Chapter Seventeen

Sam opened his eyes and looked around his room, trying to get his bearings. Then, slowly, recognition dawned, and Sam groaned. The events of last night came crashing into his mind, and he groaned again.

How could he have been so incredibly stupid? Like a horror show, scenes from last night ran through his head. Arielle breaking up with him. His anger and the party he immediately headed for. The beer, which he didn’t even enjoy. Then a sudden shout. Everyone scattering. Somehow getting left behind and ending up with a very angry Mr. Vance yelling at him.

Then, even worse, Grandpa coming to get him, too angry to say anything to him. Finally getting home and hearing Grandma and Grandpa saying they were going to have a talk with him first thing this morning.

It took him forever to fall asleep. He wished they would have just gotten the lecture over and done with last night, but Christopher was up, and Sam suspected they didn’t want to talk in front of him.

“Sam, are you up?” Grandma’s voice came from outside his door.

“Yeah,” he muttered, very slowly pushing himself upright. “I’m up.”

“Get dressed and come downstairs. We need to talk.”

Here it comes. He knew he was in big, deep, unavoidable trouble.

He got dressed and washed up. Then he took a breath and walked down the stairs to face the music.

Grandma sat at one end of the table; Grandpa sat at the other end, a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Where’s Christopher?” Sam mumbled, grabbing the back of a chair and pulling it out. He sat down and took a breath, readying himself for whatever Grandma and Grandpa would see fit to dole out.

“He’s outside with Uncle Pete and Aunt Dana working on the float,” Grandma said, her voice quiet. “So now we can talk.”

A thick and heavy silence followed that comment.

“What were you thinking?” Grandpa finally asked, his voice full of the disappointment Sam knew he would be feeling.

Sam rubbed at his eyes with his fingers and then released a sigh. “I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

“Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to go to the Vances’ cabin to pick you up?”

Sam winced at the anger in Grandpa’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I’m so sorry,” he said, not wanting to look up and see the disappointment in their faces.

“Why did you go to that party?” Grandma asked, her voice still quiet. “I thought you were supposed to go out with Arielle?”

“I thought so too,” Sam said, still looking down at his hands resting on the table. “But she broke up with me. That’s why I went.”

“That’s no excuse,” Grandpa said. “No excuse for what you did.”

“I’m not trying to make excuses,” Sam mumbled. “I know what I did was stupid. I know I was wrong.” And he could kiss good-bye any chance of getting back together with Arielle again.

“Why didn’t you call us and tell us where you were?” Grandma’s voice was full of concern.

Which made him feel even worse.

“Arielle broke up with me while I was on my cell phone driving home from work in River Bend. I got mad and … well … I pitched the phone across a field.”

“Do you know where it is?”

Sam slowly shook his head.

“You’ll have to go look for it, and if you can’t find it you’ll have to cancel your plan. If someone finds it and starts using it, you’ll have a huge bill to pay,” Grandma said.

Grandpa leaned back in his chair heaving a heavy sigh. “So now we have to figure out what to do. First off, I want you to write a letter of apology to Mr. and Mrs. Vance. I’ll take you over there this morning to get your car; you can give them the letter and ask if you can help them clean up their place.” Grandpa tapped one hand against his arm.

Sam lifted his head in surprise. “I wasn’t the only one there … I didn’t throw the party.” A dozen more protests clamored to be spoken, but at the thunderous expression on Grandpa’s face, he stopped himself.

“How the other parents decide to deal with their children is up to them, but this is what your grandmother and I decided should be done.”

Sam glanced at Grandma, who sat in her chair, her arms folded over her chest, looking down. As if she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You’ll be phoning Uncle Bill to tell him why you won’t be coming in to work today, and then you had better get to work on that letter so I can take you back to the Vances’,” Grandpa said.

His voice was a little quieter now. He stood and then slowly pushed his chair back under the table, as if it were too much work for him. “I’ll drop you off, and you can drive your car home when you’re done helping them clean up.”

Sam had nothing to say. He knew he had messed up, and he knew he had to be punished. He got up and went to the phone to get the first part of his punishment over and done with.

“I’M LEAVING FOR BEDFORD to get Emily,” Charlotte called up to Bob, who stood on the hay wagon struggling to move the plow Christopher insisted be part of the float.

“Is Slurpin’ Slater back from the Vance place yet?” Pete asked from beside the ramshackle shed they had managed to move onto the hay wagon.

Charlotte shot him an admonishing glance. Pete seemed to think there was some humor in the situation that Charlotte hadn’t found. She turned to Bob.

“If Sam gets home before I do, tell him I need to talk to him. I’ve got a list of chores as long as my arm that I want him to do.”

Pete snorted. “Oh, c’mon, Mom. It was just a party.”

“Pete. We’re not talking about that.” Charlotte angled her head toward Christopher, who was watching the exchange with an avid look on his face. Christopher had no idea what had happened, and Charlotte didn’t want him to know what his older brother had been up to.

“Of course we’re not. Because I don’t have an opinion on that,” Pete snapped.

Charlotte frowned at the cynical tone threaded through Pete’s voice. What was that about?

But she didn’t have time to talk to him, especially not with Christopher around. She got into the car, and as she started it, a sigh drifted between her lips.

What was she going to do about Sam? Making him write the letter and help clean up the mess was a good start. But what else?

When would he learn? When would he grow up? How could she teach him good judgment?

Charlotte tried to push away the panic clawing at her. Before she knew it, he would be out of the house. Then whatever opportunity they had to teach him anything would be over. Would there be enough time?

She thought about Bob saying he didn’t want to have the regrets Frank was feeling. Had she and Bob done enough for the kids? And what about Emily and Christopher? Would they also disappoint her and Bob?

The questions, the same ones that had kept her up most of the night, twisted and spun through her head, guilt floating in their wake.

Please, Lord, help me to trust in you, she prayed as she drove toward the church. Help us to know that you love these children even more than we do. That they are yours first and ours second. Help us to do what we can and then to let go.

It was that last part that was the hardest. That last part was the thing she had struggled with so mightily after Denise left those many years ago, trusting God to watch over the children when they were no longer around. Now that Sam was getting older, she was increasingly aware that time seemed to be running out on her opportunities to guide the children.

As Charlotte turned into the church parking lot, she felt a gentle lift of anticipation. She had missed Emily the last ten days and was looking forward to seeing her again.

Young voices rang out as Charlotte got out of the car. Sleeping bags, backpacks, and suitcases lay piled up with no apparent regard for order or neatness, in much the same way they had been when she first dropped Emily off.

Charlotte walked slowly to where the bus was parked, looking over the bedlam of bodies that didn’t seem in any rush to dissipate. The noise reminded her of the chickens when they had been disturbed.

“Grandma! There you are.” Emily’s voice rang out over the cacophony.

Charlotte glanced around, trying to find her granddaughter. Then there she was, running toward her, arms wide.

Charlotte had to look twice; then she was enveloped in a huge, tight hug.

“I’m glad to be home,” Emily said, giving Charlotte an extra squeeze.

Charlotte recovered quickly enough to return the hug, surprise mixing with pleasure at Emily’s exuberance. She pulled back and held her granddaughter by the shoulders. “Look at you,” Charlotte gushed. Camp had obviously agreed with her. Indeed, her granddaughter looked tanned and happy; her hair shone, and her eyes sparkled.

“I had such a great time,” Emily said, dropping her arm over Charlotte’s shoulders. Charlotte couldn’t believe Emily was nearly the same height she was.

Charlotte slipped her arm around her granddaughter’s waist, pushing aside the thought that someday Emily would be leaving Heather Creek as well. “How was camp?” she asked as they walked back toward the bus.

“I met so many interesting people and had such fun. I went canoeing, did crafts, went for nature walks, and didn’t get any sleep at all.” Emily’s wide yawn underscored that last comment.

“I’m sure you’ll be catching up once we’re home.”

“No doubt.” Another yawn followed that statement.

Young kids Charlotte didn’t recognize greeted Emily as they got to the bus. Some kids from the church waved. Emily introduced Charlotte to a few, her arm still slung over Charlotte’s shoulder as they wove their way through the crowd. Which continued to surprise Charlotte. She thought that as soon as they got closer to her friends, Emily would pull away from her. But she didn’t. Her granddaughter was maturing—and growing up in so many other ways as well.

“Here’s my stuff.” Emily bent over and picked up her backpack and suitcase. Charlotte got the sleeping bag.

“Hey, Emily. See you later,” Ashley called through the window of her mother’s car.

“Later,” Emily replied, throwing a wave to her friend. She paused a moment, glancing around, and Charlotte wondered if she was looking for Troy. Charlotte caught a flicker of worry passing over her granddaughter’s face and wondered if something had happened between them. But as quickly as it came, the worry left.

Then Emily slung her backpack over her shoulder and groaned. “I’ve got a ton of laundry to do as soon as we get home.”

“And don’t forget the sleeping,” Charlotte teased as they walked back to the car. They got in, and with a squeal, Emily snatched up the cell phone waiting for her on the car seat. Charlotte had figured she would want it as soon as possible so she had brought it along.

Before Charlotte even had the car in gear, Emily was busily texting, the worry on her face returning as she hurriedly pressed the keys.

“Did you get a lot of messages while you were gone?” Charlotte asked, glancing at her granddaughter, amazed at how quickly her thumbs flew over the tiny keyboard. Could anything coherent come out of that flurry of activity?

“Not as many as I would have liked,” Emily said with a frown.

“I’m glad you enjoyed camp,” Charlotte said.

Emily glanced up from her texting and nodded. “Yeah. It was kind of weird at first, but I learned a lot.”

“About …?”

“Life. God. Forgiveness.” Emily gave her a grin, her other annoyance seemingly forgotten for now. “Actually, the focus was on sharing our burdens and putting them in God’s hands. Kind of a freeing thought,” Emily mused.

Charlotte felt a glow of happiness at Emily’s words. And behind the glow came a reminder of her prayer only a few moments ago. Her granddaughter was truly growing up.

“Sometimes we take on burdens we don’t have to,” Charlotte agreed, her words reminding her of her struggles with Sam. And of Hannah’s with Frank. “I think we all struggle with one kind of guilt or another. Sometimes it’s guilt we take on; sometimes it’s guilt we should be aware of.”

She waited to see what Emily would say, but when she got no response she looked over at her granddaughter and then smiled.

Emily was fast asleep.

“I REALLY THINK we should put the plow farther back and the shed at the front,” Grandpa was saying.

Christopher looked at the plow and then shook his head. “No. We’re trying to tell the story of the bread. So first we plow the field, and then we plant it, and then we beat the wheat, and then we grind the flour for the bread.”

“Now we’re telling a story?” Grandpa asked, pulling his cap off with one hand and scratching his head with the other. “I thought we were just trying to figure out how to use some of the old stuff.”

“Telling a story was the whole point of the float.” Christopher sighed. He thought he had explained this enough, but obviously Grandpa didn’t get it. “And to tell the story right, everything has to be in the right order.”

“But the plow is too heavy for the front,” Grandpa said.

“I think we should move it to the middle,” Uncle Pete put in, getting up from the back of the float. “It’s way bigger than the flail.”

“Then we’ll need someone to operate the flail.” Grandpa said.

“That would be too dangerous. We can just hang it up,” Pete replied. He sounded peeved with Grandpa.

“Do you think people will know what it is if you do that?” Grandpa frowned.

“Who cares? It’s just a float.”

“If we’re doing this job, we should do it well.” Grandpa said. He let go of the handles of the plow and stood, glaring at Uncle Pete.

“And there’s also the case for return on investment.”

“Whatever that means,” Grandpa groused.

Christopher glanced from Uncle Pete to Grandpa and tried not to get nervous. He didn’t like the way they were fighting. If Uncle Pete got mad enough, he would leave.

“It means that the end result of a project has to be worth the input.”

Uncle Pete had dropped his hammer and was glaring back at Grandpa. Christopher glanced from Grandpa to Uncle Pete, trying to think of a way to get them to stop fighting.

“If we had someone to use the flail, then do you think it would look OK?” Christopher asked, trying to get them back on the topic.

“I’m driving the tractor,” Grandpa said.

And he was standing at the plow. Christopher glanced over at Uncle Pete. Maybe he would change his mind.

“Forget it, Christopher,” Uncle Pete said, holding his hands up. “I’m only doing what I’m doing because Dana asked me to.”

“Do you think Sam would do it?” Christopher asked.

“Sam is in enough trouble as it is,” Grandpa snapped.

“Whatever that has to do with anything,” Uncle Pete said back.

“He has to be punished. And you know it.”

“Boys will be boys.”

“That’s no excuse. It wasn’t for you and Bill, and it isn’t for him.”

What were they talking about? No one would tell him anything. The only thing he knew was that Sam looked extra grumpy when he got up this morning so there was no way Christopher was going to ask him.

“I think we should get Slurpin’ Slater to handle the flail,” Pete said. “It would be good punishment for him. If that’s what you’re thinking of doing.”

“That’s enough, Pete.” Now Grandpa really sounded angry, and Christopher wondered again what in the world was going on. Everyone seemed angry with Sam, but no one would say why. And it seemed, because of that, Grandpa and Uncle Pete were angry with each other. Of course, lately, Grandpa and Uncle Pete were always mad at each other. Ever since the mix-up about spraying the field with the wrong chemicals.

“We could hang it up on something,” Christopher said. “Then people can see it. Maybe make a sign so people know.”

“Sam’s been doing really good,” Uncle Pete said, like he was going back to what they were talking about before. “I think you’ve got to give him some credit for that. And it’s not like he hurt anyone or—”

“Pete. That’s enough.” Now Grandpa was really mad, and Christopher was getting more and more frustrated. They needed to work on the float, not fight with each other. If Grandpa and Uncle Pete kept at it, one of them would stomp away mad, and then the other one would leave and Christopher would be left trying to figure out how he could finish the float.

The sound of a car made everyone look up.

“Hey, Grandma is here with Emily!” Christopher jumped off the float and ran to the car, only too glad to leave Grandpa and Uncle Pete behind for now.

“Hey, everyone,” Emily said as she got out of the car. She hugged Christopher and then Grandpa, who pulled back and ruffled Emily’s hair.

“You look like you’ve been outside, missy,” he said, grinning at her.

“I probably look like I need a shower.”

Uncle Pete pretended to sniff her and then wrinkled his nose. “You not only look like you need a shower, Buttercup …”

Emily punched his arm and then gave Aunt Dana a hug. “Get any more done on the house while I was gone?”

“We’re waiting for the electricians to finish,” Uncle Pete said.

“Grandpa, Uncle Pete, and Aunt Dana are helping me make a float,” Christopher said, trying to catch Emily’s attention. “And we need one more person to operate the flail.” Maybe Emily would help out.

Emily smiled as if she knew exactly what he wanted to ask her. “I’m so tired. I can’t imagine working on the float.”

So much for that idea.

“I still think Slurpin’ Slater should help,” Uncle Pete said.

“Slurpin’ Slater? Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“It’s your uncle’s ridiculous nickname for Sam. And we’re not using it anymore.” Grandma gave Uncle Pete her I mean business look that could really make Christopher nervous; but Uncle Pete just grinned.

“Why that nickname?” Emily asked.

Uncle Pete was just about to say something when the sound of Sam’s car made everyone stop talking.

Sam pulled up beside Grandma’s car, looking even more grumpy than he had when he got up this morning. He turned off the car and stayed inside, staring straight ahead for a bit, as if he didn’t want to look at anybody.

Uncle Pete gave another snort, walked around to Sam’s side of the car, and opened the door. “Hey, mister, you’re helping us. That’s part of your punishment.”

“I know, I know.” Sam got out of the car and blew out his breath.

“Punishment?” Emily asked. “For what?”

Christopher wanted to know too, but Sam looked at Christopher and then back at Emily and shook his head. Christopher knew what that meant: not in front of Christopher.

Sometimes that made him so mad. They treated him like he was a little kid or something.

“Did you get the letter delivered?” Grandpa was asking Sam.

So that’s why Sam had to leave so early this morning. But where had he delivered a letter? And why?

“I did.” Sam sounded mad again.

“How did it go?” Grandma asked.

Sam pressed his lips together and then turned to Grandma and Grandpa. “I was the only kid who came back. The only one out of all seventeen or eighteen kids who came back and apologized.”

“You can be proud of that,” Grandma was saying.

“Hard to be proud when I was also the one who got the whole load. They were angry with me when it was their own daughter who invited everyone. They acted like I was the only one who’d had something to—”

“Sam!” Grandpa stopped him, and Christopher wondered why.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” Uncle Pete said. “We can’t even mention the word. Goodness, can we get some reality here?”

“This is none of your business,” Grandpa snapped.

“But it is, you know,” Uncle Pete snapped back.

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” Emily asked, raising her voice over Uncle Pete’s and Grandpa’s yelling.

Everyone was quiet after Emily’s question, and Christopher guessed no one wanted to say anything in front of him.

Then everyone looked at him. Did they want him to go so they could yell some more?

“I think we can talk about this party while we’re all congregated here with our mouths open like a bunch of guppies,” Uncle Pete said.

“Pete. Mind your tongue.”

“Party? Slurpin’ Slater? What in the world is going on that Christopher and I don’t know about?” Emily asked.

“I had a beer at a party last night,” Sam finally said.

Christopher didn’t understand. Sam wouldn’t drink, would he?

“It was stupid and dumb, and I shouldn’t have done it, and I apologized all over creation and ended up humiliating myself in front of the Vances.” Sam looked at Emily, which made Christopher even more curious.

“Why did you do that Sam?” Emily asked. Now she was mad at him too.

“Hey, cut me a break, would you? Arielle had just broken up with me, and I had nowhere else to go and I was upset and I just showed up. I wasn’t going to stay but I did, and I don’t know how many times I have to tell everyone I am sorry and I’ll never do it again and on and on …”

“Arielle broke up with you?” Emily sounded shocked; Christopher was too. They had been so happy that Arielle and Sam were back together again. And so was Sam. He’d been whistling again, which usually meant he was feeling good.

“That is still no excuse,” Grandpa added. “What you did was wrong.”

“I come back from camp, from a really great experience, and all this is going on? What kind of family is this?” Emily sounded upset.

“Don’t get all holier than thou on us,” Sam snapped back. “Just ’cause you were at Bible camp doesn’t make you better.”

“Sam, watch your tone,” Grandma was saying. She had her hand on Grandpa’s arm like she was holding him back, and she was looking from Emily to Sam to Pete.

“I’m not holier than thou, but I learned a few things,” Emily said, staring at Sam. “And drinking wasn’t one of them.”

“Of course, you would never do anything wrong, would you, Emily? You and Troy have such a perfect relationship.”

“What are you saying?” Now Emily sounded mad, and Christopher was getting more and more confused.

“I’m not saying anything, just reminding you that your boyfriend wasn’t always the knight in shining armor you seem to think he is now.”

“Hey, would you two just chill?” Uncle Pete said with a loud voice.

Christopher’s stomach was starting to hurt. No one was looking at him or talking to him. They were all too busy yelling at each other.

And he was mad too. He was tired of being ignored. Of being treated like he didn’t matter.

“Stop arguing,” he said. But his voice was so small, he didn’t think anyone heard him. He tried again, wishing they would all stop. Wishing they would just get along.

His stomach made a funny flop, and he swallowed hard. Then he swallowed again as everyone kept talking over each other. He didn’t like how everyone sounded. Didn’t like how angry everyone was.

His chest got tight, and he felt like something was pinching his forehead. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut. Then again. Why was everything turning such a funny color, like it was yellow around the edges?

His ears were humming, and he couldn’t get enough air.

Then he heard someone calling his name from far, far away.

And then it was like he was falling backward into blackness.