Saint Maybe - Anne Tyler [59]
“Wasn’t I just saying that? While Holy Roller, on the other hand—”
“It’s not Holy Roller, Mom. Please,” Ian told her. “It’s Camp Second Chance. And it’s sponsored by my church and it’s free of charge. Not to mention it offers the kids a little grounding for their lives.”
Their grandma looked up at the ceiling and let out a long, noisy breath.
“When I was seventeen,” their grandpa said from the stove, “I volunteered to be a counselor at my church’s camp out in western Maryland. That’s because I was in love with this girl who taught archery there. Marie, her name was. I can see her still. She wore this leather cuff on her wrist so the bowstring wouldn’t thwack her. Every night I prayed and prayed for her to love me back. I said, ‘God, if you’ll do this one thing for me I’ll believe in you forever and I’ll never ask another favor.’ But she preferred the lifeguard and they started going out together. After that, why, me and God just never have been that chummy.”
“God and I,” Grandma murmured automatically.
“I mean I still go to church on holidays and such, but I don’t feel quite the same way about it.”
Ian said, “Well, what does that prove? Good grief! You act as if it proves something. But all it proves is, you didn’t know what was best for you. You were asking for a girl who wasn’t right for you.”
Their grandpa just shrugged, but their grandma said, “Oh, Lord, it’s too early in the day for this,” and she dropped heavily into a chair.
Agatha’s eyes were closed now and Daphne had stopped swinging her feet. The dog lay next to the sink like a rumpled floor mat. Only Ian seemed to have any pep. He plucked the toast from the toaster, flipping it a couple of times so it wouldn’t burn his fingers. As he turned to bring it to the breakfast table, he gave Thomas a quick little wink and a smile.
While Ian was driving them to camp he said, “You mustn’t take it too seriously when your grandma and grandpa talk that way. They’ve had some disappointments in their lives. It doesn’t mean they don’t believe deep down.”
“I know that,” Thomas said, but Agatha just stared out the side window. She always got grumpy and embarrassed when talk of religion came up. Thomas suspected she was not a true Christian. He knew for a fact that she hated going to Camp Second Chance. Even the name, she said, made it seem they were settling for something; and what sort of camp has just a backyard, above-ground, corrugated plastic pool you have to fill with a garden hose? But she said this privately, only to Thomas. Neither one of them would have hurt Ian’s feelings for the world.
Ian dropped them off at Sister Myra’s house in a rush; he was running late. “Morning, Brother Ian!” Sister Myra called from her front door, and he said, “Morning, Sister Myra. Sorry I can’t stop to talk.” Then he drove away, leaving them on the sidewalk. Sister Myra lived in a development called Lullaby Acres where no trees grew, and it was hotter than at home. Thomas could feel a trickle of sweat starting down between his shoulder blades.
“My, don’t you three look spiffy,” Sister Myra said, opening the screen door for them. She was a plump, smiley-faced woman with a frizz of sand-colored curls. “What’s that you got with you, sweetheart?” she asked Daphne.
“This here is my lawn mower.”
“Well, bring it on in where it’s cool.”
It wasn’t just cool; it was cold. Sister Myra’s house was air-conditioned. Thomas thought air-conditioning was wonderful, even if it did mean they tended to stay inside as much as possible. Today, for instance, no one at all was playing in the brownish backyard around the swimming pool. Everybody was down in the basement rec room, which felt like a huge refrigerator. Dermott Kyle and Jason were lining up dinky plastic Bible figures in two rows across the indoor-outdoor carpet, making believe one row was ranchers and the other was cattle rustlers. Three girls were dressing dolls in a corner, and the Nielsen twins were helping Sister Myra’s daughter Beth put today’s memory verse on the flannelboard: As the hart