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“FOR I WAS AN HUNGERED, AND YE GAVE ME MEAT; I WAS THIRSTY, AND YE GAVE ME DRINK; I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN:” —MATTHEW 25:35

T uesday Phillips’ broad smile was the first thing Sydney saw when she stepped in the room. “Sydney, I’m so glad you made it.”

The activity had not yet started, and children were running wild in the building. Tuesday led her down the hall and into the kitchen. “The chil’ren are gonna be practicing for their program,” she said. “Afterwards …” She motioned. “Honey, can you hand me that plate? Oh yes, like I was saying. We need to make some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for ‘em. Hand me that knife in the drawer over yonder. Cut them into squares.”

Sydney washed her hands and got down to business. All the while she tried to think of a way to broach the subject of Buford’s death—a task that was proving to be impossible, considering that Tuesday was fluttering in and out of the room like a butterfly, not staying in one spot long enough for Sydney to ask her the simplest question, much less something more.

When the sandwiches were made, Tuesday ushered Sydney out of the kitchen, telling her that she would enjoy watching the children practice. The eager faces of the children were a stark contrast to the pinched expressions of the adult leaders who were trying their best to get the children to sit still and pay attention. A fair-haired boy sitting on the front row was having an especially difficult time. He was up more than he was down, much to the chagrin of his teacher.

Tuesday was quick to inform Sydney about each child. “See that there group on the back row?”

Sydney nodded.

Tuesday lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re all Nolans.” She spoke the name with such significance that Sydney halfway wondered if Mrs. Phillips expected her to know something about them. “There are about five of ‘em, I believe. Like stair-steps. Impossible to tell ‘em apart.” She shook her head. “Them chil’ren’s father’s a no-count drunk. Patsy, their poor mother, like to of worked herself to death, trying to keep ’em fed and a roof over their heads. I’ve been out to their trailer once or twice before. It ain’t fit for pigs, much less all them chil’ren. Bless her heart, poor Patsy’s in her late thirties but looks like she’s in her fifties.”

The oldest Nolan girl got up to say her part. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she looked like the sheer act of public speaking put her on the verge of tears. Long black tresses framed her oval face, and her shirt was wrinkled and too big. Her hair would have been beautiful if it had been combed. The girl sat down and other children got up to say their parts, but Sydney didn’t hear any of them. She kept hearing the little Nolan girl with her timid voice and shy eyes.

After practice was over, the children ran toward the kitchen like racehorses that had been let out of the gate. The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were a hit. Most of the children had already gone home when the oldest Nolan girl approached Sydney.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Sydney smiled down at her. “Yes?”

The little girl shuffled her feet back and forth, and Sydney wanted to help her get the words out.

“Um, I was wondering if …” The girl looked at the floor.

Sydney bent down in an effort to hear her.

The words came out in a rush this time, almost as though the girl was trying to speak faster so she could bring herself to get it all out. “I was wondering if I can take them left-over sandwiches home.”

Sydney paused. “I’m sure that’ll be all right.”

The girl’s countenance brightened. In an afterthought Sydney added, “You know you can eat as many sandwiches as you want while you’re here, don’t you?”

“I wanna take them home to my mama and brothers and sisters.”

All of Sydney’s personal worries vanished. She looked at the girl’s thin frame and hollow eyes and wondered how often she went hungry. “Here, let me get you a bag. I’ll wrap up these sandwiches, and you can also have the leftover jars of peanut butter and jelly.” The bread was all gone, but Sydney gave her the rest of the potato chips.

When Sydney got ready to leave the church, Tuesday gave her a bear hug. “Thanks for comin’ today.”

An image of the Nolan girl flashed in her mind. “No, I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’m glad I was a part of this.” It felt good to do something for someone else for a change. She reached in her purse for a pen and rummaged for a scrap piece of paper but came up empty-handed. She looked at Tuesday. “Do you have a piece of paper? I’d like for you to give me the address for the Nolans.”

Tuesday’s eyes widened.

“I’d like to do something to help them.”

The older woman looked pleased. “Like I always said, the good Lord expects us to be his helping hands.” She paused and her hawk-eyes studied Sydney. “Will you be at church tomorrow?”

Sydney met her gaze. “I can’t make you any guarantees, but I promise I’ll give it some thought.”

A thousand scenarios ran through Sydney’s mind, and a hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Perspiration broke out on her upper lip and nose, and she could feel her hands becoming wet and clammy as they drove up the mountain.

“Sydney, wait until you meet this ol’ dude. He knows everything there is to know about football, or at least Alabama football.” Kendall laughed.

His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. She looked out the window. Only a few more minutes before they arrived. Kendall recounted his and Walter’s experiences and relationship. She didn’t hear a word he said but managed to nod at the appropriate times. Her mind raced to think of ways to sidetrack him from going to Walter’s house. Why hadn’t she thought about a possible connection between Walter and Kendall? She could remember her dad telling her mom funny stories about Walter’s obsession with football. It only made sense that he would know the head football coach for the local high school team.

Sydney finally managed to say, “Kendall, he sounds like a great guy, but I thought we were going to meet some of the other coaches and their wives for dinner.”

“Honey, we are meeting them for dinner, but first I need Walter to look over some plays that I’m thinking about using in Friday night’s game.” Kendall reached and patted Sydney’s knee. “You really don’t mind, do you?” And then he gave her that boyish smile that she couldn’t resist. She was also surprised that he’d called her honey.

“No, of course not,” she said, praying all the while that Maurene would not give her secret away if she answered the door . S he was also counting on Walter to remember her wish to remain anonymous. She valued her relationship with Kendall and eventually intended to tell him everything, but not now. He would never understand.

They approached Walter’s drive and parked. Sydney noticed that the light in the foyer was the only one on. Please don’t be home , she prayed.

Kendall smiled. “You’re going to love Walter.”

She got out of the car and smoothed the yellow cashmere sweater that had belonged to Judith. Somehow wearing Judith’s clothes always bolstered her courage, allowing her to borrow a little of Judith’s strength and determination . She needed all the courage she could muster tonight.

Kendall rang the doorbell and then turned and gave her an appraising look. “You look beautiful tonight.” Before Sydney could answer, he said, “Oh, I’ll be right back.” He turned and bounced down the steps. “I forgot my play folder.”

Maurene opened the door. “Come on in.” She swayed toward Sydney and gestured with one hand while holding up an empty martini glass with the other. Maurene blinked several times, trying to focus on Sydney’s face. “Oh, you’re that sawmill girl. Go on in. Walter’s here …” She motioned. “Somewhere.”

For the first time, and she hoped the only time in her life, Sydney was grateful to see someone drunk. Walter entered the foyer. His eyes flickered over his wife and then settled on the martini glass. “Maurene, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Don’t you try to tell me when I’ve had enough!” Maurene walked out of the foyer, almost tripping on her long silk robe.

“I’m sorry, dear. Maurene isn’t feeling well tonight, but what a nice surprise to see you. What brings you to this neck of the woods?” Walter smiled and took hold of Sydney’s hands.

“Walter,” she said just as Kendall reappeared.

Kendall smiled. “Oh, I see you two have met. He turned to Walter. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Yes, she is,” Walter locked eyes with Sydney. “When Kendall told me he was dating a beautiful woman, I thought he was exaggerating.”

Sydney’s eyes pleaded with Walter’s. Please, please. Don’t act like you know me.

“What is your name?” Walter asked.

“Sydney Lassiter.” She sighed and she and Kendall followed Walter into the den. The fire in the fireplace was the only light in the room. It was obvious that Walter had not been expecting company. He walked over and flipped on the light. An empty glass sat on the coffee table.

Walter picked up the glass and walked to the bar to pour another drink. “Can I get y’all something?”

“No thank you,” Sydney and Kendall answered in unison.

“Well Sydney, tell me a little about yourself.”

Kendall opened his notebook and spread several sheets on the coffee table. “We can’t stay long, Walter. I just wanted to get your opinion on some plays for Friday night.”

Sydney smiled. “Well, I’m from the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, and I’m here working for the sawmill on a safety consulting contract.”

“That sounds like an interesting job for a young lady.” Walter took a drink from his glass and then set it on the table.Kendall shifted on the sofa.

“Sydney, if you don’t mind, we’ll come back some other time so that you and Walter can get better acquainted. Right now, I need to talk to him about football.”

“Sure.” Sydney forced a smile. She was relieved that she didn’t have to go through any more pretense with Walter, but a little annoyed with Kendall’s attitude. “I noticed your library on the way in. If it’s okay with you, Walter, I’ll take a look around.”

“You go right ahead,” Walter said.

Memories rushed back when Sydney thought of the many times she’d been sent to the library to play while her dad and Walter talked about business. She’d forgotten how cold the room was. She rubbed her arms and looked around. Very little had changed. The world globe, the size of a beach ball, stood in a corner. Walter’s football books lined the shelf nearest the window. The ornate Oriental rug where she’d played looked the same.

Sydney sat in an overstuffed leather chair and closed her eyes. She was grateful for Maurene’s love of fine things as she covered herself with the plush throw that was draped over the arm of the chair.

She awoke to the smell of alcohol before she saw the face. It took a second for her mind to register that it was Maurene, not an apparition that loomed over her. Maurene’s bloodshot eyes were bulging and one side of her flimsy white nightgown had fallen down below her shoulder. Sydney tried to shrink back from the hideous expression that was only inches from her face. Maurene’s breathing was heavy and raspy.

Before Sydney could say anything, Maurene was gone.

Sydney sat upright. Her body trembled. She tried to make sense of what had just happened. That’s when she heard the loud voices. Walter and Kendall looked up when Sydney entered into the room.

“What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine.” Walter stood. His smile looked strained. “This young man of yours is a stubborn mule. He came all the way here to ask my opinion, and now he’s arguing with me about football.”

Kendall was glaring at Walter, and his face was red. She knew that people in Stoney Creek were serious about football, but this was ridiculous. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Walter,” he said. He gathered his papers from the table. “It’s just that I’ve worked so hard on this, and I thought you would agree with me, that’s all.”

Walter went over and put his hand on Kendall’s shoulder. “Everything will go fine. I promise you that.”

Sydney was amazed at the impact that Walter’s small gesture had on Kendall. All the tension seemed to leave him instantaneously. Walter turned to Sydney. “Now, young lady, you have to get this rascal to bring you back when y’all can stay longer. We’ll talk about something other than football.”

“Thanks, I will,” she said, looking at Kendall.

They made their way to the door. Sydney turned and saw Maurene standing on the stairs. Icy fingers pricked at her skin when Maurene’s eyes met hers. Sydney locked the picture away to be replayed over and over a thousand times in her mind. Why did she look like the face of death?