LANCE PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE AT FIVE THIRTY, SPENT BUT surprisingly refreshed. The last half of the trip he’d cranked the music, washing the sadness and even the tears in a sea of praise. That was probably the weirdest thing Jesus had done in his life—made a tough guy emotional. He felt things he didn’t feel before, which meant he hurt in ways he hadn’t hurt before. But praise music always brought him up. He had to laugh when, dancing with a single arm swaying as he drove, he got double takes from the occupants of other cars.
He parked and got out, ready to walk around back to his entrance, when he spied trash in the front yard. Beer cans? He collected what he could carry and entered through the front door to find Trey and tell him to pick up the rest.
A bigger mess greeted him inside. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Trey he was leaving. But he probably would’ve partied either way.
Lance shut the door with his foot and headed toward the kitchen to the recycling can. Hearing footsteps, he looked up. “Trey, I’m glad you’re—” He could barely see in the shadows, but it was a woman, and not Molly.
“Whoever you are, please turn around and go,” she said. “There’s no party tonight.”
He walked closer. “Kendra?”
She came down a few stairs, studying him. “Do I know you?”
“It’s Lance. Lance Alexander. I don’t know if you remember me”—he wasn’t sure he wanted her to—“but we were in the same class at Clayton for a little while.”
Kendra hesitated. “I do remember you.” She stayed the distance between them, arms folded around her. “You’re here for one of my brother’s get-togethers?”
“Oh. No.” The cans clinked as he put them down. “These are empty. I picked them up in the yard. I just got home.”
“Just got . . . home?”
Lance cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you don’t know I moved in about a week ago, into the lower level.”
Kendra descended a few more stairs, where he could see her better. She looked tired, as if she’d just awakened, her hair half ponytailed, half out, with stray pieces all around. But she was still as pretty as he remembered.
“I’m sorry. I’m confused.” She took hold of the rail, as if to steady herself. “You moved in? How did that happen?”
“I needed a place to stay, and your dad was looking for a tenant . . .” He shrugged, feeling awkward. He’d always felt awkward around her.
She slumped suddenly, leaning on the rail.
“Kendra, are you all right?” He went to her and helped her sit on the stair.
“I just . . . have a headache . . . kind of dizzy.” She heaved like she was about to vomit. “I’m sorry . . .” Tears appeared, seemingly from nowhere. “It’s just been a lot. I’m so tired . . .”
“I’ll be right back.” Lance went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of water. “Here,” he said. “Drink some of this.”
Kendra shifted and lifted her head a little. “Thank you.”
Lance watched her struggle with the cap. “I’ll get that.” He unscrewed it and gave it back. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I had a granola bar this morning and a hot dog at the zoo.”
“Let me help you to the kitchen,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll just go back and lie down.”
“Let’s just see what’s in there.”
He lifted her by her hand and supported her as they walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he placed her at the table. “Can I warm you up some chicken noodle soup?”
“You don’t have to,” she said again, her voice barely above a murmur.
Lance couldn’t not do it. He’d grown up making sure his mother ate. It was in his blood. “How about this,” he said. “I’ll warm it up, and if you don’t like it or don’t eat it, my feelings won’t be hurt.”
Hungry himself after the trip, he prepared two bowls and brought them to the table. “Try a little,” he said. “I think it’ll help.”
Kendra sat up and spooned only a tad, blowing the steam. She tasted it, followed by another spoonful. “It’s really good, thank you.” She looked at him. “This is homemade.”
He nodded.
“You made it?”
He nodded again.
They ate in silence a few minutes, then Lance asked, “So when did you get here?”
“Last night, at the height of the party.”
“I bet that was fun.”
“Exactly.”
Seconds more passed. Then he said, “Look, Kendra, I feel bad being here. I don’t know how long you’ll be in town, but I won’t be in your way. I pretty much stay in the lower level, unless I’m grabbing something to eat.”
She stared into her bowl. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about me. Please, just . . . live your life.”
He quirked a brow, taking a breath to speak, then thinking better of it.
“What?” she said. “Go on and say it.”
“It’s just . . . I heard about the wedding cancellation,” he said. “I wondered if you were okay, that’s all.”
The spoon on its way to her mouth began to quiver. She set it down, stared vaguely ahead, then looked directly at him. “I guess I have to get used to saying it, so I might as well start now. I’m not okay. I’m dying. Of cancer.”
“What?” Lance stared at her, waiting for the punch line.
She went back to eating her soup.
“So your family knows?”
“No one knows yet,” Kendra said, “except the head of my department at work. And my ex-fiancé. That’s why he canceled the wedding.”
Trey and Molly came through the garage door.
“Hey, cool,” Trey said. “I was hoping dinner would be ready.” He tossed his keys on the table and looked closer. “Oh, y’all are eating that? I don’t like soup. That’s why it was still in there.”
“And hello to you, too, Trey.” Kendra sat back, looking at him. “How are you? How was your day? Nice to see you.”
“What’s that about?”
“It’s called trying to have a conversation to see how you’re doing, since I haven’t seen my brother in months, and the one I saw last night I didn’t recognize.”
“Oh, so you decide to come home when it suits you—because heaven forbid you should come home and help your mother when she’s sick—and you expect everything to be like you remember.”
“You’re going to stand there and accuse me of not helping Mom?” Soup had refueled Kendra. “For your information, I offered to come home and stay for a while, but she said not to, that she had plenty of help.”
“Which was mostly me, since Dad was caught up in damage control on campus.”
“And you’re throwing it up in my face?”
“I’m just saying you hardly came home at all. Always so busy. Kendra, the high-powered DC attorney.” Trey got a bottled water. “You’re only here now to lay low because you’re embarrassed about the wedding. I heard you got dumped.”
Kendra looked undone. “Who told you that?”
“Your maid of honor called to see how you were because you wouldn’t answer your phone. She thought I knew.” Trey paused. “And do you know why she thought I knew, Kendra? Because in normal families, they share things. In normal families, people don’t keep secrets for years. But we all know this family is far from normal, don’t we?”
Trey snatched up his keys, and he and Molly were gone again.
Kendra took the soup bowls to the sink and rinsed them, then got a trash bag and walked to the living room. Lance followed and picked up empty bottles and cans while she picked up cups and other trash. While he took his collection to the bigger recycling bin outside, Kendra got out the vacuum and plugged it in.
“I can get that,” he said.
“I’m not helpless.”
“I know.”
She vacuumed the downstairs rooms as he cleaned the kitchen counters, washed a pile of dishes, and spot-mopped the floor. He joined her back in the living room as she walked around the room dusting and looking at photographs.
He sat on the piano bench. “So what kind of cancer?”
She didn’t turn from the shelf. “It’s called inflammatory breast cancer.”
“What stage?”
“Four.”
Lance felt a pang inside. “When does chemo start?”
“Thursday morning.” She put a picture of her mom back on the shelf. “But I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She turned. “You know what? This is weird . . . Lance Alexander living in my house. I used to be afraid of you.”
“Ah, much nicer topic,” he said.
Kendra smiled for the first time, a little.
“Why were you afraid of me?”
“You’re a nice-size guy,” she said. “Probably what, six two?”
He shrugged. “Between six two and six three.”
“And muscular,” Kendra said. “And you walked around looking so mean and hard . . . and that fight. When I saw all that blood . . .”
“You saw it?”
“I was on my way to chem lab. I was there when you threw the punch that broke Mr. Magnetti’s nose.”
The punch that got him expelled. “I’m sorry you had to see that. The whole thing still grieves me.”
She seemed a little surprised. “Where did you go after you left Clayton?”
“To my neighborhood school, for a little while. Ended up dropping out.”
Kendra’s brow furrowed. “Then what?”
“A lot of stuff that’s not pretty.”
She stared at him, and he stared downward.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“I’m a photographer. Also on staff part-time at Living Word.”
“So that’s the connection,” Kendra said. “You knew my parents from there?”
“Mainly Trey, from youth group,” Lance said. “But I got to know your parents somewhat too.” He paused. “I was at your mom’s funeral.”
Kendra fell quiet. “So you know about my dad?”
“I knew enough to pray for your family.”
Kendra grabbed another picture and resumed dusting. “And you just got an earful as to how dysfunctional we are.”
“Whose family isn’t?”
Kendra stared into the picture, one of herself as a toddler with her mom and dad. “You know what I want to do more than anything right now?”
“What’s that?”
“Watch a silly, animated movie and forget everything else happening in life.” She pointed at him. “The problem is, the big-screen television is in your part of the house. That’s no fair.”
“Funny you should say that,” Lance said. “I sell movie tickets.”