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Danny tells everyone he’s certain he’ll start this year because the first-string quarterback just graduated. They are kind in response, politely enthusiastic, but Luke is the one they want to discuss.

“Forget about football,” says Harrison. “Forget about college too. You need to start entering the bigger competitions. Like the WSL stuff. That’ll get you sponsors.”

Luke shrugs. “It’s too expensive. The guys who enter the best WSL meets each have four good boards and are spending about fifty grand a year on travel. I don’t have fifty grand to spend on something I hope might work out. I don’t even have fifty grand for something I know will work out.”

Except…there is nothing he would love more than to surf professionally. And what could be better than having a career you love so much you’d do it for free?

“Start a GoFundMe campaign,” I suggest quietly.

“I’m not sure Luke’s desire to surf counts as a charitable donation, Juliet,” Grady says with a derisive laugh, but no one laughs with him.

“There are lots of Go Fund Me’s that aren’t for charity,” argues Caleb.

Grady rolls his eyes. “He’s not making fifty grand that way.”

I glare at him. “He might at least get enough to buy the surfboards and pay some entry fees. It would be a start. I suppose your suggestion would be that he just prays for the money?”

“Juliet!” Danny scolds softly.

Luke’s gaze holds mine, the fire reflecting in his eyes. He raises a brow. “You won’t stand up for yourself but you’ll stand up for me,” that look says.

“Yes,” I reply silently. “Get used to it.”

* * *

I sing on Sunday morning, but the second the service is over, Donna and I hightail it back to the house to get ready for a visit from Aaron Tomlinson, the head of the state church council. She tells the boys to go surfing so they stay out of our hair, and I struggle not to be irritated that I’m the only one who has to help.

Mr. Tomlinson arrives early in the evening, right after the boys get home—a pale man with chubby hands and a fake smile, driving a Ford Taurus that’s seen better days. He seems just as impressed with himself, however, as Donna and the pastor are with him.

Over dinner, he grills the pastor about his plans for the church and the services he offers the community. He grills Donna about how she spends her day and ponders whether she might be able to carve out more time to run a church women’s club if she spent less time on the garden.

I want to choke the guy with my bare hands long before he turns to me.

“And what about you, Juliet? The Allens gave you an amazing opportunity, removing you from your home the way they did. Surely you don’t plan to squander it.”

My cheeks heat. I didn’t realize, until this moment, that Mr. Tomlinson knew about my past. I thought I was here as Danny’s girlfriend, not as some bad-girl-made-good. Donna winces, staring at her plate, but it’s Luke I notice most. His eyes are narrowed and he’s gripping his fork so tight it’s putting Donna’s flatware at risk

“I’m taking classes at the community college this fall,” I finally reply.

“Yes, dear,” he says, “but what is your plan? Surely you don’t intend to continue depending on the pastor’s charity for the rest of your life?”

Luke’s hand lands on the table so heavily we all jump. Everyone dismisses it, as if it was an accident, but I suspect—based on that locked jaw of his—it was not.

“We love having Juliet here,” Donna says, her voice ringing with sincerity. “If it were up to me, she would stay forever.”

“But what about the mission you talked about opening in Central America?” he asks. “You’ve talked about that plan for a decade.”

I look up from my plate. I knew Donna had vaguely discussed the possibility of one day opening a mission somewhere. I didn’t know it was a certainty.

Donna gives him a diplomatic smile, accompanied by a small shrug. “We’re still young. There’s time for all that later. Besides, we wouldn’t want to go until Danny was out of school. It’s going to take all of us to make this work.”

My mouth falls open as I look from her to Danny. She thinks he’d go with them? Is that what he thinks too?

It’s the oddest thing, but the idea of them leaving doesn’t fill me with fear—it fills me with light. If the Allens are leaving, then I could leave…them. That plan, the one that’s been percolating in the back of my head for months, suddenly becomes a possibility. I’m not even sure I knew it was percolating there, until this moment.

I’ve been claiming to anyone who will listen that I’ve got no clue what I want to do with my life. Maybe I had a clue after all…I just couldn’t see how to make room for it.

Mr. Tomlinson returns to me, unaware or perhaps just ambivalent about the chaos he has brought to the table. “That, my dear, is why you need some kind of long-range plan. You need to create a goal for yourself beyond community college.”