Part 11 (1/2)

And for once, it actually feels like spring in Idaho. For most of my life, spring break was called Easter vacation. Daddy about had a meltdown when the school board caved in and changed it. What's this country coming to when the Spring Bunny delivers spring eggs to children? As if he ever gave two cents about bunnies and egg hunts. Not in his church. Not on the holiest day of the year, and Easter Sunday remains that for Christians near and far. For the family of Pastor Streit, it is even more, because at Papa's church, it's an all-out celebration of the Resurrection, and, dressed up in our Easter bonnets, we sit front and center. I've never really minded that before. But today, I'd much rather hang out in back, pretending not to notice the good-looking reformed Catholic sitting nearby.

Papa Has Noticed Andrew, of course. No way would he miss a possible convert wandering into his hallowed sanctuary. Once or twice he's made the effort to engage Andrew in conversation and Andrew, bless his heart, does his best to respond positively. No dunking yet (and Papa is quite likely the reincarnation of John the Baptist himself!), but he is cordial almost to the point of brownnosing. Almost. And speaking of nosing, Mama's ever-observant gaze is harder to avoid. She must have seen something, because two Sundays ago, she went fis.h.i.+ng: That McCarran boy is a fine-looking young man, don't you think, Eden?

If Papa is John the Baptist (again), Mama is the Inquisition incarnate. I tried not to gulp, struggled to meet her eye. ”Who?

Him?” I pretended to study his face for the first time. ”Well, now that you mention it ...” Then I almost blew it, almost smiled.

My mouth twitched. Mama pounced, all lioness to my poor little gazelle.

Appearances can be deceptive. Her hand settled on my shoulder. Why, if I had tumbled for every handsome boy who looked my way, I shudder to think where I might be today!

I bit hard on my lip, excused myself to go to the bathroom, barely making it through the door before shuddering myself-with uncontainable laughter.

Needless to Say Andrew and I have been completely discreet at church since then. And today, no way to flirt even a little, it's going to be really tough. But you know, just seeing Andrew at all makes any day special.

He's already there, with his sister and mother, when we arrive. Mariah smiles and waves. She is four years older than Andrew, but the two are tight.

So tight, in fact, that he has confessed our secret to her. So tight that, despite a little righteous worry, she has chosen not only to keep quiet about our relations.h.i.+p, but also to nurture it. She comes over now.

Happy Easter, she says to Papa before stroking Mama. Lovely dress. That color is wonderful on you! She takes my arm. May I borrow Eden?

I'd like to introduce her to my mother.

Andrew and I are hoping to get her to church more than two or three times a year.

If Mama is surprised that Mariah and I are acquainted, she hides it well.

Of course. Eden, you know where to find us. See you in a few minutes.

Mariah steers me toward love. Andrew wears it like skin, so obvious it makes me blush.

His mother's face, so like his, lights as she takes my hand in hers. Her voice is soft, and still she forces it low. h.e.l.lo, Eden. I hope you don't mind that I tagged along today, but I simply had to meet you. She draws me a little bit away from anyone likely to overhear.

Then she looks me in the eye. I've never seen Andrew so happy. Thank you for that.

My reply comes easily. ”There is no one like Andrew. Thank you for that.”

Old Mrs. Beatty Launches a spirited ”Old Rugged Cross”

on the aging organ, and I must fall back into the role of perfect preacher's daughter.

I take my expected place in front, but find every opportunity to glance behind me, even as I hear the well-known story of a love greater than any human love could ever be. So sayeth Papa. Again.

Three rows back sits the greatest love I'll ever know, and my heart promises that our love was sparked, as all love is, by G.o.d's love. So why-WHY-is it wrong?

Rephrase. Why-WHY-does my own family think it's wrong when his doesn't?

Three rows back sits the one true love of my life, surrounded by his own family's love. A family that accepts me for who I am, to him. A family I long to be part of. And if that means leaving my family behind, maybe I have to go.

As Soon as the Thought Crosses my mind, I backtrack. Can't go. Not yet. He's not ready for me.

And I am only sixteen. Sixteen.

Immersed in the Easter story. Thinking about loving Andrew, about giving him the ultimate gift-my virginity. This week.

Not that he knows it. But it's spring break.

Lots of girls give it away on spring break, right?

So it's normal. And, despite sitting in the front row while my papa preaches about resurrection- including ways to avoid it-I want to be normal.

Not ”normal” as defined by abnormal people.

My people. My parents. I never considered them (and so never considered me) abnormal until I met Andrew. But it's completely clear now. And the best way I can think of to become completely normal is by becoming a woman.

All I need is the opportunity. Eve, help me.

Ironically It is Eve (not the original) who sets it up.

See, my sister has asthma. Talking major.

And like I said, it is spring, also in a major way. We had snow over the winter, an early melt. Rain to follow. And that means wild flowers. Early bloom of sage. Beautiful.

Obnoxious to someone who can't tolerate pollen. Especially someone young. Someone like Eve. It is Tuesday. Spring break. Eve wakes, wheezing. Papa is off somewhere, leaving Mama to rush my little sister to Emergency. She calls just before noon.

They want to keep her for observation.

I have to stay with her. You'll be okay?

”I'm fine, Mama. You do what you need to. If I'm not here, I'll be at the library.

I have to research a history paper.” Guilt wants to well as I hang up. I force it back down, call Andrew, knowing it's wrong. Wondering if I'm d.a.m.ned.

In the Back of My Mind I'm thinking he'll take me to a hotel, all the while stressing about how we'll get away with it.

Spies, remember? But when he picks me up, we head out of town, and it occurs to me that I never confessed what I had in mind for the afternoon. ”Where are we going?”

He pulls me very close to him, right up against his very warm body. Home.

My parents went to Elko for a few days.

Not exactly a world-cla.s.s destination, but for them it's a second honeymoon.

You and I will go to Hawaii, okay?