Walk on Water (27 page)

“Hard for
her
?” Lucas replied. “She’s not the one who’s crippled.”

Although maybe she was. Betty Sterling had certainly lost something too. They all had. I heard myself sigh.

“Do you accept it?” asked Lucas.

It was an odd but protective question, and I admired him for asking me.

“Yes,” I answered honestly.

Because I did.

“Good,” Luke’s son said to me.

Luke’s first born. The child I might have carried myself.

“It’s not total, you know,” he explained. “Dad can still move his legs, and if they find a cure he’ll be a great candidate. He’s really strong. In the hospital they had him using braces. He stopped when he got out. He said they made him too slow. And he’s all about efficiency.”

So maybe Luke could walk a little?

“I know,” I said, glancing away from the road to smile at Lucas again. “He was always that way.”

The Garmin instructed me to take the next exit on the right. The Chili’s sign was visible from the freeway.

“Grandma says he gave up,” Lucas continued. “But accepting is not the same as quitting.”

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not. Sometimes it takes more courage to accept things for what they are.”

“Yeah,” replied Lucas.

It was really time to back him out of the deep end, and donning my counselor’s cap again I deliberately began to steer us into safer spaces.

“You think they’re already inside?” I asked about Luke and the rest of the kids.

“Probably,” said Lucas. “I don’t think Dad really takes chances but he does like to put the pedal to the metal.”

“That he does.”

I pulled into the Chili’s parking lot. Luke’s Mercedes was parked out front, and as we had guessed they were already inside.

“Thanks for riding with me, Lucas,” I said as I engaged the parking brake.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. “It was good. You’re the first girlfriend we ever got to meet. I think that must mean something.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I agreed.

.

TWENTY-FIVE

R
everend Milton acted as if he was just getting started. The right reverend was revving up. I snuck a peek at my wrist watch. Luke was meeting Mommy and me at the restaurant at two o’clock, two-fifteen at the latest, I had promised him. What had I been thinking to choose a first Sunday, a Communion Sunday, for this
get-together
, this
presentation
, this
great unveiling
as it were? First Sundays were long Sundays, especially if attendance was good. Faking a little stretch, I turned my head to get a look behind me. The congregation was a decent size. I guessed if it started getting too late I could step out and call Luke. Mommy wouldn’t like it, but she was already out of sorts anyway.

Both of our mothers were a trip, I smiled to myself, earning me a very reproving look from mine. How old did you have to be to stop being a child, to stop feeling somehow indebted, even indentured, for birth, and schooling, and prom dresses? Maybe the mistake was in expecting permission to be an adult. Presumably, you eventually earned the right by virtue of age if nothing else and thereby stopped needing permission. Whether Mommy liked it or not, approved of it or not, accepted it or not, I was in love with Luke, and we were together. At last. Or again. Either way it was miraculous, and I was in fact an adult.

By the time church was over it was a quarter after one. As I champed at the bit yet again, Mommy, making it abundantly clear that she was in no hurry to see Luke, seemed intent on making us late. She kept stopping to chat with everybody. Luke was nothing if not punctual, and he would probably arrive early anyway in case there were accessibility issues.

“Just bring it on Wednesday night,” Mommy was telling Mrs. Henderson about the Christmas wrapping paper she had ordered from Mrs. Henderson’s granddaughter. “You know how it is. I haven’t even started my shopping yet.”

“Oh don’t remind me,” agreed Mrs. Henderson. “I can’t stand the crowds. And don’t mention the toy stores.”

“Well at least I don’t have to deal with that. The last—”

“Mommy, we don’t want to be late,” I finally interrupted touching her on the arm trying to conceal any frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Henderson. “I didn’t mean to keep—”

“It’s no problem,” Mommy assured her friend. “You know these career women, always rush, rush, rush.”

“You’re not working today, are you dear?” Mrs. Henderson asked me. “It is the Sabbath.”

Not really. That was Saturday. And Saturday I had been where I wanted to be right now—with Luke.

“No ma’am,” I replied, keeping my other thoughts to myself and my hand on Mommy’s arm.

When we were at last in my car, Mommy informed me that she did not appreciate being
rushed
.

“Church is more than just showing up on Sunday morning,” she fumed righteously. “It’s supposed to be about fellowship, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

I didn’t argue. I could remind her that I drove clear across town every week just to drive her to a church that I still belonged to mostly out of respect for her since I didn’t agree with the dogma anymore and I had not done so for a long time.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” I tried placating her instead for the sake of the
fellowship
to come at lunch. If she were in some kind of huff by the time we got there, Luke might think it was about him, and while it was sort of, it was absolutely not his fault. “It’s just that Luke’s very punctual,” I said. “And he’s looking forward—”

“Well it wouldn’t hurt for him to go to church sometime himself,” Mommy interrupted. “Prayer changes things, Rachel. He could be healed.”

“Oh Mommy, please don’t talk like that around him,” I pleaded anxiously.

“Are you telling me not to talk about my faith, Rachel Marie? We are called to be witnesses. Prayer never hurt anybody.”

“Then pray for him privately, Mommy. I do. Just don’t get into a whole thing.”

“Jesus heals, Rachel,” Mommy said.

And walked on water. And died for our sins. And rose from the dead. And was coming again. The list went on and on. But then Jesus was God, and none of the rest of us were.

“I know Luke was never much of a Christian,” said Mommy. “And Betty Sterling—well what can you expect—but please, don’t tell me you’re starting to think like them too.”

“No, Mommy,” I replied earnestly. “Nothing’s changed. But please, no sermons today, okay? Let’s just have a friendly lunch, and save the evangelizing for later.”

“I’m not going to promise that,” snapped Mommy. “If the Spirit moves me, then I will speak.”

Please God,
I prayed in my heart.
Be still
.

Benton’s parking lot was moderately full, but fortunately I spotted a space not too far from the restaurant’s entrance. Mommy was as devoted to high heels as Betty Sterling was, especially for church, however, she was equally opposed to walking great distances in said heels, and had been known to circle a parking lot for forever looking/waiting for a good spot to come free. Luke had suggested that we go to some place special, but I had convinced him that Benton’s, another one of those familiar, friendly, casual restaurants would be better.

“Mommy doesn’t really like fancy places, Luke,” I had explained.

“Then why don’t we just go to Red Lobster?” he had wanted to know. “Since it’s her favorite.”

But that was simply too
not-special
.

As we walked to the entrance I saw Luke’s car. It was the only one parked in a handicap space.

“He’s here,” I said.

“Him and his Mercedes,” said Mommy smugly and looked at her watch. “And we’re not late.”

“It’s not about prestige, Mommy,” I replied, calling up Brian’s lecture on the virtues of German automotive engineering. “German cars are just more reliable. That’s important to Luke.”

“They all get flat tires. Then what’s he gonna do?”

I held the door for Mommy and she entered the restaurant first.

“Call Triple-A, I guess,” I replied.

“Is he gonna pay for your membership too?” she asked.

A pretty hostess greeted us with a smile, and I ignored Mommy’s last question. The after-church rush was on, and there were people standing and seated along the entranceway waiting for tables. Wisely Luke had called ahead and made a reservation.

“How many?” the hostess asked.

“We’re meeting someone,” I explained looking around until I saw Luke. “Thanks,” I said to the hostess and walked ahead, Mommy following.

Wearing a chocolate brown sports coat and lighter brown dress shirt with a bronze-colored tie, Luke looked good enough for church.

“Hi,” he said when I reached him.

“Hi,” I replied, and then we kissed.

According to his own son, he was after all my gorgeous boyfriend, so I took an instant to luxuriate in his dark brown eyes before giving his attention to Mommy, who was standing next to the table.

“Hello, Mrs. Cunningham,” Luke said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

In spite of the surrounding noise I heard the heel of Luke’s shoe tapping against the footplate, and when he offered Mommy his right hand it trembled a little. Was he nervous? Politely Mommy offered him hers.

“Hello, Luke,” she said looking down at him. “Nice to see you too.”

I took off my coat and then helped Mommy with hers. Folding them I placed them in the empty third chair.

“It’s been a long time,” Mommy was saying.

“Too long,” agreed Luke.

Pulling out the chair across from him, Mommy sat down. I then sat on Luke’s right, breathing a little too deeply, showing that I was nervous. Which was absurd. At our ages
meeting the parents
, and in this case actually
re-meeting
the parent was nothing more than a courteous gesture that could have no real bearing on the relationship that Luke and I were building, or in this case
re-building.

“I was sorry to hear about your accident,” Mommy told him.

“Things happen,” replied Luke.

“There should be a law against anybody even talking on a cell phone while they’re driving,” Mommy continued opening her menu. “But that’s not as bad as a woman putting on mascara while she’s driving. People don’t take cars seriously. You work in a hospital long enough though, you learn to respect what two thousand pounds of steel can do.”

Luke’s expression remained neutral.

“I don’t think I mentioned it before, Luke,” I spoke up in an effort to change the subject. “But Mommy’s a laboratory supervisor now. She heads up her unit.”

“Congratulations, Mrs. Cunningham,” said Luke. “That’s great.”

“I’m looking forward to retirement,” replied Mommy.

Our waitress arrived.

“I’m Denise,” she informed us. “I’ll be your server today. Would you care for something from the bar? We’ve got a special on margaritas.”

Mommy harrumphed.

“I’ll just have ice tea,” I said quickly.

“Sweet or un-sweet?” asked the waitress.

“Un-sweet,” I replied.

“Make that two,” Mommy added. “But now you go ahead, Luke. You probably like to have wine with your meal.”

“Water’s fine,” said Luke.

Denise bustled off to get our drinks, and Mommy told Luke that it was a smart thing for him to have chosen water.

“We all need to drink more,” she counseled. “But you especially don’t need to take any chances, Luke. You should be extra careful about your health.”

I thought I would either die or kill her, but since neither action was a viable option, I needed to come up with another new topic.

“You’re right, Mrs. Cunningham,” replied Luke before I could try again to change the subject.

“We all do,” I added lamely.

“But then you always did take care of yourself, didn’t you?” Mommy noted. “I remember how Rae used to go on and on about all the sports you were involved in. And playing not just sitting on the couch watching. It must be really hard not being able to do that anymore.”

“Luke’s into basketball now,” I interjected.

“That’s nice,” replied Mommy. “What do they do, lower the nets for you?”

“No Mommy,” I said testily. “It’s regular basketball.”

“Now Rachel,” Mommy returned. “It really can’t be
regular
.”

I thought was going to throw-up. Luke’s face was impassive. Denise returned with our ice tea and was ready to take our orders. She looked to Mommy who looked to me.

“I’ll have the grilled salmon with the vegetable medley,” I quickly said.

“And what’s your other side?” Denise asked.

I’d never be able to eat anything at all.

“Just the vegetable medley,” I told her.

“Okay I’ll bring you an extra serving.” Turning to Mommy, Denise asked, “And for you ma’am?”

“The roast chicken with the rice and black-eyed peas,” Mommy ordered.

“What about you, sir?” Denise asked next turning to Luke.

“The salmon sounds good,” he said. “I’ll take mashed potatoes and spinach.”

“Got it!” said Denise. “I’ll bring your bread. We got some coming out of the oven right now.”

Denise left us.

“Like I need it,” said Mommy.

“It’s very good, Mommy,” I told her. “Whole wheat.”