Once he’d filled his plate, Sebastian purposely avoided Ben and Leah’s table and sat with Natasha and Genevieve. The sisters who’d been trapped belowground with him and Ben after the earthquake had become good friends. The two of them—plus Natasha’s husband, Wyatt, and Genevieve’s boyfriend, Sam—kept the conversation going so that Sebastian didn’t have to contribute much.
He was facing away from where Leah was seated, but he kept catching snatches of her voice and, if he was very lucky, her laugh.
After dinner the guests mingled and ate cake. Whenever he looked toward Leah, he kept his line of sight moving past her so that no one could catch him staring. Even so, she distracted him so much that he kept losing track of what people were saying to him.
It was brutal to be with her in a crowd of Colemans because her presence reminded him that, while he might be successful and busy . . .
Essentially, he was also alone.
CHAPTER SIX
Conversing with Dylan was somewhat akin to lugging a big, heavy tree branch to a dumpster.
Two nights after the Colemans’ anniversary party, Leah sat at her dining room table with her brother and Tess and Rudy Coventry, the couple who’d become their unofficial grandparents.
“How’s your math class going?” Tess asked Dylan. He was taking precalculus this summer because he hadn’t passed it last semester, despite having a built-in math tutor at home.
“Okay.” Dylan’s hair fell around his head more rakishly than usual. She suspected he’d donned his gray T-shirt after picking it up off the floor. Its neckline revealed his thin, pale clavicles.
Leah knew from his summer session teacher that he was doing a little less than okay. “When’s your next quiz or test?”
“Thursday.”
“You might want to start studying tonight.”
He shrugged. The window behind Dylan framed him with color. On this warm, bright evening in June, wisps of cloud had snagged their hems on the peaks of her valley.
“Do you want to sit down and work on it with me after dinner, before you go to Jace’s house?” she asked. His usual technique of procrastinating until the night before a test gave her hives.
“Maybe.” Which meant no. He chewed a mouthful of pizza, well on his way to consuming his customary enormous quantity.
“Do elaborate, dear brother,” Leah said grandly, “and tell us how we can become patrons of your math success.” She’d learned that a teasing response to Dylan’s sullenness drew him out more effectively than a serious one.
“Yes, Dylan,” Tess said. “Please do tell how we can help.” The older woman cut her bangs ruler-straight and allowed the rest of her pale gray hair to hang flat to her shoulders. The hazel eyes that tipped downward at the outer corners bracketed an imposing nose. She always wore a shade of lipstick called Frisky Peony and a pair of earrings that looked like miniature modern art sculptures—gold circles mounted inside larger silver circles. Her face radiated pragmatism.
In contrast, Rudy’s face radiated sweetness. His ears were long, his glasses slightly askew. A rosy, healthy glow underlit his lined, age-spotted skin. Tess ensured that his white hair remained neatly trimmed. Nonetheless, it managed to look disordered, as did his clothing.
“This subject is boring,” Dylan said.
“No, indeed,” Leah countered. “We’re all waiting with bated breath for you to tell us about your summer school math class, utilizing more than five words at a time.”
“There’s not a lot to talk about. I mean . . . I’m bad at math.”
He’d said that to annoy her because he knew it rubbed her the wrong way. No one was bad at math. Many people didn’t respond well to the way math was taught in school. But that did not mean they were bad at it. She hadn’t responded well to the way basketball was taught in PE when she was growing up. But she didn’t go around declaring herself bad at basketball.
“I understood math fine until it started using the alphabet,” Dylan added.
Rudy chuckled. “Yes! What are A and B and X and Y doing in math problems?”
“Rudy,” Tess said sternly. “Letters have earned their rightful place in math problems.”
Leah sent her an appreciative glance.
Rudy straightened in his seat repentantly.
Dylan started to explain his current math unit and why he disliked it. The rest of them listened, their meal of store-bought pizza and salad (that Leah had provided) and homemade bread rolls (that Tess had provided) garnishing the table.
Leah had met Tess almost ten years before. At the time, Leah had been navigating her first year of teaching, and Tess had been volunteering for the PTA at Leah’s school. When Tess realized that Leah was a teenager tasked with the job of raising her younger brother, she’d taken Leah under her wing.
A few times a week, Tess had stopped by Leah’s classroom to help out and to deliver batches of homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Eventually, Tess started inviting Leah and Dylan to her home for Sunday lunch after church. In return, Leah invited them to Dylan’s Pee Wee football games and school events. When the couple had shown up at those events, she’d been overwhelmed with gratitude, knowing that when her brother looked into the audience, he’d see more than one person there to support him.
Once, when Leah mentioned to Tess that she planned to spend the weekend painting a bedroom, Tess and Rudy had appeared on her doorstep with roller brushes and paint pans.
They played dominoes with Dylan and Scrabble with Leah. Tess gave Dylan practical gifts like coats. Rudy gave Dylan impractical gifts like Nerf guns.
Over time, Leah had come to trust Tess and Rudy enough to let them babysit Dylan, which had opened up Leah’s world a little. She’d been able to go out in the evenings with friends, take part in occasional chess competitions, or go hiking alone. To this day, they were the ones who stayed with Dylan on the rare occasions when she went out of town.
God had known she and Dylan needed grandparents, and He’d provided Tess and Rudy. They were the ones who had shown her—more than anyone else ever had—what it looked like to love through action.
“I suggest you take your sister up on her offer of tutoring,” Tess said to Dylan.
Dylan made a noncommittal sound and helped himself to another slice of pepperoni with veggies.
“What’s going on with football?” Rudy asked, clearly eager to talk about sports, something that interested him a mile more than math.
“Nothing much.”
“Do elaborate, dear brother, and tell us how we can become patrons of your football success!”
“Right now, we’re lifting weights and getting ready for a seven-on-seven scrimmage.”
It was as if Dylan’s every word were a pearl dropping into midair that she, Tess, and Rudy were doing their best to catch.
“We’re looking forward to your games this fall.” Tess speared a bite of salad. “We’ll be there to cheer you on.”
“You bet we will,” Rudy added happily. “Let me know if you need a ride to practice or summer school.” For years, Rudy and Tess had served as Dylan’s faithful cab drivers.
“Thanks,” Dylan replied.
“He drives his own car now,” Tess reminded her husband, then expelled an impatient sigh. Tess communicated most of her feelings through sighs.