Okay, so it’s slow going and perhaps difficult to get very far in reading it. If you would like more chapter posted just let me know. I’m writinginmyhead on NaNoWriMo and Facebook.

No, this isn’t about bankruptcy. Also, I’m being too lazy to format it, so I guess you’re going to have to suffer through having things spaced close together. Sorry, but I’m trying to not get burned out on this.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grace Hibbler walked up to Reverend Carlisle after the service, “We hope to see you there at five.”
“Of course!” he smiled, “what can I bring?”
“Just bring your appetite!” She responded.
The reverend noticed Grace was looking more herself again since her surgery. He also noticed the Hibblers had visitors with them today.
“So, was that your grandson and daughter-in-law who was with you today?”
“Oh yes,” Grace answered, then she saw them no too far away, “Rosalind! Cody!” She waved them over. As Rosalind and her son approached Reverend Carlisle was able to get a better look at them. He noticed her beautiful dark hair, bright green eyes and fair skin, contrasted with her son’s blond hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Rosalind was wearing a green cotton V-neck blouse with poet sleeves and a ruffle around the collar and brown tweed straight skirt—thanks to having a sister, he was pretty sure they were called “pencil skirts,” Along with brown leather boots. The outfit was reminiscent of the 1980’s with a bit of a twenty-first century twist. He wondered why on earth he was thinking so much about what she was wearing.
“Reverend Carlisle, this is my daughter-in-law, Rosalind,” Grace introduced.
“Nice to meet you,” he said as he held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” she smiled, taking his hand.
Her hand was warm and her grip was firm, not limp like some women who felt they had to have a dainty handshake.
“And this is my grandson, Cody,” Grace continued.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cody,” said reverend Carlisle extending his hand to the almost five-year-old boy.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Cody replied very seriously, shaking the reverend’s hand, trying very hard to remember his manners.
“This is the reverend who is going to have dinner with us tonight,” Grace informed her grandson.
Cody just stared, not knowing what to say.
“Well, I’ll see you later,” The reverend went in for the save.
+++
When Reverend Carlisle showed up, Jack greeted him at the door with a beer. “Have a seat, the game just came on.”
“Great!” Reverend Carlisle. He sat on the sofa and Jack went back to his recliner. On the coffee table was a bowl of tortilla chips, seven layer dip, a variety of raw vegetables and ranch dip and some shrimp cocktail.
“Dig in!” Jack said waving his hand in the direction of the appetizers.
The reverend gladly grabbed a paper plate and napkin and piled chips and layer dip on his plate along with some veggies and ranch dip. He noticed wonderful scents coming from the kitchen and was already looking forward to dinner even if it interrupted the game.
“Grandpa!” Cody ran in the living room, “can we go horse back riding before dinner?”
“We’re gonna watch the game before dinner.” His grandpa answered.
“Aww! I want to go ride Farley!” Cody complained.
“I know you do, son, but we can ride tomorrow.” Grandpa Jim answered.
“Aw come on, please?”
“What if I take him?” the reverend offered.
“You don’t have to do that, Robert,” Jack said.
Cody wrinkled his eyebrows, “How come you called him ‘Robert?’”
“That’s my first name,” the reverend answered.
“But you should still call him ‘Reverend’ since he’s an adult,” Chimed in Cody’s grandpa. Then to Reverend Carlisle he added, “Sorry I slipped there. I forgot about little pitchers.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jim,” reassured the reverend. Then he turned to Cody, “I’ve been getting to know your grandparents over the past few months and they’ve sort of like parents to me since my parents live far away from here, so I told them to call me by my first name when were in private like when are in their home. So how about, only when we are at your grandpa’s house, and only when it’s only your family around, you can call me ‘Robert,’ or ‘Mr. Robert,’ if you want. Of course you can always still call me ‘Reverend Carlise’ too.”
Cody looked at him for a long time, then finally said, “I think I’m going to have to think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” said the reverend. Robert. Carlisle.
Cody sidled up to reverend Carlisle and turned to his grandpa, “So can Robert and I go for a ride?”
“Well, I don’t know, when’s the last time you were on a horse, Robert? The last time you were here?”
“That would be ‘yes,’” Robert responded.
Jim turned to Cody, “Well young man, I guess you better your helmet.”
“Yay!”
Robert and Cody headed out to the stables. When they got back, the savory scents of Grace and Rosalind’s cooking hit Robert immediately.
“Good timing boys,” said Grace, “just go wash up and then dinner will be served.”
When Robert and Cody came back from washing their hands, Robert’s mouth began to water with delight at the spread before him. The kitchen island in the Hibbler’s had two roast chickens with roasted vegetables including carrots, red potatoes, garlic cloves and Vidalia onions cut into eighths. There was a mixed greens salad with chunks of roma tomatoes, radish and cucumber slices, red onion slices, avocado, walnuts and golden raisins. Several dressings in their bottles were next to the salad. There was a side of steamed broccoli and butter. Next to that was garlic mashed potatoes and buttermilk biscuits.
“It smells great in here! My mouth is watering, everything looks great,” Robert announced, then he stopped, took another whiff and said, “Is that peach pie I smell?”
“Yes it is! And I helped pick the peaches from grandma and grandpa’s trees!” Cody spoke up.
After a prayer was said by the reverend, everyone took their plate from the table and lined up in front of the island to serve themselves buffet style.
“Sorry, I just didn’t think there’d be enough room to put everything on the table family style, so here we are, lining up and serving ourselves,” said Grace.
“Grace, I have no idea why you are apologizing to me. Every time I come here, you feed me amazingly delicious food, and provide good company, and really, this is how we ate growing up in California,” Robert said.
“You grew up in California?” Rosalind asked, “Where in California did you grow up?”
“San Sorrento. It’s a suburb of San Diego,” he answered.
“Oh, well Cody and I live in Murrieta. My parents live there too. That’s not far from San Diego. We go down there sometimes to go to the beach unless we go to Oceanside,” Rosalind shared.
“Oh yeah, that’s right next to Temecula, isn’t it?” Robert commented, “When we were kids, we used to drive through Old Town and eat at some hamburger place on our way home from ski trips.”
“Oh yeah, “Crazy Callie’s!” Rosalind smiled then continued in between bites of salad, “I love that place! Not that we eat out much, but I’ve been there a couple of times and I loved it.”
“So what do you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m a child advocacy paralegal for a firm in Murrieta,” Rosalind answered, “They also deal with family law issues and collections and bankruptcy, but I work in the child advocacy division. We often deal with foster care issues, but we also work to care for the needs of disenfranchised families, reuniting children with their parents.” Rosalind smiled. She enjoyed her work, especially when things worked out well. Fortunately, there were laws in place to ensure that was what happened most of the time.
Robert could tell she was passionate about her work. Her eyes lit up as she described in more detail some of the happier outcomes.
“It’s good to be able to have a job you truly enjoy,” he commented.
“It really is, but then I guess you know how that feels?”
“I suppose I do,” Robert smiled.
Jack and Grace ate in satisfied silence looking back and forth between Robert and Rosalind and exchanged knowing glances.
“So Robert,” Grace chimed in, remind me, how long have you been riding horses?
“Oh, well, my family would all go horseback riding when we were kids. I even took lessons when I was around ten or so. Part of the lessons was to learn how to properly groom a horse.” He answered.
“I think I was about that age when I learned how to groom horses too,” Added Rosalind, “in Louisianna, where I grew up, I actually had a job grooming horses and cleaning out stables for a small ranch near our home.”
“Wow! Couldn’t you have just worked at McDonald’s,” teased Robert.
“Well, I love horses, so actually, I preferred cleaning stables to washing tables.” Rosalind replied
“Hey, you’re a poet and you don’t know it!” Jim interjected.
“And you can rhyme anytime!” Rosalind tossed back.
“No more rhyming now, I mean it!” added Robert, hoping they would get the reference. When they all stared back at him, he was afraid he was going to have to explain so they wouldn’t think he was just being an old curmudgeon, then Cody, using his deepest octave announced, “Anybody want a peanut?” Everyone at the table burst into laughter.
“Maybe we should make a day this week and have all of us go out for a ride. Would you be available to go riding with us, Rober—Reverend Carlisle?” Grace asked, changing his pronoun after glancing at her grandson.
“I do have a lot of visits to make this week and I need to be there to open the food kitchen, but Linda Hanover might be able to supervise for a few extra hours.” The reverend said.
“Okay, how about Wednesday morning?” offered Grace.
The reverend took a look at his PDA, “I think I can be here by 10:30. Sorry it has to be so late…well, I can be here by 10 if I can also get Linda to open the food kitchen.”
“Okay, Wednesday at 10:00. We’ll see you then!” Said Grace.

CHAPTER TEN
Marcy Dill stared at the information on her computer screen. She yawned and stretched. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a scrunchie and her long bangs curled back around the headband that was keeping them out of her eyes. Her eyes were red from little sleep and a lot of screen time.
“What are you doing hun?” her dad, Tom appeared in her doorway.
“just surfing.” She answered as she lowered the lap top screen. It was partially true.
Marcy scooted further back on her bed as her dad came in the room and sat down next to her.
“sweetie, the best thing to do is just let it go. Let him go. There was no way you could have raised that man’s child in this town. Anytime someone looked at him it would be a reminder of what happened, and that wouldn’t be fair to the boy, now would it?” Tom persuaded.
“How can you know that for sure dad?” Marcy sat as far back on her bed and as far away from her dad as she could get and crossed her arms, staring solemnly at him.
“Because I’ve seen it before.” He reached his hand out to rub his daughter’s head, but she jerked away from him. He sighed and felt a sadness creep into him. “Listen honey, I know it hurts and it’s going to hurt for a while. I was thinking we could go on a vacation somewhere—like California, or New York, or, well, where would you like to go?”
“Europe?” Marcy tilted her head a bit, thinking she had called his bluff, “could we go to Europe? Like London, or Paris or Rome?”
“Uh …well, I guess if you pick just one of those places and give me another couple of months, I think we could swing it!” Tom said confidently.
“Okay! London! I want to go to London!” Marcy scooted a bit closer to her dad.
“Okay, London it is. Just give me two months to get this new business off the ground and we’ll go.” Tom bent over and kissed his daughter on the forehead.
“Wait! A new business? What’s wrong with the company you were just with? Aren’t you still with them?” Marcy was a little alarmed.
“I have been working for them for more than three years, and it’s been great, but I’ve gone about as far as I can go with it. The money isn’t coming in as fast as it used to and my some of my downline are losing interest. Now, with this new company and this new product their selling, I’ll be making even more than when I was working for BerryPower. The new company I’m working for, VivaStrong, has just started, and since I’m getting in early, I’ll be farther up the chain of distributors and have a greater potential for a larger downline.”
“What is VivaStrong? Are you selling paper towels now?” Marcy’s eyebrows furrowed. She felt a pang of insecurity in her stomach. She didn’t like it when her dad started up new jobs. Why couldn’t he keep the one he had? It was fine. The man had no patience. Just because it was slowing down a bit? The whole economy has been slowing down, don’t blame it on the business! And how did he know this new business was going to do any better? He’d changed businesses so many times, she’d lost count. The results had always been mixed. One time they actually had to declare bankruptcy and their home was almost went into foreclosure just because her dad thought it would be okay to seal a deal with a handshake instead of getting the details in writing, and then when the money never came in, he was actually surprised and hurt that the guy had lied to him!
She wished her mother was here. Though, even her mother had often been unable to talk any sense into him, because many of his business ventures had been successful enough to support the family. Now her mother had been in some long term healthcare facility since Marcy was ten. She used to visit her mom every week. It was an hour each way, but she didn’t mind. Then one day, her dad took her aside and explained that her mom was becoming less and less lucid—meaning that she was in and out of reality more frequently, and the visits would confuse her, so they should hold off on the visits. That was eight years ago, and the only time she visited her mom was when Grandma Delphine came up from Louisianna once a year in June on Marcy’s birthday and once a year in December on Marcy’s mom’s birthday, and then she usually stayed through the holidays.
“VivaStrong is the name of the company that sells nutritional drinks using this new PushLid dispensing method.”
“So you’re going from selling nutritional drinks to…. selling nutritional drinks?”
“It’s more than just that, you see, most energy and nutritional drinks have a preservatives in them otherwise they would have a limited shelf life, but with the PushLid technology, the nutrients and flavors are in powder form, so they don’t need to add preservatives, then when you’re ready to drink, you push the lid down and the powder is released into the bottle of water. Then all you have to do is shake it and drink it. Pretty awesome, hunh?” Her dad was already getting zealous about his new business opportunity.
“Yeah, that sounds cool dad,” Marcy tried to not sound bored.
“This thing is going to really take off! It’s going to explode!” Tom was becoming more animated. Marcy raised her eyebrows and tried to maintain an expression that made it appear that she was still listening and interested in what he was saying. Tom continued, “and when it takes off, we’re going to have plenty of money to go to London. Just a couple of months. Three at the most, okay?”
“Okay dad.” Marcy forced herself to smile. It bothered her to feel like she was making her father sad. And it bothered her when he thought she was sad and wouldn’t just let her be sad, but had to try to fix her, so she just tried to make sure that she didn’t appear to be broken to him.
Tom left the room feeling better that he had been able to make Marcy happy again. He knew she was still upset about giving her baby away, but it really was for the best. This was a small town and as long as there was evidence especially in the form of child of that slimey alduterous pastor who took advantage of his daughter’s inexperience and penchant for hero worship, she might never live it down. Even he had mixed feelings about it. It was still his grandson. Greg and Donna Jarvis were a nice couple from Emmetburg, Iowa. He had his attorney, Byron Carson use his private investigator to do a background check on them. While their financial credit rating wasn’t great, it was more important to Marcy that they were a nice loving couple who valued education and creativity and the arts. It was important to Marcy’s father that they were an emotianlly stable, church going couple. They were all of the above. Tom thought about all of this, as he walked into his office to make some more business calls.
After her father left the room, Marcy got back on the computer and finished reading her email:

From: jstevens1974@wirednet.com To: artlovergrrrl@speedmail.net
Subject: missing you
My beautiful Marcella,
I am so sorry for everything that has happened. I am not sorry for falling in love with you, but I am sorry that I allowed myself to reveal my love for you while I was still married. I am sick that we were forced to give up our son. Now that my divorce is final, I have spoken with an attorney who says that we have a good chance of getting him back since we both signed the papers under duress (your dad threatening to shoot me), and at the time I also thought it was the right thing to try and save my marriage since we had made a vow before God, and Sally was not willing to even think about taking me back if I wasn’t willing to sign the papers. I gave my marriage a second try in good faith, but as I’m sure you have heard through the grapevine, things did not work out.
I still love you, beautiful Marcella, and I want us to have a life together with our son, and even more children later (hopefully!) I’ve been working on my teaching certificate so I can be a teacher while I’m also working on getting back into the ministry. I hope you still have feelings for me, though I can also understand if you feel greatly disappointed by my actions, or rather inaction, and even hurt when I tried to make things work with my now ex-wife. I hope you will let me know either way and I hope it will be soon. Marcy, we can get our boy back. If we act quickly, he will still be young enough that he won’t suffer lasting damage from being separated from his adoptive parents. I also realize they will be devastated at first, but they are still young and will easily be able to adopt again. At least let us please talk about this, so we know where we both stand on everything? Please?
All of my love,
Joseph

Marcy felt her throat tighten as she read her former lover’s email. It was like dream come true for her. She wanted to believe he was sincere. She still had feelings for him and she wanted very much to get her son back. Marcy hit “Reply” then began to think about how she should respond. She wondered if she should come right out and say how she was still in love with him, or should she keep a bit of a protective wall up in case he ended up letting her down again.

Okay, sorry I forgot to post my chapter last night. I kept meaning to, but then things came up and….well here it is now. I guess I blew it again for NaBloPoMo, but I’m still going to continue to post chapters and/or excerpts daily.

CHAPTER NINE
“Candice! Candy Candice… candy… I like candy… I like to eat,” Andy called out to his sister, “I’m ready for you now…I’m ready…I’m …”
“Okay! I’m coming Andy,” Candice called on her way out to the living room, “Okay, let’s see what you got.”
Candice watched as her brother, in his new manual wheel chair, wearing fingerless gloves, gripped each low arm rest and with shaking arms and lifted himself up off the seat, “One, two, three, four, five, six!” Carefully, arms still shaking he lowered himself back onto his seat. He grinned big as he looked up at his sister.
“Yeah!,” Candice shouted as she high fived her brother. Not only was he spending more time each day in his manual chair, and strengthening his muscles as a result, but he was occasionally able to control his digressions somewhat if he concentrated quite a bit.
“Yeah! I’m awesome! I’m awesome!”
The doorbell rang. Just as Candice moved to answer it, Andy cut her off, “I’ll. Get. It.”
“Well okay then!” She said raising her eyebrows and turning down the corners of her mouth.
Andy opened the door. “Hi Andy!” A tall, slender young woman with long wavy red hair and blue eyes stood at the door, then leaned over and gave Andy a hug.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi Emily!” Candice said as Emily Smith walked in. The two women hugged. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I have some studying to do before I go to my study group tonight, so I’ll be in my room. It’s good to see you again Emily.”
“It’s good to see you too,” Emily smiled. Candice left the room. Emily sat down on an overstuffed chair in the living room.
“It’s really good to see you too …I see…” Andy smiled.
“And it’s good to see you too. You’re looking good Andy,” Emily smiled as she took his hand.
“You’re looking beautiful. Your. Hair. Got. Longer.” Andy struggled to keep from digressing, “I’m. Sorry. I. still. Don’t. talk. Right …left …right …gaaa! See?”
“That’s okay, I think I can translate!” Emily smiled, “Yeah, I guess I haven’t had it cut in a while. So do you want to go outside? We could walk to the park—well, you could roll,” Emily grimaced at what she realized might be a terrible attempt at humor.
Andy laughed, “You’re funny!” He was relieved she didn’t seem uncomfortable around him. A few of his friends came by when he was out of the hospital and it was obvious they were feeling a bit awkward. (or) His friends would come by when he was out of the hospital. They would try to talk to him, but there would be the averting of the eyes when Andy tried to talk to them. Only Jimmy Landry, Kyle Weaver and Josh Walker continued to hang out with Andy. Because of this, Andy refused to let Emily to come visit until he was able to improve his speech and get strong enough to use a manual chair. “Okay, let’s walk and roll …get it?” Emily laughed. “Yeah, I get it. Do you want me to push or walk next to you?”
“Walk. Next. To …to ….to,”  Andy was frustrated with how difficult it still was to keep his tangential speech under control.
“Got it!” Emily smiled. They went down the driveway to the sidewalk toward the park. As they headed down the street, Emily continued, “It’s been so long seen we’ve seen each other, I thought it might be awkward, but I’m just so glad to see you. I don’t still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me see you earlier when you let your other friends see you—I was your girlfriend.”
Andy’s stomach did a lurch at her use of the word “was” though he realized that three years was a long time to expect someone to wait for him when he wouldn’even speak with her on the phone. A lot of his friends were already finishing up their junior year in college or (already) working. He knew Emily was in her junior year as well. He also knew she might be dating someone. Three years. The thought (or) “it” made him feel frustrated and annoyed. He thought about how much catching up he still had to do. He shook the thoughts away. He wanted to stay upbeat in front of Emily.
“So. how’s. school?” andy struggled.
“It’s going great. I have an internship at Sorrento Mesa Physical Therapy.” She was a little annoyed that he seemed to be trying to deflect the original question about why he wouldn’t let her visit him three years ago, but then it occurred to her that maybe it had to do with his brain injury, so she decided to go along with it, “It’s not a paid internship, but I get class credit for my time there.”
“Physical Therapy? I. Thought you were going to major in dance …no, that’s not right ….um …math …no I mean …you changed your mind?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t that much of a jump. I was wanting to major in Physical Education, but then later I decided to switch to occupational therapy. I’ll still have at least two more years of school after I finish my undergrad studies.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s not a big deal, I mean it’s been three years since we’ve talked.” Emily paused then took his hand, “Andy, how come you didn’t let me come visit you? I mean you let your friends come, but not me, and I was your girlfriend.”
“I wanted to see you so bad …bad, bad, Leroy Brown…brown bear, brown bear what do you see? Arrrgh! I wanted to. See. You. But. I. talked. Too. Weird. Worse. Than. I do. Now. And. I. Didn’t want you to. See. Me. Like. That.”
“It really hurt me that you didn’t trust me to love you anyway. Andy, the whole reason I switched to occupational therapy was because of you. I wanted to be able to be there for you and be able to do more for you than just ‘be’ there. I wanted to understand what it’s like for you. I mean, not that anyone could ever understand unless they went through it themselves, but I wanted to get as close as I could to understanding,” Emily said, then, “ugg! Breathe, Emily, breathe!” she thought.
“Do. You. Still. Want. To. Be. There. For. Me?”
Emily looked down at the ground. “I want to be here for you as a good friend.”
Andy pulled his hand out of Emily’s hand.
“Andy, please don’t be mad. It’s been three years! You wouldn’t let me see you. I waited for the first year, but you still would’nt let me see you. Your sister told me that things weren’t moving along as quickly as you had hoped. She said that it was partly because your parent’s weren’t able to get you in to all the therapy that you needed back then. But then after the first year I stopped waiting for you, but I still didn’t go out with anyone for second year, but then about ten months ago, I met Harry. He’s a law student SDU. I’m not going to tell you all the details, but we just really clicked. And, andy, I know you’re going to find someone who really clicks with you too, because you are so amazing and sweet and funny and…”
“Stop!” Andy interrupted, “I get it …no, that’s not right …I don’t get it …I’m not getting any …jeez! I. get. The. Picture.”
“I still want to be in your life and come visit you and be friends with you, and maybe later you might want to meet Harry?” Emily wanted to kick herself for that last question, but there it was.
“Are you kidding me? No, we can’t be friends! I get that it’s been three years, but then why did you get my hopes up by coming over only to tell me you want to be with someone else? Oh and sure I’ll meet Harry. I’ll run him over with my power chair!” Andy thought. What he actually said was, “That. Sounds. Good. We. Should. Get. Back. Now.”
Emily was relieved that Andy was taking it so well. “Maybe he’s moved on too.” She reflected. She wondered if he had met someone too, but didn’t want to say anything to her. She thought maybe he met someone in his physical therapy or occupational therapy places. Maybe a fellow client, or maybe even an assistant, or a receptionist.  She didn’t think it was likely that he’d be involved with one of his therapists. Not that it never happened, but for the most part the therapists were pretty good at sticking to the ethical side of not having a romance with a client. The receptionists were under no  such requirements. The assistants and interns were supposed to remain platonic with the clients, but they were not always as consistant, partly because the consequences were not as severe for them as they were for there higher educated counterparts.
In fact, Andy wasn’t taking it as well as Emily imagined. The only woman he had thought about during the past three years had been Emily. Maybe Angelina Jolie, too, but mostly Emily. “Jeez! Harry! What is he? Like eighty? Who names their kid Harry these days? What was his full name? Harold? Jeez!” Andy thought.
“So. What. Is. Harry. Short. For.?” Asked Andy.
“Hunh? He isn’t –oh! His full name is Harrison. And no, his last name is not ‘Ford,’ it’s ‘Park,’”
Andy thought Harry’s parents must have been big Star Wars fans. Either that, or they loved Indiana Jones. Harry! Jeez!

I would just like to remind everyone that the chapters I am posting here are VERY rough drafts! Sometimes I’m just writing for the sake of adding to my word count for NaNoWriMo while still attempting to make it pertinent to the story in its entirety.

CHAPTER EIGHT
“So what do you want to do?” Asked Jack Hibbler to his grandson Cody.
“Can we go horse back riding?” Cody asked.
“We’ll have to ask your mother about that, and you’ll have to wear a helmet,” His grandpa responded.
“Okay! Let’s go!” Cody took off toward the guest room, “Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!”
Rosalind pulled the sheets over her head when she heard her son’s call. It sounded like an alarm clock. She realized that’s what it was turning out to be. The door to her bedroom burst open, “Mom! Couldn’t you heard me?”
“Yes, of course I could ‘heard’ you,” she thought to herself, still pretending to be asleep. Cody looked at the mound of blankets and comforter on the bed, “Mom! Are you in there?” As he approached the bed, very loud snoring came from under the covers. “Mom.” As he lifted the comforter, Rosalind slid further down the bed to stay under the covers. As Cody, now giggling, continued to pull the comforter back further his mom, also giggling, continued to scoot to the end of the bed until there was nowhere else to go but against the headboard.
“Boo!” Rosalind sat up throwing off the covers and grabbing Cody. Cody squealed then got down to business, “Mom! Grandpa said we could ride horses if it’s okay with you and I would wear a helmet!”
Rosalind noted that Cody’s voice only had two volumes: Off and LOUD. “Okay little man. Lets get you out of your jammies and into some jeans then.”
“And boots! I need real cowboy boots!”
“Your sneakers will do just fine for now. Maybe later on we’ll get you some boots.”
“Yay! Grandpa!” yelled Cody running down the hall while simulataneously stripping off his pajamas, “Mom is going to buy me real cowboy boots today!”
“I said ‘maybe’ and ‘later on’ as in, ‘another day!’” Rosalind shouted to deaf ears. She pulled on her robe and quickly made the bed. When she opened the door, She smiled. The scent of bacon and eggs and coffee and toast wafted in. That was her favorite scent. Right next to garlic bread and brownies. Not that she put garlic bread and brownies together…but hmmmm…that might not be too bad, she thought. She walked down the hallway to kitchen, picking up Cody’s strewn pajamas on the way. Grace was in the kitchen in front of the stove.
“Grace! You’re supposed to be taking it easy! Sit down, let me do that!” Rosalind ordered.
“I’m fine. This is easy,” with emphasis on the word “is,” You’re the guest here, just sit down and let me feed you some breakfast!” Countered Grace.
“Well, at least let me do all the cleaning up after breakfast, okay?”
Grace mocked duress, “Oh I guess I can let you do that.”
Just then, Jack and Cody sauntered into the kitchen.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Asked Cody.
Grace and Rosalind laughed. “Where did you learn that phrase?” asked his mother.
“Oh, I think I have an idea,” said Grace, looking at her husband. Jack shrugged, feigning innocence in his facial expression.
“Grandpa told me to say it!” Cody informed.
“Well thank you very much for letting the cat out of the bag!” his grandpa laughed.
“You have a cat?” Cody was on to the next subject, “why is it in a bag?”
“That’s just an expression,” Grace said, “He’s just saying that you told on him,” she smiled.
“Oh! Is he in trouble?” Cody was very curious. He wasn’t too worried because how much trouble could a grown up get into? “Is he going to get a time out?”
“Cody, I think we better just sit down and eat our breakfast before I get into anymore ‘trouble’” his grandpa said.
“Then we go ride horses?” asked the little one.
“Then we go ride horses!” Jack said while taking the cowboy hat off his head and putting it on Cody’s head.
“Grandpa! I can’t see!” he squealed. Everyone laughed.
When breakfast was over, Jack and Cody headed out to the stable. Rosalind cleaned up the breakfast dishes and pots and pans while Grace kept her company. “For Sunday dinner, we invited the pastor over, if that’s okay with you,” Grace stated.
“It’s fine with me! I mean, it’s your house, you can have anyone over that you want, but you have to let me do most of the work for dinner! You’ve been doing to so much for us, Grace.”
“Oh hun, it’s our pleasure! We wish we could see you more often. Maybe next time we’ll come out to see you?”
“That would be great!” Rosalind said sincerely.
“Of course you can always stay here as long as you want…but I know you want to be close to your family in Murrieta.” Grace tested the waters.
“Yeah, my parents and I like it there. Cody has friends there, and I love his preschool, the school district is one of the best in the county, and I’m still close with a lot of the wives from the base in Miramar.” Rosalind responded. She had a feeling Grace was trying to see how keen she might be to the idea of moving closer to them, but after losing Bart, she really didn’t want to move that far away from her parents. It was great to have them nearby and they were more willing than ever to watch Cody and pick him up from preschool when she had to work late or on an occasional weekend. “Also, I enjoy my job,” she added. She was the head paralegal at Cullen & Hargrove, a law firm that specialized in child advocacy for the courts.

“Grandpa! When are you going to let go of the rope? I want him to jump a fence!” Cody demanded.
“There won’t be any jumping today until you can learn to ride without holding on the saddle horn. That’s not a handle you know!” His grandpa Jack Hibbler countered.
“Okay,” he said defeated, “but can I at least hold the rope and ride him by myself?”
“I suppose so. If we just keep Farley in the corral and go in a circle, okay?”
“Okay!” “And keep it slow!” Jack ordered as he handed his almost five-year-old grandson the rope. Cody took it with glee and let Farley take him slowly around the corral.
“Now if you want him to turn one way or the other, you gently pull the reins in the direction you want to go and squeeze him just a little with the other leg. So if you want to go left, you give him a little squeeze with the right leg, understand?”
“Yup!” Said Cody doing his best cowboy imitation. Jack figured his legs would most likely be too little and too weak for the horse to feel him, but Farley would turn with just the reigns for direction. He realized that perhaps he was mistaken about Cody’s legs when he noticed his grandson giving the horse a bit of a kick in the sides, which in turn Farley obeyed the command and went into a trot, just as he had been trained to do.
“I said keep it slow young buck!” Jack shouted.
“I didn’t mean to kick with both legs! It was an accident!” Cody’s eyes were wide with surprise and a little fear. Jack could see that another accident was about to happen. As Farley was happily trotting along, Cody began to lean to one side, trying to hold on, but the forces of gravity were against the young boy’s wishes as he continued his sideways and downward descent. Before he knew it, he was laying in the dirt on his side. Farley slowed to a stop when he felt his passenger had become absent from the saddle. Cody sat up and looked around, still trying to process how he went from Farley to the ground.
“Are you hurt, young buck?” His grandpa asked trying his best not to grin at the look of surprise on his grandson’s face.
Cody stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. “No, I guess not. That was kinda fun. It was scary too, but kinda fun!” Jack smiled. “You’re your father’s son allright!”
“Why do you say that?” asked Cody.
“Your dad loved riding horses, and when he fell off, he just dusted himself off and got right back on again.”
“I can get back on again? Even though I made him go fast and fell off?”
“Of course! That’s what you’re supposed to do when you fall off a horse; get right back on again!”
“All right! Again!”
“Okay, young buck, let’s get you saddled up again.” Jack smiled. He thought how good his life was right now. While the sadness of Bart not being there would always be with him, he was able to experience true joy again, just spending time with his grandson.

“Mom! Mom!” Cody shouted as he and Jack came in for lunch. Rosalind was browning meat to put in the spaghetti sauce.
“What is it, Mr. Man?”
“I fell off the horse!” he announced as though he was announcing he just found a room full of candy.
“you did?” she asked casually, careful to not show too much concern since he seemed to be in one piece.”
“Yup,” doing his cowboy routine again, “and I got right back on! And then I fell off again and got back on again, and then I didn’t fall off anymore, and grandpa said I’m just like my dad because he liked to ride horses too and when he fell off, he would get right back on again too! So can we get the cowboy boots now?”
“We’ll see about the boots later, but lunch is almost ready, so get washed up then we’ll talk about it after lunch.”
“Okay dokay!” Cody started for the bathroom when his grandpa stopped him. “Wait just a minute there, young buck. Before we get any further, we have to take off these dirty boots and leave them by the door!”
“Okay!”

CHAPTER SEVEN
Reverend Carlisle stood in the doorway to the hospital room. He gazed at the woman laying in the bed. Part of his ministry was to call on congregation members who were sick or in the hospital. This was the part that he both enjoyed and sometimes dreaded the most. He hoped he would be able to impart hope and uplift the person on whom he was calling, and more often than not he came away feeling uplifted himself.
“Well don’t just stand there! Get your skinny self in here and sit down!” said Grace Hibbler from her bed. Carlisle wouldn’t have known she was seventy-two if he hadn’t read it in the congregation membership rolls. Her shoulder length auburn bob had only a few strands of gray, and her face barely showed any signs of aging except for a few laugh lines around the eyes.
“Hello Grace,” he held out his hand in greeting.
“Don’t be silly! You’re giving me a hug!” She smiled a big beautiful smile and held her arms out.
Reverend Carlisle bent over and hugged her back then sat down in the chair next to the bed. “So how did your surgery go?”
“Oh just fine according to my doctor. Now I just have to decide if I want to take my gall bladder home in a jar or leave it here!” she laughed. Reverend Carlisle laughed too.
He had been in Willow Bend for three months now and had been getting know the congregation better. Grace and Jack Hibbler had been especially hospitable toward the reverend. They often invited him over for dinner and not just on Sundays. They had become like surrogate parents to him, and perhaps he had become like a surrogate son for them. Not that anyone could replace their own son who had been killed in a roadside bomb in Fallujah during his second tour of duty in Iraq three years ago.
“I thought you’d be in more pain.” He commented.
“Oh, I probably will be when the painkiller wears off, but for now, it’s all good!” she smiled.
“Good to know. And let’s hope the painkiller doesn’t wear off anytime soon.”
“They keep bringing more, so I guess it’ll be a while.”
“So where’s Jack?”
“He is picking up our daughter-in-law and grandson at the airport, so he’ll be gone for a while.”
“Well that was nice of her to come all the way out here to visit you in the hospital,” Said Reverend Carlisle.
“She had already planned on coming out to bring Cody for a visit, then my gall bladder decided to go on the fritz. Really, it’s bad timing. I was hoping to be able to wait on them while they were here so Rosalind wouldn’t have to lift a finger for a change since she’s been a single mom for so long. I just wanted this to be more of a relaxing vacation for her than a working vacation.” Grace smiled and sighed.
“I guess you’re just going to have to let Jack and Rosalind wait on you. Now how long did your doctor say you’d be laid up once you got home?” Reverend Carlisle asked.
“Well, I can do normal activities as soon as I feel up to it which should be in few days to a week, but I’m not supposed to do any heavy lifting or straining for six to eight weeks.” She answered.
“And if I know you, you’re going to try to go to your Pilates class in two weeks!” He grinned.
“Well, I might if I took Pilates classes,” she grinned back, “Hmmm…maybe I should sign up when I get home!”
“Well if you split your stitches, don’t go saying I gave you the idea!”
“You know, seriously, Robert, I’m glad the council has been dragging their feet getting a permanent replacement for Reverend Stevens…well, I guess I should call him Mr. Stevens now…anyway, Jack and I are both glad to have gotten to know you. I’m kind of hoping they’ll just forget about looking all together.”
“Are you sure that isn’t the painkillers talking?” He sometimes had a difficult time taking compliments graciously. This was one of those times.
“Yes I’m sure it isn’t the painkillers talking!” Grace continued, “And I want you to come over for dinner on Sunday so you can meet our grandson and daughter-in-law.” Mary yawned. “Oh! Excuse me!”
Reverend Carlisle smiled, “No need to apologize! I should go and let you get some rest. I’d love to come over for dinner, but let’s wait till it gets closer just to make sure you’re feeling well enough by then.” The reverend got up and gave Grace a gentle hug.
“See you soon,” he said in parting.
“See you Sunday,” Grace said softly.
The reverend walked down the hallway of the hospital to the elevator leading to the parking lot and thought about another time he was in a hospital. He visited congregants in hospitals before with no trouble, but this visit was bringing up painful memories. Maybe because he was starting to view the Hibblers as family?  In his itinerant work, he rarely stayed in a place long enough to get close to anyone. Just close enough to do his duties as the pastor, but he always tried to keep up what he liked to call a “wall of propriety” when interacting with others in the church. Of course he made some friends in his travels and kept up with them from time to time through email or Facebook. Now he was remembering that awful night that changed everything. He began to flash on memories of all the blood, all the crying, too many young people severely injured or killed. His heart was thudding against his chest. He started to feel cold and shaky. He was finding it difficult to breathe. He found a chair and sat down, trying to get his breathing under control. He flashed on the phone ringing that night.
He got the call from Jim Florek, a high school friend of his who was one of the paramedics who brought Andy in to the emergency room.
“Bobby, you better get down here to hospital—there was a shooting at the school. Your brother’s been injured. We think he’ll pull through, but you’re going to want to get down here. I already called your dad.”
When he got to the hospital, it was organized chaos. There were news reporters, worried parents, waiting for information about their children, crying parents who had been given the bad news, crying parents who had been given good news, crying teenagers worried about their friends and siblings. As he pushed through the crowd looking for his parents, he realized that his clergy garb, while comforting to some, might be unnerving to others, who might be concerned that he was be there to administer last rites, if they were under the impression that he was a Catholic priest.
“Over here, son!” he heard his father call over the crowd. He turned and looked around trying to see over the heads, then finally spotted his dad waving his arm. Once he reached his parents, he noticed how pale and small they both looked. His mother was sitting in a waiting room chair, holding a box of tissue in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine in the other hand.
“So do you know anything?” he asked his parents, looking at his dad.
“All we know is he had a gunshot wound to the upper chest and when the nurse came out to update us on his progress, she told us that the bullet missed his heart but somehow managed to fragment and hit a part of his spinal cord, and another one to the head. He is in surgery right now. I guess we’ll know more later.” His father waivered a bit. The reverend took him by the hand and led him to the seat next to his mother. The other seats were occupied, so the reverend sat on the ground in front of his parents.
“Is there anything else to know?” He looked back and forth between his mother and father.
“It was Clay.” His mother said sadly.
Now it was the reverend’s turn to go pale, if he wasn’t already pallid by this time. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?” asked the reverend.
“Clay Carter. He was the shooter.” She answered.
“But why did he shoot Andy? Andy and Clay were friends!”
“They hadn’t hung out in a long time.” Mary replied.
Reverend Carlisle knew this to be true. He knew a lot of things about Clay because he had been counseling him at the urging of Clay’s parents. Clay never mentioned any anger toward Andy, though he had sometimes mentioned he wished they were collaborating on art like they used to in when they were younger. The reverend remembered the last session they had, a couple of weeks ago.
“I just don’t get it,” Clay announced.
“What don’t you get?”
“Why does everyone else seem happy?”
“Well, maybe they only seem happy on the outside. Sometimes people put up a front to cover how miserable they’re feeling on the inside.” The reverend answered.
“No, maybe that’s true for some people, but most people are just so happy all the time…they think they’re so cool, but they don’t give a flying rat’s ass about anyone around them.”
“Is there anyone in particular to whom you referring?”
Clay was silent for a while, just looking out of the window of Reverend Carlisle’s office.
“Clay?”
“Not really, I guess.”
“Because if there is anyone who is giving you a hard time, you can talk about that here and it doesn’t have to go any further than this room.”
“It’s Andy.”

CHAPTER SIX
“Okay, so first thing, I’m going to order a glucose monitor for you because your last tests were high,” Dr. Paxton informed Mary, “Now you went through this before?”
“Yes, about twenty years ago I had gestational diabetes with my youngest.”
“Well, you’ve managed to go a long time before developing type II. Ususally people go about ten years before they have to start testing their blood and taking medication,” She said.
“Oh, am I going to have to take medication too?” Mary asked.
“I want to see how it goes with you trying to keep it under control with diet and exercise and testing your blood sugar levels before breakfast and before dinner. Okay, now I’m going to need you to slide way up on the table here. All the way to the end. Further. Okay, now get your feet up here. Scoot down further. Like until you feel like you’re going to fall off. Okay, now sorry, these are a little cold.”
Mary sighed and looked around the room in an attempt to ignore the PAP test. When it was over, Dr. Paxton said, “After you get dressed, just go back around the corner to the nurse’s station and Janet will set you up with another appointment and she’ll also have some more information for you.”
“Okay, thanks,” Mary was glad it was over and glad to finally be having some answers about her health.
When she got home, Bob was sitting at his desk taking a break from composing apparently since Mary noticed his Facebook page was open. “Hi,” she greeted him with a wave. “Hi yourself!” he answered,“So how did it go?”
“Well, I now have to check my blood sugar levels twice a day, and here is some reading material for you.” Mary handed him a booklet with the title, “Living with Type II Diabetes.”
“Oh, I see,” Bob responded, “So are you going to have to take any medication?”
“Not yet. I guess she wants to see how I do with checking my blood and trying to control my diet and exercise on my own. I also have some classes that I’m supposed to take. They’re going to send something in the mail about that.”
Bob took the booklet and thumbed through it. “So is this required reading?”
“Yes it is. And we should probably have Candice read it too.”
“And Andy too.”
“Oh, of course! I was just thinking of people who might be preparing food for us in the near future, but yeah, he’ll want to know what’s going on and not be kept in the dark about anything.”
Mary and Bob both were thinking about how Andy had already been in the dark for so long while he was in a coma and then in rehab in the hospital for so long.
“Well, you start reading that, and I’m going to start thowing away foods I can’t eat, and making a shopping list.”
“Hey! Wait a minute, what are you going to do with all that food? I can eat it!”
“Hmmm. No.”
“Okay.” He said dejectedly, putting on a sad face.
“You’ll live. We can donate this food to the nearest food pantry, then it won’t go to waste.”
“Okay, I’m sure you can make anything taste good. Even healthy food.”
“Oh now come on! I make healthy foods already! It’s just some of the convenience foods and chips and cookies, we a bit too much of those things.”
“Okay, while you’re doing that, I’m going over to Andy’s. Jeff will have to go home soon.”
“Give him a hug and kiss for me. Andy. Not Jeff. Well, Jeff too!” Mary winked.
“I will give Andy a hug and kiss from you, but I’m only shaking Jeff’s hand. That is as far as I’m willing to go. Even for you.”
As Mary continued taking inventory, Bob headed over to his son’s house.

“Hey Mr. C! Take a look at this!” Jeff called out to Bob from the kitchen. Bob followed his instructions and went into the kitchen. Andy was at the table with a plate of food in front of him. He had a napkin tucked in his collar and he was holding a fork. He looked at Bob and said, “Dad! I’m eating lunch…we ate lunch at Bob’s Big Boy…hey! You’re Bob! I’m Bob’s big boy! Ha Ha funny! But Bobby is the bigger boy…no, that’s not right…Bobby is the older boy…I’m the bigger boy…”
“Okay, Andy, just take another bite of the chicken,” Jeff diverted his attention back to the task at hand. Bob looked on intently.
In Andy’s right hand was a fork with a metal band on either side of the grip. Andy’s thumb and fore finger were inside the bands so he could hold the fork. He lowered his fork to the plate, slowly and carefully twisting his arm so the fork tines pointed at the piece of chicken. He jabbed the chicken with the fork,slowly turning his arm so the tines with the chicken were pointing slightly upward. Then, as though the fork and chicken were a heavy weight, with his hand and arm shaking very slightly, he brought the morsel up to his mouth, opened up, and delivered the chicken to it’s intended goal. “I can feed myself Dad! I don’t need help.”
“That is awesome dude,” smiled Bob, he held up his hand and Andy managed to raise his arm into position and even open his fingers a bit to meet his dad’s high five. “Okay, now you just gotta remember to not talk with your mouth full of food, dude,” Jeff interjected.
“Well, we already had a hard time getting him to do that when he was living at home, so that might be a tough one,” joked Bob.
Jeff laughed. “Well, I gotta pack up and get going. I’ve got another patient in Harbor Beach.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of driving you do.”
“That one is close to my sister’s so I get to come over for dinner when I’m done there, so I don’t mind so much.” Jeff zipped up his duffel back with the rehabilitation exercise equipment.
“I take it your sister’s a good cook, then?”
“That she is! Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” He flung the duffel over his shoulder and left.
Bob watched Andy eat the rest of his lunch. When he tried to help him remove the flatware from his fingers, Andy blocked him with his arm. “No dad! I can do this. And don’t touch my plate…home plate! Three strikes and you’re out! No! I mean I can wash my own dinner…no…that’s not right…arrrg! I can wash my own dishes!”
“Okay, okay! Sorry! I’ll just sit here at the table and keep you company while you clean up after yourself, which of course has always been a dream of mine—to watch you do any kind of cleaning at all whatsoever,” Bob kidded.
“Ha ha, you’re funny dad. Not! Ha ha!” Andy said as he unbent the band from around his finger and pulled the fork off his hand. He set the fork on the plate, then removed the napkin from his shirt, put that on the plate, and put the plate on his lap. With his left hand, he cradled the dishes, with his right hand, he moved the power switch on his chair to bring himself over to the sink. At the sink, which had been lowered and the doors removed at the bottom so it would be at a convenient level for Andy, he put the napkin on the counter, and put the dish and fork in the sink. He then turned his chair around, went back to the table, sipped the rest of his water from his glass, with both hands, grasped a handle on either side of the glass, with his elbow he operated the toggle switch on his chair, wheeled himself over to the sink and put the glass in the sink with the dish. He picked up the straw, and the napkin. It was with some difficulty, but he picked them up, wheeled over to the trash can, deposited the trash, wheeled back to the sink, and turned the water on over the dishes. Next, he reached over to the dish soap which had been put into a push dispenser for convenience, gave a couple of taps on the pump and applied the soap to the dishes. After moving them around in the sink for a couple of seconds, he moved the faucet to the other side of the sink, picked up the dish, rinsed it and put it in on the towel that had been laid out on the other side of the sink to dry. He repeated the process with the glass and fork.
Bob was glad Andy’s back was to him. He knew he’d be annoyed if he saw how his dad was fighting to keep the tears away. Before Andy could turn back around, Bob took a deep breath and said, “Hey, I gotta go to the head, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay dad, I’ll be right here…here…hear…I can hear you! Ha ha, no just kidding. Just kidding.”
Bob went to the bathroom, closed the door, sat down on the closed toilet and cried quietly.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Here’s what you’ve been waiting for, so sweet and tasty, you just wanna put her in your mouth—but don’t try, because it’s against the rules! So sit back and enjoy, Candy Cane!” The DJ began playing White Stripes’ “Candy Cane Children,” The mostly male audience cheered and clapped as Candy Cane danced out on to the thrust stage—a stage that juts out into the audience to allow the audience views from three sides of the stage—shimmying   and swaying her hips to the music. Her long blond hair was teased high, sprayed with lots of glitter. She wore a red and white striped bustier with a matching leather mini skirt. Even her five inch stilettos were striped red and white. As the music continued, Candy Cane reached behind her back and ripped off the bustier to reveal a strapless leather bikini top. The front was designed to look like two large round peppermint candies, white in the center with red stripes around the edges. The crowd cheered. Candy Cane danced around a pole in the middle of the stage then gracefully removed her skirt revealing a thong in the shape of a large peppermint candy in the front, with the strings going to the back made from shiny plastic candy canes sewn together meeting in the back to jeweled candy canes criss crossing with their hooks facing up and out. The men were putting ones and fives in her thong as she rocked her hips back and forth then into low squats. As the song neared the end, she took one more spin around the pole, danced upstage, then reached around and pulled off her top revealing pasties that looked like peppermint candies with little white tassels. Candy Cane did a final shimmy which made the tassels spin around, waved to the audience then danced offstage.

In the dressing room, Candice Bradley sat in front of the mirror with a silky robe wrapped around her covering the pasties and thong. As she began to take off her makeup, a beautiful woman with silky black hair and café mocha skin came in the room wearing red glittery pasties and a shiny red thong. She quickly grabbed the flowered robe from the hook on the wall and covered up.

“Whew! I’m glad this night is over! Three stage dances with four lap dances in between,” the woman announced.

“Oh Maya! Well at least it was only a total of four lap dances and not four inbetween each set!” Candice responded.

Maya sat down in front of the mirror next to Candice an began to remove her makeup, “Oooh! All I want to do is go home and soak my feet!”

“Hey that’s show-biz” Candice said facetiously as she brushed out her hair and put it in a pony tail.

“Ha! Show-biz, yeah, right! Well at least it pays for my acting classes and head shots!”

“And it pays for my books and Andy’s therapy.”

“Hey, girl, how’s he doing?” They were both behind separate screens changing their clothes.

“He’s doing a lot better. He’s speaking more clearly now, not as much slurring though he still goes off on tangents, but I guess that can be kind of entertaining sometimes,” Candice laughed a little.

They both came out from behind the screens. Candice in an above the knee black cotton skirt and black peasant blouse and black ballerina flats, Maya in faded denim jeans and a brown v-neck t-shirt.

“Well I gotta get home and give the baby-sitter a break. See you tomorrow night!”

“Okay, see you!”

When Candice walked inside her home carrying her binder and text books she had left in her car, she heard the television on low and her mother asleep on the couch covered with an afghan Mary crocheted for her when she got married to Kevin five years ago.

They had both been young, but Candice had always been mature for her age, so she thought it would work. It would have if Kevin had stayed away from the strip clubs. She smirked at the irony of that thought, but then acknowledged it wasn’t so much his going to strip clubs that was the problem, it was going home with the dancers—or at least one dancer in particular, Crystal Kozlowski, whose stage name was “Crystal Blue Persuasion” that was the problem. The next morning he felt terrible and confessed all to Candice. They had only been married three years, but he seemed sincere and vowed never to go to strip clubs again. Candice decided that with therapy, they could make it work, but when the news came that from that one night with Crystal, Kevin was going to be a father, that was more than Candice could take. This was around the time that Andy was responding better to treatment and getting ready to go home, so Kevin moved in with Crystal and Candice stayed in their home until it sold. With her half of the money from the sale, Candice used it to go back to school and get her graduate degree. Her parents had just finished renovating the single story home for her brother, so Candice became roommates with Andy. She thought about her other brother, Bobby. She grimaced thinking how he just left after Andy got shot and never once came back to see him. Sure, he had emailed and called to ask how his brother was doing and how the rest of the family fared, but the emails were sparse and the calls were few and far between.

“Oh, hey honey,” Mary had just woken up.

“Hi mom. How did it go with Andy tonight?” Candice crossed the room to the couch, sat down and hugged her mother.

“Pretty much the same, but he does seem to understand what’s going on, doesn’t he? I mean even though he starts to speak in a stream of consciousness manner, he still seems to be aware, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah! Even in his tangents, he comes up with some brilliant word associations!” They both laughed.

“So how did study group go tonight?”

“Oh, you know, same old psychopaths and sociopaths—I mean that’s what we’re studying, not saying the people in my group are psychos and sociopaths!” Candice laughed. It was half true, if she was talking about the crowd at the Red’s tonight.

“Well, are you sure?” teased Mary doing an impression of Joe Pesci  from “My Cousin Vinny.”

“I’m positive!” Candice came back with her impression of Marisa Tomei as Mona Lisa Vito from the same film.

“How could you be so sure?” Mary continued the performance.

“Because if you will look in the manual right here—that’s the Diagnostic and statistic Manual of Mental Disorders, you will see that what was once referred to as ‘sociopath’ and ‘psychopath’ are now referred to as ‘antisocial behavior disorders.’” Responded Candice as Mona Lisa Vito.

“But when you came in, you yourself used the term ‘psycopaths’ and ‘sociopaths.’” Mary came back sounding more like Cousin Vinny’s sister than Vinny.

“Because I thought ‘antisocial personality disorder’ would sound more like a person who sits in the corner at parties and doesn’t talk to anyone.” Candice answered, breaking character.

“Yeah it does kind of sound like that, doesn’t it?” chuckled Mary who was also done with their little acting game. She stood up and stretched. “Well, I guess I’ll be heading off now.”

“You know, you can stay in my room for tonight, so you don’t have to drive home.”

“Oh, it’s not much of a drive, besides, I sleep better next to your father.”

“With his snoring?”

“Okay, well I guess I sleep better with your father snoring on the couch in the same house with me.” She laughed.

“Ha ha—okay mom,” they hugged, “drive carefully!”
After they said their goodbyes and Mary left, Candice grabbed her books, changed into pyjama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt and got into bed with her books. After about twenty minutes she was asleep surrounded by notes and textbooks.

It was lunchtime and Andy was headed to the cafeteria with girlfriend, Emily when he heard a loud pop. Suddenly kids were screaming, running out of the cafeteria and crawling under tables. Pop! Pop! Grabbing Emily, Andy pulled her down with him and got her under a table. He started to back in under the table so he could shield her with his body when he saw Clay Carter. He’d known Clay since the third grade. They had been friends back then. They used to do art projects together, and would make little comic books that they’d lend out to their friends. Then Andy got more involved in music, and Clay got deeper into his art and they just sort of grew apart. Now Andy was staring into his eyes and Clay was holding a gun in one hand and some sort of semi-automatic weapon in the other. At the time, Andy figured they had to be fake, because how could he possibly have gotten away with getting those on campus without getting cought? Sure, they didn’t have metal detectors, but they still had campus police and drug and weapon sniffing dogs that were brought on campus randomly throughout the week. As Clay took aim, Andy noticed that he seemed to be looking right through him. “No! Don’t!” Andy shouted. Then everything went dark for a moment. Then there were flashes of the kids in the cafeteria. Flashes of their horrified faces. Flashes of Clay Carter being dropped to the ground by police in riot gear, then handcuffed. Then the blood. So much blood. He noticed it was kind of weird that it didn’t hurt. He figured Clay must’ve missed. Then he looked around and he was in the hospital. He still couldn’t feel any pain. That’s when he looked down and realized that nothing was there! He was just a head with a neck and chest and everything else was gone. Andy started screaming, then his sister came in the room and smacked his face. Andy opened his eyes. He was in his room at home. He looked down. Everything was still there. It was that same stupid disembodied head dream again.

CHAPTER FOUR
“Now friends, I’m not here to talk about hell and damnation,” began Reverend Carlisle. There was a nice crowd for his first public sermon in the revival tent. Most of the women were dressed up in their Sunday best, while the men wore dress slacks, shirts without ties and a jacket or sport coat. There were a couple of men wearing ties, like a lawyer and an insurance agent, but for the most part, the men were with out ties. That was fine with the reverend. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d probably just show up in jeans and a t-shirt. Well, maybe a nice cotton button up shirt, with the top button undone. Definitely no tie. But he also believed it was important to signify he was clergy without people having to guess, so a black clerical with a tab collar is what he wore most days. For Sundays and special gatherings like tonight’s revival meeting, he wore standard vestments of an alb, the white tunic worn by clergy and sometimes lay people, a stole, the long rectangular strip of material going around his neck and hanging down on either side in the front, almost as long as the alb, and a cincture, which is the rope belt tied in the middle. Because this wasn’t a special holiday, the stole and cincture were both green.
“I’m here to talk to you about God’s love and forgiveness,” he continued, “I know some of us, we may have done some things in the past or maybe even right now and we don’t feel we are worthy of His love or forgiveness, but this is not true. We even have it in writing from the Lord himself, how he loved the world so much that he gave his only begotten son so that we might have life!”
“Amen!” came from somewhere in the audience.
“That’s right! Amen!” The reverend smiled, “Amen! And when he allowed his only begotten son to be tortured and sacrificed, do you think that the people of that day were faultless?”
“No!” from another area of the audience.
“No they were not!” He continued, “Why even look at Peter who denied the Christ three times! And yet his name went down in the Bible as a beloved disciple of our Lord. It was the people of that day who told Pilate to release Barabas instead of Jesus. The very people for whom he was about to die. Why do you think our heavenly Father loved even these people so much? It was because he could read their true hearts.” The reverend paused and looked out at his audience. With the exception of Morton Lewis who was eighty-nine and falling asleep, and a few children already bored because they were not watching TV, all eyes were on the pulpit.
“ ‘But Reverend Carlisle,’ you might ask, ‘how could the hearts of those people in the crowd who condemned Jesus to death, be anything but wicked?’ But our Father understood. After all, he made us. He understood then and he understands now. Of course that doesn’t mean we can just go around doing any sort of thing we want, and say, ‘God understands that I’m not perfect.’ We can take the gift of love that he gives to us—love and forgiveness, and spread it to others. If we just take the time to think about someone, or maybe more than someone who we need to forgive—or perhaps those to whom we owe apologies, and after this service is over, go to them and apologize. I know it isn’t going to be easy. If you think your life may be in danger simply by showing your face to them, then I have a solution.” The reverend paused again.
Throughout the audience, there were sections here and there. Sections of whispers. Of course he knew why. They were thinking about his predecessor. They all knew if good ol’ Reverend Joe showed his face, Tom Dill, Marcy’s father, would make sure he never showed his face anywhere again. At least that’s what Tom said.
The Reverend Robert Carlisle held up a box about eighteen inches square with a slit cut in the top. From either sides of the aisles, came Jeb Saunders, Dave McKennon, Sheriff Miles Baker and his deputy, Jonah Leeds. The men went up the aisles, behind the stage and came back with stacks of paper and bundles of pencils. As they handed out the supplies to the audience, the Reverend turned the box around to reveal a single word printed in blue permanent marker on the front: “FORGIVENESS” The reverend continued, “Friends, this is the Forgiveness Box.” He continued to hold it up, slowly moving it from side to side so everyone could see the writing on the front of the box. He went on, “when you get your papers and pencils, what I would like for you to do is take one piece of paper and write down the name of someone for whom you have been holding a grudge. Maybe this person didn’t do anything to you personally, or maybe they hurt you very deeply, but think of someone for whom you have been holding bad feelings, and write their name on the paper.”
“Can it only be one person?” shouted a voice from the audience.
“Yes, if you want, you can put as many names as you can fit on the paper, with a little space left at the bottome for some writing, or you can only put one name even if you can think of more names. When you are finished writing the name or names, put a comma after it, and write, “I forgive you.”
As he expected, a low murmur spread throught the congregation. He watched as some people smiled and happily began writing names on their papers.
“What if there isn’t anyone I’m angry with?” It was Jonah Leeds, the sheriff’s deputy.
“Well, then, Jonah, and anyone else who isn’t holding a grudge, you can just write, “Already forgiven.”
There was some laughing and giggling going on among several groups under the crowded tent. The reverend noticed Tom Dill crinkling up his paper and shoving it in his pocket. He pretended not to notice and went on.
“Now with the other piece of paper, we’re going to think of someone we have wronged and write their name on the paper. You can put more than one name on the paper, but you don’t have to.”
“What if you can’t think of anyone?” shouted a male voice from the back. Before the Reverend could respond, a hearty female voice shot back, “Joey Lennox! If you can’t think of anyone for this one, I’ll give you several names you can put down!” There was more laughing and a reddening of the face of young Joey Lennox.
“Thank you May!” Carlisle laughed. Keeping on task, he said, “When you have written the name, or names, put a comma at the end, and under it write, “I’m sorry.” It got quieter in the tent. Some smiled as they wrote, others wore somber expressions, still others were looking up at the top of the tent trying to hold back tears. Tom Dill just stared at his piece of paper.
“When you are finished, fold your papers in half and on your way out, put them in the box. Don’t worry, I won’t be reading them, and even if I did, you didn’t sign them. These will never be read once they go in the box. On Sunday at the church, we will have a special ceremony involving this box and its contents.” We’ll conclude with hymn number 42 and then prayer.”
After the hymn and prayer, people mingled a bit, still clutching their papers. The Reverend chatted with a few people while making his way to the exit. He stood guard with the box in hand and made sure everyone put their papers in before they left. Miles Baker, his son, Miles Jr., Jonah Leeds, Dave McKennon, Jeb Saunders and Joey Lennox whose parents had to work, was getting a ride home with Sheriff Baker and his son, stayed behind to help fold and put away the chairs. Reverend Carlisle asked Jeb if he thought the tent would hold for the night, Jeb said he thought it would.
“So what are you going to do with that box until Sunday?” asked Dave.
“I’m going to take it home, and keep it under lock and key until Sunday.”
“Aren’t you just a little bit curious to read what’s in there?”
“Honestly, Dave, I really don’t want to know. The Lord knows and the people who wrote the names know what their papers say, and that is all that matters.”
“What about the people whose names are one the papers? Shouldn’t they know?” Asked Miles Jr.
“Well, Miles, I think on some level, they probably already know who they are.”
“How?”
“Come on son, time to get home.”
“Goodnight Sheriff, goodnight Miles, goodnight, Joey! Oh, and Sheriff, tell Janice I hope she’s feeling better.”
“I’ll do that, Reverend. She seems to be coming along fine,” replied the sheriff.
After everyone had said their goodbyes and gone home, Robert Carlisle sat down on the steps of the stage and took out tow pieces of paper from his pocket. On the first piece he wrote, “Already forgiven.” and put it in the box. On the second piece he wrote, “Andy, I’m sorry.” He stared at the paper for a long time. Finally, he folded it in half and gently put it in the box. Then, he hugged it close to his body and cried.