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fall 1999
It had been embarrassing, to say the least, when Aaron had showed up at Hope House’s administrative building and realized that no one had any reason to expect him.
“Who are you?” asked Diane, the receptionist, for the third or fourth time.
Aaron, who hadn’t slept more than an uncomfortable hour or two out of the last two days, let out a long sigh.
“I’m Aaron Guethle, a friend of Jen McCullough,” he told her again, trying to sound patient and sane. “Jen wrote me and said you guys could use some volunteers, and…” He indicated his duffel bag. “Here I am.”
“Uh-huh…” Diane nodded slowly, squinting up at him. Aaron kicked himself in his head. How could he have thought he could just show up here? Stupid. “Well, why don’t you…sit over there?” Diane suggested, her voice vague. She indicated the bank of chairs next to the entrance. “And I’ll see if I can get Jen down here.”
Aaron nodded, hefted his bag to his shoulder, and chose a seat. Diane kept her eyes trained on him until she was sure he was sitting and not planning to burn the place down and then picked up her phone. Aaron closed his eyes and tried to pray, but his mind was not primed for it. He’d had four or five coffees and a bunch of fast food and almost no sleep since leaving home, and he was still reeling from whatever had transpired with Luce. But he tried. “Thanks, God, for a safe trip,” he whispered. “Please bless Diane. I think I’m really freaking her out.”
Diane’s voice on the phone was soothing and quiet. The room was warm, with the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Aaron had already yawned more than once. He tilted his head back and, without exactly meaning to, fell asleep.
Some time later, Aaron felt himself being pulled out of a dream in which he very much would rather have stayed, a dream in which he and Luce were together and in which whatever had gone wrong had never happened. But someone was shaking his shoulder, and there were multiple voices discussing him, though he couldn’t make out the words. He fought to stay in the dream, but the moment was gone, and he finally gave in and opened his eyes. Above him stood Jen, smiling; Diane, looking stern but no longer suspicious; a young man, maybe a couple of years older than he; and a middle-aged woman.
“Good morning,” Jen teased. Aaron pushed himself into a sitting position, determined to make a good impression, and focused on the only friendly face in the bunch—Jen’s.
“Hey, good to see you,” he croaked.
“Yeah, you too,” she said, stifling a laugh. “Uh…what are you doing here?”
Aaron, who had—to the extent that he’d planned anything at all—planned on finding Jen alone and getting her blessing, suddenly didn’t have any idea what he was doing here. Only that he’d been so distracted all summer and so frustrated the other night and so wanted to be useful.
But he didn’t know how to say all that, so he spread his hands wide, palms up, almost like a plea, and said, “I’m here to work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah.” Aaron stood up, feeling more confident now that he was on the same level as everyone else. “In your letter. You said I might be useful. So here I am.”
Everyone looked at him, stunned, for a moment, and then the older woman piped up. “Aaron, is it? My name is Mae Johanssen. I’m the founder and director of Hope House.”
“Nice to meet you.” Aaron took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake.
“This is very unusual. I don’t think you did a good job thinking this through, do you?” Aaron didn’t know how to respond to that, but it didn’t matter, because she kept right on talking. “Typically, someone who wants to volunteer at Hope House will contact us first, both to see whether their services are actually needed, and so that we can determine whether he or she is a good fit. We serve vulnerable people here, including children, and I will not take any chances.”
Mae had not moved her eyes one millimeter from Aaron’s the entire time she’d been speaking. He wasn’t used to such scrutiny. He was equal parts impressed with her intensity and offended at the implication that he might be some kind of pervert. He chose to remain silent, which she appeared to expect.
“Jen tells me you’ve come all the way from New England. Maine, is it?” she continued. Aaron nodded. “All right. Your enthusiasm is noted. Here’s what we’ll do. You will join my family for supper tonight. We can begin the preliminary interviews tomorrow morning. Tonight, you’ll stay with my son James.” Mae placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, and Aaron could suddenly see the resemblance. “Jen, you’ll bring Aaron to the cabin now, so he can get washed up.” Without waiting for anyone to agree to her plan, Mae turned away and began speaking with Diane about a fight that had broken out between residents earlier that day. James and Jen turned back to Aaron and the three of them went out the door, Aaron bringing up the rear.
As soon as they were outside, Jen pounced on him. “I can’t believe this; what on earth are you doing here?” she asked laughing. Before Aaron had a chance to answer, she grabbed James’ hand and said, “Wait—you two didn’t really meet inside. James, this is Aaron Guethle, a friend from Boston. Aaron, this is James Johanssen, my fiancé.”
“Your…what?” The blush and giggle from Jen made it clear that this was very new. “Well…no wonder you said you love this place,” he stammered. “Congrats, man,” he told James, shaking his hand.
“Thanks.” James smiled and put his arm around Jen, pulling her into his side. “I just couldn’t wait. I popped the question yesterday. We’re getting married in April.” His wide, easy smile matched Jen’s.
A carefree couple in love, doing everything the right way—Aaron’s stomach clenched. He wanted to run his fingers up and down Luce’s arm, just like James was doing with Jen. But he’d blown it, hadn’t he?
“Well, that’s great. Really, just great.” Aaron tried to sound sincere as he took a few steps in the direction they’d been going. Jen and James continued on, too.
“Sorry about my mom. She can be kind of intense.”
“I cried during my interview!”
Great, Aaron thought.
Jen and James kept up an enthusiastic chatter for the two or three minutes that it took to walk to James’ cabin, but Aaron didn’t listen. How had he gone from happier than he’d ever been to alone and far from home in under 48 hours? He was kicking himself and fighting to keep his eyes open at the same time.
+++
By the time Aaron had been at Hope House for three weeks, he’d settled into the beginnings of a routine. Mae had decreed that he would continue staying with James, so, every morning, they ate a rushed breakfast and prayed together. (Well, James prayed—after the first morning, Aaron realized how much he had to learn.) Then, James went to his work as the Director of Programming and Aaron headed to Diane’s desk to pick up his list for the day. Until Mae had a better idea, he was responsible for the grounds and the easy repairs: clearing brush, pulling weeds, raking leaves, fixing signposts, painting doors and window frames, and other odd jobs around the property. At 5:00 every day, he joined the staff and residents for a short service in the chapel, and then he went back to the cabin for dinner. Sometimes, James was home for dinner too, or Jen came over. But often, they were both at meetings or running programs and Aaron had a few hours to kill before he had any company. When that happened, he took walks around the property or he stayed inside and read his Bible. James prayed again every night, and Aaron was in bed by 10. He hadn’t lived such a regimented life since he’d been a child. At first, it rankled, but he began to ease into it. The work was physically challenging, and he often finished his days sweaty and exhausted, which was a blessing, really. With all of the concentration required to learn how to do all of his tasks well—not to mention his way around the property and the intricacies of life at Hope House—he didn’t have a lot of energy left to let his mind wander. Though when he did find himself with a quiet moment, his mind invariably went to Luce. He knew from the few conversations he’d had with his mother that Luce had visited her. His gratitude for that fact went deep. “They’re quiet visits,” Katherine told him, “but nice. She’s a sweet girl, Aaron.”
“Yeah, she is.”
In the silence that followed, Aaron could tell that his mother was trying to figure out how to ask him what on earth was going on without having to ask him what on earth was going on. He didn’t give her any relief. He was glad to hear that his mother was okay. But he was glad, too, to finish the conversation and get back to work.