Like Sweet Potato Pie (10 page)

I panicked. Veered out of the gym and into a long wing of empty rooms—probably for the nursery or Sunday school. There
must
be an exit somewhere! If not, the fire marshal would hear from me.

I’d just ducked around the corner, feeling tingly in my head and hands, when someone grabbed my sleeve.

“Where are you going?” Adam’s eyebrows flicked upward. He hadn’t let go of my sleeve. “And … Shiloh? What are you doing here?”

I caught my breath and looked up into those blue eyes I’d seen during the service, only this time I couldn’t read their expression.

I clutched my Bible and purse, sweater dripping over my arm. Looked around desperately for an exit. “Um … which question should I answer first?”

His gaze softened. “What are you doing here?”

“Here? In the hallway?”

“No, at church.”

I’d never seen Adam in a tie. Normally he displayed six feet of dust-covered dirt and mulch stains from hauling bags of gravel. I discreetly forced my eyes elsewhere.

“I thought you … Hey, what happened to your arm?”

“My what?” I dropped my gaze to follow his. Down to a reddish splotch on my forearm. I snatched my sleeve back and covered it.

“That wasn’t one of your questions.” I shifted my stuff to my other arm. “It’s a burn. From The Green Tree. A hot pan or something.”

Adam didn’t say anything, but his eyes flashed down to a bandage on my finger, courtesy of a box of plastic wrap’s razor edge. Wrapping salads.

I hid my palm under Mom’s Bible, scowling. As much as I liked Adam Carter, he annoyed me sometimes. We’d even shared words once over his odd ways, right there on my front porch. “I thought you asked why I came to church.”

Adam seemed to have trouble remembering his train of thought. “You rushed off without speaking to anyone.”

“I know. I just feel …” I fumbled with my purse strap, not sure how to answer. So I didn’t.

“You all right?”

“Yeah. But I need some time with my thoughts.”

A man in a suit hurried past, and we both turned. Our conversation faltered.

“Of course,” said Adam lightly, taking a slight step back. “I’m just … surprised.”

“Why? Because I’m at church?”

My voice came out harsher than I meant. I tried to unstiffen my arms and breathe slowly.

Adam didn’t dazzle with stunning good looks like Carlos. He struck me as sort of plain actually. On the scrawny-ish side, and kind of big ears. But Adam Carter was the sort of person who’d bring a can of gas to a perfect stranger in the middle of nowhere. Which is how I’d met him.

“I mean, Shiloh, I thought you made it clear you …”

“I know. That I didn’t need God. Or church. Or … anything.” I fingered Mom’s Virginia School for the Deaf and Blind keychain. “Well, I was wrong. I do. More than I realized.”

My voice snagged in my throat, suddenly emotional. Adam reached out and took Mom’s Bible and my sweater, and I let him.

“You said yes.” His voice dropped, husky.

“Like you told me to in Winchester.” I turned away, irritated at my tears.
Say yes,
he’d whispered.
To God.

“I asked Jesus to change my life.” I crossed my arms and kept my chin up. “But not because of you. I mean, not entirely. I had a lot of reasons.”

Adam didn’t speak; he just stared at me stupidly. Tried to say something and swallowed instead. Scratched his hair and let his hand rest on the top of his head.

I shouldered my purse. “So is there an exit, or do I have to call the fire marshal?”

“Shiloh, wait.” He put his hand lightly on my shoulder. “Wow. That’s … wow. I’m so glad to hear it!”

“I know.” I pawed the carpet with my shoe, afraid my throat would close again. “It’s a little strange though, you know? Everything’s turned on its head. Everything’s … different. New. I’m not sure how I feel yet.”

“Of course.
You’re
different. You’re new.” He looked at me then at the floor. “I hoped … I mean, we all hoped you’d see how much God loves you.”

“Yeah.” A smile broke through, and I raised my eyes to him again. I felt self-conscious, standing there with tears piling up and my hands twisting the purse strap.

“Look, the bathrooms are down there,” said Adam abruptly, pointing. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks.” I released my breath. “And then can you please get me out of here?” I rattled a nearby doorknob just in case the glow under it led outside, but it opened to an empty Sunday school room, quiet with carpet.

“Sure, but can’t you at least talk to Faye before you leave? I know she’ll be excited to see you. And Todd’s looking for you. He’s got a whole folder full of drawings for you at home. Army tanks and stuff. Some of them are really pretty good.”

Todd. The kid could charm the tattoos off a
yakuza
(Japanese mafia) gangster. And then, of course, I adored Faye. My hard stance melted slightly.

“Okay, but I’m warning you. I’m not ready to see Mom’s friends and talk about her. For people to cry and hug me and say how they’ve missed her or how they’re glad I’ve ‘come to Christ’ and all that.” I shook my finger. “I’m one inch away from bawling somebody out.”

Or just plain bawling. Which was probably more likely.

If Adam guessed, he kept quiet.
Smart man.
“I’ll get you out fast.” He put his hands up. “Scout’s honor.”

I rolled my eyes and plunged through the bathroom door.
Adam, a Boy Scout? That explains a lot.

But when I passed the bathroom mirror, my face gleamed as startling pink as cherry blossoms glowing in the sun. And my fingers trembled against my burning cheeks in a vain attempt to cool them.

The sanctuary had stilled. Almost empty, save a few people mingling in the corners. Light filtered in from stained-glass windows, shining red and blue on the pews. The enormous cross made me lift my eyes up, up, up—over my roiling heart to the one thing that really mattered.

“Where’d ya go?” Becky demanded, grabbing my arm and tucking it through hers so I couldn’t get away. “I’ve been lookin’ for ya! An’ Todd here, too!”

“Bathroom.” I gestured awkwardly as Adam whispered something in Becky’s ear.

“Hey, Shiloh!” Todd grinned, mirroring Adam’s blue eyes. “I didn’t know you were comin’ today! I’d a brought my tank drawings for you! Remember the ones I told you I’d make? The World War II versions? Rick says that first one I did used a Stromberg carburetor, so …”

Todd bounced against the back of a pew in excitement as he rattled on, his words carrying a thicker Southern drone than Adam’s. Same sandy-blond hair as Adam though, but without the firm slant of jaw that …

I straightened up abruptly, smoothing my skirt. “I’ve got to get home. Sorry, guys. Todd.” I patted his back. “But bring your drawings next week.”

“Aw, don’t go yet, Shah-loh! We’ll go easy on ya.” Becky put a protective arm around me and winked at Adam. “But say hi to yer second mama first!”

“Faye? She’s here?”

“She was he’pin’ in the nursery. I got her for ya!” And Becky dragged her over.

Faye grabbed me in a hug and kissed my cheek. “Becky told me about yer announcement, ya goose!” she laughed, crying at the same time. “Why didn’t ya tell me last night? Is that why you had all the flowers’n such?”

No! To make you fall in love with Earl!

“Ya mean it for real?” Faye pulled me back at arm’s length, blue eyes sparkling with tears behind her glasses. “Ya done asked Jesus inta yer heart?”

“I did. I mean it.” I swallowed hard. “And I’m not changing my mind.”

“This calls for a celebration!” Tim squished me in a happy side hug. Becky squashed on the other side, and Todd threw himself on us, laughing. It felt like a dog pile. A wonderful dog pile I never wanted to end.

“How ‘bout some grub?” asked Tim, a redneck poster child with his mustache and mullet. “It’s about time to eat, ain’t it? That is, if ol’ First Methodist ain’t let out already. They’s always beatin’ us to the good rest’rants so all we got left is the Wal-Mart food court. I better call my cousin at First an’ see if they’s still goin’.”

“Skatetown’s got hot dogs!” Becky winked. “So does Raceway!”

“Sorry, guys. Kyoko’s at home.”

“Yer friend from Japan?” Becky arched an eyebrow. “She speak English?”

“She’s American! We worked together back at AP.” I thought hard, trying to describe Kyoko. Her dark apartment full of skull-and-crossbones, Japanese pop purses, and punk-rock stuff. Her shelves of
anime
comics.

“Well, she eats, don’t she? Go’n git her! A friend a yours is a friend a ours!”

“I doubt she’ll like … uh … Southern food much. Just to warn you.”
And she won’t be too keen on meeting a bunch of my redneck friends either!
“How about Chili’s?”

“Whatever. So long’s they got somethin’ fried.” Tim snickered, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

I dialed home, and the phone rang about thirty times before Kyoko picked up.

“Sorry! Did I wake you?”

“Oh no. I’m chatting with my friend Theo on Skype. Works for a publishing company. Remember him?”

“No, but—”

“Says he wants samples of your book and wonders what’s the big holdup.”

“Book?”

“You know. The one that pokes ‘em in the eye.
Southern Speak.
Remember? How you wrote about cowboy boots and guys with mullets who …”

I pressed the phone closer to my ear and hurried a few steps away.

“Oh yeah.” I’d almost forgotten about the reporter’s notebook I’d filled, in my early days in Virginia, with notes about belt buckles and NASCAR and processed food.

I switched subjects. “How’s Christie?”

“The dog? She’s all right. I took her out a bunch of times. Keeps chewing on that rubber thing.”

My heart failed. “What rubber thing?”

“I dunno. It’s shaped like a hamburger.” I heard something muffled. “Here, you old hound. Take it and get out of here!”

I tipped my head. “Wait, you mean she’s in the same room with you?”

“What was that silly note about, anyway, Ro?” Kyoko barked, not answering my question. “Where in the world are you?”

I froze. “I’m … uh … just thinking about lunch. How about it? With some friends of mine?”

“Grits and collard greens?”

“Chili’s.”

“Chili’s? Really? Great! I can meet you downtown. I mean, Staunton doesn’t really have a downtown, but …”

“I get it, I get it.” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t want me to come get you?”

“Nah. GPS, babe. You know you can change the voices? Mine has an Argentinean accent. It’s the only one that gets all the roads wrong.”

“Not funny! Just for that, we’re going to Bubba’s Diner.”

“I take it back!” Kyoko shrieked. “Anything! Please! No pork rinds or grits!”

“Hmmph. I make no promises.” I put my hand to my forehead. “Wait a second, Kyoko. I’ve got a dog.”

“No. You’ve got a puppy.” More muffled movements. “Hey! Cut that out! Not on the carpet! Oh no … not the sofa … look at all that stuffing!”

“The sofa?” I gasped, backing into a pew. “Christie tore up the sofa?”

“Nah.” Kyoko snickered. “I’m just teasing. She’s fine. Just don’t ask me to touch her though. I don’t do dogs. Or possums. Or whatever you’ve got crawling around here in Virginia.”

I rubbed my back where it’d hit the pew, my racing pulse calming to normal. “Well, I can’t leave her alone yet, can I? She’s still pretty little.” I checked my watch. “I’ve got to work after this, and if you don’t go straight home then …”

“You’re the one who wanted a dog, Ro. Think of something.”

“No, Becky wanted me to have a dog.” I narrowed my eyes at Becky, and she stuck her tongue out at me. “What am I supposed to do now? Leave her with Stella?”

All that cigarette smoke? No way.

Becky’s gaze suddenly lit on Faye. “I know who you can call,” she said.

Faye looked up innocently from her conversation with Adam, and I tried to catch Becky’s eye. Making big Xs with my hands and shaking my head furiously.

“Oh, nothin’,” said Becky sweetly, shoving me toward the hallway door. “Jest tryin’ ta think a who might be able ta keep Shiloh’s li’l puppy a few hours. Too bad ain’t none a us nearby.”

Faye thought. “Well, don’t Earl live out that way?”

“Why, thanks, Faye! He shore does, come to think of it. Ya got his number? I shore don’t. An’ Shah-loh … well, she’s tied up right now.” She gave me an extra push and shut the door in my face for good measure.

Then Faye’s muffled voice. “I reckon I’ve got his business card here somewhere.”

“Atta girl,” said Becky. And I could hear her grin through the door.