Yep, he should have known after his meeting with Medina that things wouldn’t go his way. “You don’t feel the same about me.”
Barbara shook her head, eyes full of regret. “I’ve never thought of you as more than a friend, a good Christian brother.”
“But in time, if we get to know each other a little more—”
“Stop.” Barbara’s rebuke was gentle, quiet. “In my heart of hearts, I know it would never happen. And I’m sorry if I led you on in any way. I never meant to be anything more than a friend.”
Hank was unable to move for a long moment. After the time they spent together on Spring Break, their correspondence before and since, she hadn’t developed any special feelings toward him, to any degree?
“You never led me on.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “But I thought that we had connected in a deeper way. I thought when I brought you here tonight—shucks.” He rubbed the beard on his chin. Then he glanced up at her, wanting to made one last attempt. “If you get the job here, will it – I mean, I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
Barbara gave him a wry smile. “I won’t be staying here anyway.” She leaned back to let the waiter pick up the empty plates. “I was going to tell you that I didn’t get the job in Keller. But God is good. I have an offer from a firm in Galveston.”
Galveston? On the Gulf of Mexico? “That’s a long ways away.”
Barbara nodded. “And maybe that’s good for now.” She arose, smoothing down her dress as she did so. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Hank, but I think it would be best if I took a cab home.”
Hank was so stunned he could only stare after her retreating figure as she headed toward the front of the restaurant. How could he have been so wrong? Misread the signals? And how could he have let himself fall in love with someone who wouldn’t reciprocate?
Lord, I must be the biggest fool on earth.
In a flash, a scripture popped into his mind. “The fool has said in his heart, there is no God.”
But Hank believed in God. And he felt no less foolish. Then he remembered something his pastor had preached about that particular verse once. In the original Hebrew, the words “there is” did not exist. They were placed by well-meaning translators trying to compensate for the lack of punctuation. So the original scripture actually reads, “The fool has said in his heart, ‘No, God.’”
Hank’s dinner suddenly churned in his stomach as he was confronted by a fact that he had managed to suppress in the back of his mind. For the past four years, he had been saying “no” to God.
Forget earth. He was the biggest fool in the entire universe.
So what are you going to do about it, cowboy?
Hank handed the waiter a wad of cash as he approached with the bill. “Keep the change,” he said, rising to leave, and rushed out as if he might leave the taunting question behind. But apparently he moved too slowly, since it followed him out the door, got into the car with him, and pestered him until he arrived home.
Ignoring it only made it echo all the louder until his temples were throbbing. He stopped short of his door and squeezed his eyes shut. What am I going to do? I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. He struggled against the onslaught of gruesome memories that flooded his mind. With them, came the familiar paralyzing fear that had driven him into teaching.
What was he going to do? What he had been doing the past four years.
Saying “no.” And regretting every minute of it.
CHAPTER 22
Sheila clenched her teeth when Hank entered the office as she was signing out. “Excuse me,” she mumbled as she brushed past him, hoping he would say nothing to her.
He did not. Instead, he did something five times more unsettling. He followed her out of the office and into the sunny afternoon.
“Wait, Sheila, would you let me talk to you?” he said as she headed for her car. “For just a minute?”
Sheila took a deep breath. Slowly, she turned to face him, sending up a silent prayer for help. Her heart pounded. Sorrow and anger and disappointment rose up inside her like an overwhelming tide, and she knew if she let any of the emotions surface she would say something she would regret. Or at least have to repent of later.
The easy thing would be to answer “no,” to tell him to leave her alone. But she knew the right thing to do was the hard thing: confront Hank head-on.
Several long, awkward moments passed between them after Sheila’s eyes cautiously met Hank’s, which were filled with regret. His jaw worked, as though he were fighting his own battle to stay in control of his emotions, and he looked as if he had aged ten years.
Finally, he said, “I got your note in my box.”
Sheila nodded. The rest of the faculty had received an invitation to her bon voyage party. Somehow, she felt she owed Hank a personal note of explanation, and had written that she would be resigning from the district and leaving for Zimbabwe in a couple of weeks.
She knew he wouldn’t want to attend the party, anyway.
When he didn’t say anything else, Sheila grew impatient. “You didn’t follow me out here just to tell me that.”
“No.” Hank sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I just wanted to make sure that you’re sure.”
Why? Are you in love with me? Are you afraid if I leave and you stay behind you’ll be sorry? She swallowed the questions, knowing that however he answered them would cause her more pain. She knew also that none of it mattered. She had to obey God.
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Up until that point, Sheila had successfully kept her feelings for Hank at bay. Now, her heart ached even as she felt like she would melt into the pavement from the unexpected wave of desire that swept over her. For a few harrowing seconds, she wavered. Was she sure that God wanted her to leave this man with whom she was—she could no longer deny it—deeply in love?
“Hey, Sheila!” The call came from one of the second grade teachers coming behind Hank. “I hear you’re leaving us.”
In an instant, Sheila’s firm resolve returned. “Yes,” she said, ignoring the sad puppy-dog look in Hank’s eyes. “God has called me to be a full-time missionary.”
* * *
The second to last day of school, Diana was not picked up until an hour after dismissal. Teachers were supposed to take children who had not been picked up on time to the office, and call their caregivers. But Sheila knew she might never see the child again, and wanted to spend some time with her.
Diana knew she was leaving. She’d found out that Sunday, when Pastor Scott had prayed for Sheila and the couple who were taking her to Zimbabwe. Miguel and Diana had begun attending ACG after discovering that his body was cancer-free. Miguel had kept some distance from Sheila, but he did approach her after that service to wish her well, and thank her again for helping his family.
“When are you leaving again?” Diana sat snuggled up next to Sheila, who draped an arm over Diana’s shoulders.
“Tuesday. In five days.”
“I wish you wasn’t going.”
Sheila squeezed Diana against her side. “I know. But I have to.”
“‘Cause God told you to, right?”
They’d had the same conversation Sunday after church. “That’s right, sweetie.”
“And you want to help other people who don’t know Jesus?”
“That’s right.”
Diana stared up at her with adoration. “Like you helped me and my papá.”
For a while they sat without speaking. As Diana nestled up against Sheila, she had the fleeting thought that being this little girl’s mother would be a precious gift. Lord, is there someone out there who would make Miguel a fine wife and Diana a wonderful mother? Whoever it was, Sheila would have to work not to be envious of her.
After what seemed a long time, but was in reality only about five minutes, Diana withdrew from the embrace and stared at Sheila with serious eyes. “Isn’t Mr. Johnson going with you??
??
The question came out of nowhere. Sheila leaned back, eyebrows raised. “No. Why should he go with me?” As if she didn’t know the answer to the question.
She wasn’t expecting Diana to respond. And when she did, her answer shocked Sheila to her core. “You’re going to marry him one day.”
She spoke as if it were a fact written in stone. Sheila frowned. “Why do you – never mind.” She wondered if Diana had heard from God Himself on the subject. It was possible. The little girl had, after all, seen Jesus before. And children often could sense things going on in the spiritual realm that adults, with their clouded and cluttered minds, could not.
But if Diana did have inside information, Sheila didn’t want to know. She had suffered enough with the pain of her and Hank’s breakup. She would not allow herself to get her hopes up. The risk of having them dashed to pieces once more was too great.
Diana began to speak again, but she interrupted herself to shriek, “Tía Rosa!” She bounded out of the chair toward her aunt, who stood panting in the doorway.
She scooped Diana into her arms while she glanced at Sheila apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had to go to Dallas, and on the way back there was an accident.” She set Diana down, stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Miss Carson, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” As long as it’s not about me leaving, or Hank. “Diana, why don’t you find a book and sit in the reading corner?”
When Diana was safely out of whisper earshot, Sheila gestured for Rosa to sit down. “What’s going on?”
Rosa closed her eyes and let out a breath. “I really want to quit my job.”
Sheila wanted to jump up and shout. But Rosa didn’t look nearly as excited as Sheila felt about it, so restrained herself. “That’s wonderful.” She kept her voice low to match Rosa’s. She figured she didn’t want her niece asking any questions about her job. “Why do you look so miserable about it?”
Rosa scanned her face with fearful eyes. “Eddie—my boss—he doesn’t like it when his girls just up and leave. He tends to get, well, violent.”
Sheila stiffened. “What do you mean, violent?”
“He – the girls disappear.”
Sheila’s mind went back to the first time she and Hank had met Miguel in the jail cell. Miguel had told them that Rosa’s boss had a special affection for her, and might have let her stay in his hotel, where indeed they found Diana and Rosa. “But I thought—”
“Eddie doesn’t like any of his girls leaving.” Rosa’s voice hardened. “No matter what.”
“Why don’t you call the police?”
“Right. Then I’d be dead for sure.”
Sheila had the strange sensation that she’d just stepped onto the scene of a movie about Al Capone. Was Rosa telling her the truth?
“I’m very sorry for your predicament, Rosa,” she said, “but why are you telling me all this?”
Rosa shrugged. “You’re leaving the country, so if Eddie finds out I told you it won’t matter. You’ll be safe.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sheila’s life was in danger by the mere involuntary act of being Rosa’s confessor?
“Not that he’d find out,” Rosa hastened to add, “but I needed to ask somebody to pray with me, and you’re the least likely to be caught in anything. Since you’re leaving.”
Pray with her? That was new. Diana had told Sheila that after her father was healed, her aunt called it a strange coincidence and said that God didn’t care about anybody that much, let alone their “stinkin’ family.” Sheila had had ample opportunity to argue the point with Rosa whenever she came to pick up Diana, but she knew only the Lord could break through such a hard heart. So she had said nothing to Rosa, but prayed fervently for her. She knew God would eventually get through to her, but hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
The thought made her smile. “I would love to pray with you,” she said, and reached her hand across the table. Rosa took it, bowed her head, and listened as Sheila pleaded on her behalf.
* * *
A thunderstorm was sending sheets of rain down by the time Sheila finished dinner that evening, and she paused to listen to the steady beating of the large drops against her patio door. She had heard that an isolated storm might occur later that day, and she was glad that it had waited. She hated when the kids couldn’t go out to play, when she had to run like a maniac to get to her car after school to keep from getting soaked. But the sun had shone all day, and the forecast for the last day of school was hot, humid, and mostly sunny.
Several claps of thunder roared above her, so loud she could feel them, as she washed her few dishes. They helped her mind escape, at least for the moment, from the loathsome task she had set before herself that night.
She needed to call her mother to tell her she was leaving for Zimbabwe.
That Sheila hadn’t called her before then was intentional. Her mother would not be happy about the news, and would say everything she could to get Sheila to stay. In fact, Sheila had considered waiting until she had arrived at the mission to inform her mother of her drastic move. That way, she would just have to accept that her daughter was 3,000 miles away and not coming back any time soon.
But that would have been cruel, bordering on evil. Her mother had done the best she could to love her daughter and try to reunite all her children. She deserved a few days notice, a fighting chance to try to talk Sheila into staying in America.
Not that she had any hope of succeeding.
Sheila put the chore off as long as she could. She sat in front of the T.V. for two hours, getting up during commercials to finish packing. She’d either sold or given away most of her furniture and many personal items she hadn’t used in a year or two, so she was down to about a dozen boxes of clothes, books, linens, and personal items that would be shipped to Africa with her. The living room was bare except for the rocking chair she sat in to watch the television. At 9:00, she heaved a sigh, pushed herself out of the chair, and went to the phone.
Her mother answered after the first ring.
Sheila decided to jump in head first. “Mom, I’m going to be a missionary in Zimbabwe. I’ve already bought a one-way plane ticket, and I don’t know how long I’ll be there. I fly out Tuesday.”
An expected silence ensued. Sheila held her breath. Her mother would either plead, cry, or raise her voice, or maybe all three. Sheila braced herself for the onslaught.
It didn’t come.
“Oh.” The tone was flat, indifferent. “Then, honey, I wish you the best. I will pray for you.”
Sheila gripped the receiver, stunned. That was it? Had she dialed the wrong number? “Mom, I mean that I’ve quit teaching. I feel that God wants me to go into missions full-time, and this is the opportunity He’s put in my path.”
“I know, sweetheart. Margaret told me.”
Margaret? “When?” Two years ago, Sheila’d given Margaret her mother’s phone number in case of emergency. Now she was unsure whether to regret having done that.
“A couple weeks ago.” Her mother’s tone became a touch lighter. “She told me she was afraid you wouldn’t tell me until after the fact.”
As if it were any of her business. Even as the thought went through Sheila’s mind, she realized she felt more relieved than angry. Margaret had, in effect, taken a huge burden off Sheila’s shoulder.
“But you didn’t call me. Do. . .do you want me as far away as possible?” Just to ask the question sent a stab of pain into her heart. And if the answer was yes, she would understand why. It would be because her mother had given up on her children.
“Absolutely not. Sheila, don’t even think that for one minute. You know I would like nothing more than for you to be living across the street from me.”
“But Mom, I know you. You begged Gary not to move to Chicago, and you threw a fit when I announced I was going to Texas.”
“I did not throw a fit.”
Her mother had told her
that Sheila would move to Texas over her dead body, then slammed doors and drawers for the next two hours, then finally went to her in tears, pleading for Sheila to reconsider.
A fit.
“Okay, Mom.” Sheila rolled her eyes. “But you know what I mean.”
“Stop rolling your eyes, young lady,” her mother snapped, as if she were standing in front of Sheila instead of a thousand miles away. “For your information, Margaret explained that this was a very hard decision for you, and that you’d been facing other. . .pressures. She asked for me to respect your decision. She sounded very worried about your emotional state.”
“I’m fine.” That was just like Margaret, to know that Sheila was still upset about the whole thing with Hank, even though Sheila had said little about it during the past month and a half. It was also like her to not bring up the subject. She knew well that Sheila would have hid her true feelings, either putting on a confident and happy front, or else refusing to discuss it altogether.
“You don’t sound fine. I hope you’re not mad at your friend. She was just—”
“Trying to help,” Sheila finished. “I know. I’m not mad. I promise.” She meandered over to her patio door to watch the rain stream down during a long moment in which neither mother nor daughter spoke.
Sheila resumed the conversation after a rumbling from the sky died down. “I guess this makes things easier for you.”
Her mother’s sharp tone felt like a slap in the face. “Don’t you ever think that knowing my own children can’t get along will ever be easy. If nothing else, your leaving makes it harder. It only gives Linda an excuse to keep hating you.”
So her mother had finally tired of euphemisms and tiptoeing around the issue.
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean that.”
Or maybe not. “Yes, you did,” Sheila said, “and you don’t have to apologize for admitting the truth.”
“Your sister doesn’t hate you.” Her mother’s voice took on the same old pleading she’d used to try to get Sheila back to Minnesota to visit.
Sheila should have blown it off. She should have given her mother some sort of patronizing platitude and let the comment go. But for some reason—maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the stress of making a major life change in a few days—she suddenly felt confrontational.