Providence (18 page)

In fifteen minutes we were on the highway, one hundred twenty miles from Indianapolis.

“You guys are awesome!” We exchanged high fives like a four-person bowling team after four perfect games.

“I am sooo glad to be getting out of there,” Jenny said. “Between finishing my paper on Monday, then not sleeping for a week while Erin and I crammed every textbook fact into our heads, I thought this term would never end.”

“I don’t want to see another book for two weeks,” added Erin. “I don’t want to read a newspaper. I don’t want to read the back of an aspirin bottle.”

We laughed.

“Providence will be a ghost town by four o’clock,” said Mitch.

The girls opened the cooler, grabbing snacks for Mitch and me.

“What about you, Jack? How did your final exams go?”

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I could do it all over again. Piece of cake!”

“Shut up!!”

By four o’clock we were in North Indy after a nonstop fifty-five mile-per-hour flight and one time-zone change. When Jenny saw a rental car in the U-shaped driveway at her sister’s house, she became noticeably excited. She hadn’t seen her parents in more than a year.

“Hello, everybody!” Jenny’s mom, Angela, opened the front door to greet us, ushering four college kids from the cold into the cozy warmth of the Midwest farmhouse.

Mitchell and I watched Erin and Jenny get hugged and loved on, Mike and Tessa awaiting their turn.

“You’re all so cold,” Angela said, holding Jenny’s face in her hands.

“Howard Cameron.” Howard extended his hand to me, and I shook it, trying hard to make a strong first impression. He was strong, fiftyish, with a brawny frame and a wide smile. He gave me one of the friendliest greetings I’d ever received.

“Mom and Dad, these are our boyfriends,” Jenny said, and we all laughed at her bluntness. “This is Mitchell McDaniels; he’s with Erin. And this is Jack … he’s mine.”

The atmosphere inside Mike and Tessa’s house was like a Frank Capra film. Perry Como sang
“chestnuts roasting on an open fire”
as if he could somehow see the large open stone fireplace. An eight-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room glistened with elegant white lights and expensive ornaments. It wasn’t
my
home, but it felt like home.

“We’re glad to meet you!” Angela said. She gave me a hug as if I were a long-lost son.

“Mom adopts young people, Jack. That’s the first thing you have to know around here,” Tessa said.

Mitch and Erin didn’t stay long, but we made plans for Christmas shopping on Saturday morning at the mall.

After settling in and stowing my things in the rec-room basement, I cleaned up for a family dinner. There were six of us seated at the rustic table in the dining room. They’d prepared a smorgasbord that looked like a Thanksgiving meal, but with unusual additions like deli meats and cheeses, Manhattan clam chowder, and egg rolls. After giving thanks, dishes were passed and conversations began.

“Jack, Angela and I belong to a ministry that plants churches in different parts of the world, to reach out to others, teach English, and whenever possible, share the message of Christ.”

“Where are you headed next?” I asked.

“After the first of the year, London. I have a feeling we’ll be there a long time.”

Jenny took on the role of table host, directing the flow of conversational traffic, asking everyone to share what they’d been up to lately.

“Mike is working in the state attorney general’s office. This is apparently his crowning moment of glory, since he can’t stop talking about it,” Tessa said.

“Hey, it was my number-one law-school fantasy! What can I say?” Mike blushed.

“Meanwhile I’m still struggling away in private practice. I did however bring on a paralegal in October, and it’s helped enormously.” Tessa sipped from her glass. “What about you, sister?”

“My free time’s been gobbled up by a pilot program Dr. Holland launched in Providence. We’re researching the needs in the inner city. This semester we’ve mostly just been taking stock of the situation because there’s so much that needs to be done. No one’s sure how to approach the task. Every time we think we’ve seen everything there is, another layer appears.”

“And what about you, Jack?” Angela turned her gaze from Jenny to me. “What’s your first year of college been like?”

“It’s been extraordinary, Mrs. Cameron. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I was in high school eight months ago.”

Tessa raised her eyebrows.

“I’m sure your parents are proud of you. Jenny’s told us how focused you are on your work … and school.”

“My mom is, I think.”

“Jack’s parents divorced when he was young,” Jenny said.

I was sure she’d already told her mom about my situation.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jack. Do both your parents still live in Iowa?”

“My dad’s in California. We don’t see him much anymore.”

Tessa excused herself and went into the kitchen.

“Do you know what you’d like to do when you get out of school?” Howard asked.

Tessa returned carrying in a real New York–style cheesecake. “Okay, everybody. Here it is … the best cheesecake on the planet, FedExed in fresh this morning from Montell’s in Lower Manhattan.”

The five of us oohed and aahed. She set out dessert plates, and the smell of brewing coffee wafted in from the kitchen.

“You were saying, Jack?” Howard and Angela may have been scribbling notes in their mental personnel files, but it didn’t feel that way. I would have been more nervous had I known Jenny had never brought a boy home before.

“After college? I know I should have this all figured out, but—”

“Nonsense,” Angela said. “What young man’s ever had his life course mapped out by his freshman year of college? I know Howard didn’t.” She touched his arm and smiled at him. “He knew his purpose and calling were to serve the Lord. That’s what first brought him to Chicago, but that was it. Howard and I met in college when he was a freshman and I was a junior at school. My father and mother had been missionaries in India and the Philippines. I knew God was calling me, but Howard was just open and waiting.”

“She told me we were going on a world cruise.” Howard said, getting the night’s first big laugh.

“Oh, I did not!” Angela said. They looked as if they’d fallen in love in October along with the rest of us.

“Jack, I believe the Lord has wonderful things in store for your life, and if you’ll watch for those things, follow His leading, He’ll take care of the rest.”

Angela’s words proved true over the years, as true as refined gold. But at the time, I couldn’t possibly comprehend their meaning.

“I haven’t known you long, but you’re a special person, I can tell. I’m thankful you’re spending Christmas with us.” With that Angela raised her glass to me, and I felt accepted.

“Thank you.”

After dinner Jenny and I sat alone on the sofa in the rec room downstairs. Our long day of adventure was winding down, tempered by a good meal and the late hour. We rested. Jenny stretched out across the red plaid couch, strands of chestnut hair falling across her face.

“I think you were a hit with my family,” she whispered, her eyes barely open.

“They’re wonderful. You’re lucky to have them.”

“I don’t see it as luck. I think of it as the Lord’s blessing.”

“Okay, then, you’re blessed.” Eyes closed, she smiled.

I’d seen Jenny’s genuine faith at work in her daily life. Seen it in the title of a book she carried called
A Woman’s Field Guide to Faith
by Allison Miller. The small devotional went everywhere with her, stuffed into her red book bag with the rest of her textbooks. I’d seen it at Dr. Holland’s clinic when she kneeled to comfort a worried child, or patiently explained something to a mother who spoke only broken English. She was gracious in response to the frustrations of life or when facing disagreeable, unhappy people.

“Did you ever go to church?” Jenny asked. Her eyes opened in the soft glow of a lamp.

“My parents took us when we were little, but I don’t remember much.”

“We’re going this Sunday. Will you come with us? There’s also a Christmas Eve service we attend every year.”

“Yes,” I said, wondering if I could find there what the Camerons had discovered in the house of faith.

“You know God loves you, don’t you, Jack? I mean, someone has explained this to you?”

“More or less.”

“This visit could be good for you in a lot of ways,” she said sitting up, more awake now. “Are you getting used to me in your life?”

“Too much so,” I said, not thinking.

“What does that mean?”

“Sometimes I think we’re getting too close, and that worries me.”

Jenny turned on another lamp, brushing the shade tassels with the back of her hand.

“Why would that worry you?” she asked.

“Worry’s not the right word,” I said. “I mean to say I get confused sometimes. You’re graduating from college next year. I’m just getting started. I don’t know what’s going to happen then. Don’t you ever think about it?”

We’d rarely talked about the future, but as all young people in love know, it’s an issue, whether spoken or not. Our romance was intrinsically tied to who we were as students. A hedge of immaturity blocked me from seeing what it could be after college.

“Jack, honey, what I think about us is that I love you.” Jenny parsed each word. “When I think about the future, I think about
us
. What
we
could be like.” Her voice was calm and confident. “I think we could be good together, really good.”

She crossed her legs Indian-style and held both my hands. “Jack, do you remember me telling you I grew up part of the time in England?”

“Yeah.”

“When I was a teenager, I used to sit up at night and look out my bedroom window, asking God if He had chosen a special man to be my husband someday. I didn’t think he’d be English, but I believed God had someone special, somewhere. He could be anyone in the world, even someone on the other side of town.”

She stared into space, the golden lamplight painting a halo around her hair. “If it’s the Lord’s will for me to have a husband”—Jenny wrapped her fingers around my hand and squeezed them—“I’d so love that future to be with you.”

At forty the phrase “I’d love that future to be with you” demands a response. Hearing that as a teenager, the proclamation was enough in itself. The discussion needed go no further.

I realize the phrase “This was all so new” doesn’t delve very deep. But I’d never held a woman so long that hours and even days later I could still feel the texture of the fabric she wore against my fingertips, or the soft touch of her face resting on my shoulder. I’d never known the responsibility that comes with the realization that there’s nowhere else on earth she’d rather be than with me. I was old enough to be in love, just not old enough to know what a rare thing it is.

Jenny reached for a thin tangerine blanket resting on the back of the sofa and draped it over both of us. She found her place cuddled against me where her body fit perfectly with mine. I moved my lips toward hers, and we kissed. In the world we see with our eyes shut—she was making a pledge, securing a bond. She was giving me her heart and saying a promise to stay in love forever.

The basement door opened with a scrape, and we heard Angela’s voice at the top of the stairs. “Jenny, it’s nearly midnight. You need to let Jack get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

I have fond memories of the days when Jenny and I, though legally adults, were still under the watchful eye of her protective parents.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, and we heard the door upstairs close again.

Quietly, and without fully understanding, I surrendered myself to her that night, clueless that twenty years later I would still be thinking about that moment. That I would write about it until the hands of an antique clock ticked 2:37 a.m.

On that night twenty years ago, I didn’t think about the next day or the day after that. We were together, and there was nowhere on earth I’d rather have been.

~
N
INETEEN
~

Motoring
What’s your price for flight?

—Night Ranger

“Sister Christian”

“We’ve finished our response to the Abbott piece. We’re releasing it to the press this morning.” Arthur Reed was ready for a fight. “Susan and I worked on it last night during the drive back to Indy. I think you should know, we’re not going easy on him.”

“Can you read it to me over the phone? I need to know exactly what you mean by ‘not going easy.’”

“Ah, not just yet,” Arthur said. “I’ll fax you an approval copy later this morning.”

It was Monday morning. D-day for the defensive press blitz Arthur was eager to launch.

“Susan wants to get this thing serviced as widely as possible before journalists leave their desks for lunch. She’ll send it to newspapers, wire services, print media, television and radio stations, Web bloggers, and gossip columnists. Everywhere McKinney and Company has contacts. She’ll send out over fourteen hundred e-mails and faxes by day’s end.”

“Impressive,” I said.

“I want you to consider letting Susan set up something on cable. We could definitely do O’Reilly. That guy hates your guts. His senior producer has already called my office twice this morning. They’re planning to rip into you on tonight’s program. I guess he has strong feelings on nonprofits that abuse their privileged status.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m working on another plan.”

For all his protests, deep down I suspected Arthur liked what was happening. Some of it had to do with book sales, but mostly I think he just liked being involved in big-league play. His premier author was a sudden celebrity immersed in a big scandal that required a bigger response. Arthur enjoyed life supersized.

“I want you to reconsider. They would give you twenty minutes. We could fly to New York this afternoon, and you could tell your story to the world—clear this all up before you go to bed tonight.”