I’d been baptized as a kid, so I didn’t go that route, but like I said, it had been a long time since I’d been to service. I’d stopped going with my dad a long time ago, and I didn’t know what to expect. Nor can I honestly say I was looking forward to it, but in the end, the service wasn’t that bad. The pastor was low-key, the music was all right, and time didn’t drag by the way it always seemed to when I was little. I’m not saying I got much out of it, but even so, I was glad I went, if only so I could talk about something new with my dad. And also because it gave me just a bit more time with Savannah.
Savannah ended up sitting between Tim and me, and I watched her from the corner of my eye as she sang. She had a quiet, low-key singing voice but was always in tune, and I liked the way it sounded. Tim stayed focused on the scriptures, and on the way out, he stopped to visit with the pastor while Savannah and I waited in the shade of a dogwood tree out front. Tim looked animated as he chatted with the pastor.
“Old friends?” I asked, nodding toward Tim. Despite the shade, I was getting hot and could feel trails of perspiration beginning to form.
“No. I think his dad was the one who told him about this pastor. He had to use MapQuest last night to find this place.” She fanned herself; in her sundress, she reminded me of a proper southern belle. “I’m glad you came.”
“So am I,” I agreed.
“Are you hungry?”
“Getting there.”
“We have some food back at the house, if you want some. And you can give Tim his clothes back. I can tell you’re hot and uncomfortable.”
“It’s not half as hot as helmets, boots, and body armor, trust me.”
She tilted her head up at me. “I like hearing you talk about body armor. Not a lot of guys in my classes talk like you. I find it interesting.”
“You teasing me?”
“Just noting for the record.” She leaned gracefully against the tree. “I think Tim’s finishing up.”
I followed her gaze, noticing nothing different. “How can you tell?”
“See how he brought his hands together? That means he’s getting ready to say good-bye. In just a second, he’s going to put his hand out, he’ll smile and nod, and then he’ll be on his way.”
I watched Tim do exactly as she predicted and amble toward us. I noted her amused expression. She shrugged. “When you live in a small town like mine, there’s not much to do other than watch people. You begin to see patterns after a while.”
There’d probably been too much Tim-watching in my humble opinion, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“Hey there . . .” Tim raised a hand. “You two ready to head back?”
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she pointed out.
“Sorry,” he said. “We just got to talking.”
“You just get to talking with anyone and everyone.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m working on being more standoffish.”
She laughed, and while their familiar banter put me momentarily outside their circle of intimacy, all was forgotten when Savannah looped her arm through mine on our way back toward the car.
Everyone was up by the time we got back, and most were already in their bathing suits and working on their tans. Some were lounging on the upper deck; most were clustered together on the beach out back. Music blasted from a stereo inside the house, coolers of beer stood refilled and ready, and more than a few were drinking: the age-old cure for the hangover headache. I passed no judgment; a beer sounded good, actually, but given that I’d just been to church, I figured I should pass.
I changed my clothes, folding Tim’s the way I’d learned in the army, then returned to the kitchen. Tim had made a plate of sandwiches.
“Help yourself,” he said, gesturing. “We have tons of food. I should know—I’m the one who spent three hours shopping yesterday.” He rinsed his hands and dried them on a towel. “All right. Now it’s my turn to change. Savannah will be out in a minute.”
He left the kitchen. Alone, I looked around. The house was decorated in that traditional beachy way: lots of bright-colored wicker furniture, lamps made with seashells, small statues of lighthouses above the mantel, pastel paintings of the coast.
Lucy’s parents had owned a place like this. Not here, but on Bald Head Island. They never rented it out, preferring to spend their summers there. Of course, the old man still had to work in Winston-Salem, and he and the wife would head back for a couple of days a week, leaving poor Lucy all alone. Except for me, of course. Had they known what was happening on those days, they probably wouldn’t have left us alone.