apparent in her face. Dressed casually in a blue sweater and jeans, she was sitting on a bench in front of a huge tree on the Emory campus. There was an open book in her hands that was the same civil procedure casebook we used at Georgia; however, Julie was holding the book upside down and staring at an unknown object in the distance. It was a posed shot, but the purpose of the photo with an upside-down book and faraway look in her eyes wasn't clear. I didn't try to access Julie's myspace.com page. I avoided the personal side of the Web because it was so full of lies and perversion.
I opened the photos of the places mentioned in the e-mail. There were multiple photos of the two apartments and a PDF file giving the specifications of each. The apartment near Julie's place was the second story of a detached garage, and the second location was an end unit of a block of townhomes. I was shocked to discover that one month's rent for the townhome equaled three months at my apartment. The garage apartment was even more expensive. I quickly closed the files. I would need to phone Ms. Patrick and find out about a cheaper place to live.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING at 5:30 a.m. I rolled over and opened my eyes. There were no chickens to tend, but I enjoyed getting up for an early morning run and loved breathing the fresh air of a new day. On even the coldest days of winter, I bundled up for a forty-five minute jog that included a mile-long section alongside the Oconee River. While I ran, I rejoiced. It wasn't a time for intercession, and I didn't try to make it serious. I simply enjoyed the world God created and the physical strength he'd given me.
I covered the last half mile in a sprint that made my heart pound. When I finished, I walked across the parking lot, breathing heavily, with my hands on my hips. I drank two large glasses of water while I cooled off, showered, and dressed for the day. The runner's rush and the glasses of water curbed my morning appetite, and I didn't cook a complicated breakfast. Fruit, yogurt, and a hard-boiled egg were typical. While eating, I prepared for the day's classes. Information learned in the morning stayed with me better than what I studied at night. Most law students didn't crack a casebook in the morning and dragged themselves to class on a skid of strong coffee. I'd never finished a cup of coffee in my life.
After my first class, I went to the placement office and told the job placement director about the Savannah offer. She congratulated me and wrote down the information for her statistics. The placement office had rooms with phones and computers for students to use in job search activities. I closed the door and phoned Ms. Patrick.
'Your acceptance of the job arrived in the mail this morning,' she said.
'Really?' It was amazing that an envelope could travel from Powell Station to Savannah in less than two days.
'Did you contact Julie Feldman?'
'Yes ma'am.' I told her about my e-mail from the Emory student. 'The places Julie sent me are not in my budget. I need to save as much money as possible.'
'I'm looking at your resume and see that you've worked with the elderly.'
'Yes ma'am. I enjoyed it.'
Starting in college, I'd found part-time work as a sitter for older women in nursing homes. Some were demanding; others docile. It was easy work that allowed time for study when my clients slept. One reference on my resume was a woman whose mother I'd cared for.
'Would you be interested in staying with an elderly woman in Savannah?' Ms. Patrick asked. 'Her daughter is a client of the firm and told me recently that her mother needs a live-in caregiver to spend the night. The mother is self-sufficient, but she's reached the age where it's better to have someone around the house on a regular basis. She lives in a beautiful old home a few blocks from our office. I don't know what the family would be willing to pay, but the daughter mentioned room and board if I could think of a woman to help.'
A free place to stay within walking distance of the office sounded like a sign from heaven.
'Yes ma'am, but I don't want to violate my contract with the law firm. I promised to devote all my efforts to firm business.'
Ms. Patrick laughed so loudly that I felt embarrassed. 'I appreciate your integrity, but you're a summer clerk, not a first-year associate. Seventy-hour workweeks aren't part of the plan. This is your last opportunity to enjoy a law office without any responsibilities. When I talk to Christine Bartlett, I'll tell her what you'll be doing at the firm so she can take that into consideration.'
'What's her mother's name?'
'I don't know her first name. I've always called her Mrs. Fairmont. She's an interesting woman.'
Interesting could mean a lot of things, and staying with a woman in her own home would be a lot different from the controlled environment of a nursing facility. I immediately thought about the use of alcohol. I had no intention of becoming a dying alcoholic's barmaid.
'And I'm sure they would have a lot of questions for me.' I paused. 'I'd have a few too.'
'Do you want me to pursue it?'
'Yes ma'am,' I said quickly. 'But I know from experience that compatibility is important. You can pass along Mrs. Frady as a reference. She's listed on my resume.'
I'd stayed several hours a week with Mrs. Frady's mother for over a year until the eighty-six-year-old woman died. I'd fought off bedsores, spooned chipped ice into her toothless mouth, brushed the old woman's hair, given simple manicures, decorated her room, and tried to make her last days on earth as pleasant as possible for a person trapped in a body that deteriorated before my eyes. So many people thanked me at the funeral that I was embarrassed. Any Christian should have done the same thing.
'She's kind. Her mother and I hit it off from the start.'
'I'll call Christine and get back to you.'
LATE THAT AFTERNOON I checked my e-mail at my apartment and immediately noticed a message from an unknown sender with the subject line 'My Mother in Savannah.'
It was from Christine Bartlett. She wanted to talk to me as soon as possible and left both an office and a home phone number. I didn't have a cell phone and made my phone calls through my computer connection. I looked at the clock. It was almost suppertime, the telemarketer time of day. I would eat and call later.
I ate in silence. The TV in the room wasn't plugged in; however, it was impossible to escape invading noise from the people living on either side of me. I used earplugs at night, but during the day, I sometimes tuned out distractions by daydreaming. Tonight I imagined that I was eating at home, sitting between the twins with Mama at one end of the table and Daddy at the other. Emma and Ellie were talking about our laying hens, and Bobby asked Daddy if he'd talked to Mr. Waldrup about a summer job. Mama had a slightly sad look on her face that I took to mean she was missing me. I missed her too.
I washed the dishes in the tiny sink. Compared to cleanup following a meal at home, kitchen duty in my apartment couldn't be called work. After a few minutes, I returned to the computer and placed the call. Mrs. Bartlett answered on the third ring. She had the smooth accent of the coast.
'Is this a good time to talk?' I asked.
'Oh, yes, Ken and I are relaxing with a glass of wine on the veranda at our place on the marsh. Let me put you on the speakerphone so he can hear as well.'
I heard a click and some background noise.
'We're both here,' Mrs. Bartlett said. 'Gerry tells me you'll be moving to Savannah in a few weeks to work for Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter.'
'Yes ma'am.'
'You'll love Samuel Braddock. He's one of the sweetest men in Savannah. He was Daddy's lawyer. He could have retired years ago but still works like a junior associate.'
A male voice spoke. 'He lets Joe Carpenter run the firm. Joe is a good lawyer, but I can't say he's one of the sweetest men in Savannah.'
Mrs. Bartlett spoke. 'Nonsense, I'm sure you'll love working there. Gerry told me all about you, and I took the liberty of calling Betty Lou Frady. We had the best talk.'
'I enjoyed caring for her mother; however, she was in a nursing
'And she went on and on about you. Says you're tall and carry yourself like a New York model. So many young women these days slouch around and don't stand up straight enough to carry off a decent debut. Do you have a boyfriend?'
'No ma'am.'
'I've got several young men I want to introduce you to while you're here this summer. My boys are grown and
