As the weeks passed by and the day of her wedding approached, Nancy methodically tended to the details. But there was one matter still unsettled. A close cousin of Mike’s was going to be his best man and Dan Carouthers, his good friend, the groomsman; but Nancy had no sister and had always wanted to have her two best friends stand up with her as attendants. She had plenty of friends from Rock Church, but none close enough to be a bridesmaid. Carla was the closest friend she’d ever had, and she, of course, would be her maid of honor.
The problem was the bridesmaid. Nancy wanted to ask Patrice. After all, they had shared an apartment for a while, and Nancy continued to seek out Patrice’s company. She was frankly surprised that Patrice had not long ago severed their friendship since they actually had so little in common. Still, she fiercely held on to her hope that they could become close. Michael didn’t have enough patience with Patrice, Nancy felt, or he would be able to see how far she’d come from being the reclusive alcoholic she’d been for several months.
Yes, it was Patrice whom Nancy wanted to be her bridesmaid and Carla her maid of honor. But the whole situation was tricky. Nancy rolled her eyes at the frustrating scenario, wondering how Mr. Garman would view the bridal attendants at the wedding. He would be there, of course, but it would no doubt be very uncomfortable for him, with Carla and Patrice up at the altar, each looking her prettiest, displayed side by side in front of him for the duration of the service.
Nancy sighed. It would probably be OK with Carla, as she and Marc had been casually dating for several weeks now, but would it trigger a setback for Patrice? The whole thing was such a mess. Why did there have to be such a seemingly insolvable complication? As Nancy sat at the chrome-legged table in her little kitchen area, she picked up her phone and called Carla.
“Hi!” Carla answered in such an upbeat tone that Nancy laughed outright.
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you’re on cloud nine.”
“Oh, I’m just glad it’s Saturday morning.”
“‘Oh, I’m just glad it’s Saturday morning,’” Nancy mimicked.
Now it was Carla who laughed. “Well, for once we didn’t have to go out to the clinic, and I loved sleeping in, and I am happy. What’s up, Nancy?”
“No, I get to ask you what’s up. Did you and Marc go out last night?”
“We did. Nancy, we had such a good time!”
“What’d you do?”
“Well, we were planning to go to that new Thai restaurant on 58th, but there was a detour on 17thStreet, and Marc noticed a little café that we decided to try.”
“What was the name?”
“Martina’s.”
“Oh, Mike and I have been there. It has a really intimate atmosphere, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Marc said it reminded him of a little place in Mazatlan that he’d been to with Patrice.”
“Really,” Nancy said. “So he doesn’t avoid talking about Patrice?”
“He doesn’t talk at all about the two of them. He just mentioned her because he knows I know they went to Mazatlan together.” She yawned lazily, saying as she yawned, “I made their reservations.”
“Oh, I see.”
“So, what’s up, Nancy? You don’t usually call me Saturday afternoon. Where’s Mike?”
“Mike’s out looking for an apartment for us. I had some wedding stuff to do.”
Carla smiled. “Nancy, I’m so happy you’re going to be my sister-in-law.”
“Not as happy as I am!” Nancy replied. “But Carla, I have a problem I need to talk to you about.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, I don’t know what to do about a bridesmaid. If Patrice had never known Marc Garman, I would ask her to be my bridesmaid.”
“You would?” Carla’s voice reflected her surprise.
“Well, yes. But I can’t imagine the two of you up there together and Marc in the congregation.”
“Wait a minute, Nancy. Are you actually that close to Patrice?”
“Well, I think I might be her closest friend.”
“Mmm.”
“OK, Carla, say what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you might want someone standing up with you that would be a little more certain to be part of your life later on. My guess is that you can’t be that sure about Patrice.”
“Well…that’s true. You might be right.”
“If she really is a friend, your friendship can grow, and you might become very close friends in time, but I’m not sure she’s your best pick for a bridesmaid at your wedding. She’s not a Believer, and obviously isn’t much for vows at this point in her life; she never valued marriage with Marc.”
“Well, Marc’s not a Believer either, is he?”
Carla sighed. “No, he isn’t—not yet.”
“Well, guard your heart, Carla.” Nancy warned.
“I know, I know… I’m trying to.”
Nancy took a deep breath. “We haven’t had much time to hang out in the last few months, what with Patrice, and my planning for the wedding; and now you’re spending more and more time with Marc.” She paused. “I’m glad for you; but honestly, Carla, I have to admit that I’ve been a little concerned about my very best friend. You have to guard your heart—you can’t just hope it will be guarded.”
“I know,” Carla repeated, quietly.
“You know I love you, girl. Just make sure God’s in control.” She inhaled loudly. “Well, thank you for helping me put things into perspective regarding Patrice.”
“Nancy! How about asking her to be in charge of the guest book?”
There was a pause. “Hey! Good idea! Yes! In fact, great idea! I do so want her to be part of it—I really like her. And I want her to see what a Christian wedding is about. Maybe Dan could be the usher instead of a groomsman. It would be OK with me if we had just maid of honor and best man. I’ll call Michael and see what he thinks. I don’t think he’d mind.”
Carla agreed. “I don’t think he would either.”
“Thanks, Carla. I feel so much better.” She yawned. “What are you doing today?”
“Not much. I’ve got to pick up some groceries.”
“Are you going out with Marc?”
“Yes.”
“You be careful.”
“You pray for me, Nancy,” Carla retorted.
……….
Marc Garman flashed a smile at Carla Chadwell and tapped his fingers loudly on her desk a couple of times as he walked by on his way into his office. Carla looked up and returned his greeting with her own smile. How handsome he was! More now than ever, it seemed, for some reason. She remembered the first time she had lunch with Nancy and the comment Nancy had made about her handsome boss. Nancy had been so surprised at Carla’s saying she hadn’t really thought about whether her boss was handsome.
“No wonder she was surprised!” Carla thought now, looking back to that time. It was just that he was living with Patrice, and Carla had no interest in a man who was as good as married. A twinge of guilt fluttered through her right now, and for a moment she wished things had stayed simple—that Marc and Patrice had married, that their child had been born, and that she herself had fallen in love with someone who was of like mind and heart.
But she hadn’t. Sig had been an eligible bachelor until that eligibility had completely evaporated. Carla sighed. Nothing was simple anymore. Marc was now quite alone, but as much as Carla was attracted to him, she couldn’t fully give him her heart as long as God held no place in his life, and a showdown was inevitable. Maybe losing her job was, too, and that was certainly an uncomfortable possibility, whether it came about through Marc’s volition or her own.
Did I call you to be anxious today?
Carla shut her eyes tightly and responded silently to the reprimand. “No, God, I know I’m not supposed to worry about tomorrow. But I am a little confused.”
What are you confused about?
“Well, I guess I don’t know what I should do. I love being with Marc and… and he likes being with me, but he’s not a Believer.
Have you talked with him about Me?
“Not exactly.”
What are you waiting for?
“Well, I don’t want to push him away.”
And what have I already told you?
“Not to be unequally yoked.”
So are you hoping he’ll fall for you and become religious enough to come along for the ride?
“Well, sometimes people do that.”
And have I shown you what often happens to their children?
“I… What?”
They grow up with religion, but without ever knowing ME.
“God, you know I want my husband to know you and love you, and that’s what I want for my children.”
And what about Marc?
“Yes, Lord,” Carla pleaded in her spirit, “what about Marc? Why did You let all this happen? Why did You have me be his secretary?”
All I ask is that you obey me. Give him a choice.
“But shouldn’t I wait for the right time?”
Tell him. I’ll take care of the details.
Carla swallowed and rolled her eyes in an expression of skepticism. “You’ll probably have to find a job for me, too, you know.”
Details.
Carla smiled in spite of herself, and stood up to get a cup of coffee.
“Carla?” It was Mr. Garman.
“Yes, sir.”
“Could I talk with you a moment?” His voice sounded unusually business-like.
“Of course.” Carla stepped into his office.
Marc stood up and came over to the door while Carla stepped further into the room. He closed it. “After you left yesterday, Rita Helgessen came to my office.” Carla bristled inside, but concealed her feelings. “It seems she’s offended by the bracelets you and Nancy wear all the time.
“This?” Carla held up her arm with the red wristband she put on every day. On it were imprinted two tiny footprints.
“I’ve noticed that you wear it all the time, but I’ve never asked you about it. What is it and why do you wear it?”
“Well, these are little feet,” Carla said, pointing to the footprints and feeling the blood rush to her face. Then, with a presence of mind that must have come from God Himself—or so she reflected later—she asked politely, “May I sit down?”
“Of course,” Marc smiled, as though he’d just remembered the young woman he was interrogating was the young woman toward whom he felt a spectrum of feelings—all positive at the very least.
Carla sat down and continued. “They are the same size as those of a ten-week-old baby. Many babies—not all, by any means…” Carla swallowed, thinking of Marc’s fully developed baby and sending up an unconscious SOS to God for this very significant detail. “…are aborted when they are only twelve weeks old. The mother is not told that her baby is already a recognizable human child with arms and legs, fingers and toes. This bracelet shows the size of the feet and how the toes are already in place, and Nancy and I both wear one to honor those children who are dying every day.” She lifted her eyebrows and her shoulders, explaining, “It keeps them on our conscience.”
Marc was seated now in the large armchair behind his desk, leaning back, his left hand covering his mouth. Carla was having a hard time not feeling defensive, and she decided to stop speaking until required to do so. The room was quiet for a moment, and Carla could feel the tension in the air. Finally, just when she felt she had to say something to keep the tension in check, Marc spoke.
“How about placing the bracelets in an inconspicuous place that wouldn’t bother Rita—like in your desk so you see it every time you open your drawer?”
“We could do that, except…” She paused, and Marc said nothing for a brief moment.
“Except?”
“Except we—I, at any rate—wear it for three reasons, actually.” Carla saw Marc raise his eyebrows as if to say, “Go on, I’m listening.”
“The first I explained already, except that it’s not just ourselves we want to remind of the plight of children doomed through abortion. We want also to do everything we can to make other people aware that human beings are being killed, and no one even gives them a passing thought.”
“And the other reasons?” Marc spoke in a tone that smacked of controlled impatience, Carla thought. But she hadn’t meant to preach.
“Help me, God, please,” she pleaded silently, and then spoke. “Well, secondly, wearing the wristband invites dialogue on the subject of abortion, and the best thing the abortion industry has going for it is ignorance. Most people aren’t aware that a child of twelve weeks only needs to grow, because everything is already in place—its sex, eye color, hair color, even dimples. Of course, a baby so tiny is completely dependent upon the mother, but so is a newborn.”
“But a newborn can live without the natural mother, right?”
“Yes. But the newborn is still totally dependent upon another human being, just as the twelve-week baby…
“Fetus,” Marc interjected.
“Well, fetus just means ‘little one,’” Carla retorted before continuing. “People also aren’t aware that a mother who aborts her child suffers more harm in her own body than the mother who carries her baby to term and gives it up for adoption. We can’t very well walk up to someone and say, ‘May I give you some facts about abortion?’ But if anyone asks why we’re wearing a red wristband, it gives us opportunity for dialog, including with someone who knows what it stands for and wants to challenge our position.”
“OK,” Marc said flatly. “And your third reason?”
Carla sighed and smiled. “The third reason—for me—is personal.”
“You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to,” Marc interjected.
“No, that’s all right.” Carla made the decision to jump right in. “I wear it because I know God would have me speak up for the children—no matter how young or how small. Even a brand new child less than one day after conception has been given life by God. That’s where I was once, and so were you.” Carla smiled and shrugged. “The Bible says, ‘Defend the fatherless,’ and I want to please God.” She swallowed and added, “It’s actually very important to me.”
“Different people have different gods, Carla.”
Carla said nothing, and after a quiet moment Marc went on. “Rita’s husband is a pastor of a church, and she looks at the whole issue quite differently.”
“I know she does.”
“And she is offended. Frankly, I’m not sure how to handle this. What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Carla replied candidly. “I would have to pray about it.”
Marc smiled wryly. “That’s not exactly an option for me.”
Carla looked at him, guarding her feelings and thereby expressionless.
“So I’ll have to think it over, if you’re unwilling to stop wearing the bracelet. I really don’t want a law suit—or any legal complication right now.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Well, all right.”
“You might ask Rita just why it offends her so much.”
Marc glanced up sharply. “And what would be the point of that?”
“I’m sorry. No point, I guess.”
“I want the problem to go away. We don’t need to exacerbate it.”
“You’re right, sir.”
“Please don’t call me ‘sir.’”
Carla said nothing, and Marc looked at her intently. “You know I—appreciate you a lot, Carla. We don’t have to agree on everything.”
Carla smiled, but it was a surface smile, and she couldn’t bring herself to conjure up a more sincere one, were it even possible. Prior to Moose Lodge she would have tried to make amends, but she felt a greater allegiance to God than to the man in front of her—which in itself she found surprising. She stood up and walked towards the door.
“Well, I’d better get back to work.” She smiled. “Praying is an option for me, and I will do that.”
Marc stood up as well, following her. “How are the reports for Grimes and Johnson coming?”
“I’m on the last page.”
“Good. I hope to meet with them Thursday.”
“No problem, sir.”
He opened the door and tweaked her arm, smiling. “You mean ‘Marc’?”
“Sorry.”
……….
When Nancy stopped by at noon to ask if she wanted to join her for lunch, Carla accepted gratefully. She noted Nancy’s bracelet.
“You look nice today,” she told Nancy.
“Hey, so do you. How soon will you be ready?”
“One minute… and I’m ready right now.” Carla flashed Nancy a smile and grabbed her purse from the credenza.
“So how’s your day going?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, interesting, I guess.”
“Mmm?”
“Marc called me in this morning to tell me that Rita is offended by our wristbands.”
“You’re kidding,” Nancy exclaimed.
“No.” Carla raised one eyebrow and looked at her friend. “This is really an issue with her, isn’t it?”
Nancy looked back, only frowning.
“Has she said anything to you about it?” Carla went on.
“One time—a long time ago, now—she made a snide remark about it…something about my needing some variety in my jewelry. Otherwise, no.” She asked in a whispered voice, “What’s Marc going to do?”
“He wondered if I could keep it in my desk drawer rather than wear it.”
“What!”
“I’m serious. He asked why I wear it, and I told him one reason was to remind myself that babies were being killed every day.”
“And he said to keep it in your desk drawer?”
“Yes,” Carla replied, “so I would be reminded each time I opened the drawer.”
Carla told Nancy about the whole interview and the two came to the conclusion that they should respond separately as God directed them individually.
The next morning, Carla came without her bracelet on her arm, and so did Nancy. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them regarding the issue. Carla, for her part, made a commitment to pray for Rita sincerely every day.