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Rachel
“And?” Don’t push, Rachel reminded herself. Be patient.
Zoe leaned back in her chair. There was more to the story, and from the looks of things, it was juicy stuff. Rachel really hoped it didn’t involve the moonshine boy. She had enough information to know already that he was dangerous.
“You won’t tell my grandmother?”
It had occurred to Rachel that, once they got talking, this question would come up. But she hadn’t thought it would come up on their first day together, and she hadn’t come up with an answer yet. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to lie to the girl. She leaned forward and tried to convey with her eyes the love she felt in her heart. “If you need help—”
“I don’t need help.”
Rachel held up a hand. “Please, let me finish. If, at any time, you need help, and I am not able to give it, then I will probably ask for other help.”
Zoe looked confused.
“I can’t promise I will keep all your secrets. I will try, and I would never gossip for the sake of it, but if you are ever in trouble, I will move heaven and earth to help you, and if that means spilling a secret or two, then yes, I will.”
She still looked confused. “Why on earth would you be so motivated to help me?”
“Jesus. Now tell your story.” She leaned back and picked the sandwich up from her lap. It was delicious.
“So ...” She still sounded tentative.
Rachel looked her in the eye, trying to will her to be courageous.
“I was in bad shape. I had trouble walking. I fell down and skinned up my knee. I ripped my pants and was bleeding, and I was partway home when I just sort of ran out of gas.” She averted her eyes and stared at the walls. “And that’s when it gets weird.”
Good. “I am quite comfortable with weird. Sometimes I think I was born for it.”
Zoe glanced at the hat she was wearing and then returned to staring at the wall. “Does moonshine make you hallucinate?”
“Not that I know of. What did you see?”
“See, heard, felt.” She took a long breath. “I saw a small, old church. It had a porch light on.” She sounded as if she was tired of telling the story. Had she told it to someone else? Or had she simply been over and over it in her own head? “I thought it looked like a good place to rest. So I literally went and lay down on its little porch.” She shook her head. “So weird. Anyway, I was resting there, and then, and this part is super hazy, but a man’s voice said, ‘You know better than this.’”
Oh boy. This was good.
“But there was no one there. He said some other stuff too, but that’s all I really remember. And then ...” She looked at Rachel.
“I believe you,” Rachel said softly.
“And then he carried me home.” Her voice cracked on the word home. “He talked to me, my brain can’t remember his words, but I felt him carry me home. I passed out and woke up, a few times I think, and then we were home, and he disappeared.” She laughed. “Actually, he didn’t disappear because he never actually appeared. I never actually saw him. But I felt him. His arms and his chest. And I saw my own feet swinging in the air with the ground moving beneath us. Beneath me, I mean.” She gulped for air. “So, I’d like to believe it was a hallucination, but now that I’m telling the story, I’m thinking that maybe, without that hallucination, I wouldn’t have been able to get home. And if so, then it wasn’t really a hallucination.”
Rachel’s brain searched for words. She had plenty she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to scare the child off. The man, of course, had been Jesus. And this was such good news! Jesus had his hand on her already!
“And that’s not even the weird part.”
You’re kidding. “All right.”
“So, the church isn’t there. I can remember it, but Jason drove me all over this town, and it doesn’t exist. But I figured out where I was because I remember the big yellow house beside the supposed church. And that church? It’s not a church at all. I thought it was like some weird museum thing, but it isn’t. It’s just a shack. I saw a steeple. There is no steeple. I saw the porch light. It was so bright that I had to shield my eyes. But there was no porch light.”
Rachel gave her several seconds, to make sure her story was over. “And then this man left you to crawl through a window into your grandmother’s building?”
A hint of a smile played on Zoe’s lips. “I don’t think we should call it a man.”
“What would you call it?”
“You know, you sound like a shrink.”
Rachel laughed. “I am definitely not a shrink. I think most of that stuff is quackery.” Oh no. She shouldn’t have said that. “Why, have you been to a therapist? I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Yes. My mom made me go to counseling. A fat load of good that did.”
They fell into silence. Should she tell Zoe who the man was? Or should she let her figure it out? “I wish you could remember more of what he said.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve tried not to think about it. The whole thing freaks me out.” She closed her eyes.
Rachel tried to be patient.
“Wait! I remember. He said something like, ‘This is not who you are.’”
Yes. That made perfect sense. “What else?”
She scrunched up her face. “This is not where you’re supposed to be? Or something like that. And then when we got back to Gramma’s building, he said again, ‘You know better than this.’ I think. That might not be his exact words, but it’s close. I think.”
“I believe you. That makes perfect sense.”
Zoe’s head snapped back. “It does?”
Rachel nodded. “It does.” She wanted to tell Zoe that Jesus, or that an angel of Jesus, had carried her home, but she was going to try not to—unless she asked. She didn’t want this to turn into a preacher-audience situation. She waited for her to ask, but she didn’t.
Zoe took another bite, swallowed, and then took a long drink of Moxie. “This is a really good dinner. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
