Page 104 of In a Word, Yes

“No big thing. Just replaced the aerator. Yours was missing.”

“Thank you, Pop.”

My father does a full turn in the driver’s seat. Another meaningful glance. “You, uh ... you sure you don’t have any other business to take care of before we go?”

“I’m sure. Let’s go home.”

Dad faces forward, hands on the wheel, but hesitates. At last he turns the key. “You got it, tiger.”

Forty

poignant(adj.): having the power to produce deep emotion

The next morning is Sunday, and my father makes it clear he and Chase have plans for the day. No girls allowed.

I stack four small plates beside the quiche my parents brought from Honey Buns Bakery. “Oh, Pop. He really needs to rest. Come sit down and have some of this. It smells amazing.”

“Not to worry. Chase and I plan to do some armchair traveling at warp speed, is all.”

At the moment, Chase is contentedly flipping through a stack of new Pokémon cards. Apparently another Papa gift.

When Mom suggests she and I go to church, my eye spasms. I can count on one hand the number of people in town who know the identity of my mother. Arriving at Charity Falls Community Church with Carly Montgomery would change things in no small way.

She finagles a crumbly slice of quiche onto a plate, then licks her thumb. “We can just, you know, sneak in, sneak out.”

I level her with a look, and she tosses her head back in laughter.

“It’s up to you, of course,” she says. “If you think we should stay here with the boys...” For a moment we watch them comparing the values of two Pokémon characters.

“We should go,” I say. “But it’s chilly out there. You’re gonna need more than a puffy vest today, Mom.”

“Fat chance your mama was ever planning to wear her puffy vest tochurch.”

“You’ve spent too much time in the South. How quickly you forget there are no fashion police in Oregon.”

***

So much for “sneak in, sneak out.” After making a point to introduce herself to Pastor David, Mom guides us down the second row from the front. It’s not my usual place, but today this seating arrangement suits me just fine. Up here, I don’t run the risk of becoming distracted by whether a certain sheriff’s lieutenant with phenomenal hair and the soul of a poet is in attendance today.

Or how much of my heart he already possesses.

Mom takes my hand during the opening prayer and doesn’t let it go throughout the entire music portion. As I sing, gratefulness brims to overflowing—for Chase’s health especially. But also for such an unforeseen demonstration of love and care by my parents hopping a plane at the drop of a hat to support me on one of my hardest days ever.

Pastor David delivers a sermon that’s unusually short and concise. Even more surprisingly, he hasn’t yet shed a tear. But then he says, “This morning I’ve invited a guest to help close us in prayer. Carly?”

Mom stands. There’s a susurration of gasps and murmurs as she makes her way to the front. And—bonus—I’ve now found the perfect application forMerriam-Webster’s word of the day,susurration. The pastor indicates one of two tall stools, and he and Mom position themselves as if settling in for a casual conversation.

He welcomes her to share a word, “if you feel so led.”

Mom rests her Bible across her knees, then addresses everyone like she’s their oldest best friend. “You know, friends, I was just thinking that every time we open the Scriptures, we’re sitting under the tree of life. Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t that the most glorious picture?”

Around me, hums of agreement.

“Trees offer shade and refreshment,” Pastor David adds. “A place of rest.”

Mom’s joyful smile is contagious. “They do!”

“Carly,” David says, “right now there are a number of folks in our congregation in dire circumstances. And it seems the headlines become more disturbing every day. Is there anything you’d like to say to those here who may be struggling to hold on to hope?”