Page 121 of Sing with Me

“He’s dead now.”

“And in heaven. Christians believe that they will go to heaven when they die.”

“This is heaven for me.” Mom said it like she truly believed it.

“Is it, Mom? Our bodies grow old, and we have health problems. Aging notwithstanding, we have problems. Work problems, family problems. We still don’t know where Elisa is, for example. For all we know, she might be...” Diehl dared not say it.

Mom shook her head. “So young. So young.”

Diehl reached over to pat her shoulder.

“When I was twelve, I never thought of running away,” Mom said. “Who would run away from free food and free lodging? We might only have been millionaires at that time, but we had enough to get by.”

Diehl decided not to parse what Mom just said. Yes, there were people who lived better lives while earning less than the Brooks family.

Like Skye.

“That’s the thing, Mom. Brin, Ivan, and Skye have something we don’t.” Diehl was sure now, more than ever, that whatever he had tried to believe in college had been incomplete. If he had truly believed in Jesus, then whatever Pastor Gonzalez preached at church wouldn’t have sounded half-foreign and half-familiar. It would all be familiar, wouldn’t it?

“Don’t go there. Jesus is just an idea, you know?” Mom slid off the barstool to put away the rest of the cheesecake.

“I used to think that too,” Diehl said. “To some, He might be a concept, a character. To Brin and Ivan and Skye, Jesus is the Son of God, who can save my soul—and yours too, Mom—from the pit of despair and rescue me from the fires of hell. That’s what they’ve been telling me. It’s a bit different from what I heard in college. To be honest, I don’t know what I believed in college. It’s like I need a spiritual reboot or do-over or something.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Diehl. Don’t make me disown you.” She closed the refrigerator door.

“What is disown?” A little voice asked.

Ethan.

Diehl spun around on the barstool. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping, young man?”

“You too, Dad.” Ethan frowned. “Why are you eating Skye’s cheesecake?”

“I thought this is a community cheesecake.” Diehl put his fork down slowly.

“Uh-uh. We worked very hard on that.” Ethan approached the remaining cheesecake on Diehl’s dessert plate. “I don’t think it’s set.”

“Do you want to check and see?” Grandma asked, opening the refrigerator door again.

“Do I have to brush my teeth a second time tonight?” Ethan looked at Diehl for an answer.

“Yes, Son.”

“Then no. I’ll just have water, thank you.” Ethan waited by the island, next to Diehl’s cheesecake.

“Sounds good to me. Get it yourself, Ethan.” Diehl continued eating.

Mom shook her head at Diehl’s response. Whatever. “The child is nine. He knows how to push the tab to get cold water from the fridge.”

“He can’t reach the shelf to get a cup,” Mom said.

“Let’s not spoil our little prince.”

“Is my father a real king?” Ethan’s eyes widened.

“Figure of speech,” Diehl said.

“I figured you were fibbing.” Ethan took the cup of water from Mom. “Thank you, Grandma. You’re so good to me.”

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