Mammoth Secrets (15 page)

She blinked at the little figurine and turned back to the display. “How do you do that? Decide what to make.”

“It was waitin' in the glass.”

“Allow me.” Lilah picked up Jake's note, took the glass bender's stained hands across the counter, and did her best to capture his sinking gaze. “Thank you.” Her elbows dug into the worn, gray carpet, scorch marks like tiny constellations burned into the counter.

He released her grasp, though he did keep hold of the paper, muttering a goodbye.

“Come on.” She tugged Jake's sleeve and pulled him toward the carnival exit. She sneaked a glance back as the glassmaker reread Jake's paper.

The faces of all that they'd seen, both citizens of Mammoth and points beyond. From shame to amusement, each had their own reaction at the sight of the pastor strolling through. But, not one among them had that look of honest wonder, as did the craftsman in their wake.

 

~*~

 

On the midway, Eden strolled alongside Luke eating sticky feathers of cotton candy. The last time she'd gone to the carnival, the skinny jeans fit her a tad better. Her loose-fitting peasant blouse masked the harder to restrain parts at her hips.

Luke seemed pleased when he'd arrived in his truck to pick her up. A tad too pleased, she reckoned. How he'd ever talked her into this she'd never know. Mulling this over, she spied Lilah and the pastor, her sister moping along in last year's yellow sundress.

Pastor Jake had her on one arm, an enormous black and white panda slung under the other. So, he'd won her a prize.

Eden flicked a glance at Luke. Well, maybe if there was a game with a basketball hoop. “Hey, Lilah!” she called.

Jake and Luke shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, then the pastor shuttled her sister on to the exit.

“See you at home,” Lilah waved, a sparkling figurine cradled in her hand.

Eden's attention focused on the tiny figure. Instantly, she wanted one. Before she could ask Lilah where she'd gotten it, they were gone, disappeared through the crowd.

The band kicked up above the merry-go-round's incessant calliope music, and she steered her date in that direction. Luke had a pocket full of tickets; ready to buy her whatever she liked, and this, the perfect night to test her theory. Luke, the always faithful friend who appeared to save the day whenever she so much as said, “Boo.” Too easy. But, a nice enough distraction before the dam broke.

She ticked down the hours until her soldier fiasco would begin. Plane landing in Little Rock at just after midnight, he'd be at his hotel by three. Maybe he'd stop by for breakfast at the diner? Her heart stutter-stepped with the possibility.

Luke slipped his large hand through her arm and guided her around a muddy patch. He stooped, picked up a spilled soda cup, and tossed it into a trash can. “Two points.”

“Hmm. Let's go listen to the band.” Boredom settled its blanket over her mood. She smacked her dry lips, then glossed them from her tube without looking. “All this dust makes you thirsty, doesn't it?”

Luke took off to fetch sodas while she watched the singer.

Clapping, she swayed to the rhythm and sang along, thinking about her own soul sister. Lilah, so easily soothed. So open. Nothing hidden in any regard. Maybe that would be a better way to live than all this clandestine nonsense.

Luke's blond head popped up across the crowd, then he disappeared from view again. He knew she wrote to the service men, but hadn't a clue her soldiers were coming home. So, why was disappointing him tying a knot in her belly? She brushed the thought away.

A few little kids spun and bumped, giggling into each other.

The lead singer sang to her, feeding off her energy, making Eden his audience of one, for the moment.

Luke shoved a drink in her hands and stared down the singer with a scowl.

The singer caught the eye of a beauty more his own age.

Eden turned the force of her displeasure on Luke, crammed the last of the pink fluffy sugar into her mouth, and downed it with a fizzy sip. “Thanks.”

He dragged out a resin chair and sat a bit too hard. It wobbled underneath him.

She applied another layer of lip gloss, then popped in a fresh stick of gum.

“You wanna go?” Luke dragged a hand through his curly blond hair.

“Why?” She darted a glance at her watch. “It's only nine.”

He wrapped palms around his bony knees. “I'm just gonna ask this once.”

“OK, Mr. Serious.” A slug of soda didn't soothe the tightness in her throat at Luke's charged-up attitude. He looked angry. Not the Luke she was used to.

“Are you here with me tonight, Eden Dale?” He stared at his shoes, and then raised his glittering eyes to meet hers. “Or just the idea of me?”

“Don't do this, Luke.” She challenged the man she'd always considered her back-pocket ringer if all other attempts at love went south. By his look, that wouldn't be the case much longer. “Can't we just stay the way we've always been?”

“I know all about your letters. Your soldiers. But they aren't here.”

Not yet. Her thoughts raced to the two army men. They both wanted her. Both headed here over Memorial Day, her birthday weekend, each without an inkling of the other.

Luke's boot stomped a puff of dust. “I'm a flesh and blood man, and I'm right here.”

“Maybe that's the problem.” She scooted her chair back, wishing they could just listen to the music and enjoy themselves that things could go back to the way they were.

“I'm done waiting for you to figure this out.” He dragged her to stand. Hands clamped on her shoulders, he stared into her eyes as if he could peer into her soul. “I'm the one you call when you're scared. I know what makes you laugh. When you need something, I'm there every time. Not them. But I'm not gonna wait forever.”

“Luke, I just can't—”

“I get it. You can for everybody else, but not for me.” He nodded, hand scrubbing his scalp. “I'm not a drinking man, Eden. But, heaven help me—you might just drive me to it.” He backed away, the white plastic chair toppling. She reached for his forearm, but Luke's outstretched palms stopped her advance. “Don't count on my being there when you wake up from dreamland.” He crossed over to the line waiting to get into the beer garden and showed his ID. He paused to scan the crowd, then waved and strode over to a group of EMTs sipping from pilsner glasses. He accepted a drink and settled. Back to her, he drained his glass until it was empty like her heart.

 

 

 

 

21

 

Lilah followed Jake's long steps up the grassy hill toward the park, opposite from where they'd parked. “I thought we were leaving.”

“Gotta check the tents. Make sure things are ready for tomorrow.”

She followed him at a jog.

In the shadows, Raymond strummed a guitar from a rocky perch.

“Hey, guys.” Jake smiled. “How was band practice?”

Raymond slid the guitar he was holding around to his back. “I finished learning those songs you brought, with Ted's help, here.” Ray gestured and Ted offered a wave. “He knew a couple of them. Progressive, man.” Ray cleared his throat. “You think the church's ready for a real worship service?”

“We need it.” Jake's voice dropped to the serious, pastor tone. His gaze darted to the hill, then back to Lilah. “Coming?”

“You go on, Jake. I'll be there in a minute.” She shooed him on, turned to Ray. “Having fun?”

“Hey, Lilah. Thought you were Eden for a second.” He introduced his new bass guitarist.

“What're you all planning?” Lilah asked.

“Revival. It's gonna rock.” He and Ted's high five sounded with a smack.

“Maybe you should take breakfast rush off tomorrow—if you'll be up late practicing.”

Raymond's cellphone washed blue as his ring tone mimicked a guitar. His face illuminated with the text message, then went dark again. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Jake disappeared into the Revival tent's shadow.

“I've gotta go help. You two stay out of trouble.”

“No worries.” Raymond turned back to Ted. “Just think where we could take this, a worship band!”

Creativity in action—two friends sitting together under the stars, thinking up worship songs. Lilah couldn't stop thinking about them as she trudged after Jake. Young men, poised to take over the world, but with a purpose. She'd never had a purpose—just floated where the breeze had blown her. To California, as far west as one could get without getting feet wet.

Just as her mother tried and failed to do an age ago. Rebecca Dale never even made it beyond the city limits. Maybe she was the blessed one. No pieces left to pick up. No sins to repent. Forever young in everyone's mind, especially her father's.

Lilah drifted to the white peaks on the hilltop. Twin tents backed by the schoolhouse overlooked the carnival; folding chairs awaited the crowds, the stage was set for the Revival.

“Think Ray and his band can really do this?” she wondered aloud, her focus trained on the drum kit gleaming in the moonlight, the microphones, the amplifiers hooked in and ready to go.

“They're good.” Jake surveyed the room. “I heard them yesterday and his voice blew me away.”

“Yeah, I've heard him sing in the kitchen. But…”

“You really don't get it yet.” Jake pulled her up on the stage. “Do you?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I've been doing some research on this place.” He checked the distances, walking the stage between a set of natural looking branches in containers flanking the podium.

The ladies' guild had made simple arrangements of young oaks and lilies. Not enough money in the budget for a huge floral display, just what they could grow and gather.

“Mammoth.” He quirked a smile, dropped to dangle his feet off the edge of the stage. “Even the name and the town that grew up here are at odds with each other.”

“Ironic.”

Jake patted a spot. She sat, cupped her hands in his while he spoke. “We're bringing hope where there's none. We're waking up souls who've slept for too long. This is a revival of sorts, in its purest form. Just us, here, now…” His thumb traced the lines of her palm. “…as friends, or something more?”

Lilah swallowed, his voice sounded so earnest. “More.”

Hallowed, this place on the hilltop, the sounds of the tilt-a-whirl whooshing, and clanging bells and bright lights below. She inhaled his scent, something inherently Jake, being near him warmed her heart, her spirit, as never before. Silence stretched, as she fought to fill the void, as a good pastor's sort-of girlfriend should.

“If you need to practice, I'll listen.” She watched more than listened, gaze trained on his mouth, his lips, as he preached to her audience of one. Almost more important than what he said was the way spoke. The determination. The passion. The depth of his dedication. The well of his belief.

So, is this what it means to fall in love with a preacher?
Her heart fluttered with the question. A surge of guilt worked up as they sat in the newly ordained space. She had no right to feel this way for him, not in church. Not anywhere. An icicle pierced her heart. “What if no one comes, Jake?”

He said nothing, grabbed her hand, and joined her in staring at rows of empty folding chairs. A wave of sadness simmered through her soul. She'd finally found someone who understood when words would only make matters worse.

 

 

 

 

 

22

 

Lilah paced the diner before it opened, swiping tables. It was the right thing to do. Raymond would be up late for three nights in a row. Until yesterday, she hadn't fully admitted it. This wasn't his life, after all. This was a weigh station—a stopping off point. Ray had hopes and dreams, and she…she had this.

Leaning back, she poured a steaming mug and added a white waterfall of cream. Her spoon created a muddy whirlpool.
Happy birthday to me,
she blew it cool, sipped.

Birthdays were rarely celebrated in the Dale house. One anniversary marked another. Her mother's death…so young, so tragic. But, every time someone mentioned mothers, Nana came to mind. Not the ghost of Rebecca—her birth mother, pregnant at eighteen, who chose something other than the straight and narrow path and died because of it. Because of them.

Lilah slammed a hand against the light switch and the main room illuminated, declaring the “Open” sign. She set to filling dispensers with equal numbers of white, yellow, and blue packets as she waited for the morning rush to begin.

What made a mother, after all? It was so much more than biology, it had to be. Mothers could wither with a stare and spear your soul back to the right path or comfort your aches with a lingering embrace. Someone with whom you could share anything and not be judged, in fact, be loved in spite of it.

She curled her hand around her mug, doctored her second pour, and then sipped the bitter brew.

Since Lilah had returned home, she and Nana could barely be in the same room. They'd been at odds so long, they might go on this way for years before either one of them mentioned their stalemate.

The door chimed, and Nana ushered Papaw to his regular seat. “Morning, Lilah. Ray didn't open today?”

“Told him to sleep in,” Lilah said. “His band's playing tonight.”

“At the carnival?” Nana's nostrils flared distaste.

“Nope. The Revival.”

Nana's gaze shot heavenward. For a moment, it wasn't clear whether she was holding up Papaw or vice versa.

Papaw fiddled with his glasses case, eyeglasses still perched on his nose. “Morning, Rebecca!” he waved, his blue eyes bright.

“It's me, Lilah, Papaw.” She covered his hand with hers, squeezed. “I'll get your coffee.”