It was time to set up another supper club meeting. Carla had heard from her mother that Marlene was not going to abort. She was thankful but apprehensive as to Rita’s and Patrice’s reactions to the news. Nancy had volunteered to do the calling for the meeting, so Carla was caught off guard after lunch when she picked up the ringing phone to find Rita on the line.
“How’re things at the office?” she asked.
“Pretty good,” Carla replied. “We’re keeping busy, that’s for sure. We miss you! How are you doing, Rita?”
“Actually, great, considering. Are you and Nancy still wanting to do the supper club?”
“Yes,” Carla replied enthusiastically, “That is, if you still want to.”
“I do.”
“Nancy said yesterday she was going to call you and Patrice.”
“Good. Say, how about our little friend? What decision did she make?”
Carla sent up a quick prayer asking for words of grace. “Well, Midge and Marlene went over the… the pros and cons we sent home with them, after they’d each made up their own list, and I understand Marlene’s keeping the baby.”
“Really! Well, you know how I feel about kids having kids.”
“Midge and Marlene have been really good friends for several years, so I’m sure Midge had a big influence on Marlene.”
“She’s a kid herself—the same age as Kara. I don’t think she understands what she’s doing to her friend. While she’s living a normal young single girl’s life, heading off for college soon, Marlene will be missing out, wearing maternity clothes and dealing with all kinds of problems she shouldn’t have to deal with.”
Carla rolled her eyes in apprehension and sent up another silent prayer. “Give me Your love, Lord. That’s all I ask.” Then she said softly, “Rita, Midge’s visit was so—last minute that night. Remember? It took me totally by surprise and Nancy, too. I completely forgot to tell you and Patrice that Midge has had a baby.”
“Midge has had a baby?” Rita’s exclaimed.
“Yeah. At least a year ago—maybe a year and a half. I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you. In fact, I didn’t even realize we hadn’t talked about that until just this very minute, honestly.”
“How old is Midge? She is sixteen, right?”
“I think so—maybe seventeen now. But she got pregnant when she was a sophomore—fifteen.”
“Are her parents taking care of the baby for her?”
“No,” Carla answered. “She chose adoption.”
“Hmm. Is it working out OK—the adoption?”
“I think ‘so far, so good.’ The couple is really, really happy, or so I understand. My mom’s seen a picture of the baby, and she says he’s a cutie. Midge gets to see him from time to time.”
“Well,” Rita conceded, “I guess those circumstances would factor in rather heavily.”
“Yes, I think so. Midge’s pregnancy experience has been pretty positive. I hope everything works out just as well for Marlene and her baby.”
“Is she choosing adoption, then?”
“I haven’t heard, but I’ll let you know,” Carla promised.
“Well, there you have it,” Rita announced, matter-of-factly, but graciously enough.
“Mmhmm. So—back to supper club. What shall we have?”
“Hmm. Uhm… Whatever is fine.”
“Well, I’d better get going. Nancy will be calling you,” Carla said. “You take good care of yourself, now. Don’t be working hard. Just get well. Oh!” she added, suddenly. “In fact, by the way, I picked up the ingredients for a casserole to fix for you.” She laughed. “I almost forgot. When’s a good night to bring it over?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know; I want to, Rita,” Carla retorted, smiling.
“Well, that’s nice of you. Jim will appreciate it. He’s been missing normal meals lately. Uh… how about next Tuesday?”
“Next Tuesday it will be! Thanks for calling, Rita.” Carla’s voice was sincere. “We all miss you a lot. I’ll tell Mr. Garman ‘hi’ from you.”
Carla hung up the phone and then whispered under her breath, “Thank you, God, in Jesus’ name.”
“So how’s Rita?”
Carla started at the sound of Mr. Garman’s voice as he sauntered out of his office. “I thought you were at the meeting with Corporate.”
“I’m headed over there shortly. They postponed it an hour.” He had a teasing grin on his face, and Carla knew he was holding back a comment about the color she knew had flooded her face. “That means we won’t get out of there until at least five.”
“Mmm. I’m sorry.”
“So… how’s Rita?”
“Fine,” Carla said, but before she could expound, Marc interjected.
“How about this: If you haven’t made plans for supper, I could use some company at Gaucho’s tonight.” He raised his eyebrows in a persuasive expression. “They have a good fajita dinner for two. And you could fill me in on Rita’s situation.”
“Oh. Sure.” Carla smiled. “That sounds good. What time?”
“Could you meet me there at 5:30?”
Carla nodded. “I think so. Although my Chinese leftovers will turn three days old. But…”
“But you’re willing to do a good friend a favor.” Marc finished her sentence.
“That I am!” Carla smiled, as she looked up at Marc. His smiled widened.
“Well, I’m out of here. I’ll see you later.”
……….
When Carla arrived at Gaucho’s it was 5:25, and there was no sign of Marc’s car. But just before she reached the entrance, she felt a hand on the back of her waist, and Marc appeared seemingly out of nowhere, opening the door for her with his other hand.
“Hi. Thanks for coming.”
Carla smiled. “You’re welcome.”
They were shortly escorted to a table so privately situated that Carla asked Marc, “Did you ask for this table?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. It’s very… “
“Secluded,” Carla interjected, a mischievous look of suspicion on her face.
“Yes, ‘secluded.’ I figured I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on us.”
“Does that mean we are or are not allowing shop talk tonight?”
“You’re my guest. What’ll it be?”
“And I’m open to anything, so whatever you say.”
The waitress came, and Marc ordered the fajita combo dinner. “No shop talk,” he continued. “Except for the update on Rita. Have you seen her lately?”
“Two weeks ago she and Patrice and I all went over to Nancy’s for dinner. Remember I told you we have a little supper club going?”
“Mmhmm.” Marc smiled encouragingly.
“So Rita’s doing pretty well. She and Patrice drove together, and they opted to stay late when some friends of mine popped in on us. Patrice asked Rita if she wanted to go home, but Rita didn’t. We all didn’t leave until almost midnight.”
“Do you mind my asking who were the friends?”
“Not at all. Two high school girls that go to school with my sister.” Carla smiled apologetically, adding, “They have a dubious experience in common—high school pregnancy.”
“Really,” Marc commented, listening intently. “Go on.”
“You asked who the friends were.” Carla shrugged her shoulders. “That’s who,” she said with finality in her voice. She sat coy and silent, knowing Marc wanted to hear more.
“OK, Carla. Confession time. I overheard your talking with Rita on the phone today. I was nosy then, and I’m being nosy now. But just to help you understand where I’m coming from, I’ll tell you I’m curious about a couple of things.”
Carla’s eyebrows arched in a silent “What?”
“First of all, I’m impressed that you and Nancy and Rita—and Patrice—are friends. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing how Nancy took Patrice under her wing, so to speak.”
Carla hastened to say, “I think Patrice is doing very well on her own now. I know she’s persisting in moving on with her career and her life in general.”
“She’s a survivor,” Marc said in a flat tone. Then he added with a twisted smile on his face, “Too bad our son didn’t pick up that trait.”
“What?”
“When she went in for her… procedure, she survived; our child didn’t.”
“I see,” Carla said softly, not knowing what else to say. She could sense bitterness in Marc’s tone as he went on.
“Which brings me to my question: I’m wondering if Patrice feels any shred of remorse. I think I told you that after our baby died, I really let her have it. She was really upset—cried, but I think it was because she was angry with me for venting my fury, as well as angry that I was giving up on our relationship. I’ve thought many times about whether she would do the very same thing if she had it to do over again. So… I’m curious about her take on the subject now, since I gather that you all talked about abortion at your supper meeting.”
“Well, not exactly.” Carla then told Marc what had transpired that evening, from start to finish, as much as she remembered. “So,” she concluded, “Nancy and I were composing our pros to choose birth, while Rita and Patrice made up their list of reasons to choose abortion.”
“And you two won.” Marc smiled in approval, and Carla felt a wave of relief flood her being.
“We didn’t really have an open, verbal discussion,” she went on, “and actually, I’m sure it was Midge who ultimately convinced Marlene not to abort the baby.” Carla looked at Marc. “Did you hear that part of our conversation?”
“I did. But my guess would be that it helped her to have a rational discussion—on paper—between representatives of both sides. ‘Marlene,’ did you say?”
“Yes.”
“The paper debate probably gave her more confidence in her decision making. That way she could present both sides of the argument to her parents and even show them the papers.”
“I never thought about that. You’re probably right,” Carla agreed, a smile of delight on her face as she nodded. “Thanks.”
“So I have to assume Patrice’s feelings on abortion haven’t changed.”
“I doubt it. I think she works for an abortionist.”
“Yeah,” he grunted. After a moment, he spoke again. “So how in the world can the four of you be friends? You’re miles apart on an issue that seems to matter a lot to both you and Nancy. That’s what I thought, anyway. And to Patrice and Rita as well.”
“You’re right. We are miles apart. For right now, Nancy and I are just praying and trusting God to do what He wants… when He wants.”
“Hmm.” Marc looked thoughtful. “So what exactly are you praying?” He paused a long moment, studying Carla’s face. “And how do you do that? Do you get together during lunch and pray? Like what do you say?”
“Occasionally we pray together. But mostly by ourselves.” Carla hesitated.
“And…” Marc prompted.
“And what do we say?” Carla waited a moment before continuing. “Well, people pray in different ways. I think how you pray and how often you pray reflects how close you feel to God. When I was at Moose Lodge I was desperate, and I just cried out—in my mind—to God, asking Him to help me. I somehow knew He would.” Carla leaned her head to one side, thoughtfully, staring in the distance. “Now, when I think about it, I know why I had that confidence.” She looked at Marc. “I grew up hearing about men and women who cried out to God when they needed help, and He always helped them.” She looked at Marc directly. “Men and women—real-life people—who made history—in the Bible. I knew if God heard them, talked to them, directed them, rescued them, he could rescue me, too.” She shrugged her right shoulder, smiling. “And He did!
“So I learned by doing,” Carla continued. “It was a crash course in praying. I just talked to God as though He were right there with me.” She caught Marc’s eye and held his gaze. “Jesus said, ‘I will never leave you, nor forsake you.’ That’s a promise I’d heard and knew I could count on.”
“So…how do you pray for Rita and Patrice?”
Carla took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve kind of told you: I just talk to God—as a friend—the ultimate friend, a better friend than any human being could ever be. What I pray specifically I don’t really feel open to share. What I can tell you is that I pray by the Golden Rule: I mean, I pray for another person like I’d like to be prayed for—that I would be able to see life clearly, with eternity in mind. I don’t want to live for just here and now.” She smiled, adding, “Of course, here and now is wonderful, too. That’s why I’m pro-life—the here and now is a tremendous gift from God that every unborn baby deserves.
“So I pray for Rita and Patrice that God will allow them—and me—to see life from His perspective. I ask Him to change those things in us which He sees need changing, even when—especially when—we don’t think they do.”
“Hmm.”
Carla leaned across the table and spoke sincerely. “If you really, really, really want to know how I pray for them, just join me sometime.”
Marc’s surprise was evident in his face and his faltering response. “Well, I… uh…”
Carla smiled at his discomfiture. “That’s all right. But the invitation’s always open.”
They ate in silence for a while, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. Nor was the small talk that ensued. Finally, Marc rose and Carla followed suit.
“Thank you for dinner, Marc,” Carla said simply, as they headed toward the door. The air was crisp and cold in the parking lot as they walked to Carla’s car.
“Thanks for joining me for dinner, my good friend. I think I learned a lot.”
Carla looked puzzled as she crawled into the driver’s seat and looked up at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“There’s a lot to digest.” Then he grinned in his singularly disarming way. “And I don’t mean the fajitas.”
“Yes, there’s a lot to digest. As they say, ‘There’s a lot more to life than meets the eye.’”
Marc shut the car door, motioning for Carla to roll down the window. She obliged. He leaned down and rested his arms on the open window frame, his face so close that Carla instinctively drew back her head to put more distance between them.
“Carla, do you pray for me?
She took a deep breath. “Yes,” she admitted, breaking the momentary silence.
“Mmm,” was all he replied, but a smile slowly spread across his face, and he nodded ever so slightly. He stood up. “See you tomorrow.”
Carla didn’t answer, rolling up the window as she drove away. Her heart was beating so loudly he must have heard it. She hoped not.