Margaret smiled. “Has.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed the way he looks at you?”
Sheila thought hard as Margaret rummaged through her purse, extracted a hairbrush, and began brushing her long, brown hair tinged with gray. Did Hank look at her differently than everyone else? He was friendly and outgoing with all of the faculty and staff at Roosevelt, his blue eyes always shining with kindness, and sometimes mischief.
“No,” she answered as her friend banana-clipped her hair into place, “I guess I never have.” Not that it mattered now anyway. Apparently, she was right in the first place. They’d only ever been destined to be friends, no more.
Why did that thought not help alleviate the feeling that she’d just lost something precious and dear?
“Let me ask you a question.” Margaret glanced at the clock. Four minutes before the first bell rang. “Have you ever, in your mind, seen Hank working with you on the mission field?”
That’s an easy one. “All the time. But those thoughts aren’t necessarily from God,” she quickly added, seeing an ah-ha expression come over Margaret’s face. “It could just be me, wanting to have my cake and eat it too.” She sighed, wondering if she should have taken the day off. She’d probably be in a bad mood all day.
Picking up her purse, Margaret stood. “Could be.” She stowed her purse in a high cabinet. “Or it could be this is a test, which, if it is, you’re about to fail.”
A flash of anger streaked through Sheila. She was miserable, confused, and needing sympathetic encouragement. Not spiritual condescension. Especially from her best friend. She glared up at Margaret. “I’m this close to cussing at you right now.”
“Ooo, you’re offended. Good.” Margaret’s tone was irritatingly light. “That means you’ll be thinking about it all day.”
The bell rang. Sheila pushed herself out of her chair, snatched up her attendance folder, and stalked out of Margaret’s room without so much as a backward glance.
* * *
The next night was parent teacher conferences. Sheila had never minded them, had not even felt nervous about her first one four years ago. But this time, she had lost sleep over it. She was going to have to face Miguel Manriquez for the first time since she had been put on administrative leave. Tuesday morning she thought about calling in sick, but then she would miss talking to some parents of children she had serious academic concerns about. She decided she’d better go, then spent the entire day wondering if she should ask for backup so she wouldn’t be alone when Diana’s father walked into the room. Just in case.
By the time the conferences started, Sheila was too wiped out to care about anything Miguel might say or do. The moon was full, and she’d spent the whole day scolding kids, sending them to time out, and mediating arguments over such great crises as somebody grabbing someone else’s crayon by mistake. Edgar must have sat in the time out chair for a total of an hour and a half, and after lunch she’d had to change the math lesson to a coloring activity because every time she opened her mouth, several kids began chattering away. At two o’clock, she had the entire class sitting with their heads on their tables in a dark room. It was the only way she could get any control, and even then, Noe and Edgar started making faces at each other and giggling.
So at four o’clock, she plopped down into her desk chair, report cards in front of her, thinking that being a missionary to some third-world cannabalistic tribe had to be easier than teaching. On full moon days, anyway.
She forced herself to smile at the parents that trickled in throughout the evening. The February conference was never as well-attended as the October one, so she had several long periods by herself to try to relax and let go of the day’s stress. The evening wore on, and Miguel Manriquez had not come. Edgar’s parents came in at 6:50, were gone by 7:10, and by seven-forty no one else had shown up. Sheila began to clear off her desk and get her things together.
A movement at her door brought her head up. Her heart skipped a beat as Diana’s father stepped into the room.
By his hesitant movements, Sheila could tell he felt as uneasy as she did. She stood up, staying behind the safety of her desk. “Señor Manriquez.” She nodded at him, unsmiling. If she couldn’t express her anger at him without being considered “unprofessional,” then she was going to get her feelings across in whatever way she could.
Just like Jesus would do.
Shut up. Every once in a while, she wished she could stop being a Christian for five minutes so she wouldn’t feel guilty about having selfish and unloving thoughts.
Miguel looked at her with an embarrassed expression. “Buenas tardes, Maestra.”
“Siéntese, por favor. Sit down, please.” Sheila gestured to the chair in front of her desk, letting out her breath. He didn’t seem at all hostile, or drunk. She took a deep breath through her nose as he sat down. No booze odor. He was sober, thank God.
She shuffled through the pile of report cards, unable to meet his eyes. Her plan was to summarize Diana’s progress in two minutes, give him her report card and work samples, and get him out.
“Miss Carson,” he said in Spanish, “I want to tell you how sorry I am. About. . . everything.”
Sheila jerked her head up. “You have a fine way of thanking people for taking care of your daughter while you’re running around in Mexico doing God knows what.” What did she just say? Oh, Father, help me. I’m in trouble now. She braced herself for an angry outburst.
It didn’t come. Instead, an expression of profound sadness and hopelessness crossed over his features, startling Sheila more than if he had yelled in her face. At least he’s not mad, she thought with confused relief and a pinprick of guilt.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Manriquez,” she said. “I should not have said that.”
“Why not?” Miguel smiled slightly. “I deserved it. And please, call me Miguel.”
For some reason, the friendly, almost pleading tone brought heat to her face. Finding Diana’s paperwork, she pulled them out and handed them to her father, saying, “Here’s some of what Diana has done lately, Mr. Manriquez. She’s the top student in the class, and already reading.” She slid the report card toward him. “But then, I’m sure you already knew that.”
Miguel studied the papers for such a long time that Sheila began to shift in her chair. Lord, why doesn’t he just leave?
When he finally looked up again, determination had replaced the desperation on his face. “Miss Carson, I work hard to see that Diana gets everything she needs. She’s all I have, and I would never do anything to hurt her. I did something stupid, getting myself arrested, and I’ve promised myself never to let it happen again.” He began to speak quickly in one of those Mexican dialects that drop the final consonants of words, and Sheila had to strain to understand him. “Deep down, I’m a good man, Maestra.”
“You lied to Mr. Medina about me.” Sheila softened her tone, wanting understanding rather than further conflict.
Diana’s father stared down at the report card in his hand for several seconds. “I was angry about. . .many things, and when my daughter came home and said that you. . .” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish. Sheila knew what he was trying to say. And she’d never felt more awkward in her life.
When he brought his head up, his eyes held Sheila’s for a long moment. They were suddenly tender and kind, a change so dramatic that Sheila had to glance at the rest of his face. He was ruggedly handsome, she realized, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.
She pushed the thoughts away in disgust. I am not going there. Besides, she decided, he probably wouldn’t have looked nearly as good if Hank’s visit to her church had had a different outcome. She was still hurting and vulnerable. Yes, that was it. She just needed to keep her emotions under control.
“I can see why you would already have a man in your life. So caring, so smart, so beautiful, inside and out.”
Sheila struggled to remember the words for “sexual
harassment” in Spanish, but not being a part of her every day vocabulary with Kindergartners, they didn’t come. Anyway, she could tell he was being sincere and not at all provocative.
When he abruptly broke eye contact and stood up, asking her if he could take Diana’s papers home, Sheila felt a twinge of disappointment. She was finally connecting with him, and would have liked the opportunity to find out more about Diana’s home life. If only she could share the Gospel with him. What a boon that would be to Diana’s upbringing.
But he shook her hand, said, “Buenas noches,” and was out the door before Sheila could work up the nerve to say anything more. She stared after him, stunned. When she finally shook herself out of it, she let out a breath.
“Well, that didn’t go so bad,” she said aloud, then stood up, straightened up her desk, and went home.
CHAPTER 16
Hank stared at the envelope with unseeing eyes. As much as he enjoyed being around people, somehow parent-teacher conferences managed to suck the life out of him. He guessed it was because he wanted to be able to tell every parent how wonderful their child was, and dreaded having to suggest that their child might need special help, or that their child was on his way to becoming the next Charles Manson if he didn’t get his behavior straightened out yesterday.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then looked at the return address on the envelope. He smiled, then ripped it open.
Dear Hank, it said,
I’m sorry it took me so long to write to you, after promising you a newsy letter after the New Year. I suppose I could have called, but since the last time we talked I’ve been so busy looking for a new job that I’m totally drained by the end of the day. It’s all I can do to watch a sitcom without falling asleep! The last thing I want to do is call somebody, even if it is you.
Hank chuckled, then continued reading. Most of the letter was friendly chitchat, until the last paragraph.
Okay, I have a confession to make. I wasn’t being totally honest. The real reason I haven’t called again is because I was scared. I was so happy to see you on Christmas, and we got along so well, just like old times, that after I thought about it for a while, it seemed unreal. Too good to be true. I almost didn’t call you about my job loss. I was afraid I might find out that what I thought was mutual excitement and enthusiasm for rekindling our friendship might have just been the high of the moment. And though I realize that if it was, that I would just have to accept it and move on, I wanted the lingering feelings from our reunion to live on as long as they could.
Hank had gotten up in the middle of reading the letter to get a Gatorade out of the refrigerator, and now froze in his tracks. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
So I guess I’m writing because I want to be sure that our relationship is on the track I felt it was on when we met on Christmas Eve. Forgive me for my female silliness, but I have missed you the past few years, and I didn’t want to let another minute go by without letting you know what a special friend you’ve always been to me, and hopefully will continue to be.
“Well, tie me to a live oak tree and call me Billy Bob,” Hank muttered, staring at the last lines of the letter. He’d thought he’d felt a spark that was more than friendship when he had dinner with Barbara two months earlier, but then there was Sheila.
But now there was no Sheila.
He dropped the pages to the table, raced to the phone, and dialed Barbara’s number.
* * *
“I’ve been seeing myself in some exotic place in the Third World, preaching the Gospel, doing miracles—you know, all that—the last couple of years.”
Sheila studied her pastor’s face to see his reaction. He’d told stories from the pulpit before of people who had called themselves into their own ministry and consequently suffered great pain and failure, so the week before Spring Break, she decided she’d better seek counsel from Pastor Scott before making any drastic life changes.
His smile did not waver. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”
Sheila raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Some of your friends have made casual comments about your boldness in speaking truth to others, and you’ve been a faithful servant in the church in more ways than one.” He leaned back in his chair and fiddled with a pen. “Your devotion for the Lord outweighs many who have been part of AGC for twenty years.”
Wow. She’d never thought Pastor Scott was actually watching her. She’d never thought anyone was watching her. She just wanted to help out, that’s all.
“So you think I’ve heard from God?”
Pastor Scott leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear. “Sheila, did you have a doubt that Sunday when Brother Rodney prayed for you?”
She shook her head.
“Then stop letting the enemy plant seeds of doubt in your mind. I feel a witness for everything you’ve just told me, and I will bless any endeavor you make to go out on the mission field. As a matter of fact—” he leaned back and pinched his eyebrows together— “I think I may be able to help you get started.”
Sheila wanted to ask how, but another question burned in her mind until she thought smoke would start coming out from her ears. “Pastor Scott, would you say that two people that God has meant to be together, if one is called into the ministry, the other would have some sense of desire or agreement about it?”
The answer was yes, of course. Anyone with any sense could see that. She’d only asked because she needed to hear someone say it out loud.
So when her pastor said, “Not necessarily,” she blinked in disbelief. He propped his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together. “At least, not at first.”
Sheila waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she let the subject drop. She spent the rest of the evening and half the night wondering, hoping, praying, that this was the case between her and Hank. Common sense told her that she should just cut her losses and give up wherever she imagined their relationship might lead, but something deep inside told her she shouldn’t.
At least Sheila had somewhere to go and something to do for Spring Break. Spending a week in Colorado with Margaret, she was sure she’d be able to keep her thoughts about Hank at bay.
Just before she left for the trip, Pastor Scott left a message on her machine telling her that he had arranged for her to fly back with a missionary couple, Sharon and Carl Salyards, who worked in Zimbabwe and were scheduled to preach at AGC the first week of June. She waited to tell Margaret, until she had spent a couple of days praying about it.
The first time she voiced her decision out loud, she felt like she’d slammed a steel door shut behind her that the strongest explosives couldn’t reopen. “I’m resigning from the district at the end of the year.”
Margaret set down her cup of tea as wrinkles creased her forehead. “You sound like you’re not sure about it.”
Sheila sighed. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous about making the step of faith, but I’m really excited about it. It’s just that....” She let her voice trail off, and shook her head. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get it out of her head that Hank was supposed to be accompanying her to Africa.
Her gaze drifted out the window of the small café. In the four days she had spent with Margaret so far, she still felt awed by the majesty of the Rocky Mountains, in clear view from the charming old building where Sheila and Margaret lingered after a light lunch. Lord, couldn’t I just move up here, and live in a cabin in the mountains the rest of my life? Life would be so much easier if God had called her to be a hermit. Then again, she knew that escaping would not solve her problems, or heal her hurt.
As usual, Margaret seemed to read her thoughts, reaching across the table and placing her hand on Sheila’s. “It’s that thing with Hank, isn’t it?”
Sheila drew in a shaky breath. “Pastor Scott thinks he might change his mind.” She shook her head. “I can’t let myself hold on to that, you know?”
Margaret withdrew
her hand and smiled at the waitress who offered her more hot water.
“I suppose,” Sheila added, as the waitress removed her empty plate, “I should pray and believe and not worry. Some Christian I am, huh?”
Margaret waved her hand. “You’re allowed to be human, Sheila. The Lord understands your struggles and frustrations. That’s why He promised to be our strength in times of weakness.”
“I know.” Sheila glanced out the window again. The inspiring view stirred in her a restless yearning. “Are you about ready? I need to get out.”
Margaret took another long sip from the cup, then nodded. “Let’s go.”
They put on their coats, paid the cashier, and walked into the nippy air. Although the sun’s rays took the bite off the chill, both women shoved their hands into their coat pockets and held their arms against their sides. Neither one spoke for several minutes as they wandered up and down the sidewalks of the small Colorado town.
Sheila let her mind wander. She realized that where she was going in three months, there would be no snow-capped mountains, no lush green grass underfoot during the summer months. It would be a stark change from everything familiar to her, from the simple huts to the native language, yet she felt no fear. She would not be totally alone; she would be joining with a couple with years of experience on the field. Her only concern was that she would feel like a third wheel, much like she did around Margaret and Daniel.
She glanced at her friend. Thank God she had come alone. Sheila knew the thought was utterly selfish, that Margaret must be missing her husband, but with all she’d been going through lately, she wanted—needed—her best friend all to herself for a few days.
Sheila and Margaret turned the corner, walking up a street lined with brick buildings a century old. Few cars passed, and the only other people out walking were stragglers remaining from the lunch hour. During the summer, these same streets most likely brimmed over with tourists. As far as Sheila knew, she would never see for herself. She might be in Africa the rest of her life.