The Sky Beneath My Feet by Lisa Samson

Author:Lisa Samson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

In the end, I lose my nerve. The thought of making an appearance in front of the Bodice Rippers is too much for me. They’ll ask about Rick. If Stacy’s there, she’ll want to know why I’m still not in Florida. There will be too much explaining to do.

And then they’ll ask me what I thought about the novel.

At home, I hole up in my bedroom. Eli comes and goes, followed by Jed. At dusk, Holly starts calling. Probably to offer me a ride. After the third or fourth attempt, I switch off my phone.

“You’re being stupid,” I tell myself.

Snatching up the novel, I head downstairs, fully intending to go to the book club. What did I skim the novel for, if I’m not going to go? But I leave the book on the kitchen counter, pretending I’ll pick it up on the way out, knowing I’m not going anywhere. Night falls and I curl up in an armchair, letting the clock tick down.

A funny thing about me: when I skip out, I also hide out. I don’t cut one event to enjoy another. Instead I hunker down at home where no one can observe me playing hooky. “You might as well have gone,” Rick will say, not understanding. Once the start time has passed and there’s no chance of making it to the book club in time, I breathe a sigh of relief.

A knock at the door.

Jed and Eli don’t knock, of course. They come and go as they please. So it must be Holly, driving over in person to call my bluff. Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction.

Only it doesn’t sound like Holly’s knock. For one thing, Holly would pound on the door. “I know you’re in there. Your car is in the driveway. Come on out before I come in and get you!” This knock is tentative, and there’s no follow-up. A knock that’s done its duty and is ready to give up.

Overwhelmed with curiosity, I go to the front window and ease one of the blinds up for a peek. The porch light is turned off. Whoever’s at the door is standing too close for me to get a good look. But I can see the back of her profile—it’s a woman, but not Holly. This one is smaller, thinner, with a wild explosion of hair. Goose bumps raise on my forearm. I think it’s Sam.

I rush to the door. Before opening, I take a deep breath.

“Oh,” I say. “Hi.”

“If this is too weird, me turning up like this, just say something and I’ll take off.”

It’s not Sam. It’s Marlene. The dreadlocked girl from the Rent-a-Mob meeting. The one who used to be in Jed’s youth group, who made such an impression on him. He’ll be sorry he wasn’t here.

“Come in, come in,” I say, urging her inside. I reach for the wall switch, bathing the porch in warm, gold light.

This is perfect. If Holly complains about my nonattendance, I can tell her an unexpected visitor turned up.

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