The Language of Sycamores

Chapter 11

By the time the service was over, I was emotionally exhausted. I had cried during the sermon, wiped my tears, then cried again during the closing hymns. No doubt, James thought I was having a breakdown. I was glad I was at the end of the pew with Dell and James was sitting between me and everyone else, so the rest of them couldn’t see.

Dabbing at my mascara, I tried to get myself in order as Brother Baker made the closing announcements. “Have a wonderful day with your families. You young parents, get the kids out and enjoy the beautiful weather. I have it on good authority that the swimming hole down at Boggie Bend is warm enough for taking a dip, and the perch are biting on the river, just below the old bridge. Church council will meet tonight at five o’clock, prior to the evening service. The mission women would like donations of scrap material to make lap quilts for the nursing home, and don’t forget, starting next week, we’ll be hosting the summer day camp, so we’ll need some strong men and older boys to stay after service tonight and move furniture.

“The volunteer instructors will be arriving on Monday morning to spend two weeks helping kids prepare a musical theater performance, which will be presented Saturday after next. If you missed the program last year, be sure to come this time. Eighty-seven kids from all over the county have been accepted, so it should be a full house. I think they’re doing an adaptation of The Lion King this year, to be presented at the end of camp, on Memorial weekend. If you’ve never worked with the Jumpkids team, I urge you to come down and volunteer.

“That’s all I have for today. Come help this evening if you can. If you can’t, please keep our Jumpkids program in prayer these next two weeks.”

Jumpkids . . . the word wound into my thoughts. Where had I heard that before? The college kid on the plane, Keiler . . . something . . . Bradford . . . Keiler Bradford. Jumpkids was the summer program he was working with in Kansas City. He had mentioned something about coming to Hindsville last year to put on a performance. Was he one of the counselors coming this year?

Thinking back to the plane ride, I remembered the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about Jumpkids, the way he was almost bubbling over with exuberance. That luster of a true believer was an awesome thing to witness. I could only imagine what it would be like to see him in action, when he was actually working with kids.

You won’t be here to find out, Karen, I reminded myself. You’re going home today. The realization came with an inexplicable disappointment, and I found myself calculating the passage of days. If I returned a little early for Memorial Day weekend, I could be back in time to see the last of Jumpkids camp. Maybe catch a small dose of Keiler’s zest for a life unplanned, spend some time with Kate and the kids, commune with nature, pick blackberries, work with Dell on the piano . . .

Dell . . .

I hit on an idea. “Excuse me a minute,” I whispered to James and slid out to catch Brother Baker before he was surrounded by the usual crowd of old after-church hand shakers.

“Brother Baker,” I said, as he was picking up the pots from the railing.

He paused, seeming surprised that I’d left the security of the family pew. “Karen.” He extended a hand, toppling the old coffee can off the railing. “So good to see you here this morning.”

I caught the coffee can as it landed in the altar flowers. “It was good to be here.” Turning the coffee can over, I watched bits of light shine through the holes in the bottom. “It was a good message.”

Brother Baker smiled that warm, benevolent, slightly reproachful smile I remembered from my childhood. “It’s a good thing to remember, isn’t it? We don’t have to be perfect vessels—just useful ones.” He finished stacking the containers, motioning to the one in my hands. “Want to keep that one?” The twinkle in his eye told me he knew what I was thinking. He knew I was looking at that battered container with the light shining through the holes and considering my own life.

I laughed softly and handed him the coffee can. “No, thanks, but I did want to ask you about something.”

“What’s that?” He put the can on the stack. “How can I help?”

How can I help? It seemed like an odd thing to say, considering that I hadn’t asked him for anything. Could he tell just by looking that I needed help? Was it that obvious? For a split second I had the urge to pour out the corners of my soul right there at the altar as people filed out of church. How would it feel to unburden myself of it all and be free?

I shook my head, trying to get my bearings. “Actually, I was wondering about the Jumpkids program.”

Brother Baker set down his pots and clasped his hands together, seeming pleased. “Are you going to be here through the week? We still need more help, and as I recall, you were quite the musician.” His bushy gray eyebrows rose hopefully at the chance to get me into church for an entire week. Brother Baker hated it when one of the flock strayed. These days, he was probably pretty happy with Kate, but I was still living the big, bad, secular city life. Ignoring the spirit, he would have said.

“I wish I could.” Surprisingly enough, that was true. Helping kids develop a summer musical sounded fun, something like a return to my college days in the university theater. Unfortunately, then as now, practical matters got in the way. “I have to fly back to Boston today, but I was wondering, is registration still open for the Jumpkids day camp? Can kids still sign up?”

Brother Baker frowned, now thoroughly confused. “Well, I don’t exactly know. The applications had to be turned in several months ago. The kids were selected on the basis of financial need, recommendations from teachers and social workers, and a two-page essay about why they wanted to attend the camp. It was quite a long process.” He must have noticed the disappointment on my face, because he stopped and said, “Why?”

“I was thinking of Dell,” I replied. Why in the world, if there was a program like this available in Hindsville, hadn’t someone made sure she got in? “I’ve been teaching her some piano the last few days, and she is very, very talented. I’ve never seen anyone pick it up the way that she did, and she has a beautiful singing voice, as well. She’s very interested in learning more.”

Sighing, he set down the stack of buckets. “I’ll be honest with you, Karen,” he said quietly, checking that Dell was out of earshot. “I thought about her when it was time to do the applications. I even sent one home with her, but nothing ever came of it. Generally, she isn’t willing to put herself in new situations. I consider it a small gift of grace that, before your grandmother passed, she got Dell to attend church on Sunday mornings. We have tried to involve her in other activities, but for the most part she is reluctant, or her grandmother is reluctant, or both. Her grandmother is something of a recluse and very suspicious of any and all interventions.”

I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. I’d already gotten the speech from Kate, and it wasn’t the answer I wanted. Music wasn’t just another activity for Dell, not just something to do or something new to learn. It was a passion she was born with and it was awakening in her like a sleeping tiger. “What if I can talk her into it?”

“There’s still the matter of the application, and—”

“What if I can get the application approved?” How in the world was I going to do that? Just because I’d talked to one Jumpkids intern on a two-hour plane ride didn’t mean I could get Dell a free pass.

“. . . and permission of a parent or guardian,” he finished. “It isn’t like church activities, where we can let her participate and take our chances, knowing that we don’t have any signed permission slip for her. The Jumpkids program has an official form that has to be filled out and signed by a guardian. Dell’s grandmother doesn’t allow anyone into the house. Typically, she’s reluctant to sign any forms regarding Dell, because they’ve been investigated by social services numerous times over the years. In her mind, any interest in Dell is a plot to remove her from the home.”

I scratched my head, trying to think. Maybe Brother Baker was right. Maybe I was asking for the impossible. Maybe it would be better for Dell and everyone else if I just tried to find someone who could give her piano lessons.

But at the same time, something inside me was screaming, No. For once in your life, do the right thing instead of what everyone else thinks you should do. “Well, let me at least give it a try,” I said finally. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Brother Baker shook his head with a rueful smile. “Spoken like a true descendant of Rose Vongortler.”

In the past, that comparison would have bothered me, but now it seemed like a vote of confidence. Grandma Rose knew how to manipulate things into the shape she wanted them to have. “You don’t happen to have any of the application forms around, do you?” Ex-actly how was I going to get an application filled out and signed by Dell’s grandmother? I was supposed to be heading for the airport after lunch.

“I think I have some in the office. How about if I bring one by the café in a few minutes?” He glanced toward the pews, which were empty except for my family, standing a polite distance away, watching me with curious expressions. I could only imagine the questions they were going to ask. They probably thought I’d gotten the Holy Ghost.

“That sounds good,” I said. “If I can get her in, could you arrange a ride back and forth for her, at least some of the time? I know Kate would do it, but she’s so busy with the kids.”

“I think I can take care of that. We’ll be transporting some students in the church vans. We can put her on the list.”

“O.K. I’m going to do my best, and I’ll let you know,” I said, trying not to wonder what I’d gotten myself into. From the piano vestibule, the theme from Gilligan’s Island tinkled into the silent air. Brother Baker turned in surprise, shaking his head and smiling as he watched Dell patiently trying to instruct Joshua.

“I think she’s one of your holy buckets,” I whispered.

Dropping his sermon notes into the old paint can, he winked at me just before he exited the altar. “I think she’s not the only one.”

I knew he meant me, and as I watched him walk away dangling the paint can with the light shining through the holes, I couldn’t help feeling good. How long had it been since I’d taken the time to do something completely unselfish?

When I turned around, the rest of the family was waiting in the aisle. Kate and Ben eyed me quizzically as I joined them, and we started toward the door. James leaned close, muttering, “What in the world was that all about?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you later, all right?”

He studied me a moment longer, then shrugged and said, “All right.”

Ben rounded up Dell and Joshua, and together we headed for the café across the square. My thoughts were spinning as we walked, plotting ways to get Dell into the Jumpkids day camp. If I did get her in, how would I convince her to give it a try? Brother Baker was right that the idea of being surrounded by kids and counselors would be terrifying to her. But if she knew there would be a chance to learn more music, she would try to overcome her shyness, wouldn’t she?

I watched her in her wrinkled dress and red flip-flops as we walked around the square. She moved like a shadow, head down, shoulders slumped forward, dark hair hanging over her face. She’d taken out the ponytail holder sometime during church, as if not having the curtain of hair made her uncomfortable. She moved so as not to be seen, as if she wasn’t worthy of being noticed, and she knew it. She had no idea how special she was.

Please, God, let this work out. The voice in my head surprised me. A prayer, for the first time in years. She needs this to work out, and so do I. Please.

The café entryway was crowded with “those Methodists,” as Grandma Rose would have called them, who were known for finishing up Sunday service a half hour early and getting to the café ahead of everyone else. Kate, Ben, and the kids sat on the bench out front to wait for a table. I suggested to Dell that she and I walk over to the gazebo and back. The first part of my plan, I had decided, was to convince her to try camp, if I could get her in.

“So I was thinking about something,” I said when we were out of earshot. “I had an idea to get you some free music lessons for the next few weeks.”

“Really?” she asked, lighting up, then narrowing her dark eyes suspiciously. “Well . . . umm . . . how? Are you gonna stay longer?”

“No.” Why not? Why not stay? “I have to go home.” To what? “But did you hear Brother Baker talking about the Jumpkids camp the next two weeks? It’s going to be right here in Hindsville at the church.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. They were here last year. They did, like, a play and some songs at the gazebo. It was cool, I guess.”

My hopes crept up. “Well, I was wondering . . . if we can get you enrolled for the camp, do you think you’d want to go? I hear it’s a fantastic program. You’d learn some new songs, have a chance to work with some people who love music just as much as you do. I talked to one of their counselors on the plane coming here. It sounds like a great time.”

Dell stopped walking and crossed her arms, jutting out one hip and looking at me like I was the stupidest person in the world. “I can’t go to that. It’s for smart kids.”

“Dell!” I gasped, sounding more stern than I meant to. “You are smart. Stop that.”

Shrugging, she backed off the aggressive posture, looking down at her red flip-flops, wiggling her toes up and down. “Anyway, Sherita and Meleka Hall are gonna be in that Jumpkids thing, and if I show up, they’ll knock my lights out.”

“No, they won’t.” Did she mean that, or was she making excuses?

“Yes, they will.”

“Nobody is going to knock your lights out at a church camp.”

Growling under her breath, she threw her hands up, looking more animated than usual. “Yes, they will. They don’t like me, and nobody there’ll like me. I’ll be all by myself and everyone will make fun of me. I don’t wanna go, all right?” She glanced toward the café, ready to get away from me and Jumpkids as quickly as possible. “Everyone’s goin’ in. Can we go eat?”

I realized my chance was slipping away. If I didn’t do something now, I’d never convince her to try the camp. She’d build it up in her mind into something terrifying. I had to pull out some desperate measures to stop her from shutting down. “I’ll tell you what. Assuming that I can get you into the camp, what if I stay a little longer, and we go to the first couple days together? That way you won’t be by yourself, and if Sherita and Meleka want to knock your lights out, it’ll be two on two.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open; then she snapped it shut. “Sherita’s bigger than you. She’s a big, big girl.”

I did my best imitation of a jive-talkin’ street girl and said, “I can handle it.”

A puff of laughter burst past Dell’s lips.

“What?” I did the chin bob the break-dancers used down at Faneuil Hall in Boston. “Where’s Sherita? Bring ’er on.”

Giggling, Dell slapped her hand over her mouth. “You look majorly lame when you do that.”

We laughed together for a minute, and then I closed the deal. “So do we have a bargain? If I can get you in, we’ll do the first few days together.”

“ ’K,” she answered tentatively.

“ ’K,” I replied, and we headed to the café for lunch.

Kate was definitely curious about what was going on between Dell and me, especially after Brother Baker joined us for lunch. He handed me an envelope with the Jumpkids forms in it, said, “Here’s what you asked for,” and then glanced at Dell, so that it was obvious the contents of the envelope had something to do with her.

Jenilee and Caleb didn’t notice, but Kate and Ben were more interested in the contents of the envelope than they were in the lunchtime conversation. James seemed fairly oblivious to all of it, off in his own world, probably thinking about my job and our finances and our return trips home.

My mind wasn’t in that world at all, even though it should have been. I was right there in Hindsville, and Boston felt far away and insignificant. All of the things I would normally have been doing Monday morning—getting up, going to the office, gathering my team for our Monday staff meeting, looking ahead to the next job or the next business trip, working to debug our newest installations—seemed like some old, uninteresting, nearly forgotten routine. I’d done those same tasks for fifteen years now, and one week was pretty much the same as the next. These next few days in Hindsville would be something completely different, an adventure. A big jump off the map.

What was James going to say when I told him I might not go home this afternoon—that I might stay a few days and help college volunteers teach underprivileged children to sing and dance? Would he think it was some sort of acute avoidance reaction? My excuse for not facing the realities of our life?

Was it?

I watched Dell helping Joshua color a Farm Bureau paper the waitress had brought him. Was I suddenly so interested in her because I couldn’t face going home?

No, I told myself. Don’t second-guess this. I was trying to do something nice, something that would be good for Dell, and in the process good for me. In a way, this would prove I still had a function in the world, that there was more to me than just my job at Lansing.

As lunch progressed, I listened absently to Jenilee and Caleb telling Brother Baker about Caleb’s enrollment in medical school and Jenilee’s first year in premed. It was pretty obvious that Brother Baker was fishing around, trying to see how serious the relationship was. He was playing the role of both grandfather and pastor, making sure that way up there in the big city, no hanky-panky was going on.

Kate took pity on the young couple and led Brother Baker astray, asking him questions about the upcoming Jumpkids camp. I tuned in to the conversation, gathering that the church facilities would be rearranged right after tonight’s service. The Jumpkids counselors would be arriving from Kansas City early in the morning and would be staying with local families. Kate offered the guest rooms in the farmhouse, if they needed more space, but Brother Baker said they had found places for all ten counselors to stay.

By the time lunch was over, I had a pretty clear picture of the Jumpkids setup, and I was more determined than ever to get Dell in. Ten counselors, some church volunteers, eighty-seven kids, ten days of music, dance, theater, set design, and outdoor recreation, a performance of The Lion King at the end. It sounded perfect. I was going to get Dell in and get the forms signed, no matter what it took.

Excusing myself from the table as Ben and James were arguing about the check, I walked back to the bathroom to use my cell phone. My hands started trembling as I fished Keiler Bradford’s card out of my change purse and set it on the vanity, then dialed the number and waited for the phone to connect. What if he couldn’t help get Dell in? What if he wasn’t one of the counselors coming to Hindsville? What if he didn’t even remember who I was? What if . . .

“Hel- . . . shoot . . . hello?” A voice stuttered on the other end of the phone. I recognized it immediately, even before he added, “This is Keiler.”

“Hello . . . Keiler?” I paused to clear the knot from my throat. I hadn’t been so nervous on the phone since I was in middle school, calling boys. “Uhh . . . you may not remember me. This is Karen . . . from the plane the other day . . . Karen Sommerfield?”

He didn’t answer right away. I heard a crash in the background, then someone hollering. He moved away from the noise to someplace quiet. “Karen?” He repeated my name as if I were an old friend, as if he’d expected to hear from me. “Hi there. How’s the trip off the map?”