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Zoe
Zoe looked down at the phone in her hand. She’d already listed the things that were in her bag. Now she was thinking about what else she could add. A leather jacket? Real jewelry? Did people even put jewelry in their checked bags? Or how about a name-brand purse? She almost snickered at that one. She’d never carried a purse.
They wouldn’t know that. She added it to the list. Then she stared at the brand she’d chosen. Maybe that was too obvious. Maybe she should pick a less expensive, less famous brand. She deleted it and tried to think of a replacement, but she couldn’t. Fine, focus on the leather jacket. She added that to the list. Then she added diamond earrings. Wait, no one would believe that. And this whole ruse would fail if she got caught in the lie.
This idea made her think about her grandmother. If she did get caught, would this lie reflect back on Gramma? She didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t know if committing fraud against an airline was a real crime, but if it was, she didn’t want to get Gramma in trouble. So she erased the leather jacket from the list. Fine. She would just tell the truth and get a puny check. Why had she thought she could do anything different?
Before she could talk herself out of her honesty, she sent the email. Then she looked toward her grandmother’s closed bedroom door. What was she doing in there? Zoe got up off the couch and walked softly across the carpet.
She could hear Gramma on the phone, but it was obvious that she was trying to speak in a hushed voice. Zoe couldn’t understand what she was saying. She got closer to the door, terrified that at any second it was going to fly open and reveal the spy behind it.
She could hear words now ... “no” ... or had that been know? “Yes” ... something, something ... “a hundred?” A hundred? A hundred what? “Thanks ... no ... Zoe ... appreciate ...” Wait, what was she being accused of appreciating? Or maybe Gramma was appreciating something. Had she even said appreciate? Maybe she’d said, “At least she ate.” She must be talking to her mother. This made Zoe’s heart ache. She couldn’t believe it, but she missed her mother. Homesickness washed over her. Home wasn’t perfect. Not even close. But it was home. This was something else. Was her grandmother talking to her mother? Or course. Who else would she be discussing Zoe’s eating schedule with?
She knocked on the door.
Her grandmother stopped talking, and she heard footsteps. Still holding the phone, her grandmother opened the door, looking a bit ashen. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I sent the email. Is that my mom?”
Gramma looked down at the phone as if she didn’t quite know the answer to Zoe’s question. “No. It’s Cathy.”
Cathy? Who was Cathy?
“She’s my friend. One of the church ladies.” She said this as if Zoe should know that she had church ladies. Of course, now that she thought about it, this made sense. But she hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t given an ounce of thought to anything about her grandmother’s life.
“I’ll be one more minute.” Then her grandmother was closing the bedroom door in her face.
What on earth? What could be so important? Was there a church bake sale emergency?
Zoe wondered if she would have to go to church. Her grandmother might make her. She would try to get out of it, naturally, but it wouldn’t be easy tomorrow. She didn’t have any time to get busy or to find something else to do. Eventually, there would be homework and tests to lie about studying for, but she didn’t have any of that yet.
Zoe had gone to church when she was little, when she’d still lived in Maine. She’d been quite the little church mouse back then. Always right on time in her little dresses and tights. She’d liked Sunday school and loved junior church. The teacher who had led junior church had been the best. She’d made it fun, but she hadn’t treated them as if they were stupid. She’d talked to them as though they were intelligent, albeit short, human beings.
Zoe had really bought into all the Jesus stuff back then, mostly because of that junior church leader, but things had changed when her father had left and her mother had moved her to the Midwest. Her mother had met a new man, and he didn’t go to church. They’d never found a church in Missouri. They’d tried a few when they’d first moved, but her mother didn’t like either of them. Now, if Zoe mentioned church, she knew her mom would get flustered and say, “I don’t have time!”
The door opened to show Zoe still standing there. “Sorry,” she rushed to say, “I was daydreaming.”
“That’s all right.” Gramma shooed her out of the way. “We can get going now. I found some money.”
Zoe stepped back. “What do you mean, you found some money?”
Gramma grabbed a light coat off a hook on the wall. “I don’t have any cash, and won’t for a few weeks, but we have a fund at church set up for people in need—”
“I’m not in need!” Zoe was horrified. “We’re going to take money from a church to buy me a toothbrush?”
Gramma smiled and pushed her out of the way again so she could get at her shoes. “We’re not taking money from anywhere.” She held onto Zoe’s right arm as she slid her left foot into its shoe. “We all tithe to God, and we’ve set aside some funds for when people need money, and this is one of those times.” With her left foot secured, she went to work on her right.
“I still feel bad.”
“Well, don’t.” With both shoes on, Gramma let go of her and looked up into her eyes. “And you’re going to need more than a toothbrush.”
