Free Deeper Water by Robert Whitlow Page A

e-mail." I said.
    "Yes. We're in synagogue and Hadassah together."
    My eyes opened wide.
    "That's nice," I managed.
    "Let me know if I can help in any way."
    THAT EVENING I CALLED HOME and unleashed a torrent of information upon Mama about all that had happened with Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett.
    "What do you think?" I asked when I finished and took a deep breath.
    "You're bumping up against the world in a new way," Mama said calmly. "The daughter sounds like a person who's looking for someone to do for her mother what she ought to be doing herself."

    "Yes ma'am."
    Mama rarely missed a chance to point out an example of American self-centeredness. When we studied other cultures in homeschool, I was amazed by the differences in attitudes toward relatives that existed between civilized countries and those considered more backward. Mama said sacrifice was in the Bible and the dictionary but not in most people's hearts.
    "A free place to stay would be a blessing," she continued, "but you've got to ask the Lord if he is sending you to help this woman. His will is all that matters. If he's in it, you'll find the grace to withstand the pressure."
    "Yes ma'am."
    "Daddy and I will pray about it and let you know if the Lord shows us anything."
    "Thanks. Any other news from home?"
    "Not much. Ellie was the last one to find her note from you. She thought you might have forgotten about her, which made it that much sweeter when she found it under the stuff piled on her nightstand."
    "Maybe that will convince her to clean more often."
    We talked about the routine things of life for several more minutes before saying good night. Talking to Mama always gave me strength. My mind had been racing too much about the uncertainties in Savannah. With the sound of her voice in my thoughts and earplugs lodged firmly in my ears, I slept peacefully through the night.
    I HURRIED HOME FROM CLASS on Friday and opened the curtain all the way so I had a clear view of the parking lot. I packed my suitcase and put everything nice I owned into a garment bag. I didn't want to make the final decision about what to wear until I was in Savannah. Each time a car entered the parking lot, I went to the window to see if I recognized it. Most of my neighbors were either students without much money or young people working marginal jobs. A white van with a magnetic car rental company sign on its side pulled into the parking lot. It was an unusual choice, but I was used to driving a van. I grabbed my wallet and went outside.

    "I'm Tami Taylor."
    "We're here with your car," the rental company employee said.
    A silver convertible with the top down came around the corner of the building and pulled into a spot beside the van.
    "Is that the car?" I asked, my mouth dropping open.
    "Yeah. I need to see your driver's license, and we have some paperwork for you to sign."
    The car had a white leather interior. I had trouble focusing on the forms. I skimmed the fine print prepared by a lawyer in a faraway office and signed at the bottom.
    "What kind of car is it?" I asked.
    "A new Jaguar. We got it in this week. You're the first person to lease it."
    I glanced over my shoulder and saw that one of my neighbors was standing in his doorway watching.
    "It's a rental car," I said.
    "Sweet," he responded with a nod of his head. "Let me know if you need company. It'll drive better with someone in each seat."
    I finished signing the paperwork. The man driving the van handed me a card.
    "Call this number when you want us to pick up the car on Monday. It's got a tank of gas, but there's no need to return it full. That's included in the rental."
    "Sweet," the neighbor in the doorway echoed. "You can take the whole complex out for a joyride."

    I smiled awkwardly. The men from the rental company got in the van and left.
    "My name is Greg Overton," my neighbor said, stepping forward. "I don't think we've met."
    "I've talked with your girlfriend a few times. Where is she?"
    Greg opened his arms. "Working