16

After the game, Zan caught a ride to Hedge’s in the back of a too-small coupe.

Hedge’s split-level seemed only slightly better maintained than his own housing, but Zan was after a buzz, not a vacation home. He grabbed a couple of beers and stepped out back into the quiet. Somehow, he wasn’t up for the party scene tonight.

He called home and chatted with his mom, found out Bailey had filed for divorce. Good for her. She needed to sever the connection with Mike as completely as possible.

Was Kasia having luck with that? Cutting ties with Nail-in-the-Tire?

He took a few long pulls of microbrew and stood there, alone, wondered what the year would hold. Markman’s team. New classes. And…

Back to Kasia Bernolak. Was she really as put off by him as she seemed at the store? Nah. He’d seen the almost smile. And she’d called him Forearms.

That was it. She just liked him more than she’d meant to. By the time he’d finished both bottles, daylight had dimmed.

This party had nothing to offer, so Zan headed back, took his time. Geneva was no sprawling metropolis.

After a month with Caleb and Chen, it still messed with him that they were so—so normal. At practices and ball games, they gave 110 percent. They cut up with the team and had the guys over to grill all the time. In fact, the only difference he’d noticed—other than their churchgoing and wholesome language—was how they’d just disappear when everybody went over to Hedge’s after a game.

The warmth of alcohol flowed through his veins, and the world floated in a mellow haze. With every breath, he tried to absorb the salmon-pink sky, swooping sparrows, and summer breeze. The gravel driveway crunched under his feet as he headed to the back door.

He let himself in and dropped his duffel beside him. Were the guys home? Zan flopped into the ripped-up five-dollar recliner, checked the den for signs of life.

The TV was off, but an open soda can and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn sat on the corner of the coffee table. Next to a Bible. Man, the thing looked like it’d been run over a few times. By a semi. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, chuckled at the duct tape all over the binding. Somebody didn’t do much to take care of it.

“’Sup, Zan?”

He dropped the book.

Caleb grinned. “Had enough for tonight?” He bent down and picked up the Bible, set it on the table.

“Felt like relaxing is all,” Zan said. He poked at the Bible. “This yours?”

“Yup.”

“Why don’t you take care of it?”

Caleb picked at a loose corner of tape. “Rough-lookin’, ain’t it? I guess I read it a lot.”

Zan laughed louder than he meant to. “Is that why you don’t drink with all of us?”

Caleb sat. “Yeah, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Not allowed?” Got him this time. “One of those ‘thou shalt nots’?”

“Actually, the Bible says not to be drunk, but it doesn’t say flat-out not to drink. Just warns that it can bring trouble.” Caleb looked at him a second longer than was comfortable. “I don’t really miss it.”

Zan stared back, tried to figure him out. At least he seemed sincere. Zan picked up the book and thumbed through the pages. Stopped. “‘O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and You will not hear? Or cry to You ‘Violence!’ and You will not save?’”

That sounded about right. “So the Bible might not be only crazy stories.”

“There’s truth in there.”

“I’m not into religion.”

Caleb slapped the arm of the couch. “Me either, man. Religion is a waste of time.”

Zan blinked.

And he almost asked what Caleb meant.

~*~

Kasia followed Mark and Patty across the street and stepped up onto the high curb. Strips of blistered paint peeled off the green door. Mark jangled the keys in the lock. Though a few parts of the outer wall had lost chunks of plaster, the brick underneath was strong. Ugly, but nobody would knock it down and come to get her. Blake couldn’t touch her here.

His threat to see her soon never had come to anything. Unless he’d followed her downtown when she’d met Kyle for coffee. Who cared anyway? She wouldn’t waste a second more on him. Not in Peru.

Patty hadn’t slowed her orientation spiel, so Kasia needed to tune in before she missed something crucial. The door led into an open courtyard. The grass—if you could call it grass, all wiry and coarse—was sparse, but it was still her own little corner of the world. And there was a hot mineral spring right in the middle of it.

Steam rose from the pool, wet the roughhewn steps down into the dark water. “Is this safe to get into?” she asked. If she had to spend the next three days here within the walls, a personal hot mineral spring would be fantastic.

“Oh, sure,” Patty said. “The perfect way to end a long day. This area is full of them. This is where the town got its name—the Incan Baths. The landlord put in some pipes and a drain, so you can just let the water out and clean it if it gets murky. Grace’ll show you how.”

Cool. A reason to spend some time with Grace. She definitely had a busy schedule of her own with all the behind-the-scenes aspects of the Cleavens’ work. She designed and maintained their websites in both English and Spanish, wrote their prayer letters and updates, blogged, and handled all their publishing and literature. Kasia planned to read her orientation packet—right after she emailed her family.

Maybe she could bring it out and enjoy the spring awhile.

Her apartment was bigger than she expected but had only the bare bones: beds and well-worn living-room furniture. Mark offered to hook up her laptop while Patty showed her where everything was.

Kasia wandered into the kitchen. An old gas stove sat in the corner next to the sink and one standalone cabinet. A cast-iron candlestick was the only decoration, but she liked it. A small, wobbly-looking table rested against the wall. “You know how to cook with gas?” Patty asked.

Kasia shrugged and offered a smile. “I’m a quick learner.” She ducked to do a brief inventory of the cabinet contents.

“I’ll drive you into town tomorrow morning for some staples to get you through the next few days. Make a list of the things you think you’ll need. You’ll have to soak any fresh vegetables in iodine before you eat them.”

“I got a typhoid immunization before I left the States.”

“That’s good, but they could still carry cholera. You can’t be too careful. Most volunteers stick to sandwiches, pancakes, simple stuff. So there’s some of that already in the fridge.”

“Sounds great. I’ll explore and experiment on my own first, though, and keep a list of questions. I don’t want to bother you every five minutes.” Kasia smiled as she took in the ancient contraption that must be the refrigerator, humming with effort. How could she have missed that old clunker?

Mark rejoined them then. “All set. Ready, Pats?” Her hosts headed toward the door. She was almost free to do her own thing—inside.

But Patty turned back suddenly. “Oh! If you want a shower, turn on the water heater and wait about two hours. Gosh, if you’d just hopped in there, I’d have felt awful. Icy, icy. I forgot to tell that to the last volunteer team. Poor guys.”

And then they were gone.

She had her email up in a heartbeat.

Wow. Kyle was totally making himself at home with her family while she was away. Lenka was already way too avid a fan, and Kasia did not need extra pressure when she got home. She blew out a breath, sat back in the chair, and loosened her braid—just needed to be in control of something inane for a minute.

She might have re-braided her hair a little more roughly than she needed to.

She opened one from Lenka:

Subj: Seriously. RU there yet?

I check this thing every two seconds, I think. I should know better. Dad looks glum already. He puts on his brave face whenever Mom asks how he thinks you’re doing though. Don’t you love him? ~Lenka

PS—Mom says she wishes she could be there with you.

PPS—Also, can you BELIEVE you would’ve been getting married at the end of this month? Thank God, huh?

The last words sucked the breath right out of her. She’d totally blocked that out. All those things—last-minute arrangements, bridal photos, packing for her honeymoon. The thought shook her.

Nope. Not doing this. She shut her notebook, defiant. What she needed right now was a whole lot more Peru. She stood up and knocked her braid back over her shoulder. Where should she start? She could unpack, maybe take a shower and let the warm water wash away the stress…in two hours.

Well, at least she knew the first order of business. She strode into the bathroom, flipped the switch on the side of the enormous tank hanging right over the small toilet, and the whoosh of the igniting flame made her jump. Dear Jesus, please do not let this thing explode in my face. Her eyes dropped to the toilet. Or fall on my head when I least expect it.

Her laptop caught her eye again. She’d forgotten to let her family know she’d gotten in safely. Two minutes and done.

Now to fill her mind with anything but Blake Hamilton. She pulled over her lesson-plan book and jotted down a few new ideas.