this on his own. We are about to eat, when JP looks over my shoulder and grins.

“There’s my girl!”

I look over my shoulder and find a middle-aged woman heading in our direction. I’m trying not to assume she’s homeless, but it’s hard not to think it. Her clothes are past worn-out and her salt-and-pepper hair is disheveled. She has a seat right beside JP and gives him a big hug.