Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (4 page)

The boys order
two burgers apiece with fries and sodas. We go to pay with the last bit of
money we could scrape up. I think we should have an entire dollar left for the
tip.

Moe holds his
hands up. “This meal is on me. You kids got done dirty with the whole arrest
show. I think you’ve earned a break for the day.”

We try to push
the money on him anyway. Aunt Evie wouldn’t think too kindly about us having a
free pity meal. But Moe says a few choice words on the fairness of this town,
and he’s getting riled up. We think better of it, put our money back into our
empty pockets, and thank him diligently.

I let the boys
sit together, and I slide in a booth alone. I’m tired yet restless, and above
all, I’m in a seriously bad mood. Earlier today a snobby group of teenagers
wandered over to pretty much laugh at us while we put their precious dock back
together. I’m sick of being laughed at, and I’m just not very hopeful at life
ever getting better. This whole
I’m
better than you
really hurts. I hate feeling like a nobody.

I pick at my
food for a while, not really having much of an appetite. I sit a spell longer,
listening to the rowdy boys goofing off in the next booth. Each one is slightly
sunburned due to the last two days of dock work. We will look as though we were
on vacation when we return to school in a few days, at least. I continue
watching them. Kyle has french fry confetti sprinkled in his hair and hasn’t a
clue that Mave has been adding to it the entire time they’ve been eating.
Dillon just said something that cracks the whole table up, and now Max has soda
shooting out of his nose. I know they are slightly younger than me, but I just
wish I could let go like they do. Nothing seems to bother them, and it makes me
jealous. I feel like I’ve had to grow up too fast due to the life dealt to me.

Dillon looks
over and finds me glaring in their direction. We hold each other’s gaze for a
few beats before he heads over and plops down in my booth across from me.
Without asking, he begins to devour my food. I raise an eyebrow for a response.
“No need in wasting it,” he answers with a shrug and a mouthful of my burger.
“What’s the matter, pretty girl?”

I try to shrug
back, but my sore shoulder is starting to really stove up and won’t let me.
This catches Dillon’s attention. Before I know it, he drops the burger back on
my plate and has slid in next to me. With a concerned expression, he eases my
shirt off my shoulder. I hear him let out a sigh that sounds on the line of
regret mixed with pity.

“Good grief,
dude! Stop groping my sister,” Kyle complains, with the twins busting out in
laughter.

“I’m next,” Mave
declares.

“Shut up,
Maverick!” Kyle and I shout at the same time, with both of us cutting him a
sharp look.

Dillon rolls his
eyes, but continues brushing his fingers lightly over the deep bruise. “We hurt
her shoulder the other night, Kyle.” I kind of like how he takes the blame for
the injury. I always feel like everything we get in trouble for is my fault.

This gets the
boys’ attention and so the next thing I know, all of them are inspecting me
like they would actually know what to do. It’s almost laughable. Except, it’s
not. I’m in a lousy mood and don’t feel like being fussed over.

I shrug Dillon
off. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine.” I push him out of the way and head for the
door. “I’m tired. Let’s go.”

Kyle asks,
“Can’t we stay for a little while, Jillian? Moe’s got the pool table set for
free play.”

I turn back
around and they are all looking at me, hopeful. One minute they are fawning
over my injury, and the next they are acting like a bunch of selfish brats.
This instantly shoves me further into my sour mood. “Sure. Stay as long as you
want,” I mutter.

They all quickly
head to the game room for a few games of pool, I’m sure. I continue to head for
the door, without them noticing. I feel like teaching them a lesson on being
more considerate, so I climb into my car and leave their behinds right there to
find their own way home.

I look in my
review mirror in time to see them all run out of the restaurant. Kyle has his
arms in the air in frustration, while the twins look confused. Dillon stands
there with his hands on his hips, grinning. I don’t know why, but that makes me
smile, too.

* * * *

Sunday morning finds
my crowd doing the nearly late for church shuffle. Aunt Evie had some minor
emergency with a group of campers, so we are the last to arrive for worship
service. We hustle in, and I have to refrain from moaning out loud. Kyle
scooted in before me and swiped the last spot on the pew with the twins. The
only remaining place to sit is directly behind them, and this is somewhere I
try to never, and I mean never, sit. For one, they are way taller than me and I
can’t see over their big heads. Secondly, they are such a distraction. I’m
staring at the back of Mave’s head today, which is even worse. I’m seated
beside Leona and her dad, so at least I have company to share in the
aggravation. They undoubtedly were late, too.

Dillon is at the
piano and is already playing the offertory hymn. He is dressed in a black
button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to midway of his forearms and is
sporting a pair of grey dress slacks. Cora makes him dress properly for church,
even on the Sundays he doesn’t play the piano. I lean forward and scan the
twins. As always, they are in the normal jeans and T-shirts. At least Kyle wore
a blue button-down shirt with his jeans. I look down at my simple coral-colored
sundress. I know God don’t care what we wear as long as we show up, but I do
like to dress nice for my visits to his house on Sunday. I guess it’s one of
those unspoken things I’ve picked up from Aunt Evie over the years. She’s a
dress wearing kind of woman when it comes to church. She even leaves the
tie-dye at home for the occasion.

I refocus on
Dillon as he plays “Victory in Jesus”
for
the call to worship song. I can see most of him from this angle. I love to
watch him bring the piano to life with his hands and his soul. He plays with
such seriousness and reverence, with his head bent towards the keys. He eases
the song to a close, then gets up discreetly and slides onto his designated
spot on the front pew beside Cora.

Preacher Mike
Floyd takes his place behind the podium, and I lose him behind Mave’s big head.
“Good to be in the Lord’s house this fine day,” he says, and people amen their
agreements. He leads us in a quick prayer before instructing us to turn to
Proverbs Chapter 7. He then dives right in and reads verses twenty-four and
twenty-five, and I know right then that, yes, they let the jailbirds into
church service this morning, but we are about to receive ourselves some
learnings. “The Lord’s Word says, ‘
Hearken unto me now
therefore, O ye
children
, and attend
to the words of my mouth.
 
Let not thine heart decline to her
ways, go not astray in her paths.’
This world wants
to lead us down the wrong paths. Youth today have too many temptations. Too
many opportunities to easily make the wrong choices.”

I roll my eyes
and slump even farther down in the pew. Good grief. We didn’t mean to blow up
the blame boat. And we sure as heck didn’t openly make the choice to go to
jail. Yes, I’m getting a bit defensive. You would too, if you had half of the
congregation giving you knowing glances.

We are all of
five minutes into the sermon when Mave’s head starts doing the bobbing around
thing. The dude is going to have one sore neck. Mr. Dan leans up and nudges
Mave on the shoulder to try to rouse him back awake. This works all of five
more minutes, when the head bobbing picks back up with a soft snore to
accompany the show. I can see over his head, now that it’s bent over, and I’m a
little nervous at what I see. Preacher Floyd is steadily watching the snoozing
boy as he continues his rant on how we need to keep our focus on God before we
find ourselves on a destructive path we can’t find the exit for.

Preacher Floyd
keeps right on preaching as he eases over to the first pew and picks up a box
of unopened tissues. Without missing a word, he pitches the box. It bounces
perfectly off of Mave’s head and wakes the boy abruptly. Kyle can’t refrain
from snorting in laughter. I give him a quick slap on the shoulder to shut him
up, before he gets a box to his head by the preacher, too. I don’t think today
that such mess is very wise of the boys. Preacher Floyd seems to be on a
mission to get ahold of us, and this won’t be making it any better for us.

“Mr. King—”
Preacher Floyd says.

“That’s
Maverick, sir,” Max blurts out as he points to his twin. I give the end of
Max’s hair a mean tug to hush him up. Pointing out who’s who won’t be helping
the cause.

The preacher
shifts his gaze over to Max before looking back to Mave. “Young man, I do
believe God may have something important you need to hear today. You need to
wake up and listen up.” The congregation amens this as Preacher Floyd takes his
position back behind the podium, hidden out of my view for the remainder of the
service. Mave seems wide-awake now. Every so often, he rubs the spot where the
tissue box made contact with his head.

Preacher Floyd
repeats those two verses, I think specifically for Mave’s benefit.
“
Hearken unto me now therefore, O ye
children
, and attend to the words of my mouth.
 
Let
not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths,” he reads
loudly and with much emphasis. Then he adds Psalm 119:105. “Thy word is a lamp
unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Yes, I do believe I get the theme of
this sermon. We are obviously heading down the wrong path, and we need to get
off it real soon, before we mess up even more. Between Preacher Floyd’s fervent
words from God, Cora’s wicked sternness, and Aunt Evie’s wise warnings for us
to make better choices before the consequences catch up with us, I think they
are hopeful at being able to turn off our stupid buttons. Fingers crossed, they
will succeed.

We all file out
somberly after Dillon sings while he plays the song, “The Old Path.” Do you
know that one? Well just let me share with you that it’s all about staying on
the right path with God and not straying from it. He sounds like an old man up
there, crooning out the ancient lyrics.
I’m
not sure if this was a specific request or if Dillon thinks he’s funny. Either
way, it was all I could do to not openly laugh during it.

I catch up with Aunt Evie outside and hear the rest of the
crowd drifting behind us. They are whining about needing food—big surprise.
They are always whining about needing food.

“I’m starving,” Mave grumbles, right on my heels.

“Well, my friend, I do believe if we stay on this here path
set before us, we will be rewarded abundantly,” Dillon says. They are following
Aunt Evie—the regular food source on Sundays. I know for fact that today will
be no different. The ham is in the oven keeping warm with the mac and cheese.
And the deviled eggs are keeping cool in the fridge with the layered salad and
coconut cream cake. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

“That sounds like the kind of path I can handle, keeping on
the straight and narrow,” Max says. I want to tell them to knock it off before
they get Aunt Evie riled up.

“Lead us, Aunt Evie, and let us not astray from your
righteous cooking,” Mave says solemnly, and the guys crack up.

I step ahead of Aunt Evie. I don’t want to get in the way of
the tongue lashing the boys are just asking for.

“I will let not thine belly decline her food.” Great. Now
Kyle throws in his two cents. I glance over my shoulder and that’s when I see
this lady has reached her limit.

She stops abruptly and faces off with the smart-mouthed
idiots. “Well, I’m glad that you young’uns ain’t as stupid as I had suspected.
You’re smart enough to remember Bible verses well enough to misquote them, so
maybe there’s enough sense in you to be able to get it right.” This lady
doesn’t get riled up too very often, and as I watch her place her hands on her
thin hips, I know the boys succeeded.
Fools.

She hollers over to the preacher, and the boys start to
squirm. “Preacher Floyd, these here boys were just quoting those fine verses God
had you share with us today. They’d like to share with you what they learned
from the message.” Oh crap.
They’ve gone and done it now
.

I’m about to settle in my spot and see just what they come
up with when Aunt Evie wraps my arm in hers. “You wouldn’t mind taking them
home, when y’all done? Me and Jillian are going to go finish up dinner.”

“No ma’am. I don’t mind at all. Come on, boys. Let’s go sit
inside and have a talk.” Preacher Floyd pats Mave’s shoulder firmly and directs
them to follow him. They all file back in the church with their heads hung low.
Boy, am I glad I managed to be overlooked. I’m impressed I didn’t follow the
leader this time and have managed to keep my lips shut.

Needless to say, the boys didn’t make it back to the trailer
for over an hour. When they do arrive, they eat in silence, and then do the
dishes without being asked. They even thanked Aunt Evie and didn’t swipe the
leftovers to take home as they usually do.