CHAPTER-12
We got to the orphanage just about the time it was getting dark. We were a couple of minutes early, and the director was on the phone. It was an important call and he couldn't meet with us right
away, so we made ourselves comfortable. We were waiting on a bench in the hallway outside his door, when Amelia turned to me. Her book was in her lap. I guess she wanted it for support, but then again, maybe it was just her habit.
"You did really well today," she said. "With your lines, I mean."
"Thanks," I said, feeling proud and dejected at exactly the same
time. "I still haven't learned my beats, though," I offered. There
was no way we could practice those on the porch, and I hoped she wasn't going to suggest it.
"You will. They're easy once you know you all the words."
"I hope so."
Amelia smiled, and after a moment she changed the subject, sort of throwing me off track. "Do you ever think about the future, Landon?" she asked.
I was startled by her question because it sounded . . . so ordinary.
"Yeah, sure. I guess so," I answered cautiously.
"Well, what do you want to do with your life?"
I shrugged, a little wary of where she was going with this. "I don't
know yet. I haven't figured that part out. I'm going to UNC next fall, at least I hope so. I have to get accepted first."
"You will," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Because I've prayed for that, too."
When she said it, I thought we were heading into a discussion
about the power of prayer and faith, but Amelia tossed yet another curveball at me.
"How about after college? What do you want to do then?"
"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe I'll be a one-armed lumberjack."
She didn't think it was funny.
"I think you should become a minister," she said seriously. "I think
you're good with people, and they'd respect what you have to
say."
Though the concept was absolutely ridiculous, with her I just knew it came from the heart and she intended it as a compliment.
"Thanks," I said. "I don't know if I'll do that, but I'm sure I'll find something." It took a moment for me to realize that the
conversation had stalled and that it was my turn to ask a question.
"How about you? What do you want to do in the future?"
Amelia turned away and got a far-off gaze in her eyes, making me
wonder what she was thinking, but it vanished almost as quickly
as it came.
"I want to get married," she said quietly. "And when I do, I want
my father to walk me down the aisle and I want everyone I know
to be there. I want the church bursting with people."
"That's all?" Though I wasn't averse to the idea of marriage, it seemed kind of silly to hope for that as your life's goal.
"Yes," she said. "That's all I want."
The way she answered made me suspect that she thought she'd end up like Miss Chole. I tried to make her feel better, even though it still seemed silly to me.
"Well, you'll get married someday. You'll meet some guy and the two of you will hit it off, and he'll ask you to marry him. And I'm sure that your father will be happy to walk you down the aisle."
I didn't mention the part about having a big crowd in the church. I guess it was the one thing that even I couldn't imagine.
Amelia thought carefully about my answer, really pondering the
way I said it, though I didn't know why.
"I hope so," she said finally.
I could tell she didn't want to talk about it anymore, don't ask me how, so I moved on to something new.
"So how long have you been coming to the orphanage?" I asked
conversationally.
"Seven years now. I was ten years old the first time I came. I was
younger than a lot of the kids here."
"Do you enjoy it, or does it make you sad?"
"Both. Some of the children here came from really horrible
situations. It's enough to break your heart when you hear about
it. But when they see you come in with some books from the library or a new game to play, their smiles just take all the sadness away. It's the greatest feeling in the world."
She practically glowed when she spoke. Though she wasn't saying it to make me feel guilty, that was exactly the way I felt. It was one of the reasons it was so hard to put up with her, but by then I
was getting fairly used to it. She could twist you every way but normal, I'd come to learn.At that moment, Mr. Jenkins opened the door and invited us in.
The office looked almost like a hospital room, with black-and-white tiled floors, white walls and ceilings, a metal cabinet against the wall. Where the bed would normally have been, there was a
metal desk that looked like it had been stamped off the assembly line. It was almost neurotically clean of anything personal. There wasn't a single picture or anything.Amelia introduced me, and I shook Mr. Jenkins's hand. After we sat
down, Amelia did most of the talking. They were old friends, you could see that right off, and Mr. Jenkins had given her a big hug as soon as she'd entered. After smoothing out her skirt, Amelia
explained our plan. Now, Mr. Jenkins had seen the play a few years back, and he knew exactly what she was talking about
almost as soon as she started. But even though Mr. Jenkins liked Amelia a lot and knew she meant well, he didn't think it was a good idea.
"I don't think it's a good idea," he said.
That's how I knew what he was thinking.
"Why not?" Amelia asked, her brow furrowed. She seemed genuinely perplexed by his lack of enthusiasm.
Mr. Jenkins picked up a pencil and started tapping it on his desk, obviously thinking about how to explain himself. In time, he put down the pencil and sighed.
"Even though it's a wonderful offer and I know you'd like to do something special, the play is about a father who eventually
comes to realize how much he loves his daughter." He let that sink in for a moment and picked up the pencil again. "Christmas is hard enough around here without reminding the kids of what
they're missing. I think that if the children see something like that
. . ."
He didn't even have to finish. Jamie put her hands to her mouth.
"Oh my," she said right away, "you're right. I hadn't thought about that."
Neither had I, to tell you the truth. But it was obvious right off the bat that Mr. Jenkins made sense. He thanked us anyway and chatted for a while about what he planned to do instead.