Keith set his coffee down. “Have you seen her eat since we’ve been home?”
“A bowl of oatmeal yesterday. That’s about it.”
“Maybe that’s where she is now—having breakfast with the guy. Maybe she’s running off with him.”
“No.” Lisa was convinced that wasn’t the case. Andi wouldn’t have come home at all if Taz still had that kind of control over her. “Bailey says he’s seeing someone else.”
Keith pursed his lips, seething with anger toward the guy and whatever he’d done to exact such a change in their daughter. But before he could say anything else, they heard the front door open. “Andi?” Keith was on his feet.
“Careful,” Lisa whispered. Her look warned him to go easy. She wasn’t a minor; she could leave anytime and never come back. It happened with grown kids all the time.
With a quick nod, Keith mouthed that it would be okay. Then he stepped into the entryway. “Andi…”
“Hi.” She walked into the dining room with Keith at her side. As soon as she saw Lisa, she stopped and looked from one of them to the other. “Am I in trouble?”
“We’re worried about you.” Lisa felt like she was walking a tightrope. She couldn’t sound like a martyr or a victim, but she had to get her point across. “As long as you’re living with us, you need to tell us where you’re going. When you’ll be home.”
“Okay.” Andi set her backpack down. “I wasn’t sure you were awake. I went to school and talked to a counselor. I’m thinking about moving to Indianapolis for the summer. So I can take classes at IU’s Indianapolis campus.”
Nothing Andi said lately added up, and this was no exception. Lisa tried to keep her expression even. “Honey…don’t they offer summer classes here?”
Andi looked nervously from Keith back to Lisa. “Yes, but…three of my friends from theater are spending the summer in the city. They already have an apartment there, and they said I can live with them.” She paused, but when neither Lisa nor Keith said anything, she rushed on. “Plus there’s an acting coach there; she’s offering us discounted classes, and Mom, you said so yourself, I can’t expect to walk into an audition and get a part just because my dad’s a producer. Not without training.” Andi grabbed a quick breath. “Oh, and the Indianapolis campus has a stronger art department—that’s what the counselor told me this morning. I need three art courses to complete my general ed and the pre-reqs for my major.”
Andi went on about exactly which art classes she wanted to take, and Lisa listened, skeptical. Her daughter’s explanation reminded her of an incident in Indonesia when Andi brought a painted vase home from the village women’s craft table. Lisa had a feeling her daughter didn’t have permission to take the item, but when she asked about it Andi rattled off a long explanation. It was the first time Lisa had caught her in a lie, and now Andi’s tone, the look in her eyes, was the very same. Struggling to create an explanation where in all honesty there was none.
When she finished, Keith looked at Andi for a long time. His eyes told her that clearly he was concerned. “Sounds like your mind’s made up.”
“It is.” Andi was practically breathless from the monologue, but she seemed about to slip back into her new, more sedate personality. She was still standing near the dining room table, but she slouched back against the wall. “I’m driving there Friday to get things settled.”
It was already Thursday, so the idea of Andi leaving so soon stirred instant anxiety in Lisa’s heart. If they were going to help her, they didn’t have much time. “Can I ask, honey, how you’re planning to pay for a summer in Indianapolis?”
Andi’s hesitation was just long enough for Lisa to be sure. Her daughter clearly hadn’t thought about this part of her plan. “I can get a job. I might do some acting too. The coach might have some leads. I was hoping you would help out like you do during the regular school year.”
Lisa figured this wasn’t the time to explain that expenses would begin the minute she arrived. No one would let her share an apartment without paying rent. Then there would be meals and gas and a number of other costs. She looked at Keith, and his eyes told her it was time to move on, get to the point.
Keith took the lead. He sucked in a long, steadying breath. “Sit down, sweetheart. Your mother and I need to talk to you.”
Again Andi looked from him to Lisa and back again. “About what?”
“Just sit down.” Keith was struggling to stay patient. “Please, Andi.”
She slowly pulled out the seat at the head of the table, putting her between the two of them. Lisa closed her eyes for a few seconds. Give us the words, Lord. We don’t want to turn her away. Please.
“In the few days since we’ve been here, your mom and I have seen a drastic change in you, honey.” Keith kept his words slow and measured. He sat back and folded his hands on the table. “Something’s clearly wrong and we’ve made you an appointment with—”
“Dad! I told you, I’m fine!” Panic pierced Andi’s eyes. She made a sound that was part frustration, part fearful defiance. “Just because I’m tired? Do you know how many college students are tired after finals?” With a quick, jerky motion, she ran her fingers through her bangs, struggling. “I don’t need a doctor; I need to catch my breath.”
Keith waited a long moment after Andi’s interruption before trying again. “What I was saying,” his voice was calmer than before, “is that we’ve made an appointment for you to see a Christian counselor.” He looked at Lisa. “It’s at one this afternoon, right?”
“Right.” Lisa felt tears in her eyes. She was sitting close enough that she put her hand on Andi’s shoulder. “Honey, you need to talk to someone. We think maybe you’re dealing with some depression.”
Lisa expected Andi to fight back about this, too, but she didn’t. She slumped in her chair and laid her arms on the table, defeated. “So like, an hour with a counselor? That’s what you want me to do?”
“Yes.” Keith’s tone said that the matter wasn’t open to debate. “If there’s something going on, maybe she can help you talk through it.” His expression softened. “Sweetheart, we love you, but you’re scaring us.”
“You were always so happy, Andi.” Lisa hoped her daughter could see the concern in her eyes. “You lit up every room you ever entered. And now…now we don’t know how to find that in you again.”
“You’ve only been home three days.” Her words were practically mumbled, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with them.
“This has been going on longer than that.” Keith put his hand on Andi’s other shoulder. “We want you to get help, baby. That’s all.”
For most of the brief talk, Lisa had been praying and now she begged God that Andi would understand. She watched her daughter, wondering how they could possibly feel so distant from each other. For a moment she thought Andi might argue, or worse—refuse to go. Instead she looked long at both of them and slowly nodded. “Fine.” She stood and again fear tinged her voice. “I don’t think it’ll help, but I’ll go.” She started toward the hallway. “I’ll be in my room until then.”
When she was gone, Lisa looked at Keith. “What do you think?”
“You want to know?” Keith’s shoulders hunched forward a little. He looked like he might break down. “I feel like I’m losing my little girl.” He looked out the window, clearly struggling with his composure. “Like someone took my daughter and replaced her with a stranger…someone I don’t even know.”
Tears blurred Lisa’s vision. “Maybe…we’ve been too busy.”
“Of course we’ve been too busy.” Keith raised his voice, but then shook his head, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” He shaded his eyes with his hand, and when he looked up, the desperation in his eyes was evident. “What am I doing, Lisa? Spending my days making movies?” He seemed to almost spit out the last word. “I have this big dream to change the world with film, but at what cost?” He waved his hand toward the hallway. “At the cost of losi
ng Andi? Because if that’s the cost, I’ll be like Chase and quit. I can’t do it.”
Lisa wanted to say something wise and compassionate, a Scripture or bit of advice that would calm her husband and give him hope that he didn’t need to quit making movies in order to reach their daughter. But the words wouldn’t come. “Maybe we’ll know more after today.”
Keith nodded. “I’ll go with you to the appointment.” He stood and pulled Lisa into his arms. “But I mean it. I’ll turn the whole thing over to Dayne if that’s what it takes. I can’t stand by and watch her slip away.”
They held onto each other for several minutes, both in silence and in prayer for their daughter. As they got ready for the appointment, Lisa thought about what her husband had said, and she agreed. If they had to leave moviemaking, so be it. They needed to do whatever they could to reach their daughter, to help her become the young woman she’d been before this year at school.
Now Lisa could only pray it wasn’t too late.
Seventeen
ANDI SAT RIGIDLY, SILENTLY BETWEEN HER parents in a non-descript chair in the stuffy lobby of the Bloomington Christian Counseling Center and tried to imagine how she’d let herself get into this situation. Had she really gotten into a car with her parents and willingly come here? When she’d lied to her parents every few hours since they’d arrived in Bloomington?
Nausea welled inside her and made her wonder if she’d survive the hour. This visit was a waste of their time and money, and Andi felt terrible for agreeing to it. But maybe if she gave the right answers and got through the hour, her parents would stop worrying about her. She needed an abortion clinic, not a counseling center. She’d made up her mind. And until then she couldn’t begin to figure out who she’d been back in the fall or whether she even wanted to find her way back to that girl. But none of that was her parents’ fault, so that’s why she was here.
A kind-faced older woman stepped into the lobby and smiled at them. “Andi Ellison?”
A moment of disbelief consumed her as she rose to her feet. Was this really happening? Her mother squeezed her hand and whispered, “We love you.”
Andi nodded absently and then followed the woman to a room halfway down a carpeted hallway. “Caroline will be right with you,” the kind woman smiled, and then she was gone.
This would be the perfect time to run. Andi looked around the room, but there was no door. Just the one that led back to the hallway, and there would be no way past the woman at the front desk. She reminded herself to breathe as she looked around the room. It was inviting, with a small fireplace and two comfortable leather chairs facing each other. A framed water feature hung on one wall, and on the other was an enormous aquarium situated on a table that seemed custom-built for it. A painting hung over the fireplace with the Scripture, “Cast your cares on Him, for He cares for you.” The entire room exuded a peace Andi had forgotten about.
She sat in one of the leather chairs and a minute later another woman entered the room, this one trim and neatly dressed, maybe in her mid-thirties. “Andi, hello.” She held out her hand. “I’m Caroline. I’m a counselor.”
Andi nodded and shook the woman’s hand. “Hello.” You’re a fraud, Andi Ellison, she told herself. Stop wasting everyone’s time. This woman can’t help you. She forced the voices in her head to cease so she could carry on a conversation.
The woman was calm and in no hurry to get to the reasons behind Andi’s supposed depression. She asked about Andi’s year at Indiana University and what sort of things she’d been involved in. Against her will, Andi found the woman easy to talk to. Because she was a stranger, not someone emotionally invested in Andi’s right or wrong choices, the answers came easily.
“What about guys?” Caroline’s smile didn’t hold a hint of judgment. “Did you date anyone special this year?”
The question caught her heart off guard. Anyone special? Someone like Cody Coleman or Tim Reed? Sure, Andi had met guys like that, but she hadn’t dated them. “I…uh…I haven’t met a lot of special guys. Not really special.”
“But you met some?”
“I guess. My roommate has a couple special guys in her life.” Andi hadn’t cried since the days after she learned she was pregnant. But here when she hadn’t expected to feel anything, she was realizing something she hadn’t before. Her voice fell. “I think I forgot what special really meant.”
“Hmmm. Yes, that happens sometimes.”
“I did date someone, to answer your question.” She looked down at her knees. “He was a film major.”
“I see.” Caroline still maintained an absolutely kind tone. “Did you think he was a special guy at first?”
Did she? Andi blinked and a few tears dropped to her lap. No, she hadn’t thought Taz was special, not if she was honest with herself. Dangerous and charismatic, bold and daring. Risky, certainly. She shook her head, working to find her voice. “No…not special. He was…he was different from the guys I was supposed to date. He complimented me and told me he’d never met anyone so beautiful.”
“I see.” Caroline paused. “Do you remember, Andi…what you were hoping to get out of dating this guy?”
Hoping to get? She stared at her knees again. “My friend Rachel was killed in a car accident.”
Caroline sat back, her eyes tender and patient, waiting for Andi to explain herself.
“What I mean is,” Andi sniffed. “Rachel was waiting for a special guy, someone…strong in his faith. The kind of guy you marry. But…she died before…” A swell of tears caught Andi off guard.
A box of tissues sat on a small coffee table between the two leather chairs. Caroline slid it closer to Andi. “It’s okay. We have time.”
Andi nodded and took a few tissues. What was she doing, spilling everything to this woman? And how come she’d agreed to an appointment with a counselor before she’d thought through this stuff? “I think…I dated Taz because he was different. He was dangerous.” She dabbed her nose and held the tissues tight in her hand. “I wanted to live like everyone else. Not have to wait for someone special.”
“The way Rachel waited.”
“Right.” Andi hadn’t hurt this much over losing Rachel in a very long time. But the pain was as real and raw now as it had been the day she got the news. “Rachel lived for God.” She gave a sad shrug. “Where did it get her?”
“Where do you think it got her?”
Andi thought for a moment. The answer was obvious, but she hadn’t really voiced it. “I think she’s in heaven, if that’s what you mean.” Andi looked at Caroline through bleary eyes. “You’re saying she’s in heaven because she lived right?”
“No.” Caroline smiled, her patience and understanding limitless. “She’s in heaven because Jesus died on the cross for her salvation, and she trusted Him for eternal life.” Caroline paused. “So why did Rachel live right when she was here on earth?”
“Because…” Andi hadn’t worked through this part before. “Because she loved God, and she wanted to. Rachel wanted to live right.”
“So tell me, Andi…was Rachel an unhappy girl?”
New tears sprang to Andi’s eyes and she pictured Rachel Baugher, the bigger-than-life kindness she had for everyone she met, the way her eyes and her smile could warm a person on the coldest day of the year. She took another tissue and pressed it to her eyes as she shook her head again. “Rachel loved her family and her friends. She loved school and helping people. She loved me.” A small sob came from her and she hesitated until she had more control. “Rachel was one of the happiest people I ever knew. Just like my roommate this year.”
Caroline nodded slowly, her sad smile filled with a wisdom that made it easy to believe she cared. “Your roommate?”
“Bailey.” Andi stood and crossed the room, dropping the damp tissues in a trash can near the door. When she returned, she sat down and met Caroline’s gaze again. “Bailey’s the same way. She wants to live right.”
“And she’s happy?”
&nb
sp; “Very happy.” There was no need for the counselor to draw conclusions. Andi was drawing them for herself. Rachel and Bailey stayed away from parties and wild guys. They didn’t drink or pose nude for some stupid student picture, and they certainly would never trade their virginity for a month of craziness. Yet they were happy, their lives filled with love and peace and laughter—the way Andi’s had once been. Meanwhile, Andi was unable to get out of bed, practically drugged with the desire to sleep, and unable to remember even how it felt to smile. She was pregnant and afraid and unwilling to tell her parents the truth.
“Are you happy now?” Caroline kept all sarcasm from her voice, as if she truly wasn’t sure what Andi’s answer would be even after all she’d said.
It wasn’t a question Andi had given much thought to, but the answer was ludicrously simply. “No.” She made a sound that was more cry than laugh. “I’m not happy.”
They talked a little longer about Taz and the way he’d treated her. Every sentence was excruciating for Andi, since she knew now that he had only used her. He’d gotten what he wanted from her and dumped her like moldy remains of yesterday’s roses. Caroline never quite asked her if she was pregnant, but she did ask how Andi was feeling now. “Are you able to move on? Or do you feel somehow trapped by your time with Taz?”
Andi hesitated. This was the line she wasn’t willing to cross. “I’m working on it.”
“Okay, that’s a start.” Caroline leaned over her knees, her voice slightly more intense than before. “Who’s helping you?”
“Helping me?”
“Yes. Andi, when you have something to work through, it’s important to have guidelines or rules. Time-tested wisdom that will help you make healthy choices as you go.” Caroline reached for a worn leather Bible next to her chair. “A starting place, of course, is Scripture. When you’re not happy, one great way to help yourself is to line up your actions with the truth of the Bible.”
“Yes.” After my abortion, Andi told herself.
“Is there someone you trust…someone you could share your thoughts with, someone you could present your plan to, so that together you could see if that plan measures up with God’s Word?”