“They what?” Cecelia nearly screamed into the tele- phone. “I’m coming down there this instant.”
“No... no you’re not. I’ll handle this,” Edwina said. “Father and I have already talked. He is going to contact a friend of his on the board here in town and look into the charges.”
“How dare they!” Cecelia was livid. Edwina was rather grateful for the support, even if it was given in anger.
“Don’t worry, Cece. Everything will be all right. There are other towns, other library jobs. It’s just that... well, I don’t want to move, but . . .”
“What, Ed? You’d actually consider a move?” Cecelia’s voice was sympathetic.
“Well, it might be good for me to make a new life some- where else. I love my hometown, but—” She was cut off when Cecelia began talking, and it wasn’t to her.
Cecelia was gone. Everyone was gone. She felt a little like Jonah, spit up on the shore after being in the belly of the whale. What should she do?
Edwina started to gnaw at her fingernails, then sat on her hands instead. “Not going to start that,” she said aloud. It was time to find her resume. She got up and fished in a drawer for the folder.
An hour passed. She reworked the old resume and, pleased with the progress, felt like a walk. Down the stairs, across the street, down a deep ravine, and she was in the park by the river. People were laughing, walking their dogs, pushing babies in strollers, and playing Frisbee. Some were fishing off the decks, others sitting in the grass entwined in each other’s lives.
Her world had changed in one fell swoop, and although it was frightening, it somehow inspired her to move forward. She had always been so fearful of not being attached to some- thing—her job or school, specifically. She was suddenly and totally. . . free. Free to move, seek a new job, work at a restaurant, manage a McDonald’s if she wanted to. This was a time to pray. Pray for God to move her... not that she would move herself, but for a God who loved her to direct her. Prayers flowed, sometimes fearful, sometimes extremely full of hope.
Her practical nature swung into motion. No more ice cream, walk more than drive to save gas, and for sure no long-distance phone calls. These duties were familiar. These were things she could control. Some things she could not. It was a reminder to remember which was which. That was the hard part.
She had a little money saved because she’d wisely refrained from purchasing anything expensive for several years. It wasn’t a lot, but she would make do. It was nearly dark. Time to head home. The far-off sounds of children still playing buzzed in her ears.