The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,103

need. We got a bottomless pot of that, and you welcome to as much of it as you want.”

The urge to say something stupid is strong. I can almost hear myself forming the inane words. Channeling Bogart at the end of Casablanca: This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But I suppress it as best I can, not wanting to spoil things. She must sense my internal conflict.

“Get on,” she says, patting my shoulder.

I walk down the steps onto the sidewalk. I look around, seeing the neighborhood for the very first time. Apart from the boys bouncing the basketball, the immediate block is empty. In my mind’s eye, I populate it with Deedee’s medieval souls. As far away as this is from Lutherville, you’re never so far that you’ve outpaced them.

chapter 20

All Saints

You brought me all the way up here to say no?”

Even if I couldn’t hear the disbelief in his voice, the expression alone would tell me Jim Shaw is angry. He sits on the edge of the sofa, Kathie by his side, wringing his fingers together with so much force it wouldn’t surprise me if they started popping off.

“I brought you up here,” Rick says, “to show you why I’m saying no.”

It’s a strange thing, seeing Jim at a social loss. Usually he’s so quick to patch over the cracks, to smooth the rough spots. But Rick has blindsided him, and it shows.

“Fine,” he says. “Show me.”

“In the morning, Jim. Come to church with us, then afterward I’m gonna take you somewhere. I want you to see this for yourself.”

But Jim is already shaking his head. “I’ll be honest with you, sport. I’m not going back there. Nothing against you, but when we left The Community, we had our reasons. I wouldn’t have given you an opportunity to leave the place if I didn’t think there were problems.”

“I’m not asking you to go back there.”

“‘Come to church,’ you said.”

“That’s right. But The Community is not the only church in town.”

“It’s the only one you work for.”

“Not anymore,” Rick says.

The room falls silent.

Ordinarily I would have jumped in by now, trying to defuse the situation. But the news Rick broke to Jim just now, he didn’t share with me until right before the Shaws arrived. I’m still trying to fathom what’s going on. When he told me he was leaving The Community, chucking the Men’s Pastor job, I assumed that meant yes to Virginia, yes to leaving our home, our neighbors, our friends—the old ones and the new ones.

Then he’d turned around and declined the megaphone in Richmond too.

I didn’t see that coming.

Except that I did. Ever since I told him about Mission Up, ever since he saw Deedee’s painting and I repeated to him the words she’d said about not being distracted by your own reflection but looking through the glass, this rupture has been coming. A new giddiness has entered our relationship.

“Are we really going to do this?” he’ll ask.

“I think we are.”

Maybe it was like this in the days after I told him about my pregnancy. Without skipping a beat, he’d started making plans for our future. One of the things about Rick I admire is how quickly he can reorient. When that reorientation involves an “everything fast,” I hate it, but now I love his spontaneity again.

Next to Jim, Kathie’s pressing a finger into her temple, moving her head from side to side. She opens her mouth, as if to adjust for changing air pressure. The ringing in her ears must be getting to her. I’ve been watching for this since they arrived. Now more than ever, I feel for Kathie. Longing for the clarity that comes through silence.

“You wanna take a walk?” I ask.

She blinks. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.”

The men both rise. Rick is anxious. “If you leave, what am I supposed to do when people come to the door?”

I’m not sure if it’s the trick-or-treaters he’s worried about or being left alone in the house with Jim.

“It’s simple,” I say. “They’ll do all the talking. You just hand them the candy.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. A toddler in a tutu, a ten-year-old princess, and a couple of teenage vampires stand in a huddle under the porch light. They hold out plastic jack-o-lanterns, a shopping bag, and a very optimistic pillowcase. Into each of them, I dole out candy from the bowl stashed near the entrance. Out on the sidewalk, the toddler’s mom waves hello. She’s pushing a plump