Between Hope & the Highway (17 page)

Organ music played as we entered. Several people stopped to introduce themselves, but most already knew Rawson. No matter where we went, he always seemed to know how to fit in and belong. I wished I could be even one-tenth as cool as him. I didn’t fit in anywhere.

Mackay led the way up the aisle and motioned for Rawson to slide into a pew. I squeezed in next and Liz sat beside me. Mackay ruined it by draping his arm across her shoulders. With his fingers so close, I wanted to bend one back until he cried
Uncle
.

As we waited for the service to start, Rawson turned to a man behind us and chatted about the new thoroughbreds in training. I patted Lizzie’s hand and whispered, “You want me to switch places so you don’t have Doofus’s arm around you?”

Her lips twitched. “I’m fine, Ben.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“Hush. I never said that.” She pulled away to sit straight.

Mackay started stroking the top of her arm. When he leaned into her, I strained to hear.

“How did you get Rawson Law to come with you?”

She shrugged. When he grunted, I wanted to deck him. Why did he care whether my brother came or not? As his fingers pushed under her gauzy sleeve, I leaned into her shoulder and smashed his wandering appendages. When he withdrew and folded his arms, I couldn’t help but smirk.

The organ stopped and the pastor, bishop, or whatever he was called arose to start the service. Liz grabbed a hymnal and opened to the middle. We sang some song about welcoming the Sabbath morning, and I felt the same as I did when I watched the sunrise. The meeting made me feel good as I learned about forgiveness and also about being compassionate to ourselves. The subject was perfect for my brother. I hoped he listened.

After the closing prayer, Rawson stood to leave. When I informed him I wanted to stay for Sunday School, his countenance fell.

“You’re kidding.” He dug a finger beneath his collar.

“Please.”

I think he would’ve called it a day if Lizzie hadn’t intervened. “Benny’s looked forward all week to meeting kids his age.”

“All right,” he growled. “But you owe me big time for this, bro.”

Liz helped me find the right classroom. Sweat rolled down my spine as I prepared to leave her. It turned out I didn’t have to worry. Sunday school was way more comfortable than regular school. The teacher made me laugh and even gave us chocolate-covered cinnamon bears to chow on during his lesson. There were seven kids in my class: two boys—Sam and Erik—and four girls. Alice was the only girl I remembered. She was super talkative and didn’t stare at my crooked neck like the others.

After class ended, I met up with Rawson and Liz.

“How did you like class, Ben?” I loved how she’d started calling me Ben instead of Benny since my birthday. I thought it sounded more grown-up.

“It was great. I already know one kid from school, but now I’ll have other friends in junior high. They’re having a youth activity on Wednesday. A sound scavenger hunt.” I looked at my brother. “Do you think I can go?”

“I have no clue what that is, but it
sounds
harmless.”

I grinned at his pun, but as Octopus Mackay sauntered onto the scene and wrapped his tentacles around Liz, my lips puckered.

“Mackay, not here,” I heard her whisper.

Rawson rolled his eyes. “Let’s blow this taco stand. My butt hurts from sitting so long. Who’s up for chicken at Freda’s?”

“I am. Come on, Lizzie.” I took her hand to pull her away from Mackay.

“I’m taking Liz home.” He put an arm around her and reeled her back into his clutches.

“No need to waste gas, Mack-y.” Rawson purposely slaughtered his name. “Liz is headed to the same place we are.”

As Mackay bristled, Lizzie came to his rescue. “You two go ahead. I always have dinner with Mackay’s family after church.” She stepped over to hug me. “I’m glad you liked it.”

After she left, I wanted to kick the wall. Mackay was completely wrong for Liz. And it wasn’t near as fun without her now. Rawson grilled me as we filled up on greasy chicken at Freda’s.

“So the other kids were nice to you?”

“You sound surprised. Did you expect them to strap me to the wall and throw darts?”

He bit into another drumstick. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were great. This one girl, Alice, even invited me to eat lunch with her and her friends when school starts so I won’t have to eat alone.”

Rawson set down his chicken. “Did you used to eat alone?”

I stared out the window. “Sometimes.”
Always
would be more truthful. The other kids had treated me like a disease since the accident. I shifted the conversation back to him. “Did you feel anything during the sermon?”

His nose wrinkled.

“You didn’t feel all warm and tingly?”

He raised both brows. “You sound like you’re asking if I wet my britches.”

“It’s just that, uh…” I searched for words. “I felt so good. Warm. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Maybe the heater was cranked up.”

I raised my neck, but couldn’t sustain the position. I’d overdone it. “Liz told me it’s the Spirit.”

Rawson licked his fingers. “I didn’t feel no spirit or any other warm, fuzzy feeling…except when I saw Lizzie’s legs as she got into the truck. Those made me quite hot under my collar.”

I glared.

He chuckled. “Just kidding, kid. Church wasn’t too bad, although my shirt and tie had me crawling out of my skin.”

He threw a tip into the jar at the counter as we left. I was dog-tired from trying to look semi-normal, and all that greasy chicken and mashed potatoes hadn’t helped. I dozed off on the ride home and awoke as we pulled into the garage.

We took off our shoes in the mudroom and Rawson followed me upstairs to my room. After I shut the door, he stripped off his shirt and plopped down on my beanbag.

“How long has Liz been going out with Tacky Mack-y?”

“Don’t call him that. I hate when kids call me names like Bent-head.”

“Who calls you Bent-head?”

I folded my arms. “Doesn’t matter. Just don’t call people names.”

“Tell me who calls you that.”

“No way. You’d kick their butt.”

He smashed his fist into the beanbag. “No one calls you names without answering to me. Now who is it, so I can go kick some ass?”

“You need to stop cussing, dude. She’s been going out with Mackay since she got here in April.”

Rawson’s brows squeezed together.

“How do you know Mackay?”

“I tortured him in high school.”

I laughed, but sobered when he didn’t crack a smile. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

A tremor shot through me. “What did you do?”

Rawson looked at the ceiling. “Face-dipped him in garbage cans, tripped him as he walked down the hall, punched him when he passed, you name it.”

“You and Damon?”

“Yeah, we were jerks. I was stupid back then and let a girl get to me.”

“You bullied Mackay because of a girl?”

“His sister.”

“No way.”

“Sarah Benson. We were in seventh grade art together and I crushed on her. But I was scrawny and battled puberty induced acne. I didn’t have the confidence to make a play for her even though we were pretty good friends. She helped me with projects since I sucked at drawing.”

He leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. “Ninth grade changed all that. My hormones and muscles kicked into turbo-drive and I became popular overnight. The fame kind of went to my head. It seemed I could have any girl I wanted…except Sarah, who suddenly couldn’t stand me. I asked her out repeatedly, but she refused on grounds that I wasn’t of her faith. That’s why Damon and I started messing with her little brother.”

I gulped. For five years, I’d been pushed around and mocked by others. To learn that my own brother fit in the bully category hurt.

“That wasn’t very nice.” It came out a whisper.

Rawson pursed his lips. “I’m not like that anymore.”

“You called Mackay names today.”

He made a face. “I felt like I was back in high school. It made me angry all over again that girls like Liz and Sarah Benson will only go out with…” he paused and put his fingers in the air like quotes, “…
men of faith
instead of giving us regular guys a chance.”

I blinked back tears.

He closed his eyes. “Who am I kidding? There was a damn good reason Sarah didn’t want to go out with me, and it had nothing to do with my faith, although she used that as an excuse. I was a major player, and she would’ve been just another conquest. She was smart enough to not give me the chance to hurt her.” He sounded sad.

That made two of us.

Chapter 30

Rawson

“Boss? You out here?” I yelled.

Peeking into the tack room, I found Lizzie with her arms full of gear. The woman worked like a Clydesdale, but was as graceful as any Lipizzaner.

“There you are. What horse do you want me to start with this morning?”

She pushed past me with her load. “Grab Millennial Eagle.”

“Now you’re talking. I thought I was doomed to work with those brainless geldings for the rest of my life.”

“That’s only for the days you show up late.”

“Ohhhh.” I gave her a mischievous smile. “So you were punishing me?”

She began saddling Blue Boy Renegade. “Maybe.”

I bridled the majestic sorrel stallion and joined her in the arena where she was lungeing Blue Boy in a four-beat walk rhythm.

“I have a question for you,” I called as I led Eagle in a circle to warm him up.

She clicked her tongue to switch Blue Boy into a two-beat trot.

“Why Mackay?” I flicked the rope to increase Eagle’s tempo, focusing on his hindquarters. “Seriously, Lizzie. Mackay?” I still couldn’t believe she’d been with that pimply faced kid yesterday.

“What? He’s a good guy.”

“So’s the Pope, but I don’t see you dating him.”

“What do you care who I date?”

“Since you saved me from being crushed by Shooter’s lethal hoofs and meeting my Maker, I kind of owe you.”

“You don’t owe me.” She gave a short whistle to signal Blue Boy into a three-beat canter.

“Yes, I do. And believe me, you can do a whole lot better than Mackay Benson. He’s like ordering vanilla at an ice cream parlor. Boring.”

She slowed her horse. “I happen to like vanilla. What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

I ignored her question. “Expensive vanilla bean isn’t bad, but Mackay’s a tub of generic vanilla. Icky.”

“Be nice.”

I tipped the brim of my hat. “I just think you shouldn’t settle with that tub of boring when there are lots of better flavors to try. Like Chance or Seth.”

An unladylike snort erupted from her throat and nose.

“They’re puppies around you. Every time I turn around I find one of them panting and waiting for you to rub them behind their ears.”

She shook her head. “They’re just friends. Seth is teaching me to barrel race and Chance just helps me out when you’re missing in action.”

“I can assure you Chance never bothered asking old Larry if he needed help. He likes you. And he’s a great guy, even if he doesn’t go to church. I can vouch he’s no vanilla.” I brought Eagle to a halt and reached into my pocket for a sugar cube. “What ice cream flavor would Chance be?”

She laughed.

“I’m serious. Name a flavor.”

She began stroking Blue. “Rocky Road?”

“Ah. I wanted to be that.”

Her lips twitched, creating a cute dimple in her cheek that I’d never noticed. “You’re more like blue bubble gum ice cream—flashy, but not much substance when you dig into it.”

I clutched my heart. “Ouch.”

She tried to hide a grin. “Nothing can hurt your ego. It’s steel-plated and Kryptonite proof.”

Eagle began nibbling at my neck. “Let’s say Chance asked you out. What would you say?”

She threw me a stern librarian scowl. “I’d say no, of course. I’m dating Mackay.”

“But you and Mack-y don’t have the slightest snap, crackle, or pop. Believe me, I would’ve noticed if you did.”

She rubbed her horse’s ears. “We were at church. What did you expect us to do? Make out during the sermon?”

I patted Eagle and lifted the rope to run him again. “That would’ve been a whole lot more interesting. But you don’t need to kiss to have snap, crackle, and pop. It’s noticeable in a couple even if they’re just sitting by each other. And believe me, you and Mack-y don’t have the slightest zing.”

“His name is Mackay. And stop comparing our relationship to a box of breakfast cereal.”

“Not just any box of cereal. One that’s been in your grandma’s cupboard for fifteen years. You’re stale as moldy bread.”