Mammoth Secrets (23 page)

Jake sank to his knees amid a shamble of blown chairs and twisted tent poles.

Drums and speakers smashed, blown off the stage, sections of the raised floor gone, and the rest strewn over the grassy knoll as if some giant had dealt them in a wicked game of fifty-two pick up.

“What now, Lord?” Jake spoke, face upturned to the cloudless sky. His arms splayed out, palms up to the heavens.

She watched his prayer send off on the breeze, unanswered. Wondered if she shouldn't join in somehow, and then focused on the tips of her mud-smeared sneakers instead. Praying with him now, when anger brewed in her gut, felt more akin to lying. What God would do such a thing to a man so overwhelmingly faithful? Who would destroy the Steadmans' house and that beautiful old, redwood barn? And then send so many innocents to the hospital?

Lilah drew a squiggle in the mud with the toe of her shoe, then glanced up to see Jake sitting cross-legged on his remnant stage; head in his hands, hair disheveled as he scrubbed a hand through, a low, feral groan filled his throat.

“Did they call? From the head church?” She hazarded a step closer. “Surely your headquarters saw the news.”

“Saw it,” he said, then snuffed a mirthless laugh. Jake dredged his gaze to hers, green eyes welling with sorrow. “They want to capitalize on it. To prove that God is in the aftermath. You hear that?” His voice crescendoed as he fisted the sky. “The aftermath?”

She didn't see worship in him, but anger, awe, and utter frustration as he kicked a corner of the riser, hobbled his big toe. Jake crumpled to the mud. “Where are You in this?”

Lilah looked away from his display of frustration. She'd never imagined he could lose control, seem so utterly lost. Her heart swelled like water from behind the dam at his private moment of despair. She shouldn't have come, and drew breath to tell him so. “Jake—”

“I had all these dreams, these ideas, this fire! But, after Margaret…” he held up hands, shrugged, “…after she wrecked me, our marriage, and my ministry I couldn't find the message anymore. Couldn't see Him in any of it. I went into my—into the head office to resign but, my d—Pastor Bill handed me a dart, pointed at the map, and told me to throw it.” He dragged a hand through his mop of hair. “I wanted to quit, and he gave the choice. One last hurrah, and then I could hang it up for good.”

She tilted her head and watched him heave a sigh to the floor.

“That's how I ended up here. This is my aftermath.” His voice started low. “I stood in that office, and threw a dart at the map. Dead center.”

Lilah blinked, a bubble of laughter rose, but he looked so distraught, she fought it down.

“I deserve all the criticism and concern that your grandmother and the deacons feel about me.” Jake's confession had his face twisted in remorse. “What I don't deserve is whatever faith Mammoth's given me.”

Wonder surged as she waited for him to finish.

“Sorry I brought you out here.” His words fell gruff, his voice betrayed the pent up bitterness. “I'm sorry I promised anyone I could help change things. I can't even help myself.”

“It's not you, Jake.” She shadowed him with her body, wrapped her arms around his hunched shoulders. “It's this place. It doesn't want to change any more than it wants to grow. In spite of its name, or maybe because of it, Mammoth is just what it's always been. A blip. A place people drive through—the middle of the map. Bull's-eye.”

He jerked to meet her gaze then slid his attention back to the shattered floor.

“Sometimes you just have to let a dream die, you know?” She touched his jaw with gentle fingertips, and reeled him back to her. “It's time to wake up, and deal with the cold, hard reality. Who cares if God intended you to come here, or sent you here in a crazy game of chance? How you handle it is your choice.” Lilah sidled up next to him and elbow nudged. “I'd have aimed at Hawaii.”

He tilted his attention down to her waiting gaze.

A wave of warmth washed over her, the total focus he had on her. This was their moment.

“Pulling out all the stops to make me feel better, huh?” He dusked a hand through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. “Because, if so, you're doing a lousy job.”

She pushed back, made space between them though remaining in the protective circle of his embrace. A jolt of longing, a magnet pull drew her mouth inches from his. His breath warm, scented vaguely of mints he favored, mingled with her cherry lip balm. “I'm so wrong for you, Jake. Why are you the only one who doesn't see that?”

He was warmth and light and fire. She sensed his need for her. Theirs was a loose connection, a live wire, sometimes solid, other times, vapor. She couldn't let him go or it would fall cold, fizzle to embers as everything else in her life had so far.

“So, what now?” His green eyes flashed with heat, as much as confusion, and consequences. They were both free, and yet, shackled to the choices they'd each made in their mutual journeys.

“I'm telling you, even though you might not want it to, life moves on. You get a do-over, and it's what you do next that counts. So, Pastor Gibb. What do you want to do next?”

“Can't I just sit here and mope?”

She shook her head, drew him to stand. “You organized this party, got more of a crowd coming than either one of us could have hoped for after yesterday.”

“So, where are we gonna put them, oh, Miss Party Planner?” He fought a growing smile and cupped her face. “Yesterday you insisted you were all wrong for me, for the church, for everything. Know what I see today?”

“No.” She kissed his mouth closed. Shivers ran head to toe as her arms draped his neck. “And don't you dare tell me.”

“Why on earth not?” Jake's gaze heated her to the soul. “I know mistakes. I've made more than my share. This doesn't feel like one.”

“Whoa there, cowboy.” She pushed back against his chest. “We've not even been on a proper date yet, there, Pastor Gibb.”

“I took you fishing.” His smile jogged her heart, but she stood firm.

“I seem to recall it was the other way around.”

“What about the carnival?”

“Just your attempt at slaying the spirits of the faithful into joining your revival crusade.” She pouted. “I had to win my own panda and everything.”

“Fine.”

They slow danced to the music of the breeze. Clouds raced.

The tattered tent waved its surrender as he spoke again. “I promise, when we've dissected your brilliant idea and put it into play, then I'll take you out to a real restaurant. One without spinning stools and Formica tables.”

“Before you go waxing rhapsodic...” She turned toward the carnival grounds, even now bustling with visitors in spite of yesterday's storm. “This might be the biggest hare-brained idea since putting a couple of tents on the hill.”

“Yeah, that one didn't go so well.”

“Hey, you thought that w—”

He silenced her with his mouth, their arms anchoring each other from the storm that already passed, and the one yet to come.

 

 

 

 

32

 

Lilah trudged downhill toward the carnival, Jake following at her heels.

Off the beaten path, he let her lead.

She headed straight through the scatter of trucks, around the back entrance, and past the ticket-takers, not even pretending to purchase entry into the Reunion grounds. A large bouncer with “Security” in block letters across his pocket, munched on what she recognized as an Earl's Kitchen Panini sandwich. “Can I help you?” He wiped his chin clean of what looked like her garlic aioli sauce.

She took a step forward. “We need to get in, please.”

He halted her with an incredibly large hand to the shoulder. “Entrance is around the other side, ma'am.”

“I'm not here for the carnival.” She eyed the towering security guard with a hooded stare. “I need to speak to Mr. Randall.”

The guard wiped a hand over a stubble-covered jaw, checked his list. “Your name?”

“Lilah Simp—I mean Dale. Lilah Dale.” She cleared her throat. “I won't be on your list, though. He doesn't know we're coming.”

“Go buy a ticket, like everyone else, then.” The guard straightened, closed his silver clipboard, and picked up a soda can.

“How're you enjoying that?” She stood tiptoe, observing the combination platter. “It's better if you order it with the roasted peppers.”

“They said you were fresh out.”

“Of roasted peppers?” She sniffed, turned to Jake. “Eden just didn't want to melt her nail polish roasting them.” Hands on hips, she stared down the guard. “I tell you what. I'll send you another one tonight, with an extra serving of sweet potato fries. And, if you love it, another one for every day you're here.”

“Who are you again?” The burly man considered his sandwich, as if imagining it as described.

“Earl's Kitchen? That's where your lunch came from, right? It's my place.”

He shrugged. “OK. Go on in, but I warn you, Mr. Randall's none too happy with those Mammoth folks who dragged him away yesterday. Not by a long shot. He's thinking of pulling stakes up, early.”

“Thanks.” Lilah hurried inside, Jake on her heels. She turned as he fell into step beside her to the large RV. “What do you suppose that was about?”

Jake shrugged. “I don't have a clue. Luke took him and the others to the gym, yesterday. I doubt he dragged him, though.”

She trotted up the small staircase and rapped on the door. Hollow footsteps trod from the back, paused. The lock flicked, and the teenage girl she'd seen at the diner the night before leaned out. “Can I help you?” The girl dragged an errant camisole strap up onto her shoulder.

“I'm looking for Mr. Randall.” Lilah cleared her throat. “Is he in?”

“He's passed out.” She shrugged, stepped back. “I'll see if he wants to talk.”

They followed her up the steps and into the grand looking room. To the right, the steering wheel and dashboard was hidden with a large cover, the windshield drawn tight with matching gray shades. The left was a mansion on wheels. On the hardwood floors, a scatter of rugs, and long hallway to the back. The walls were graced by framed artwork—photographs of landscapes, devoid of people. A low-lit chandelier hung over the dining area, a splay of expensive furniture in the deceptively large room. A spicy candle licked the air, filling the trailer with scents of amaretto over acetone.

“Sit down if you want.” The girl pointed to a leather couch.

The television was tuned to a daytime talk show, volume low.

Lilah noticed the remnants of a manicure in process at the dining table. Beyond the galley kitchen, the girl stepped through to the back of the trailer, holding her hands out, freshly painted fingertips splayed. She blew on them as she walked.

“What are we doing here?” Jake whispered.

Lilah shrugged, sat gingerly on the seat as directed. “Give me a second. I'm thinking.”

“...OK. I'll tell them.” The girl's words drifted ahead of her. She stepped across the carpet onto the hardwood, sat back at her manicure station, and propped a foot up onto the seat. “He'll be out in a second.” She brushed her toenails a bright shade of pink.

“Thanks.” Lilah cleared her throat, failing to remember the last time she'd given herself a pedicure.

“So, where'd you two spend the tornado?” She dipped her head, viewed them from behind a curtain of her hair.

Jake cleared his throat. “We were, uh, in a storm cellar.”

“Together? Sounds cozy.” She painted another stroke on her pinky toe. “Dad wanted us to stay here. Said it was safe enough. Then, the ambulance came and took us to the high school.”

“That was Luke.” Lilah screwed her lips at the sharp uptake from the kid. Luke was a looker, after all. Interesting. “So, Maya, is it? What grade are you in?”

“Don't go to a real school.” She thumbed toward a stack of binders and texts on a small desk. “If I did, I'd be a senior.”

Her wistful tone got Lilah thinking. “You rode out the tornado at the high school gym?”

“Yeah.”

“See any cute boys?” Lilah picked up a bottle of green polish, unscrewed the cap. She painted her thumbnail with a long swipe.

“Yeah.” A secret smile shot to Maya's lips. The slice of girl-talk jogged something within her. “There was one shooting hoops. Tall, built. I'll keep my eye out for him on the midway.”

“Sounds like Andy Phelps.” Another fingertip painted emerald green. The color of Eden's prom dress. “He's not dating anyone right now, is he, Jake?”

“Um.” Jake crumpled his forehead, and turned back to Maya, his own face blank. “I don't think I know him.”

Lilah smiled back to Maya. “He just moved here. Barely knows anyone.”

“You two got together quick, then?” Maya looked from one to the other.

“We're—um—hey, you thinking about college?” Jake interjected, obviously a bit out of place with the nail polishing and girl talk.

“Nice idea.” Maya shrugged again. “Carnival's a family business. No college I couldn't do online, anyway. Already got twenty credits toward my degree.”

“That's great,” Lilah offered. “So, if you want, I can let you know if Andy's coming tonight. Wait, that's right.” She tapped her teeth. “Tonight's the Revival.”

“Revival?” Maya blew her tips. “Like a cult thing?”

“No!” They answered in unison. Laughed together.

“No.” Jake finished with a long breath. “Just a gathering of like-minded folks, praising God with prayer and music. Revival as in renewal of spirit. Of hope.”

“Not a lot of that going around these days.” Randall stepped from the back room and settled his lean body into the leather chair across from his daughter.