The Burnt Island Burial Ground Part 19

"What did you say?" Adam said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I asked why you dragged me all the way out here," Lindsay lied. "You could've killed me the second you found me, or for that matter, when you drugged me and had me alone in the car."

"Dumb luck with the drugging," he said. "I couldn't get your piece of junk car to start again. The keys wouldn't stay in the ignition. And the Philpots had seen us together. It was too risky to do anything then. I would've had to drag your body along the road and then walk home. So I called 9-1-1."

His casual use of the phrase "your body" gave Lindsay a slight shiver. That's what she'd be soon-a dead body. "And you hoped they'd believe that I was drunk. Maybe pump my stomach and let me dry out overnight," Lindsay said, remembering how, without Anna's intervention, that's exactly what would've come to pa.s.s. "Why tell me any of this if you're only going to kill me?"

"Like I said, this was more...amusing. You really are unbelievably gullible. But also you're fun to talk to. I haven't been able to talk to anyone about any of this. And you are funny. So, let me answer your questions. That'll be my parting gift to you.

"Really, it's my job to keep an eye out for opportunities," he continued. "That's how I make money. This Boughtflower thing, which you and your friends discussed in such great detail in your kitchen, struck me as too good to pa.s.s up. Like I told you before, I already know of a buyer for the letters. He deals in this kind of thing. And, as to why I dragged you all the way out here, call it what you want. Poetic justice. Curiosity killed the cat. I wanted to see how far I could take you. I'm honestly a little disappointed in how easy it was to string along the supposed righteous minister hero. I'm a bit of an expert in desperate women, but you might win some special prize. You're not a hero at all. You're just like a little puppy, coming back every time even when you've been kicked."

By now, the hole Lindsay had been digging was nearly knee deep and about three feet in diameter. Despite her tender knee, she climbed out and stood alongside it. She looked Adam squarely in the face, suddenly resigned. There would be no last-minute reprieve-no escape, no salvation.

"You know what?" she said. "Dig your own d.a.m.n hole. My life hasn't been a picnic either, but that's not an excuse. It's hard, but every day I work toward trusting people and being open to life."

"Are you preaching to me, Reverend Harding?"

"Yes, so listen up, because this is my last sermon. You can let the bad things that happen to you make you hard and resentful and mean. That's your choice. I've got my affairs in order, both on earth and beyond."

"Oh, that's right," Adam said, seizing the shovel violently from her hands. He threw it to one side and pushed her to her knees. "I forgot for a second that you're this holy saint. The newspapers loved that, didn't they? Well, don't think you can scare me by telling me I'm going to h.e.l.l. I don't believe in any of that c.r.a.p."

Lindsay was slightly breathless from the pain of putting weight directly on her injured knee, but she looked straight at Adam. If she was going to die, she would do so staring her killer in the eye, with her self-respect intact.

"I don't believe in h.e.l.l, either. Not in the way you mean, anyway, with fiery pits and Satan with a pitchfork. But it seems like you and people like you are already stuck in a place that must feel like h.e.l.l. That's a pity."

"My mother believed in h.e.l.l," Adam said quietly. "I remember when I was a kid, she talked about it all the time. It terrified her. She died scared." Then more loudly he said. "Are you scared, Lindsay? If not for yourself, what about for your mother? Or Warren?" He pointed the gun right between her eyes. "How does it feel to be in my mother's shoes, Lindsay? How does it feel to know you're going to die like she did?"

Lindsay continued to stare straight ahead. Her focus was no longer on Adam or the gun. It turned inward, folding in and in until she could see the spark of life inside her own soul. Open-eyed, she prayed that her body would be found quickly. That her friends and family wouldn't be kept in suspense about what had happened to her. She prayed that Dunette would take care of Simmy and Kipper, and take Simmy to visit Sarabelle in prison sometimes. That Mike wouldn't beat himself up about leaving her behind in the woods. She prayed for his happiness, and the happiness of all her friends. She hoped Jess would come to see Owen as the extraordinary young man he was. She prayed that Warren would find someone who could love him the way he deserved to be loved. That her father and Teresa would make each other happy. She held them all inside her prayer, letting her heart fill so full with the burning embers of their love that she thought she might burst into flame.

She heard a soft whooshing sound. A dull thud like the thump of a fist against a pillow followed, and suddenly Adam was falling backwards. The beam of his flashlight arced upwards and then fell, its light shining out into the forest. She heard his body hit the ground, and a strange, wet gurgle emerged from his throat. She knelt where she was for a moment, her heart pounding so loud she was sure it could be heard for miles around.

"Lindsay!" a voice called out. "Get away from there!"

She scrambled to her feet and retreated into the tree cover. As she ducked behind a cottonwood tree, she could make out the shape of a large man emerging from behind a tree on the opposite side of the small clearing. He ran past the hole she'd been digging, holding a crossbow out in front of him, pointed at the supine body of Adam Tyrell. He kicked Adam's body with the heel of his boot. There was no movement. He grabbed the flashlight from where it had fallen and shined it on Adam. Lindsay gasped when the light illuminated the shaft of an arrow standing straight up in the middle of Adam's chest. The man reached down and pocketed Adam's gun.

He pointed the flashlight to the tree where Lindsay was concealed. "It's okay. He's dead. You can come out."

She edged cautiously from her hiding place. As she approached, the man turned the flashlight upwards, so it lit up his face from below. "It's me," he said.

There before her, wearing a camouflage cap pulled low over his brow, stood Warren's brother-in-law, Gibb White. The up-lit shadows cast by the flashlight made him look like a creature out of a horror movie, but she wouldn't have cared if Dracula himself stood before her. She'd never been so relieved to see anyone in her whole life. She stumbled toward him, collapsed against his chest, and burst into tears. Gibb allowed her to rest against him and sob.

When at last she began to quiet down, he asked gently, "What in the Sam h.e.l.l are you doing out here?"

Lindsay gulped air. "He was going to kill me. Thank you for saving my life."

Gibb looked at his feet, seeming embarra.s.sed by her grat.i.tude. "I didn't set out to do it. I was up in a blind, waiting for some feral hogs to come back to their nest. We'd been out for a couple hours, but hadn't seen 'em yet. Porter and his brother went back to the cabin to get 'em a couple hours sleep. They gotta drive back in the morning. I was just gonna give it another couple minutes, but I saw some lights. I'm sorry it took me so long to get a shot off," he said, looking back over his should at Adam's body. "You were both moving around so much, and I didn't like to take a chance on missing, what with him having a gun in your face."

"Thank you," Lindsay said again. They were the only words she seemed able to form.

"Is he the one you left Warren for?" Gibb asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Huh?"

Gibb looked down at his shoes again. "Well, Tanner had heard that her friend Janella saw you at the Olive Garden with some new man. Janella said y'all were pretty cozy, so I just figured..." he trailed off. "Anyways, it's none of my business, but I thought that wouldn't be too good if you left Warren for this guy and then he tried to blow you away. 'Cuz I've known Warren Satterwhite a lot of years, from even before me and Tanner got together, and he's the type of man who would never hurt a woman. Not like that."

"I know," Lindsay said. "Warren's a good guy."

Chapter 25.

"I wondered if I'd find you here."

Lindsay looked up, startled at the sound of a voice. She'd just finished conducting the hospital's Wednesday evening service-her first service since returning to work after six weeks off-and was gathering up her things to leave. Her homily had been on thankfulness, and it had been one of her most heartfelt ones. Over the past year, she'd been lied to, robbed, threatened, and nearly killed at least half a dozen times-all traumatic events that would leave her permanently changed. But even so, during the prayer and meditation time, she'd found herself genuinely thanking G.o.d for her life. Yes, she'd been given a pretty raw deal in the mother department. Yes, she'd had way more than her fair share of run-ins with murderers and lunatics. Yes, she'd broken up with the man she'd hoped would provide her a chance at living a normal, stable, adult life. And yes, she was experiencing yet another in a seemingly endless string of really bad hair days. Still, she was grateful for her life, pain and all.

"Jess!" Lindsay said, stepping off the dais to greet the girl.

Jess made her way up the aisle on crutches, the bottom of her empty pant leg pinned up. Lindsay tried to keep from looking at Jess's missing limb, but it was nearly impossible. It was as if someone had torn the airbrushed cover of a magazine, marring the perfection of the model.

"It's great to see you," Lindsay said. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. These things are a pain in the a.s.s," Jess said, tilting her head toward one of her crutches, "but I'll get fitted for my prosthesis in a few weeks. Then I'll be bionic." She smiled, her lovely features lighting up with what appeared to be genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. Jess eased herself into a seat in the front row of chairs, and said, "I wondered if you had time to talk?"

"Sure," Lindsay said. "Do you want to go to the cafeteria or something?"

"No, this is good. Kind of fitting, since this is where you and I met. I feel like it all kind of started here, you know?"

Although Jess had been transferred to Mount Moriah Medical Center almost two weeks before to complete the final stage of her rehabilitation, Lindsay hadn't seen her. She had only returned to work part-time, and whenever she'd tried to stop in for a visit, Jess always seemed to be at a physical therapy appointment or surrounded by a gaggle of visiting girlfriends.

Lindsay had been following the aftermath of that fateful night's events closely, and she knew that the police had interviewed Jess several times to fill in details of their investigation. The story that emerged finally allowed her to piece together a coherent narrative from the scattered fragments of the Boughtflower family story. Boughtflower's confession-the hidden body, the stolen money, the cursed fortune-at last made sense in light of the story of Boss Strong and Donahue McQueen's duplicity. As Boughtflower's health worsened, he had come to believe in the necessity of righting his family's historical wrong to the Lumbee people, their own ancestors. He came to regard the Boughtflower fortune with distrust and perhaps even disgust, believing that it had been an evil influence over his life and the lives of his forebears. So, he sought out Donahue McQueen's most direct living descendant, Dunette, to ensure that the money would leave his family's hands forever.

After Lindsay and Jess revealed what they knew of the story to the authorities, and the forensic examination surrounding Adam's death was over, a team of archeologists from UNC had descended on the site. Following weeks of preparation and careful excavation, the team pulled up a corroded metal box. It was fastened with a rusty lock of the same make as the key that Jess had been given by her grandfather. When they opened the box, though, all they could say was that it appeared to have contained papers at some point. Water and sandy soil had penetrated the rust-eaten fastenings and hinges. Frequent flooding and wet conditions since the 1950s had taken their toll, and nothing remained of the doc.u.ments that could've proven the veracity of the tale.

Before he died, Boughtflower told Jess that, when he visited Maxton in 1958, he'd intended to return the letters to a relative of Henry Berry's and make amends. He maintained that he and his wife had gotten caught up in KKK rally accidentally, and that he was mistaken for a Klansman solely because he was an outsider. Lindsay found that claim more than a little dubious-after all, the rally had been widely advertised in advance. If she had to bet money, she'd say that Boughtflower's desire to give the money to the Lumbees stemmed more from his belief that his fortune was cursed than any altruistic sentiments. However, she kept her opinions to herself. Jess maintained that her grandfather fled, not out of cowardice, but out of fear that the letters would be destroyed in the melee. Like the contents of Boss Strong's letters, Boughtflower's partic.i.p.ation in the Battle of Hayes Pond-as an aggressor or as a victim of mistaken ident.i.ty-was yet another secret that died with him.

Whatever the truth, after the events at Hayes Pond, Boughtflower changed his mind and buried the letters in a box near Henry Berry's grave marker. He'd been told the rough location of that marker by his father, but it took him weeks of searching to find a stone that matched the description he'd been given. In those pre-GPS days, he had devised the star map as a way of marking the location for anyone who might go looking in the future.

The archeologists, however, had as of yet discovered no trace of the alleged grave of Henry Berry Lowrie. Since Boughtflower had only found the marker, and never tried to locate the body, it was possible that the stone he had so carefully devised a map to was simply the wrong one. The team from UNC said they would continue to search the surrounding area, in case the stone had been moved or the topography had naturally shifted. However, based on what they'd found so far, it appeared that if Boughtflower's story were true, he had waited too long to unburden his family of it.

When Dunette found out that the letters that might have cast her great, great grandfather in a different light had likely been lost forever, she took it in her stride.

"The mystery is part of what makes Henry Berry special," Dunette had said.

Lindsay's mind railed against accepting that so many questions would remain forever unanswered, but deep down, she realized that, this time, no amount of searching or rumination was likely to yield satisfactory answers.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed. "It'd be like if somebody came up to you and said, 'Here's the Loch Ness Monster. He's been living in my pool all this time.'"

"Exactly, and even if I believe Boughtflower's story," Dunette continued, "it wouldn't make Donahue McQueen a hero, just a slightly smarter scoundrel. I think there's a reason they didn't find Henry Berry's body out there, and that's because it's not there. He got away."

"So you don't believe any of it?" Lindsay asked. "The letters? The betrayal? The grave?"

"Explain to me how Henry Berry hid from the law for more than ten years, escaped from prison Lord knows how many times, and then he's gonna go and get himself murdered right when he's about to get away with his biggest ever robbery? And his own brother-in-law, who'd stood by him through the war and all the tough times that followed did it?"

Lindsay, too, was inclined to doubt Boughtflower's version of events. He clearly loved Jess and wanted her to think well of him. Perhaps that, more than a desire to tell the truth, influenced his version of events.

"Anyway," Dunette continued, "However that family came by that money, I thought about Boughtflower's will long and hard. It'd sure be nice to have all that cash. I could quit working and concentrate on my nursing cla.s.ses. Heck, I could just up and quit work, period. Buy a little house somewhere and live out my days. But I don't want that money now any more than I wanted it before I knew all this. Maybe Boughtflower wanted to do some good by giving it to me, or maybe he just wanted to pa.s.s the curse on to me. I'm of the same mind as he was in the end-wherever it came from, that money was stolen and it's cursed. Look at all the trouble it's caused. If it does end up coming to me, I've already talked to Mike about creating a scholarship fund and donating to some charities in that part of the state. That's the only reason I don't just drop my claim on it right this minute. Because if the Philpots end up with it, Yancy'll probably just buy hisself a new truck and a big house and a trip to Las Vegas. Too many people died in the Lowrie War for me to let that jacka.s.s spend Scuffletown's money on box seats at NASCAR."

Another mystery that the investigation had cleared up was the ident.i.ty of the shadowy Irish secretary, Ellen, whose ghostly presence had cast a pall over the whole affair. Even knowing that Jess played no part in the crimes, Lindsay had expected to hear of the discovery of the woman's body at a Raleigh hotel. Ellen, she presumed, had met her end at Adam's hands. In fact, Jess had revealed that there was no such person. Ellen had been Jess's invention, designed to conceal the fact that she'd been conducting business on her grandfather's behalf long before she came of age. For years, "Ellen" had dealt with landscapers and accountants and others in Boughtflower's employ-always conducting business by phone or email. Jess had come by her convincing Irish accent while rehearsing for a school play during her freshman year. When Boughtflower started needing more live-in care around the same time that Jess became legally allowed to handle his affairs, "Ellen" moved away.

Lindsay pushed aside these recollections and took a seat next to Jess in the front row of the chapel. "Your surgeon told me you'll be discharged tomorrow," she said.

"That's the plan. I thought it'd be weird if we saw each other out somewhere before we had a chance to talk," Jess said.

"Oh?"

"I guess I wanted to apologize or explain. I dunno." She began picking at a label sticker that was affixed to the metal support on one of her crutches.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Jess. You got away from Adam. And you saved Owen's life. You certainly don't owe me any explanation. All I did was b.u.mble into the situation following Mike. If anything, I should apologize to you. It was me that Adam came looking for originally."

"It's not that that I feel bad about," Jess said. "My grandfather told me that he'd asked for your help. He was worried that he'd given me more than I could handle, but he didn't know who else to ask. He didn't have any friends, and my parents would've been useless. He felt like we could trust you because you were a minister and because he'd read in the paper that you were some kind of big hero. But I didn't listen. I ignored him and was trying to take care of everything all by myself. I kind of resented the idea of having somebody else get involved. I didn't want anybody's help."

"That's understandable. You'd already handled so much. I heard how you'd been running things for your grandfather for a long time. That's a lot for a young person to handle."

"I guess," Jess shrugged. "Everyone's always just expected me to be, like, wise beyond my years or something. But I totally messed everything up. I'd always been so careful. First, I hid how sick my grandpa was because he didn't want anybody to know. Then I started doing all the money stuff for him when he couldn't do it anymore. I never told anybody. Not my parents or my friends. Not even Owen." She looked up at Lindsay, her lovely amber eyes filled with tears. "But then I went and told Adam or Terry or whatever the h.e.l.l his name was everything practically as soon as I met him. Because of that mistake, we all almost died and I lost my leg. It's all my fault. I just can't believe how dumb I was."

Lindsay rested her hand gently on Jess's forearm and allowed her to cry for a few moments. "Adam was an expert manipulator. The police said he spent his entire life scamming people. He fooled everyone, even really experienced, powerful businesspeople." She added ruefully, "If it helps, at least you didn't share a basket of unlimited breadsticks with him."

Jess wiped her face and smiled. "True."

Lindsay paused, remembering how Adam had compared her to a pathetic puppy. "But I do know how you feel. It's awful to have somebody abuse your trust like that. It can make you question everything."

Jess nodded. "Adam just seemed so honest. He came up to me when I was coming out of my acting lesson one day and arranged to meet me at the hotel in Raleigh. It was his idea to tell everyone I was meeting an agent because that would be a plausible cover story. I believed, like, everything he told me, even the stuff that I should've known was a crock. I really thought he was a private investigator working for my grandfather. He just knew all this stuff that I didn't think anybody else would know, like about the will and Dunette and you. I completely bought it. And I totally should know better. If I've learned anything in my life, it's the hotter the guy, the more likely he is to be full of c.r.a.p." She paused. "Owen's the exception, but only because he doesn't know he's hot."

"How are things going between you and Owen?" Lindsay asked.

"Oh, you mean because of the whole 'only dating him to get a ride to Robeson County' thing? Yeah, I apologized to him about that. It kind of started that way-using him to get stuff, you know? But as I got to know him, I realized he was actually a really amazing person. I told him I was sorry for using him, and he forgave me. I made sure to emphasize that everyone would think he was a total jerk if he broke up with the girl whose leg just got chopped off."

"Smart move," Lindsay said with a smile. She hoped that Jess's sharp sense of humor would continue to carry her through in life. "So, I still don't know how you escaped from Adam."

"Well, when I heard what Adam had to say, that seemed like the solution to lots of stuff. I thought I'd just meet him in Raleigh and then get him to drive me and help me with stuff, so then I wouldn't even need to involve you or Owen or anybody. Once he got me to Raleigh, though, he freaked out because Owen came inside after he dropped me off. I'd left my bag in his car. Adam was like, 'What if he saw me?' And I was like, 'Relax. I'm sure he didn't see you, because if he had, he probably would've flipped because your picture has been all over the news.' And he was disguised anyway with a hat and gla.s.ses, but he was being really weird about it and asking me how much Owen knew, saying stuff like, 'I know you told him something about me.' He was being so aggressive, so finally I just said, forget this. I'll get Owen to drive me. That's when Adam turned on me."

"And made you help him kidnap Owen?"

Jess hung her head. "Yeah. I always thought if I was ever in a situation like that, I'd be all heroic, like, 'You can torture me, but I'll never betray my friends.' But truthfully, as soon as he showed me he had a gun, I fell apart. I really thought he was going to kill me, and I just went into some kind of robot obedience mode. He told me to call Owen and get him to come back to Raleigh. Then he made me tie him up and help put him in the trunk." Jess got a far-off look in her eyes. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes once again. It was obvious that the shame of capitulating to Adam so quickly weighed on her enormously.

"But you got away," Lindsay quietly reminded her. "And you saved Owen."

"Yeah. Adam had my arms tied up but not my legs. When he bent down to open the trunk and get Owen out, he took his eyes off me for a second, so I kicked him really hard in the b.a.l.l.s. Then when he was on the ground, I kicked him in the face."

Lindsay's mind flashed back to her own narrow escape from Leander Swoopes, which also involved a well-placed kick. "Nice work," she said.

"I know, right?" Jess said, perking up slightly. "As long as you can kick guys in the crotch, who needs karate?"

"You were really brave. I'm sure you would've made your grandfather even prouder than he already was of you," Lindsay said.

"I hope so," Jess sighed. "I'm disappointed about the letters, though. That was so important to him. And my dad is being really stubborn about the will, and because my dad says we should fight it, of course my mom is just like, 'Whatever you say, Yancy.' He says the money's for my college and medical expenses, but I keep trying to tell him I don't need it. I'm still gonna be an actress." Her voice was defiant, but the tip of her nose reddened and the tears that had gathered began to roll down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the backs of her hands and looked plaintively at Lindsay, her mask of strength and determination momentarily slipping.

Lindsay reached out and took hold of one of Jess's hands. "I know everyone probably keeps telling you it's going to be okay, and it is. I promise it is. But it's all right to be sad. It's all right to be really, really p.i.s.sed off," Lindsay said. "It's great that you're staying positive and being brave, but what happened to you sucks. It's terrible that you lost your leg because of what Adam did to you."

Jess nodded. They were quiet for a long moment while Jess quietly sniffled. At last she said, "Thanks for saying that. I guess this is kind of your job, right? Talking to people who've had c.r.a.ppy stuff happen to them?"

Lindsay squeezed Jess's hand. "Sometimes. Sometimes I get to celebrate with them when the c.r.a.ppy things turn out all right after all."

Jess smiled and dabbed at her face with a tissue. "Well, I'm gonna be one of those people. I am gonna be an actress. And I am gonna be successful. Adam Tyrell can suck it, and so can that d.a.m.n snake. I read that amputation is really big right now because of that cancer guy in The Fault in Our Stars and that South African runner who killed his girlfriend. And Paul McCartney married that girl who didn't have a leg. So there's definitely money in disability if the rest of you is good looking." She tossed her head, sending a ripple through her long, glossy hair. "Really, my dad just wants the money because he's greedy."

"I'm sorry. That must be hard," Lindsay said.

"Well, I suppose it's kind of my grandpa's fault for being such a p.r.i.c.k to him and my mom. They probably feel like they deserve something for all those years of putting up with his c.r.a.p."

"He was never short with you?" Lindsay asked. It was something that had baffled her, having seen Boughtflower's personality in action.

"No. He had this weird superst.i.tion about me. Like, he'd always known the story about how his family came to have the money to start their factory. His mom died young and his dad was an alcoholic. I guess my great grandpa was an a.s.shole to everybody, and that being jerks kind of ran in the family. So when my grandma got pregnant, my grandpa started freaking out about it. Because of 'the curse' or whatever. He decided to reveal all the stuff in the letters and give the money back. But you know what happened with all of that. Then his wife left him and his health started tanking. He got super fat. When my mom came back to live with him after her mom died, I guess he didn't trust her. He treated her like she was stupid, which, I guess she kind of is."

Lindsay allowed the disparaging comment about Margo to pa.s.s without comment. It had taken her until she was 30 to begin seeing her parents as full human beings. She couldn't fault Jess for oversimplifying and seeing her mother through an unflattering lens.

"Anyway, then my mom got pregnant and married my dad while they were still in high school and all the stuff with the miscarriages happened. I guess my grandpa was a total wreck back then. He was drinking a lot and he thought he was dying, so he sold his company. n.o.body outside our family knows it, but he gave all the money from that sale away to charity. Then I was born." She pointed to her face. "Magic. He thought it was because he gave some of the money away. Apparently he thought I looked just like Rhoda Strong, the Queen of Scuffletown, which is silly because n.o.body even really knows what she looked like. Anyway, he was like, 'You getting born was the first good thing that happened to our family since the whole Lowrie thing went down.' He thought it was an omen. But it's not easy, you know? Being, like, supernatural." She rolled her eyes and made little wavy motions with her hands.

"It sounds like everyone had a lot of expectations for you," Lindsay said.

"That's what's cool about Owen. He doesn't try to control me at all. He wants what's best for me, but he kind of just lets me be the way I am, you know?" Jess smiled, but she looked slightly pained. When she spoke again, her voice wavered slightly with emotion. "A lot of guys would've freaked out because of the leg amputation. I'm gonna need a couple more surgeries and the doctors said I can't drive for at least another year." Her hands unconsciously went to the knee that no longer had a leg below it. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "But Owen's like, 'Whatever, you're still you.' He's just... there for me."

As if on cue, the door to the chapel swung open and Owen and Mike entered.

"Hey, sorry, are we interrupting something?" Mike asked. "The nurse in the rehab unit said we could find you here."

"No, we were just talking," Jess said. "I'm ready." She turned back to Lindsay. "I asked Owen to bring me take-out from the Mex-Itali. I'm so bored with the food in here."

Owen held up two plastic bags with Styrofoam containers in them. "You and my dad can join us if you want. I got a ton of food. We're gonna eat outside in the meditation garden. It's really nice out there."

"Have you eaten?" Mike asked Lindsay. When she shook her head, he said to Owen, "Why don't you and Jess head out there? We'll catch up with you in a minute."

Owen and Jess walked out together, leaving Mike and Lindsay standing side by side near the front of the chapel. Mike looked around. "Can I help you pack up, your, uh, Bible or something?" he asked.

"I'm basically finished. I just need to drop some stuff off in the office and then I'll be ready," Lindsay said.