One

When I was four years old my parents took me to a pop-up carnival, and I was over the moon because I'd spent the day having a blast on rides, playing games, and eating cotton candy and snow cones. My dad must have thrown at least a couple dozen hoops before he finally landed one around a bottle and won a huge, sparkly red balloon.

We were making our way toward our car when I saw a little boy crying. He looked so sad that my happiness vanished, and I felt like crying with him. Tears slipped down the boy's chin and onto his green and white striped shirt as he stared hopelessly toward the sky at a blue balloon that was heading for heaven. I didn't stop to think before handing him my own treasured balloon. For a second he seemed stunned, and then he smiled at me.

The boy's mom looked relieved and thanked me for the balloon and my kindness. My own parents looked concerned. I guess they were worried I'd regret giving away the prized balloon, but I never did. It still warms my heart to remember the little boy clutching my balloon in his fist and looking back at me with a grateful smile.

Two years later I was playing at the park when I saw some kids throwing rocks at something they were circled around. I ran straight for them and pushed my way into the circle and saw a big dog crouched down, his brownish-black fur matted with dirt and rocks. His head was buried pitifully in a patch of clovers as if trying to hide, and his eyes were closed.

"Leave him alone!" I cried, moving between the kids and the scared dog. "My dad is a police officer. I'll call him if you don't go."

"Maybe we should use you as target practice instead," one of the boys laughed. His friends laughed too.

"Good one Austin! Neither one of them has any friends," a girl said maliciously. I'd seen her before at school, and I think her name was Claudia. "Both of you are losers!" Claudia shouted.

"We are not! I'm a child of God," I shot back, echoing my mother's words.

"They are losers," Austin agreed, but he looked uncertain. "Let's go," he told his friends.

I stood my ground until they were gone, my heart thundering wildly against my chest. Relieved, I turned back to the trembling dog and found his big, brown eyes fastened on me. I took a step toward him and the dog cowered.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you."

He didn't look like he believed me, and I guess I understood the mistrust. Daring a step closer, I crouched and slowly reached my hand out for him to sniff. Then I gently stroked his head.

When Mama said it was time to go, I wanted to cry. I wasn't sure the threat of calling my dad would be enough to stop the kids from picking on the dog once I was gone. I wished I could take him with me, but I knew I couldn't ask Mama. She'd been sick a lot lately and Dad was working extra jobs to pay bills. Even at six, I knew dogs cost a lot of money. Sadly, I left my new friend.

The next morning I heard my dad yelling, "Shoo!"

I ran out the front door and onto the porch and saw my dog lying loyally beside one of the shoes I'd worn to the park the day before.

"Lucy get back!" my dad shouted, jumping forward and shoving me behind him.

"It's okay Dad. He's my friend."

I told my dad the story of how I'd met the dog. He talked it over with my mom and I was surprised and overjoyed that they let me keep the dog. I named him Jack, and he followed me everywhere he was allowed, slept in my bed, and became my very best friend.

Mama said Jesus had given me the gift of empathy because I could feel the sadness of others like it was my own. She said I'd have to be careful not to drown in an ocean of someone else's pain.

"Let the Lord make your paths straight," she'd said. I wasn't exactly sure I understood what she meant, but I loved her and it seemed to please her when I promised her I'd do that.

Not too long after Jack came to live with us, mama got even sicker. I knew something was terribly wrong even before she told me that she was going to go to heaven and to be with Nana and Grandpa.

I wanted to break down and cry, to scream and beg her to stay with me because I needed her, but I knew that my outburst would only make her sadder so I smiled and told her I loved her and that I understood.

I didn't understand at all.

Mama looked me in the eyes, touched my cheek with her frail hand, and said to me, "It's okay to cry. You don't have to pretend with me, Lucy."

I lowered my head to her chest and wept while she stroked my hair.

"I love you so much," I whispered. "I'll miss you."

"I know, sweetheart. Remember what I said to do when you're feeling alone?"

"Pray to Jesus."

"That's right. He will never leave you."

I looked up at Mama. "How will I know you made it to heaven?"

She seemed to think about the question for a moment, and I felt guilty for stealing what little strength she had left. "When you're happy I'll be the sun that shines down on your face and kisses your skin. If you are afraid, I'll send the strength of Daniel to defeat your lions. When you're sad I'll cry so many tears that there'll be a storm in heaven, and when the raindrops fall from the sky you'll know that it's me."

Her trembling hand cupped my cheek. "Carry me inside your heart. I'll never leave you. Pray to Jesus. Keep the faith. I will be loving you from heaven."

"I'll love you, Mama, more than anything." Oddly, the last few words seemed to upset her.

"Oh, Lucy." With a shaky breath, her eyes found mine. "I know you don't understand now, but one day, my sweet girl, I pray you will be loving Him."

I'd wondered if she was talking about my future husband, but I never got the chance to ask her.

After Mama was gone, I mostly kept to myself. I didn't have any friends in school. The other kids thought I was weird or stuck up, and teachers thought I was shy. I still didn't know exactly what leukemia was, but I knew that I hated it because it had taken Mama away from me.

Dad and I didn't really know how to go on with just the two of us. Our joy died along with Mama. We survived day by day, ate a lot of fast food, and never laughed anymore. Dad cried at night, but he did it quietly, and he didn't know that I heard him.

I was alone and afraid. I tried to talk to Jesus, but I don't think he was listening. It was probably for the best because I was mad at him for taking Mama, and I told him so. He never answered any of my prayers but for some reason I kept praying.

Sometime during the year after Mama died, I realized it would have broken her heart to see Dad and me miserable. We had to go on and try to be happy, if not for us then we'd have to do it for Mama because I had no doubt that she was watching from heaven. I shared this with my dad. He gathered me in his arms and apologized. He also agreed with me and from that day forward, we did our best to make things right.

After this epiphany, I met my best friend Katie. Dad started to smile every once in a while, and we bought a cookbook. Together we learned to make dinner without setting off the smoke alarm—that only happened twice.

Dad discovered he liked cooking, but after turning his underwear and t-shirts pink we both decided that I'd take over the laundry. We learned to be happy again, and I wondered if Mama was looking down from heaven and smiling at us.

I asked Dad to go to church. It was the first time since we'd started to heal that he got upset with me. I never asked again.

Holidays were difficult. Most of those were spent with me and Dad and Katie, whose mom wasn't home a lot. I knew something wasn't right about Katie's mom but it made her sad, so I tried not to mention her mother. Thankfully, she loved spending time with Dad and I, and we loved her as well.

Sometimes we'd visit Uncle Parker, Aunt Karen, and my cousin Lindsay, but not too often since Dad said they were better in small doses. We never visited my great-grandparents because they didn't like my dad.

When Mama and Uncle Parker were eight their parents had been killed in a car crash, and they'd gone to live with their grandparents who were strict and had little tolerance for my mom and dad's teenage love affair.

I'd never met my great-grandparents even though they'd been at Mama's funeral, which I barely remember. They'd disowned Mama after she'd gotten pregnant at eighteen then eloped with my dad. Apparently, they still held a grudge against us.

When I'd asked mom if God was mad at us she seemed surprised and then she folded her arms around me, held me close and told me how much God loved me. Mama said that she and Daddy sinned, but God forgave them.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, and have been called according to his purpose—Romans 8:28," she'd said.

I'd asked what my purpose was, and she smiled and told me I would have to wait on God. Patience wasn't one of my strong points, but I suppose God knew that since he knew me before I was even born.

I missed Mama talking to me about how much Jesus loved me, and I thought about mentioning it to Dad, but I didn't think it was a good idea. Dad was angry at God, and I didn't blame him. I'm not sure why I kept praying, but I did.

The years slipped by with laughter and mishaps. I spent most of my high school years studying, volunteering at the hospital and hanging out with Katie. Unlike me, Katie was always crushing on a boy, but she never did anything about it except doodle the boy's name in her notebook and gush to me about how hot he was.

Her most memorable crush was when we were freshmen and she fell hopelessly in love with Kyle Huxley, a senior with a gorgeous girlfriend, Ava Foster, who happened to be a popular cheerleader.

Katie was so embarrassingly obvious in her devotion to Kyle that the kids at school made fun of her behind her back. I always defended her and prayed she never realized how cruel some kids could be.

Katie pretended she didn't care what other people thought of her, but I knew that she was one of the kindest souls I'd ever met and she covered up a lot with quick-witted, sometimes sarcastic remarks. If she noticed the gossip about her, she chose to ignore it.

I envied Katie for her courage, and I wished that I only saw the best in people, but I was agonizingly aware of how unjust things could be if you were born different. Some people possessed self-confidence, charm, and a mysterious appeal that drew people to them. Whatever elusive quality that was, I did not have it and neither did Katie.

Luckily, Katie had amazing taste in guys because not only did Kyle Huxley never make fun of her, he championed her against the sea of haters. His girlfriend Ava was just as kind, and I was thankful to both of them.

Then the unthinkable happened.

One day after school I saw a bunch of kids gathered around Katie's locker, and a knot of dread tightened in my chest even before I saw the malicious smile on Claudia's face. I'd seen the look years ago when she and her friends had been throwing rocks at Jack. She held something in her perfectly manicured hand, a note, and I braced myself for the worst.

"You're just in time Lucy! Guess what your geek friend wrote to Kyle?" Claudia sneered.

Laughter and cheers of encouragement answered Claudia's comment and someone began to chant, "Read it! Read it!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lindsay cheering along with the rest of the crowd, and a wave of betrayal crashed through me.

Dear Kyle,

I know you'll never read this letter, but I feel like I'll burst if I keep my feelings for you inside any longer. I'd never do anything to hurt your relationship with Ava, which is why I'll never show you this letter.

I think about you all the time, and I want you so much it hurts. I dream of kissing you and—".

"That's enough," Kyle interrupted in a deep, authoritative voice.

I'd stood frozen and allowed her to read Katie's letter, but now I turned toward Kyle, angry and horrified. His jaw was tightly clenched and he looked as furious as I felt.

Seemingly unaware of Kyle's anger, Claudia laughed. "Can you believe what Katie wrote to you? As if you'd ever be with that loser!"

Stepping forward, I reached for the letter but Claudia snatched it back. "Katie didn't write that letter. I did." I spoke loud enough so that everyone could hear me.

The crowd turned to look at me and I lifted my chin, unwilling to show weakness, sensing that I didn't have a friend in this crowd. I was wrong. Kyle's deep blue eyes found mine, and I felt compassion, admiration, and sympathy from him.

"I want the note," Kyle said calmly to Claudia, who handed it to him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. "Shows over," he announced.

The crowd dispersed at his command, but not before Kyle shocked everyone and me by taking my hand and pulling me towards him. I was too surprised to say anything, so I just let him lead me outside and into the student parking lot. It wasn't until we reached his old blue truck that he turned and faced me.

"Thank you," I breathed with relief. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

Kyle stared at me as if I was something he didn't understand but was determined to figure out. "You and I both know you didn't write the note, Lucy. And just so you know, I'm only embarrassed at the way my friends were acting."

Hearing him say my name made my stomach dip, and I shifted uncomfortably. "What are you going to do with it?" I asked cautiously, eyeing the note in his hand.

He handed it to me. Our fingers brushed as I took it, and I felt a tingling warmth slither up my spine. Startled, I glanced up at Kyle and he seemed as unsettled I was.

Raking a hand through his short, black hair, he frowned and I found myself staring at his mouth, suddenly thinking about Katie's letter and what she had written.

"Are you waiting for Katie?" he asked me.

"No. Not today. She has band practice."

Kyle nodded. "Get in the truck and I'll take you home."

Blinking, I stared at him and probably looked like an idiot, but I could not believe that Kyle Huxley was offering to take me home. He made me nervous. Being in the same truck with him, even for a short drive, didn't seem like a good idea. "It's okay," I told him, noticing the odd pitch in my voice. "I usually walk anyway."

"Lucy, it's going to rain," he said patiently, glancing up at the gray sky. "It's the least I can do to make up for what just happened."

My eyes widened. "That wasn't your fault."

His steady gaze held mine. "It wasn't yours either, but everyone is going to be talking about you. I wish I could protect you from the gossip, but I won't be able to stop all of it."

He seemed genuinely troubled by that, and I wanted to reassure him that I was going to be okay.

Smiling I said, "A little gossip isn't going to break me, and I'll take care of Katie."

He studied me as if he couldn't believe what I had said. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course." I felt strange beneath his unwavering gaze. "Look, if you think I'm going to be skipping classes and hiding out in the bathroom because of this, you don't need to worry," I assured him.

This seemed to amuse him. "No hiding out in the bathroom, huh. What about under the stairwell?"

I started to shake my head, but I was almost positive he was teasing me. "Not the stairwell, but maybe the library."

He laughed, the sound a deep, rich rumble that tickled my senses. "Courage at any age is remarkable, but it's especially rare in someone so young."

"I'm almost fifteen," I told him.

Kyle's lips twitched. "That old?" he teased.

I couldn't help but smile. "I guess if you're seventeen, fourteen-year-olds seem like kids."

"Eighteen," he corrected.

My heart sank.

The four years between fourteen and eighteen were an unbridgeable gap. I wasn't sure if the despair I felt was for Katie or myself, and I shoved aside the feeling of guilt because neither of us would ever stand a chance with Kyle.

I got into his truck and let him take me home. We'd barely pulled out of the parking lot when the sky opened up and the rain fell in sheets, pounding the windshield. I thought about my mother, remembering what she'd said about a storm in heaven, and I wondered what she'd think about Kyle.

"You were right about the rain," I told him.

"Yeah. You should always listen to your elders," he teased.

"I'll keep that in mind."

His smile vanished, and he looked suddenly serious. "I take that back, Lucy. Don't listen to anything guys say to you."

Turning to look at him, my gaze collided with his. "You think they would lie to me?" I didn't realize at the time that I was flirting with him.

"I know they'd say just about anything if you looked at them the way you're looking at me now."

I didn't say anything else and neither did Kyle. We rode the rest of the way to my house in silence.

"Thanks for the ride and for everything." We'd reached my house and I was reluctant for my time with him to end.

He shrugged as if it was no big deal and looked over at me like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. "I know what it's like when kids make fun of you," he admitted.

I didn't know what to say. Kyle Huxley was the most popular guy in school, but the sincerity and the troubled look in his eyes told me he wasn't a stranger to pain.

"You and I have a lot in common, Lucy. My mom died when I was young too, and my dad didn't handle it as well as yours. Thankfully, I had my sister Izabelle."

He knew about my mom. I wasn't sure what to think about that, but suddenly I felt a connection with Kyle Huxley that I'd never felt with anyone before.

"I'm sorry," I said lamely, knowing it wasn't enough.

He smiled at me, and his expression was one of acceptance without a trace of self-pity. "My dad started drinking after mom died. I've lost count of the times he's been arrested. Izabelle and I met your dad at the police station."

I didn't stop to think, I just reached for Kyle's hand, needing to comfort him. The touch surprised him and his gaze flew to mine. I could feel the tension coiled within him, and I assumed that it was because of what he'd shared with me.

"You can trust me," I assured him. "I'll never tell anyone."

"I never thought you would." He gently pulled his hand from mine and lightly chucked me under the chin. "If anyone gives you a hard time about the note, let me know."

I nodded and started to open the door, but Kyle stopped me. "I've got an umbrella," he said, reaching down on the floorboard. "Wait a sec."

He came around to my side of the truck and held the umbrella over me while we ran towards my front porch. Dad was still at work, but I could hear Jack's happy bark from inside the house.

Kyle waited while I unlocked the door, and as soon as I did Jack came barreling out, rolling over cheerfully at my feet while I rubbed his belly. This made Kyle smile.

"He's like a hundred-pound puppy," he said, petting Jack.

"Shh, I haven't told him yet that's he's a grown."

He laughed.

I was filled with longing. He was amazing. We talked for a few more minutes before he left, and as I watched his truck pull away I was filled with melancholy. I shook it off, and I never told anyone about that afternoon with Kyle, but over the next few years, every once in a while I'd think of him and remember that rainy day.