to him! There’s real true hope, people!
A song interrupted her sermon. The Indigo Girls sang “Closer to Fine.” Evan sighed again and shook his head. “What a waste,” he whispered.
She nodded. A captive audience searching for direction, and the whole service came off like a talking Hallmark card. Her eyes burned as the song touted the pointlessness of seeking meaning in life. Who did it comfort? Would the family feel less guilt, less grief, if they were convinced life had no purpose?
“Miguel loved his music. His friends have shared some of his songs with me. I was touched by his poetic ability to put words to the challenges and disappointments common to the human condition. He was a contemplative person, who questioned everything…”
But got no answers.
Dani silently repeated Evan’s observation.
What a waste.
“…work on relationships and not take each other for granted. Each day is a gift…”
Nicky closed his eyes as the speaker prayed; he wasn’t sure to whom.
Life can’t be a gift if there’s no giver, mister.
The guy hadn’t mentioned God once. It didn’t take somebody tight with God to notice the glaring lack of anything religious. Halfway through the message, Nicky had started imagining Gianna, the woman who’d taken over his mother’s job, reacting to the service. He could see her high-heeled foot swinging in time with her agitation, her mouth puckered, her long nails clicking on the open program. But Gianna wouldn’t stop at body language. She’d park herself by the door and give each person a “God word.” Like she’d done four years ago.
“The Lord has a plan for you, Nicky. He’ll pull you out of this and move you beyond the sadness. You’ll see. You can turn your back on Him, but He won’t let go of you.”
He hadn’t believed her promise at the time, and he wasn’t buying it yet.
The speaker stopped praying, or whatever he called it. No “Amen,” the words just stopped. Nicky stood with his father and turned.
The back row was empty.
C HAPTER 6
D epressing.”
Evan took the keys from her and walked around to the driver’s side. Agatha sputtered when he turned the key.
Not now.
She didn’t want to see the little band of people filing out to cars marked with orange flags. The engine coughed twice then started. Evan backed out of the parking space. “Where to?”
She leaned her head against the door. “Go to the beach where we can talk to kids who didn’t know Miguel.” As they neared the lake, she rolled the window halfway down and breathed in the cooling air. “I should have listened to you. We shouldn’t have gone.”
“Maybe. But maybe it was good that we were two more bodies in a mostly empty room.”
“All those hurting people looking for answers and hearing nothing. Imagine if somebody had gotten up there and told them about God knowing the pain of losing a son and how He longs to comfort those who mourn. I wanted to grab the mic and start preaching.”
What kind of message did the angry Italian need to hear?
God loves you no matter what. He forgives you. He can help you forgive.
She pictured his expression when he’d turned around and recognized her—surprise morphing into hostility.
What’s your story, Dominick?
The reporter in her wondered about the source of the rage.
Maybe it wasn’t just the reporter in her that wanted to know his story.
Evan stopped at a stop sign. “Do you really feel up to talking to strange kids right now?”
“Let’s look for some of the kids we talked to in April. That way they’ll be strange, but not strang
ers.
” She rubbed the rigid muscle on the top of her shoulder. “I need a diversion and a story for next week.”
“So are you looking for good, bad, or ugly kids for this story?”
“Bad. Who wants to read a story about perfect kids?”
“Their parents. The ones who buy papers.”
“Oh. Them. I’ll get to their kids eventually. When I’m in a better mood.” She closed her eyes and fell
A song interrupted her sermon. The Indigo Girls sang “Closer to Fine.” Evan sighed again and shook his head. “What a waste,” he whispered.
She nodded. A captive audience searching for direction, and the whole service came off like a talking Hallmark card. Her eyes burned as the song touted the pointlessness of seeking meaning in life. Who did it comfort? Would the family feel less guilt, less grief, if they were convinced life had no purpose?
“Miguel loved his music. His friends have shared some of his songs with me. I was touched by his poetic ability to put words to the challenges and disappointments common to the human condition. He was a contemplative person, who questioned everything…”
But got no answers.
Dani silently repeated Evan’s observation.
What a waste.
“…work on relationships and not take each other for granted. Each day is a gift…”
Nicky closed his eyes as the speaker prayed; he wasn’t sure to whom.
Life can’t be a gift if there’s no giver, mister.
The guy hadn’t mentioned God once. It didn’t take somebody tight with God to notice the glaring lack of anything religious. Halfway through the message, Nicky had started imagining Gianna, the woman who’d taken over his mother’s job, reacting to the service. He could see her high-heeled foot swinging in time with her agitation, her mouth puckered, her long nails clicking on the open program. But Gianna wouldn’t stop at body language. She’d park herself by the door and give each person a “God word.” Like she’d done four years ago.
“The Lord has a plan for you, Nicky. He’ll pull you out of this and move you beyond the sadness. You’ll see. You can turn your back on Him, but He won’t let go of you.”
He hadn’t believed her promise at the time, and he wasn’t buying it yet.
The speaker stopped praying, or whatever he called it. No “Amen,” the words just stopped. Nicky stood with his father and turned.
The back row was empty.
C HAPTER 6
D epressing.”
Evan took the keys from her and walked around to the driver’s side. Agatha sputtered when he turned the key.
Not now.
She didn’t want to see the little band of people filing out to cars marked with orange flags. The engine coughed twice then started. Evan backed out of the parking space. “Where to?”
She leaned her head against the door. “Go to the beach where we can talk to kids who didn’t know Miguel.” As they neared the lake, she rolled the window halfway down and breathed in the cooling air. “I should have listened to you. We shouldn’t have gone.”
“Maybe. But maybe it was good that we were two more bodies in a mostly empty room.”
“All those hurting people looking for answers and hearing nothing. Imagine if somebody had gotten up there and told them about God knowing the pain of losing a son and how He longs to comfort those who mourn. I wanted to grab the mic and start preaching.”
What kind of message did the angry Italian need to hear?
God loves you no matter what. He forgives you. He can help you forgive.
She pictured his expression when he’d turned around and recognized her—surprise morphing into hostility.
What’s your story, Dominick?
The reporter in her wondered about the source of the rage.
Maybe it wasn’t just the reporter in her that wanted to know his story.
Evan stopped at a stop sign. “Do you really feel up to talking to strange kids right now?”
“Let’s look for some of the kids we talked to in April. That way they’ll be strange, but not strang
ers.
” She rubbed the rigid muscle on the top of her shoulder. “I need a diversion and a story for next week.”
“So are you looking for good, bad, or ugly kids for this story?”
“Bad. Who wants to read a story about perfect kids?”
“Their parents. The ones who buy papers.”
“Oh. Them. I’ll get to their kids eventually. When I’m in a better mood.” She closed her eyes and fell
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