Somehow my mom managed to get everyone to agree to come to Easter dinner. Not just Bob, Fawn, and Flip, but also Rusty and her dad. I was glad, since Rusty’s dad hadn’t started his job at Swiftriver yet and they may have been low on food again.
“I’m looking forward to the job,” Mr. Peterson, whose first name is Rob, told Dad. “But I feel a little nervous knowing the big boss is coming to dinner.”
Bob Hansen hadn’t arrived yet, but I assured Mr. Peterson it would be okay.
“Mr. Hansen’s cool. He never stops smiling. I kinda forget he’s the boss most of the time.”
Rusty and I went outside to throw some balls while we waited for the rest of the company to arrive.
“So, now you know Jesus didn’t stay dead,” I said. Rusty and her dad had come to church that morning and heard the Easter message.
“Uh-huh. He resurrect — what’s that word again? I don’t think it was in the Beginner Bible.”
“Resurrected. He came back to life.”
“That’s it. I still don’t get why he had to die, though.”
“Well, he died for our sins.”
“But why did he have to do that?”
I missed the ball Rusty threw to me and had to chase it back to the fence. While I was chasing, I tried to think of a good answer to her question.
God, help me. I want to wear the “Shoes of Good News . . .”
I picked up the ball, turned, and ran back to where Rusty was standing.
“The Bible says that we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. That means we’re separated from him unless our sins are paid for.” (Wow, that memory verse from Sunday school just sorta popped out.)
“Well, can’t we just do some good deeds to make up for our sins?”
“Hmmm. That’s a good question. How many good deeds do you think you’d have to do?”
Rusty laughed. “Oh, about a thousand million.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Rusty shook her head. “I don’t believe that. I’m sure you are way better than me.”
“Hardly.”
“But your mom’s still here.”
“What?”
“Your mom didn’t leave. Mine left.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Rusty’s mom left her family?
“Where did she go?”
Rusty stopped throwing. “Don’t know. I just know she left because of me.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I have proof.” Rusty put down her glove and pulled a wrinkled-up piece of paper out of her pants pocket. She handed it to me.
“I don’t think I should look at this.”
Rusty shrugged. “Why not?”
“I dunno. Seems private.”
“Go ahead. I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about it.”
My hands shook a little as I unfolded the paper. The nice writing didn’t fit with the message:
Dear Rob,
I’m sorry to have to break your heart again. You know I try not to. Please forgive me, but I have to leave. I can’t do this anymore — it’s too hard. I knew this would happen if we had a child. You and Shari will be better off without me.
Love, Cheryl
P.S. I’ll miss you forever. Please don’t try to find me.
A wave of sadness washed over me, and my eyes got teary.
“Rusty, where did you get this?”
“It was in some boxes I was unpacking at our apartment.”
“Have you asked your dad about it?”
“No — and I’m not going to.”
I folded the paper back up and handed it to her. “You should tell him you found it. He could explain what happened. How old were you when your mom left?”
“I think I was around five.”
Mom yelled out the kitchen window. “Girls! Everybody’s here. Come in and get cleaned up for dinner.”
“I’m not hungry anymore, are you?” I grabbed my glove and ball and headed for the house.
“I’m starving.” Rusty patted her stomach. “We have food in my house right now, but Dad and I are terrible cooks. I’ve been saving room for this meal.”
Brady came out, all excited. “Hurry up! Dad says I can show my egg trick when everyone gets to the table.”
“Egg trick?” Rusty raised her eyebrows.
“Who knows?” I said. “It’s Brady. Could be good, could be a disaster.”
It turned out to be both.