Higher Hope Read online

  IT WAS ALREADY LATE when we passed through the tiny town of Powell Station. Zach slowed to the speed limit, and I talked rapidly as I tried to point out every building. Both of the town’s traffic lights were green, and even going twenty-five miles an hour, we were on the other side so fast that I didn’t get a chance to mention the old-fashioned ice cream offered at Jackson’s Pharmacy. The chicken plant where Daddy worked wasn’t on the main road.

  “And Oscar Callahan is still recovering from a heart attack,” I said, referring to the town’s only lawyer. “He went to law school with Mr. Carpenter and gave me a good recommendation to the firm.”

  “Where is your church?” Zach asked.

  “Not on this road. It’s in the country about three miles from here. The original church was in town, but a mob burned it down.”

  “A mob?”

  “When the revival started, a lot of people opposed it. My grand-mother says the fire that destroyed the church wasn’t nearly as hot as the Holy Spirit’s power to burn away sin and unbelief. Some people who joined the church lost their jobs, and there were physical threats and violence. But that all happened a long time ago. Compared to the pioneers, we have it easy. The only persecution now is criticism.”

  “Is your grandmother alive?”

  “She lives in Florida with one of my aunts. Mama is a lot like her.”

  We turned onto Beaver Ruin Road. Even in the dark, I pointed out landmarks that couldn’t be seen.

  “We’ll come back in the daytime,” I said, realizing what I was doing. “Putnam’s Pond is a pretty place. Do you like to go fishing?”

  “No, I’m a vegetarian.”

  I froze. I quickly tried to remember the times Zach and I had eaten together. I’d gone to lunch several times with Vince, and I’d seen Julie take big bites from a hamburger. But Zach and I had never been to a restaurant together. I tried to remember what he’d put on his plate at the firm luncheon my first day on the job.

  “Is that a strong belief?” I managed.

  “No, it’s a lame joke.”

  I punched him again on the arm, hard.

  “Ouch,” he said.

  “Good.” I touched the dashboard with my hand. “There’s my driveway. And remember, don’t try to be funny about things like that at my house.”

  Zach braked and turned onto the red-dirt driveway. The car skidded slightly but stayed on the track.

  “It would serve you right to eat some of that dirt,” I said. “With a bug or two thrown in.”

  Exposed tree roots made our driveway bumpier than a cobblestone street. We passed a large tulip poplar and parked beside our family van. The lights on the front porch were turned on in welcome. The rambling white frame house was prettiest at night when its flaws weren’t visible. Our two dogs came running across the yard and barked at the unfamiliar car.

  “Ginger and Flip,” I said, getting out and roughly rubbing the sides of their heads in quick succession. “My Flip leads a much different life from Mrs. Fairmont’s Chihuahua.”

  The dogs left me and carefully sniffed Zach.

  “Leave everything,” I said. “We’ll meet everyone, then distribute the gifts.”

  The front door opened and my twelve-year-old sisters, Ellie and Emma, ran onto the porch. Mama was behind them.

  “Girls!” she called out.

  “Hey, Tammy Lynn,” they cried out in unison as they looked past me at Zach.

  I saw Ellie put her hand over her mouth as they turned back toward the house. Zach and I climbed the front steps. I gave the porch swing a slight push as we passed. The swing was one of my favorite spots. Zach opened the screen door and held it for me.

  My family was standing in a cluster in the middle of the front room used for everything from homeschool classes to church prayer meetings. Mama, wearing one of her nicer dresses, had her arms around Ellie and Emma. Daddy stood beside Mama. He’d combed his dark hair and put on his Sunday shoes. He stepped forward, kissed me in the usual spot on top of my head, and shook Zach’s hand.

  “Walter Taylor,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Zach introduced himself, then shook hands with my eighteen-year-old brother, Kyle, and my sixteen-year-old brother, Bobby. My brothers weren’t as tall as Zach, but Kyle, who loved working with livestock, was thicker in the shoulders and chest. Bobby, the musician in the family, was slimmer.

  “Mama,” I said, “this is Zach Mays, one of the lawyers I’m working with this summer.”

  Zach stepped close and gave her a hug. I could see the surprise in Mama’s eyes and inwardly kicked myself for not giving him guidance on how to greet her. Hugging was reserved for blood relatives. No man in our church hugged a woman except his wife or daughter. As they separated, I could see Mama staring at Zach’s ponytail.

  “Hi, Mama,” I said as we embraced, and I kissed her on the cheek.

  “And this is Ellie and Emma,” I said to Zach. “We’ve shared a bedroom since they were born.”

  “Tami has told me a lot about you,” Zach said. “You’ll have to be patient with me if I get you confused.”

  Seeing Zach through the twins’ saucer-sized blue eyes made me realize what a chance I’d taken.

  “It’s okay,” Ellie answered. “For you, I’ll answer to Emma.”

  “There’s pie in the kitchen,” Daddy said formally. “After that, the girls need to get to bed. It’s already past their bedtime, and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

  Mama led the way. I lagged behind. Zach put his hand on my back to guide me. I jumped.

  “Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

  Zach held up his hands in front of him. Emma turned around at the sound of my voice and gave me a puzzled look.

  The kitchen was a large room added after Daddy and Mama bought the house. We ate our meals at a long wooden picnic table painted white.

  “It’s blackberry pie,” Emma said. “We picked ’em this morning. Ellie ate some of the best ones instead of dropping them in the bucket.”

  “You did it, too,” Ellie shot back. “And then you didn’t want to roll out the piecrust—”

  “If either of you wants pie, stop it,” Mama said.

  “And there’s homemade vanilla ice cream to go on top,” Daddy said. “Bobby, bring in the churn from the back steps.”

  Going all out for a fancy, late-night snack showed me how much trouble Mama and Daddy had gone to so I would feel special. Their kindness gave me a lump in my throat.

  “I’ll cut the pie,” I offered. “It will be easier dividing it into eight pieces.”

  “And I’ll dish out the ice cream,” Zach said.

  “No,” Mama said quickly. “You’re a guest. Have a seat.”

  “Over here.” Daddy directed Zach to a place at the end of a bench.

  Everyone sat in silence while Mama and I fixed dessert. Normally, we would have all been talking at once. I was used to awkward social situations beyond the borders of the house on Beaver Ruin Road when being different was normal. But having those same feelings in the sanctuary of my home was a new experience.

  “This is the first time Tammy Lynn has brought a young man home to meet us,” Daddy said. “You’ll have to forgive us if we seem real quiet.”

  “Tammy Lynn’s never had a date,” Ellie said.

  “Or been kissed,” Emma added. “We don’t believe in dating. We practice courtship in our church.”

  I felt my face flush. Zach knew I’d not had a serious boyfriend, but hearing my righteous, yet boring, life so succinctly described by the girls made me wish I were a blackberry about to be eaten and forgotten.

  “I think the courtship model is very biblical,” Zach said. “And many marriages in the Bible were arranged by the parents.”

  “We don’t do that,” Ellie said. “All the mama and daddy have to do is give permission.”

  “And a blessing,” Daddy added.

  “Tell us about your family,” Mama said, placing the first serving of pie and ice cream in front
of Zach.

  “What has Tammy Lynn told you?” he asked.

  “That you come from a Christian family in California and know a lot about boating law,” Mama said.

  “Admiralty law, Mama,” I said.

  “Don’t make him talk,” Ellie said, pointing at the pie and ice cream. “It’s already melting.”

  “All right,” Mama answered. “We’ll eat, then talk.”

  We ate as quietly as monks under a vow of silence. I sat across the table from Zach. The sound of the tiny blackberry seeds crunching in my mouth was deafening. Zach, his head down, concentrated on his pie and ice cream.

  “Delicious,” Daddy announced when he finished. “Let’s go back to the front room.”

  “Ellie and Emma, clean up,” Mama said.

  “But we don’t want to miss—,” Ellie began.

  “It will only take a minute if you don’t argue.”

  “While you work, we can get our things from the car,” I said. “Where is Zach going to sleep?”

  “Across from us,” Mama said. “I moved the sewing machine and put our piecework in the linen closet.”

  Zach and I went outside. It was a new moon and except for the porch lights, totally dark.

  “Sorry about the rough start,” I said when we reached the car. “They’re not inhospitable. It’s just all so new.”

  “I can see that. Your sisters are cute. Do they always wear those old-fashioned dresses?”

  “Yes. I do, too, when I’m around the house. We have nicer clothes when we go out in public.”

  Zach opened the trunk and took out two of the suitcases.

  “Should I carry everything?” he asked. “I want to do what they expect.”

  “No, we all work around here. Grab the heavier suitcase, and I’ll get the smaller one.”

  We went inside. Mama was in her rocking chair, and Daddy sat upright in his recliner. My brothers and the twins were squeezed together on the chenille-covered couch.

  “We’ll be back in a second,” I said.

  Zach followed me down a short hallway to the sewing room.

  There was a daybed against one wall. True to her word, Mama had whisked everything out of sight. I smoothed out the spread on the daybed.

  “This is your place,” I said. “I’ll take my things upstairs. The gifts are in the small suitcase.”

  “Okay. Let’s get back in there before they suspect something.”

  “They’re not going to suspect anything. They trust me.”

  “Okay, but they don’t trust me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’m not sure I’d trust me either,” he answered with a smile.

  I started to punch him again on the arm but stopped.

  “They don’t know you,” I answered. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  3

  ZACH WALKED PAST ME TOWARD THE FRONT ROOM. I TOOK MY suitcase and clothes bag upstairs, then brought the small suitcase into the living room. Bobby and Kyle were whispering to each other when I entered. No one else was talking. Zach and I sat in two straight-backed chairs facing everyone else.

  “You were going to tell us about your family,” Mama said.

  “What about the presents?” Ellie asked.

  “That can wait,” Mama said, folding her hands in front of her.

  Zach reached back and pulled on his ponytail. It was a nervous gesture, but here in my house it struck me as an attempt to flaunt his departure from convention.

  “Our family is a lot like yours, Mrs. Taylor. We love the Lord and try to live by faith every day. I have an older sister who is a Bible translator in Tanzania. My parents have lived in the same house for about fifteen years. My father and mother taught me at home through high school; then I received a BA in English from UCLA and went to Pepperdine Law School.”

  “What does living by faith every day mean to you?” Mama asked in a crisp voice.

  “I try to keep it simple. Loving the Lord with all my heart and putting the interests of others ahead of my own.”

  “That’s true, but not very specific. The real proof of faith and obedience comes in the details of living. Can you tell me about that?”

  “Lu,” Daddy said, clearing his throat. “Zach is a lawyer, but I don’t think it’s fair to quiz him about his convictions when he’s barely had time to swallow his last bite of blackberry pie.”

  The twins’ eyes grew big. Daddy almost never corrected Mama in front of us, much less in the presence of a stranger. She pressed her lips together for a moment.

  “You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t a homeschool session.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Mama was an excellent teacher, and her questions relentlessly drove the educational process forward with more skill than some of my law school professors. My academic success was based on her refusal to accept mushy reasoning.

  “It’s all right, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” Zach said. “If I had a daughter like Tami, I’d want to find out as much as I could about a man who was interested in her.”

  “Why didn’t you call her Tammy Lynn?” Emma asked.

  “I meant Tammy Lynn,” Zach answered before I could say any­thing more.

  “I like the sound of Tammy,” Ellie said. “It’s simpler.”

  Zach faced my parents. “Let me answer your question this way. I think it’s important to be very practical and specific in walking out our faith. For example, I respect Tammy Lynn’s decision not to wear pants or clothes that make her look like a man and haven’t seen her dressed in anything that wasn’t modest and appropriate. I know she doesn’t use makeup, but even without it, she’s a beautiful woman.”

  “Mama, I dab on a little bit of lipstick and spread it thin like we talked about,” I cut in.

  Being back in Powell Station multiplied my sensitivity to our strict standards of conduct.

  “And I’ve experimented with the light shades of eye shadow, but nothing more than a hint,” I added before Zach continued.

  “I wouldn’t be as strict with my wife or daughter,” Zach said, keeping his eyes focused on my parents. “But I understand her motivation. I know Tammy Lynn honors Sunday as the Lord’s Day and has the heart of a servant toward Mrs. Fairmont. At the law firm, she’s quickly established a good reputation with the attorneys and staff.”

  “Except Ms. Patrick, the office manager,” I interjected. “She scolded me for being narrow-minded.”

  “Tami works hard and tries to be a positive witness to her faith,” Zach pressed on, talking about me as if I weren’t in the room. “You would be proud of the way she relates to Julie Feldman, the Jewish law clerk. They talk all the time, and I know Tami has been a good witness to her.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’ve lost my temper with her more than once. You just didn’t see it.”

  “Why does he keep calling her Tammy?” Emma whispered loudly to Ellie.

  “It’s easier to use at work than Tammy Lynn. Is that okay, Daddy?”

  “I guess so,” he replied slowly. “No one except your grandmother and Aunt Jane calls your mother Luella.”

  “And I’ve been spelling it T-A-M-I,” I blurted out.

  I’d never told Mama and Daddy that I’d changed the spelling to Tami and dropped the Lynn when I applied for the job in Savannah. I didn’t want the law firm to think I was a hick who’d failed as a country singer. Guilt over the unauthorized change had been bothering me for months. It was a relief to have my secret in the open.

  “Why would you do that?” Kyle asked.

  “I like it,” Ellie said. “It’s fancy. Could I spell my name E-L-L-Y-E? I wrote it on a piece of paper the other day and liked the way it looked. It reminded me of the names we were reading in The Canterbury Tales the other day.”

  “You’re reading The Canterbury Tales ?” Zach asked.

  “It’s a version for high schoolers with the bawdy parts taken out,” I answered. “I read it, too. We do the same thing with Shakespeare.”

&nb
sp; “What does bawdy mean?” Emma asked.

  “Hold it,” Daddy said, raising his hand. “Ellie, your name stays the same, and bawdy is not one of your vocabulary words. Tammy Lynn, you should have told us if you were going to change the spelling of your name.”

  “I’ll still be Tammy Lynn in Powell Station,” I said hopefully.

  “T-A-M-I,” Bobby said, pronouncing the letters softly. “Don’t people think you’re misspelling it?”

  “No.”

  He turned to Daddy. “When I go off to college, can I ask people to call me Rob or Robert?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” Emma asked. “Bobby Joe Taylor is a better name for a guitar player.”

  “Tammy Lynn doesn’t want people to think she’s a hick and neither do I,” Bobby replied. “I might even drop the Joe or change it to ‘J.’”

  “Is your name Zachary?” Emma asked Zach.

  “Yes. My father was going to name me Zacharias after the father of John the Baptist, but my mother filled out the information on the birth certificate at the hospital and put down Zachary. I’ve always gone by Zach.”

  Mama cleared her throat and spoke. “I think we need to stop playing this name game and let Zach finish what he was saying before we got off track.”

  “If I have to call him Robert,” Ellie said, sticking her elbow into Bobby’s side, “I think I should be able—”

  “Ellie,” Mama said, raising her voice.

  The younger of the twins closed her mouth and crossed her arms against her chest.

  Zach finally looked me in the eye as he spoke. “Every person is unique, with different characteristics and qualities given by God. I respect Tami’s uniqueness and haven’t tried to change her. She is a woman of character and conviction, and I respect her very much.”

  I blushed.

  “That’s nice,” Mama said, “but there’s a difference between respect and agreement. In Amos 3:3 the prophet writes that two cannot walk together unless they have agreed to do so. I can respect the bravery of a soldier without agreeing with the cause he’s fighting for.”

  “Zach is a lot like you,” I offered. “He asks questions to make sure I’ve thought through what I believe.”