It wasn’t as if she didn’t care for Patrice, Carla reasoned. In fact, when Marc had explained the situation regarding Patrice and her mother, Carla had wholeheartedly endorsed Marc’s effort to surreptitiously help Patrice rehabilitate. But lately she had wanted to back-step. Everything had been fine until Nancy had made that decision to move into the same building where Patrice had rented an apartment. It was one thing to track Patrice in a seedy part of town in the bright morning or early afternoon daylight. It was quite another to have your best friend move there and willingly make herself vulnerable to who knows what. After all, it was willingly—no one had forced Nancy to move there. She knew from the beginning that it was a sleazy neighborhood. Why did she do it? Michael hadn’t wanted her to; that was certain. Even Nancy’s mother had tried to dissuade her. The fact that she would put herself into such compromised safety bothered Carla as much as the compromised safety itself.
Carla turned over in her bed and tried to concentrate on sleeping. It was almost midnight, and she was plenty tired—just too worried to sleep. Tomorrow evening Nancy had invited her to have dinner with her and Michael. Carla was glad she could ride with Michael. She wasn’t sure she would have accepted an invitation by herself.
The question remained. Why did Nancy have to move next to Patrice in the first place? Wasn’t Marc already watching out for her? Well—cross out that argument. Marc certainly wasn’t looking out for Patrice the way Nancy was. God would be pleased with Nancy, Carla felt sure, but did He require such a commitment? Risking safety isn’t a prerequisite for sincere evangelism, Carla told herself. She felt justified in her frustration. Nancy was her best friend. But even more importantly, she was Michael’s fiancée. What would he do if something happened to Nancy?
“Oh…” Carla moaned softly. “God, keep her safe, and help her to get out of that slummy apartment building. I ask this, Father, in Jesus’ name.”
Perfect love casts out fear.
Carla opened her eyes wide in the dark. The words had popped into her mind unsought for. She winced under the conviction they brought. Nancy wasn’t in the least fearful. If she was, she certainly hid the fact. “I should ask her about that.” Carla rolled over onto her side and pulled the blankets right up to her chin. “Tomorrow at work, that’s what I’ll do.”
With that thought in mind, she drifted off to sleep.
……….
Bonnie Chadwell smiled at Lou Ferguson sitting at her kitchen table. “Have a cinnamon roll,” she offered, walking over to Lou and holding out a plate with four cinnamon rolls still warm from the oven.
“Ooh, those look wonderful.”
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Oh, just black.”
“It’s not decaf. Is that OK?”
“Good! I like the real thing.” Lou chuckled. “What a treat!”
“Well, company’s kind of fun. It gives me an excuse to get motivated and do a little spring cleaning.”
“Isn’t that the case?”
“How’s Midge?” Bonnie asked, stirring cream into her own cup.
“Well, really I think she’s doing very well. She’s staying very busy, and that helps.”
“Is she doing any writing?”
“I’m not sure. Writing is kind of a private thing for Midge. We’re always glad to get to read what she writes when she offers it, and we’re always impressed—after all, we’re the proud parents, you know.” Her eyes twinkled. “She studies in her room usually, and that’s where she’s always done her writing, as far as I know.”
“She shared a little poem with me that day when I stopped by with the list of resources for crisis pregnancy.”
“She did?” Lou looked happily surprised.
“Mmhmm. I was very impressed.”
“She’s a good writer.”
“Yes, she is,” Bonnie replied, nodding. “When a poem takes you out of your own little world and drops you smack in the middle of a totally different one—and keeps you there for a while after you’re done reading it—that’s a good poem.”
“Well, thank you for sharing that. It’s nice to hear.”
“So you think she’s doing OK?”
“I think she is. She’s a quiet one, you know, like John; but I know she’d confide in me if she needed a shoulder or just an ear. That’s one of the good things God’s worked out of this whole situation. She really appreciates her dad and me in a new way.” Lou took a sip of coffee before adding, “And she knows a new dimension of our love, too.” She smiled poignantly. “It goes deep.”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.” Bonnie took a bite of roll and then sipped her own coffee before she spoke again. “And you? How are you doing, Lou?”
“Me? Well,” she sighed, “I’m all right. I struggle with whether we—well, Midge—did the right thing…choosing an adoption plan, I mean. You know how much I wanted to keep that baby.”
“I know. And so did Midge.”
“Yes! That’s what hurts the most—knowing how much she wanted to keep him.” Lou’s eyes filled with tears. “She was so unselfish. ‘He’s got to have a dad—not just a grandpa,’ she said.” Lou grabbed a napkin and wiped her eyes. “I know what keeps her going is the hope she has of one day being a second mother to her son when he becomes an adult. He’ll always be a big part of her life, even though she can’t be a big part of his. ‘God will take care of us both, Mom,’ she told me. ‘Nicky will have a loving dad and mother—just as I do, and God will keep him safe and sound.’” Lou smiled. “Knowing that Midge has that faith is how God is taking care of me. It’s bolstered my faith to trust Him to take care of little Nick.”
Bonnie smiled. “I don’t know much about adoption protocol. Will you get to see the baby?”
“We won’t, but Midge can. The arrangement is that she can go to the Mackey’s home and visit them, but I think Midge feels it would be better to wait until her emotions are not quite so fragile as they are right now. She’ll probably go sometime this spring.”
“How’s she doing physically?”
“Oh, I think fine. She’s pretty disciplined. She does her exercises every day, walks to school…Yes, I think she’s doing well.” Lou took another bite. “These rolls are scrumptious! I would love the recipe.”
“Oh, sure.” Bonnie got up from her chair at the table and started across the room. She stopped halfway, turned back around and said teasingly, “I’ll send you home a plateful if you’ll ask Midge to let me read more of her writing. I’d really like that, seriously.”
Lou was obviously pleased. “I’ll tell her. She has a lot of respect for you, Bonnie.”
Bonnie brought back the recipe and a blank card. “It’s very mutual. I’ll look forward to hearing from her. I appreciate my own little world, but I’m curious to step inside the emotional environs of someone so interesting as Midge.”
“Thank you, Bonnie.”
It was a satisfying interlude in the lives of the two women. They could both appreciate the worth of a deepening friendship centered on a third person—and a fourth person—whose needs they had both felt privileged to help meet.
……….
“Good morning, sir,” Carla said, glancing up from her keyboard. It’s kind of nippy out there, isn’t it?”
“It’s bitter—even for February.” Marc Garman agreed emphatically. “Four degrees.” He smiled wryly. “We should have stayed home.”
“So let’s close now,” Carla wanted to say, but she didn’t speak out loud. Her car had almost not started this morning when she had crunched her way through the snow on the sidewalk and climbed in to start the car to warm it up while she scraped the frost from the windows. She was afraid it might not start in the late afternoon, but she didn’t want to say anything to that effect. Maybe—hopefully—it would start.
“Is it supposed to warm up any?” Carla inquired nonchalantly of her boss through the open door.
“Nope. But it might get colder. It’s supposed to drop to six below by five o’clock.”
“Oh! You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“I wish I were.”
“I didn’t think my car was going to start this morning, when it was warmer than that.”
“Well, I’ll give you a ride if it won’t this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s OK; Nancy will give me a ride. It’s not much out of her way.”
“All right.”
At 10:04, Carla dialed Nancy’s extension to ask where she was. Usually she was at Carla’s door promptly at ten o’clock to go on break. Her boss answered the phone. “Nancy didn’t make it in today,” he said. “Her car wouldn’t start and I told her to stay home. She’s got a half-hour walk to the bus stop, and it’s just too cold out there.”
“Oh… Thanks, George,” Carla said and hung up. She was glad Nancy hadn’t had to come into work, but she didn’t look forward to her own dilemma in the event that her car wouldn’t start. “Oh, well,” she told herself. “It’ll work out somehow. I bet I’ll end up at home by six p.m. whether I worry about it or not, so I won’t worry.”
She continued her miscellany of tasks until noon and then headed to the cafeteria. Carla was used to eating with Nancy, so she glanced around the small cafeteria to look for a seat by herself. She was surprised to see Rita Helgessen signaling to her. Raising her hand in acknowledgement, she signaled at the same time that she was going to go through the lunch line. She filled a bowl with hot tomato soup and chose tuna salad on rye for a sandwich to enjoy with coffee. Grabbing an apple for good measure, she headed over to where Rita sat with her own lunch. On the way, she sent up a quick prayer asking for God’s help in making the conversation pleasing to Him. She wanted to be friends with Rita, but she wasn’t about to compromise even by the slightest iota the trust she’d earned from Nancy by virtue of the confidentiality they’d placed in each other.
“How are you?” Carla asked, placing her tray on the table.
“Fine. You?”
“I’m OK.”
“Your friend didn’t make it to work today?”
“Nancy? No. Her car wouldn’t start, and George told her to stay home.”
“That was nice.”
“Yeah!” Carla replied. “Mine almost didn’t start, and I kind of wish it hadn’t, because I’m a little worried about its not starting when we get off work.”
“Oh, you’ll get it started.”
“I’m sure I will.” Carla felt she should drop the subject lest she be perceived as begging a ride home. She said nothing for a moment, taking a big bite of the apple to dissipate the awkwardness of the moment.
“So what’ve you got planned for the weekend?” Rita asked. It would have been a perfectly normal comment for a Friday or even a Thursday. But Carla felt it was a loaded question in view of the fact that it was only Tuesday. She chewed her bite of apple and took another one.
“Good apple,” she said with a full mouth, stalling for time. She took her time chewing while Rita kept eating in silence, not letting the question drop. “What do I have planned this weekend? Let’s see. A lot. Clean my apartment, do a little shopping, call my mom—just the usual weekend chores, I guess.”
“Are you getting together with Nancy?”
“Nancy? We haven’t really talked about it.” She looked at Rita quizzically. “It’s only Tuesday, you know.”
“So it is.”
“How about you?” Nancy wanted to divert the questioning.
“Oh, me?” Rita tilted her head, and on her face was an I-really-don’t-know expression. “Catch up on Saturday and church stuff on Sunday.”
“That’s right—you’re a pastor’s wife, aren’t you?” Carla fell into genuine questioning now. “I’ve always wondered if it wouldn’t be kind of hard to be a pastor’s wife: Do you feel like you’re on display all the time? Like you have to be a model wife and mother?”
“Oh, no. I’m not perfect, and the congregation knows it. But, on the other hand, I don’t expect them to be perfect, either, and they know that, too.”
“How long have you been at the church here in Rock Pier?”
“About seven years.”
“Wow. That’s a long time. Do you think you’ll probably just stay here?”
“Uh…it depends on what the church hierarchy decides, to a certain extent.” She smiled nonchalantly. “It’s not up to us.”
“That must be a little difficult.”
“Well, yes, if your kids are in school and you have to move halfway through the school year.”
Carla detected a cast of sarcasm to her words and seized the opportunity to stay on the rabbit path with another question, feeling a little guilty all the while. “Was it in the middle of the school year that you came to Rock Pier?”
“Yep,” Rita answered, popping the word emphatically.
“And you don’t have any control of that?”
“Nope.” It was a quick case-closed response, and Rita asked the next question. “What about you? How long have you been in Rock Pier?”
“Almost three years now.”
“Do you like it?”
“Uh-huh. I really do.”
“What do you find to do on weekends?”
“On weekends?” Carla stalled. “Weekends vary.” She smiled engagingly. “You’ll be glad to know I go to church regularly.”
“Yes? Where?”
“Well, on Sundays I go to church with my mom, but Rock Church is where I connect, so to speak.”
“Really. I’ve heard a lot about that church. As a matter of fact, we’ve lost members to it—quite a few in the seven years we’ve been here.”
“Hmm,” Carla searched for a diplomatic response. “I grew up attending a mainline denomination in Plainview—a Methodist church.”
Rita looked up. “And what caused you to start attending Rock Church?”
“Mmm…” Carla pursed her lips, sorting out her thoughts. She took the plunge. “Nancy. Nancy Herring.”
“Really? I’m curious.”
Carla despised the condescension in Rita’s tone, but decided to ignore it and just be open and tell the truth. “You know, Rita, the very first day I met Nancy—here at work—I went home wondering why I liked her so much. Normally I would be jealous of someone so pretty and vivacious.” She smiled. “It’s not fair when a really pretty girl gets an outgoing, bubbly personality as well. You know what I mean? But it didn’t take me long to figure out what the real source of attraction was.”
Carla took a deliberately slow sip of coffee and glanced up at Rita, curious to see what reaction she could read. What she thought she would see, she saw—a glaring prejudice on the older woman’s face. It was at that moment that Carla recognized that she needed to get beyond her own flesh and ask for supernatural intervention—for her own sake as well as Rita’s, not to mention Nancy’s.
“Please, God,” she silently prayed, “I need Your love. I’m sorry for leaving you out. Please, in Jesus’ name.” Without noticeable lapse of time, the thoughts and prayer had pall-malled through her mind, and she went on, but with a totally new frame of mind.
“Nancy had a wide-open smile that I couldn’t relate to. However, I did recognize that it seemed to come from deep inside.” Carla smiled, but this time it was as if she would just as soon reach out and hug Rita Helgessen as look at her. “And the smile came through her eyes as well as her mouth. It was kind of a glow—like it had… uh…life in it. Most people just smile, and that’s OK, but Nancy’s smile has life in it.” She looked at Rita with friendliness now instead of wariness and suspicion. “I was curious about that,” she said, smiling.
Carla looked at Rita and could see she was interested, but still very closed. The pastor’s wife looked at her watch and smiled reservedly.
“I’ve got to get back to work. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Sure. Of course.”
She picked up her tray and left. It was an abrupt departure—almost rude, but Carla didn’t allow herself to dwell on that fact. She was just thankful that she had been honest about Nancy and had been able to support her good friend.
More than that, she was grateful for the counsel she’d received just in time from the Holy Spirit. “Your ways are definitely higher than my ways, Lord,” she prayed silently again, smiling to herself.
After lunch, Carla hurried out to the parking lot to see if her car would start. Amazingly, to Carla, it did. Throughout the afternoon, she went about her usual tasks, interchanging with people in a normal way. But inside she felt exhilarated. She wondered at the miracle that had happened during her lunch break. A unique kind of love had just dropped right into her heart, so to speak. All of a sudden she liked Rita Helgessen. “Yeah, nothing short of a miracle,” she concluded. After work, when her car did indeed start right up, her heart was towards heaven again. “Thanks, God,” she said affectionately. “You’re the Best.”