It was on their first morning that Amanda Given, the goddess of gratification herself, stretched the definition of leisure to the snapping point.
“I’m going to church,” she announced at breakfast. “Anyone care to join me?”
She’d aimed the question at Zack in droll jest, and was stunned when David leapt at her offer. He’d always wanted to experience a Christian worship service, just to see how the pious majority lived.
Following the directions of the concierge, they attended mass at a Roman Catholic church in downtown Evansville. Amanda dreaded all the daft adjustments to her old and familiar liturgy, but she was soon amazed by the wonderful sameness of it all. There were no tempic altars, no speed knobs on the pews, no peculiar rites or parallel-Earth prayers. For a brief time, two worlds converged and Amanda was back in the Chula Vista parish. She could almost feel Derek sitting next to her, a sensation bittersweet enough to draw quiet tears.
David sat through the ceremony like an overcaffeinated tourist, launching his fascinated smile in all directions. It was only during the penitential rite that Amanda noticed him staring at the floor with a grim and heavy expression. Like her, he’d injured two policemen on Monday, when his ghosted truck sent their cruiser into a rough collision. By outward appearances, the boy had written off his actions as a necessary evil. Now Amanda wasn’t so sure.
At noon, she parked the van in the hotel garage, then aimed a pensive stare at David.
“I think I want to find the names of those cops we hurt and send them some of our money.”
“That’s a horrible idea,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because the Deps will know who sent the cash and why. They’ll determine our general location from postmarks. And they’ll seize your gift as evidence. Those policemen will likely never see a dime of it.”
She stared ahead in busy contemplation. “Crap.”
“If you’re looking for absolution, why didn’t you stay to make a confession?”
Amanda debated it, but then realized that she’d either have to suppress the details of her tempic transgression or tell the priest the whole truth. She didn’t want to think how he’d react to her ungodly white monstrosity.
“I just want to do it to feel good,” she said. “I mean, that’s what this week is for, right?”
David bit his lip in churning thought. “I suppose we could give a portion of our money to local charities. People in need. I mean if we’re careful—”
“We?”
He gave her a shrug and a soft grin, then admitted he was never one for hot tubs.
To the bewilderment of their four companions, Amanda and David spent their week as wild roaming philanthropists, a bizarro Bonnie and Clyde. They rode the streets of Evansville with fifty thousand dollars of goodwill and a marked-up city map. They weren’t choosy in their targets—churches, temples, children’s centers, animal shelters. They even donated eight hundred dollas to the Natural Life Foundation, a group that was starkly opposed to all uses of temporis.
For discretion’s sake, they never contributed more than a thousand dollars to a single charity, never gave their names, and never stayed too long to receive gratitude. David even swapped his native Australian accent for a flawless American dialect. “Your sister’s not the only actor in the group,” he told Amanda, with an impish grin.
It wasn’t until their weeklong venture together that Amanda dropped her last thread of unease about David. Unlike Hannah and Mia, who’d both been smitten from the start, Amanda had always sensed something slightly off about the boy. She routinely detected a spark of effort behind his deep blue eyes, as if he were perpetually flexing a muscle or censoring a thought. By their second cozy lunch, she realized she’d been overjudging him, punishing him for the fleeting way he reminded her of Derek. When unfettered by those chains, David was a delight to be around. He dazzled her with knowledge on virtually every subject, amused her with anecdotes from his time among the Dutch and Japanese. He broke her heart with descriptions of his mother, a geneticist who fell to ovarian cancer when he was nine.
“She’s the one who gave me this wristwatch,” he told her, brandishing his vintage silver timepiece. “Her dying wish was that every time I wind it, I find one reason to be thankful. I honor her request each time. Like clockwork, as they say.”
On Friday afternoon, they donated the last of their cash to a fledgling theater company that was performing Titus Andronicus. Amanda was depressed to reach the end of her charity run. If she didn’t think Zack would blow a gasket, she’d ask for another week and fifty grand.
As their elevator climbed the side of Tower Five, David clutched Amanda’s arm and shined a tender smile.
“Thank you. This was a wonderful way to spend a week.”
“Thank you. It was your idea.”