The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

wished her own son would have transformed in this way. That wasn’t in the plan. At least now, she felt in some small way, she had helped Chip, and hoped and prayed with everything in her, unlike her son, Chip would keep going forward.

◆◆◆

Grant had been in that position before. Looking at his son and seeing a stranger. Listening to him talk and unable to believe it was him speaking. A change of face, body, hair and clothes. He had been there before in Jonas’ darkest days. Watching his son whittle away to nothing, barely any meat on his bones, his skin color deathly gray, an unkept man who didn’t notice how he looked or even cared, with an attitude so poor and shocking Grant couldn’t find any good.

Now here he was the polar opposite.

He couldn’t believe he was looking at the same man who argued with him in the driveway nearly three weeks earlier. Even in Jonas’ younger days, when he was naïve and untouched by the dark world of addiction, he couldn’t recall seeing him look so healthy or with weight.

It was as if someone fed him a constant flow of high caloric food steadily for weeks. Then again, it had only been half a day and already Grant had seen Jonas twice with a milkshake in his hand.

There was actually a milkshake shop in town. Haley said Jonas had been on a milkshake kick for a week, never repeating the same flavor twice and vowing to get through them all.

Whatever it was that was inspiring him to do so, Grant was grateful and loved it.

Grant also loved rehearsal. He watched Jonas play and sing. He always loved listening to him play, but when Jonas went into a strange rock and screaming style of music it was difficult for Grant.

The entire rehearsal Grant was swept up, amazed at Jonas.

He wished he could record or bottle up the joy he felt and save it for a day when he needed it. Grant didn’t want the night to end.

But it did.

“Okay is everyone good with that last song?” Jonas asked. “We’ll do a reprise at the end after service. It’s a good one, hard, but I think everyone will feel it. Are we good?”

Everyone nodded.

“Mr. Truett, that song is new to all of us,” Jonas said. “I’m good with rehearsing Friday evening if you want.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Grant replied. Even though he wasn’t familiar with the song before that night either, he was comfortable playing it. He just wanted to hang out with Jonas again.

Any excuse would do.

He helped Jonas pack up, he really didn’t have anything else to do before he went back to the hotel.

“Can I ask you something?” Grant said as he and Jonas left the church.

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about not remembering who you are? Is it frustrating?”

“It was at first, now I feel like I’ll know soon,” Jonas replied. “I mean I get these things I call memory feelings.”

“What are they?’

“It’s a feeling like I know something, I just don’t remember why. Like cookie baking and playing music. I also get memory feelings when something isn’t right, like when they thought my name was Harold.”

“Harold? Grant laughed. “You don’t look like a Harold.”

“I don’t think I look like a Chip.”

“Actually, you kind of do.”

“Maw-Maw gave me that name.”

“She’s a good woman.”

“The best,” Jonas said. “So is Joe. He’s a good guy with sound advice. It was driving me crazy about the passenger in the car. For the first few days I was feeling so guilty because I thought the guy died. I still think he is the key to what happened.”

“Maybe not a key to what happened that night, but more so what is happening now?” Grant asked.

“Sounds like something Joe would say.”

“Do you think it was Jesus in the car with you that night?”

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. I think the not believing side of me is understanding because who are we to assume we are worthy of Him being there,” Jonas said. “Bottom line is, I survived when I shouldn’t have. I feel a happiness I don’t recognize, happiness which my memory feelings say are new. I believe one way or another He was there.”

“I believe that too.” Grant stopped at his truck. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Grant got in the truck and slowly turned around so he could keep watching Jonas. His son walked to the house next door to the church and sat right on the porch with Pastor Rick.

A slight twinge of jealousy hit him, but it quickly passed.

Grant wanted to be the one on that porch, talking and spending time with Jonas. He wanted to absorb every moment with son, take it all in, just in case when Jonas remembered who he was, he would leave behind who he had become.

TWENTY-TWO

The aroma was amazing in Baker’s Market, it always was. In the mornings it was baked goods, and in the afternoon it was the lunch specials. Russ loved the smell in there. It made him hungrier, but on this day, he had other plans for lunch.

Even with big chain stores a short drive away, the people of Williams Peak loved Baker’s. They always had everything and rarely ran out of stock.

In fact, the one year there was a toilet paper shortage, and it seemed the whole country went bonkers over stocking up toilet paper.

When it all went down, it just so happened to be the week Marge and Joe had closed down for a few days for a funeral. Not only did they have toilet paper, Marge was the tissue police.

She rationed it out and kept it off the shelves in the back. She broke down packs and sold rolls separately and if you didn’t have identification you were from Williams Peak, she said they were out.

They never ran out.

“Look at you,” Marge greeted him at the lunch counter. “Didn’t recognize you out of uniform.”

“I’m always out of uniform when I’m not working.”

“You look spiffy,” Marge