Catch Me When I Fall by Westerhof Patricia Read Free Book Online Page A

start their raucous cries. At eight-thirty, the earliest he thought it would be polite, he called. Naomi’s mother answered. “She went to her friend Audrey’s house overnight last night, Eustace. She should be at school, though.” He doubted that. He tried to remember Audrey’s last name to look up her number. She lived in town. Maybe she’d taken Naomi to the hospital. He hoped Naomi was okay.
    For the next three days, he staked out her locker at school until the opening bell rang. Finally, on Friday, he saw her and scurried over. Before he could say a word, she held up a hand as if stopping traffic. “I’m fine.” She did look fine, if maybe a little puffy around the eyes. “But you and I are through. Audrey says I deserve better than you, and she’s right.” Her voice was thick. Emotional. She turned and burrowed in her locker.
    â€œI’m sorry.” He took his hand and moved it toward her thin shoulder. His hand looked big and clumsy to him, and her shoulder, even covered in the wool of her sweater, seemed fragile as a blown-glass ornament.
    â€œGo away. I mean it.” Her words were muffled, but they sounded final.
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    Beatrice scooped meatball soup into three bowls. She wished she could get that song out of her head. “In this world of dark-ness, we-e mu-ust shine.” She tried to remember a hymn from the morning’s church service to replace it with. “I didn’t like the sermon today,” she announced. Willem was dousing his soup with Maggi sauce and Eustace just stared into his bowl. Something was up with him again. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. “I didn’t like it at all,” she repeated. Still neither looked up. “I don’t know where Reverend Dykstra gets his notions. Sounded like he was saying we could work out our own salvation. ‘Work out your salvation with fear and trembling!’ Sometimes he sounds Catholic or something.”
    Eustace looked up. “Do you even know any Catholics, Mom?”
    He was lippy these past couple of weeks, Beatrice thought. His voice flat, like he didn’t care whether he goaded them. “No, but I know what they believe. Some of it’s not even Christian.”
    â€œLike what?” Eustace buttered a piece of bread.
    â€œLike that. People doing things to help get them saved. We don’t believe in that. It’s all from God. It’s all God’s work.” She glanced over at Willem, trying to signal her need for support.
    â€œSo we shouldn’t do good things?”
    â€œThat’s not what I . . . Forget it.” She added another ladle of soup to her bowl.
    â€œYou leave your mother alone,” said Willem. “She’s a good woman. She knows her catechism.”
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    Eustace lay on his bed wishing he had listened to the sermon. It had been about making amends, he knew that much.
    His friend Tony was Catholic. Once, the two of them had looked at the Victoria’s Secret catalogue on the computer at Tony’s house. A long time ago now. They’d ogled the bra and underpants pages until Tony was red-faced and giggly like a girl. Flushed with excitement, or maybe guilt, Tony joked that he’d have to go to Confession that week. Do penance.
    Eustace fiddled with his little MP 3 player and inserted his ear buds. He would like to do penance. He’d do anything. Shovel manure. Clear rocks. Straighten fences, as best he could. Whatever would make things right.
    He kept telling himself things were okay. It was sad that he’d lost Naomi, but good about the baby.
    He hit Shuffle on his hip-hop playlist and pressed the ear buds farther into his ears.
    He’d lost Naomi. He’d lost the baby. He’d lost the righteous path.
    He would live with these losses, even if he left Poplar Grove someday. They had lodged in his belly, where