Waiting to Believe Read Free Page B

brightest stalk away. He slammed down the hood. The spark plug wrench jumped off the fender and clattered to the ground. “Jesus!” he exclaimed to the air.

    Bridget thought the meatballs had a scummy look to them as she passed the bowl to Maureen. Maureen dipped the serving spoon down into the thick mixture. “Yuck,” she exclaimed. “Who made this?”
    â€œI did!” Kacey responded. “Don’t eat ’em if you don’t want to. Makes no difference to me.” She grabbed the steaming bowl, ladling a generous portion onto her plate before passing it to Kenneth. Kenneth took the bowl, glanced down at it, and passed it to Rose without serving himself.
    â€œWhat are you so crabby about?” Bridget asked Kacey. “Couldn’t figure out how to change that spark plug?”
    â€œI can change five spark plugs before you can count to ten! Drop it!” Tension lowered itself like a fog over the supper table.
    Finally ten-year-old Joseph broke the silence. “Gerald’s crazy!”
    â€œYeah? So what’s your point?” Thirteen-year-old Maureen seemed to be the only one to take notice.
    Unfazed, Joseph continued. “Him and the Freeman kids take turns crawling underneath the railroad cars at the Hanson Creek crossing!” He waited for the impact.
    â€œ He and the Freemans,” Maureen corrected.
    â€œNo, it should be the Freemans and he,” Bridget stepped in.
    â€œWell, gosh, I just think he could get killed.” Joseph looked around the table innocently.
    â€œTrue enough, young man,” Kacey said. “And if he does, that’ll teach him a lesson, won’t it?”
    Gerald snickered. Kenneth glared at him but did not speak. Rose left the table and headed for the liquor cabinet. She poured Jameson into a glass, wondering what she was missing in all this. “Kenneth?” she asked as she dropped ice cubes into her glass. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”
    Kenneth frowned and pushed his chair back. Rising, he turned from the table. “No, I don’t. I don’t seem to know what’s going on with any of our children anymore.” He slammed the kitchen door as he went out.
    Kacey began clearing the table while the others scattered. “It’s the flour! Okay?” she yelled. “It was just too much flour! No one’s gonna die of it!”

    â€œIt’s official!” Greg announced as soon as Kacey climbed into the pickup. “I sent off my applications to Notre Dame, St. John’s, and Loyola.”
    â€œPretty one-sided in your search, aren’t you? Gonna be a priest?”
    â€œGood God!” he laughed, reaching out his arm to squeeze her shoulder. “No, I just think they’re the best schools! What about you?”
    Kacey shot him a look accompanied by a groan, but he wasn’t to be dissuaded. “No, really. You haven’t said a thing about your applications.”
    â€œOh, Greg, now you sound just like Dad! I’m being bullied every day to ‘declare my intentions!’ But I don’t know what my intentions are!”
    â€œOh, I can’t believe something’s not running around in your head.”
    â€œI’ve still got the whole year, Greg! I’ll get it figured out.”
    Greg glanced at Kacey. “Can’t you talk to me about it?”
    She softened. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? That I could talk to you. But I don’t think I can—yet.”
    Greg gave her shoulder another tender squeeze. “Meet me in the glen tonight.”
    â€œI’d better not,” she said. “I’ve got homework.”
    â€œAre you kidding? Since when has homework stopped you?”
    Kacey shrugged away from his hand. “I’d rather not, okay? Just let me be.”
    Greg understood it was time to back away. He switched on the radio. Patsy Cline was beginning her lament, “Crazy.”