Page 45 of Running Home to You
“No.”
Kate didn’t reverse her frown, but flicked her eyes up. She sat nextto Abby and rested her head on her shoulder. Abby’s heart stilled. She survived off scraps, off hovering, grazes, a rare handhold, dipping her toe in and out, like a game of how much she might pilfer. But this beat all.
Abby wrapped her arm around her, rested her cheek to her chestnut locks, relished her aroma of soap and rain. Kate released a heavy, trembling sigh. They didn’t speak for several minutes. Abby ignored the drum in her chest, so accustomed to its rhythm now that she knew it was simply a song for Kate.
“When does your bus leave?” Abby asked.
“Two o’clock.”
Abby rubbed her arm and Kate leaned in deeper. “I’m going to miss you.” She forced a chuckle. “I don’t know how I’ll get through summer classes without you.”
“You’ll be fine,” Kate said.
“Are you sure it’s safe where you’re going?”
“I’ll be safe,” she said. “I’m more worried about the flight. I don’t know how I’m going to handle a day in the air without my turbulence buddy.”
“I guess you’ll have to find a new one,” Abby whispered into her hair. She dared to set her lips there for a beat, didn’t purse them, but settled for another scrap of close but not quite.
“I wish I didn’t have to.” Kate shifted and cupped her cheek, placing a thumb at the corner of Abby’s mouth with such beautiful regret that it warranted tears. Her forehead came next, gently bumping against Abby’s for a rest. She held Kate’s shoulders and closed her eyes, wishing to stay there for longer than they’d ever allow themselves.
“Good thing it’s just a few months.” Abby reluctantly opened her eyes.
Kate nodded as she withdrew. “I’ll miss you.” This time they hugged, long and tight.
“Send me a postcard,” Abby said. “And a map. I’m not sure where Zambia is.”
Kate smiled. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
“I’ll try not to.” Abby stayed seated as she stood to leave. “Have a good summer, Kate.”
“You too, Abby.”
She waited until Kate left, and then she groaned, certain that the only thing worse than scraps would be summer.
Summer
Dear Abby,
Greetings from Zambia! I hope this reaches you as right now you seem impossibly far away. It makes me homesick to think of, so I try not to. Luckily, my days are busy. We’re working with a local church to rebuild a school. The language barrier is difficult, but it reminds me how much you can say without words. I suppose you’ve given me ample practice in that area. We spend a lot of time playing with the children here, though sometimes I wonder how much new soccer balls and baseball bats make up for not having parents and the poverty they endure. Our pastor encourages me to pray for answers and for the children, and let God take care of the rest. For some reason it leaves me unsatisfied. Enough about me though. How’s your summer? Are you going to your classes? I hope you’re not lonely. Write me if you find the time. It would brighten my day.
Kate
P.S. You’ll be glad you weren’t my turbulence buddy this flight. I got sick so many times they made me sit with the flight attendants.
• • •
Kate,
You’ll be happy to know Insley is as boring as ever and your letter might be the highlight of my lame summer. I’m relieved you’re safe and I’m sorry about the horrible flight, but I wish I’d been next to you, holding back your hair, if only to return the favor.
I’m going to class but it’s hard to focus with summer teasing me outside. I’m working at a water-sport shop on the river. It’s mostly handing out kayaks and kites to ill-prepared tourists, but on the plus side, I get free rentals and essentially live in a wetsuit. I’m learning how to windsurf. It’s not as satisfying as freely catching waves, but equally therapeutic. Letting the breeze take over, trusting the water, reminds me of that sweet spot on the field where you feel more than play. I’m not sure if that makes sense. Do you ever feel that?
I’m sorry you feel your mission is coming up short. I agree it probably takes more than baseballs and Bibles to make a real difference, but you should know your kindness is a gift of its own. Having been on the receiving end of it, I can admit you pulled me from a dark place when no one else could. I’m not sure if I believe in blessings as much as I believe in timing, but if I did, I’d certainly consider you one.
I think of you often.
Abby
