Page 123 of Sunday Morning

I reached for my car keys that I always had on the hook by the door. Then I remembered that I might have left them in the car after the funeral the previous day.

“Sarah! Stop.” Mom followed me out the door.

But when I reached my car, the doors were locked, so I turned.

Mom grabbed me and wrapped me in her arms while Dad looked on from the front porch, dangling my keys from his finger.

“It’s my car, Sarah. You’re eighteen. You’re an adult who has sex and disrespects God. Find your own transportation,” he said.

“Just apologize. Just apologize. Please apologize, Sarah,” Mom whispered in my ear while crying.

“Find courage in the face of fear.”

“I love you,” I said softly, pulling away from my mom.

She looked utterly crestfallen, red-eyed and sobbing. I turned and trekked down the driveway to the road.

It took me two hours to walk to the Corys’. In another life where God wasn’t despicably cruel, randomly plucking innocent lives from the earth, I would have walked to the neighbor’s and called Heather to come get me.

But I’d never call Heather again.

The sun left me parched. I’d sweated every ounce of water from my body in the July heat. By the time I reached their door, I had nothing to lose, so I rang the doorbell.

No one answered.

“Sarah?”

I turned as Wesley trotted toward me, pulling a dirty hanky out of his pocket and wiping his forehead. Sweat burned my eyes, which were red and swollen from the tears that accompanied the anguish of my two-hour journey.

“Is Isaac here?” I sniffled.

Wesley furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Darlin’, he left last night. Matt is at baseball practice, and Vi went to town for groceries. Is everything fine?”

I nodded quickly, but my emotions and the heat got the best of me. “N-no.” My bottom lip quivered as I lost it.

“Oh, no. Uh …” He took my bag and guitar from me. “Come in the house,” he said, opening the door.

I pressed the back of my hand to my snotty nose and headed into the house.

“What’s with all the stuff?” He set my belongings in the entry before getting me a glass of water and a box of tissues. As I sat at the kitchen table, I fought to get control of myself.

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the water and tissues. “I can’t go home. I’m no longer welcome.”

Wesley pulled out a chair and sat down. “I find that hard to believe.”

Blowing my nose, I nodded. “It’s true.” Pursing my lips, I tried to calm my breathing. “Where did Isaac go?”

“Dunno.”

“Is he coming back?” I drank the water, gulping down the whole glass.

Wesley took the glass to the sink and refilled it. “Idon't know that either. But if I were to take an educated guess, I’d say no.” He set the glass on the table and sat across from me again.

We stared at each other for a few seconds. I couldn’t imagine Isaac not coming back for me.

“Her funeral is today,” I said.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as the lines along his brow and at the corners of his eyes deepened, and he averted his gaze. “Yes,” he whispered.