20

Lowcountry air—especially out by Daniel Island—always smelled sweet. Like pine straw and magnolias.

Zan turned at the light and slowed, enjoying the pattern of dappled sunlight on the road at the entrance to his neighborhood. He pressed the button and waited for the iron gates to swing inward. As he wound lazily past the mailboxes and the dock, a jogger waved at him. Zan was eager to hit the trails himself.

He hopped down onto his driveway in front of their sprawling stucco villa. Man, he’d missed the Spanish moss, the sticky humidity, the tranquility of the slow-moving brackish water behind their house. Summer in New York had been necessary—good even—but here it was the second week of August. He wanted to get a little time on the water before heading back to the mountains of the Upstate.

Kasia’s recent posts had sounded like her activities were wrapping up too. He tried not to think too much about seeing her again. Failed constantly.

At least that brand of failure kept him smiling.

He stepped inside and kicked off his shoes, enjoyed the cool terra-cotta tiles under his feet.

“Anybody home?” The echo of his voice was the only answer.

He walked through the foyer and into the great room. The sun’s rays slanted through the skylight. As he set his keys in the bowl on the large mosaic table, a Bible surprised him. Whose was that? He scanned the room again, looked for signs of company.

He jogged back down the front steps to grab his belongings and high-stepped on the heated asphalt. Before he went back inside, Zan jogged over to their three-car garage and peered into the tinted glass. Bailey’s white coupe. Oh! Cool. She must be visiting.

Li’l Mama’s ice-cold sweet tea on his mind, he tossed his duffel into his bedroom. In the kitchen, he pulled down a glass and spied a pair of petite, tan legs stretched out on one of the back-porch chaise lounges. He slid the door open and stuck his head out. “Bay?”

“Hey, Zan!” she said, a genuine smile in her voice. “How fast were you driving?” She jumped up and hugged him tightly.

“Fast enough. I didn’t want to miss the water all summer. I was just going to fix some tea. You want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll come in with you.” She stepped in and set her sunglasses on the table. Half her face was purple and yellow.

“What the—”

“It’s all right.” She rested a hand on his arm.

As if that would erase it.

“It’s over now, but that’s why I’m here. I was doing fine with the Beistlines. Then I joined a support group for battered wives at church.” She shrugged.

With every word she spoke, Zan’s short fingernails bit deeper into his palms. He could kill that loser for hurting his sister.

“The counseling has really been beneficial, but um…Mike didn’t approve of my support group—wasn’t a fan of being labeled abusive.”

Zan pounded the counter, and she jumped.

“I’m sorry, Bay. I just—you don’t deserve that.” He pressed his hands flat against the cool marble. The last thing she needed was somebody else losing it. He reached a hand up, gingerly traced the evidence of his brother-in-law’s rage on her face.

“I know.” She offered a meek smile. “But it’ll make the divorce proceedings easier on me. No one will make me stay with him now. Besides, if I can forgive him and walk away, then I want you to be able to let go of it too. I know it’ll be hard, but—for me. Let’s put it all behind us.”

Forgive Mike? For all he’d done to her?

She stood taller, took his hand in hers. “What he did to me was not all right. Not even a little. I’m smart enough to get away. Forgiving him is for me. I won’t carry around all that bitterness forever. Michael needs Jesus.”

How long had it taken those Beistline people to snow her like this? She even spoke their language now. He bit down on his mouthful of irritation and wrapped his arms around Bailey’s fragile frame. “How long are you staying?”

“I moved back in—indefinitely.”

~*~

Zan baked in the sun out on the waterway as the breeze blew across his dad’s boat. The waves rocked him gently, and he loved every minute of it. He sat on the back of the boat, allowed his toes to dip in and out of the water as he used his smartphone to see if Kasia was back in the States yet.

Nope. But she’d posted another batch of pictures. He’d enjoyed back-and-forth banter with her all summer—no deep discussions, no unearthing great mysteries—but he could ask her out when they got back to OSU for sure.

One picture had him hooked. The best she’d posted—three young girls with the darkest eyes he’d ever seen and a chubby toddler clearly reaching for Kasia. The kid knew, just like Zan had somehow. He thumbed in a comment.

This little muchacho thinks you’re fabuloso. I’m fairly certain he’s spot-on.

He stared out at the blank horizon. Bailey needed to meet Kasia. For a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder to where his sister sat reading. Her bruises had faded. A week could cover up a lot. He stood and moved past her.

Her peaceful expression confused him. How was peace like that possible when her whole world collapsed around her? She’d run away from her hellish marriage and moved home with no answers about the future. He ducked into the cabin, tossed his phone onto the couch.

Her gaze flicked up from the book, found Zan’s as he sat on the driver’s seat and studied her. “Something on your mind?”

“Tryin’ to figure you out.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so…different from the last time I saw you.”

“Well, my whole life has changed. What do you expect?” She got up and joined him, let her toes tickle the surface of the water. “The last time we saw each other, I had just gotten rescued from a marriage like quicksand. It always seemed safer to do nothing than try to escape.”

“So this church really helped?”

“It wasn’t only the people. Jesus is the One who made the difference for me.”

Jesus. Did He just make her feel safe? No, there had to be more to it. Like with Caleb. Her faith—whatever it was—was genuine.

Several questions came to mind, but he ignored them. “I’m gonna swim awhile.”

She scooted back a foot or two and gave him a measuring look. “Go on, get in.” As soon as he felt her foot on his back, he hollered, but it was too late. Where’d she get that kind of leverage?

The water stung his face before the cool, soothing darkness enveloped him. As he surfaced, her teasing laughter bounced off the surface of the water. He shook out his hair and wiped the water from his eyes with the heels of his hands. His impact had been less than graceful. Probably looked like a dying duck.

She was going to get it now. “Bailey?” he sang.

“Yeah?”

“Hope you feel like getting wet.”

~*~

The Andean highlands were simply, powerfully different. Kasia could almost believe she’d stepped back in time.

A week before she was to fly back to the States, Mark and Patty asked if she’d like to travel to one of the highland campesino churches for an evening service. She’d wanted to spend some time among the subsistence farmers all along but felt ungrateful asking for more.

She jumped at the chance.

The deep ruts in the dirt road gave Kasia’s body a beating. Still, the shock absorbers on the all-terrain vehicle held their own with the three-foot potholes. When they arrived, Kasia snapped photos of anything and everything she could without being rude.

She wondered what Grace and Lenka would think—whether Grace might want to use a few for the prayer calendar. And whether Forearms might actually be willing to sketch a few of them for her to frame. There was something more intimate about a pencil drawing.

That night, she joined the campesinos on the dirt floor of the small adobe building, stayed as still as possible. After several of the Peruvians shared testimonies or favorite Scripture passages, Mark asked Kasia to give her testimony.

She stood up and dusted off her pants, cast her gaze around the small, lantern-lit room. Her back ached from the drive, but it was nothing compared to the clamminess that shrouded her then. Every audience she’d ever stood before had been easier than this one. Combined. “Um, I’m a Polish-American. Different nations and cultures have always fascinated me.”

Mark translated for her after each sentence.

“My dad is a pastor, and as soon as I started walking, I heard God loved me and created me with a work—a ministry—in mind. All my life, I’ve been trying to find out what that is.”

Except she’d blown it. All she could do was pick up the pieces and survive now. Her well of words dried up, and tears were no more obliging. Pebbles rested in the dirt at her feet, and she kicked at one.

Someone cleared his throat, and she looked up. Mark’s inquiring expression prodded her on.

She swallowed and wet her lips. “One thing I’ve learned: God works best in me and through me when I put my own hopes and desires aside. When I make my life about serving others, I am truly blessed. Truly happy. And only then.”

She heard several thank-yous and compliments as she took her seat once more, but she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Her eyes burned.

But nothing came. She realized she hadn’t cried in—she couldn’t even think of the last time. Though there were moments of true joy, something in her heart had atrophied, withered from non-use. She had no idea what it was, but it ached.

The physical pain in her chest crippled her. She hung her head between her knees and breathed deeply.

If she couldn’t pinpoint what hurt so deeply, she might dry up too.

No. That wasn’t true. She knew how to experience joy. Just keep pouring herself out for others. Keep serving.

Keep busy.

She needed a strategy—every moment purposeful, no distractions. There were people in America she could bless too. Maybe she could take over the homework club. Jen graduated—had she already found someone to keep the club going at Heritage Arms?

Soft guitar music filtered through her thoughts, and she lifted her gaze from the dirt floor. Mark played, accompanying Patty, who sang a lilting melody. The mud building filled with song as everyone raised their voices, praising together.

When three children got up to sing “Amazing Grace” to an old Quechuan melody, they captivated Kasia. The melody sounded wistful and ancient, and the girls’ voices quavered, a guttural sound that reminded Kasia of an Apache ceremonial dance she’d once seen. Otherworldly.

As they closed in a final congregational song, Kasia sang along quietly in Polish, wondered how it would feel to be a part of the multitude at the feet of Jesus.

The crowd remained for fellowship when the service ended before going their separate ways. Kasia seized the opportunity to step outside into the quiet. Myriad stars hovered in profuse clusters, and a few areas were so hazy she wondered if she were looking at a distant galaxy. The cloudy expanse of the Milky Way across the sky was unmistakable.

Out here, the night hung like a curtain over the landscape, but she felt safe.

Truly, unequivocally safe. God was with her.

Footsteps approached, and she turned to see Patty. Just over the woman’s shoulder, the moon peeked over the mountain ridge.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Never gets old.” Patty watched the moonrise with her for a moment. “We’ll probably pack up and return to Los Baños in about ten minutes.”

Patty left silently as Kasia stood and the moon slowly raised its head to peer at her over the silhouetted crest. She half believed that if she hiked to the summit, she could reach out and touch it.

Her heartache subsided. Out here, the darkness held none of her demons.

Only peace.