Waves of Light Read Online Free Page B

better?
    I didn’t know what to draw. I wanted to believe I was worried over nothing. I wanted to believe what Vivian had said — that Peter
needed
to move away, that I hadn’t ruined his life or hers. I wanted to believe Frankie would eventually love living in New York. And I really, really wanted to believe the health spa would fix Mom. Finally. But wanting those things didn’t erase my worries.
    The blank page stared back at me. I finally drew a long black stroke right in the center of the page, winding around and around on itself. The line was too raw there, a tangled mess. I wanted to put it somewhere safe, somewhere hidden. I drew a box around it and added a padlock. Then I sketched waves and seaweed until the box sat at the bottom of the ocean.
    I closed my eyes. The drawing wasn’t finished. I’d locked up my mess and buried it, but I didn’t feel at all settled. The air conditioner hummed, the desk light buzzed softly, and as I listened, an image floated into my mind. A key with an ornate handle, the kind that might come with a fancy diary, or the kind you’d find in an antique shop. A key to unlock secrets. I opened my eyes and stared at my picture. I didn’t want to unlock that box. Keeping the box locked was the whole point of sinking it to the bottom of the ocean. But even with my eyes open, I could still see the key. It wasn’t going away. Finally, because I knew I had no other choice, I drew a rock and put the key underneath.
    That’s good enough, isn’t it? For the time being?
    No answer boomed down from the sky — it neverDid — but still, a velvety calm came over me. Words from one of Doug’s talks came to mind. He’d said something like, “God gives us only what we can handle, never more.” For a second or two, I thought I understood what Doug meant. Of course, I had more to think about, more to see, more to unlock. But for now, knowing about the box and the key was enough.
    I closed my sketchbook and checked the clock before turning off the desk lamp. Twelve fifteen.
    Happy Easter
.

Chapter 5

Butterfly Sunrise
    T he alarm went off at five a.m., and we dashed around the motel room, pulling on clothes and packing up our stuff. Vivian wanted to find a little church to attend because it was Easter Sunday. I offered to Google something on Vivian’s iPhone on the way, but she refused.
    “How hard can it be to find a tiny church with stained-glass windows and a steeple?”
    She seemed more concerned about how the church looked than the service, but I didn’t say so out loud.
    We piled into Vivian’s pickup truck; drove through McDonalds for breakfast sandwiches, OJ, and coffee for Viv; and then we were off, back on the highway. As I’d expected, the roadway wasn’t peppered with white, steepled churches. But since it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, we still had time to find Vivian’s perfect church. I closed my eyes and the truck’s motor lulled me to sleep.
    When the truck stopped, I jerked awake. “What’s going on?”
    I didn’t need to ask, really. We’d just pulled into a full parking lot next to a white, steepled church with stained-glass windows — exactly what Vivian had wanted.
    The church sign read: BUTTERFLY SERVICE, 9 A.M.
    “Not Easter service?” I asked.
    Frankie shrugged as we walked up the steps and through the front door. Once, she’d called me “churchy.” And then a few months later, she’d started going to youth group with me. So she wasn’t totally opposed to churches. But this place, with its wooden pews and kneeling pads, was a little foreign — even for me.
    People stood in the aisles and all around the room, hugging one another and complimenting the kids on their Easter dresses, suits, and even hats. Frankie and I had worn comfortable driving clothes, and our jeans and tennies were a little out of place. Vivian had planned ahead, though, and she was wearing a long moss-colored dress.
    We slipped into a pew after shaking a few hands and explaining