“I’m here.” She marched into the room and slammed a notebook onto a student desk near Hank, then sat down in the chair so hard that she felt it in her tailbone. “Let’s get going.”
Hank peered at her with a raised eyebrow, then his usual grin spread across his face. “Okay.”
Sheila glared at him. “Doesn’t this tick you off in the least?”
“Nope.” He straightened up in his chair, then pushed it back to open the middle drawer of the desk. “Well, all right, it did at first.” He fumbled around in the drawer, pulling out a pen after a few seconds. “But the Bible says not to be anxious, and not to let the sun go down on your wrath.”
Sheila let out an exasperated breath. The last thing she wanted at the moment was a sermon. But she said nothing.
“Anyway,” Hank continued, looking at her intently, “did you ever consider that this thing might be from the Lord?”
“Like you said at the club,” Sheila replied, noticing that he winced at the mention of the word, “there is a devil, too, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that he had possession of Medina yesterday.” She refused to consider that God had orchestrated this whole thing, essentially putting Sheila and Hank on a team. It was already too painful, and she’d only been in his room for five minutes.
“Touché.” Hank’s grin faded into a sheepish smile. “But God can turn it around for good.”
Sheila was too tired to continue the banter. “Can we just get this over with?” She flipped open the notebook, where she had already written down some ideas. “First, we get some kids from each grade level to perform a dance or skit or song. I was thinking the United States song would be—what?”
The grin had returned to Hank’s face, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Nothing. I’ll get in trouble if I say it.”
That was the last straw.
“You’d better say it, or you will have trouble.”
“Uh-uh. Sexual harassment and all that.”
What? Hank would never—But she saw the teasing in his eyes, and her anger began to fade, although she kept it in her tone. “Say it.”
“You’re cute when you’re intense.”
Sheila didn’t think his grin could get any wider, but it did, until it filled his whole face. He was right. In the context in which it was said—on the job, during school hours—she had every legal right to file a complaint against his comment. But she knew Hank well enough to know that he was just trying to get her to relax. Besides, they were friends, and friends teased each other.
The realization jolted her. They were still friends, weren’t they? In spite of everything that had happened between them, she saw in that moment that they still had that simple, God-given bond. Okay, well, that’s what she’d come to believe that God had intended for them in the first place. Just because they had taken their relationship farther than He had willed, didn’t mean they had to throw the baby out with the bath water.
The storm of anger evaporated, replaced by a gentle breeze of contentment, and she smiled. “And in case you didn’t notice,” she rejoined, “I’m intense most of the time.”
They both laughed, and spent the next two hours planning the greatest festival that the school had ever known. Over the next couple of weeks, Sheila drummed up volunteer support from the rest of the faculty, while Hank gathered materials for the various performances that would take place. Sheila drew up a schedule for the big day, and Hank had kids painting, dancing, and singing every day after school.
Every time the two of them got together, Sheila felt they had more fun than the last time. There was only one problem. Hank had begun to fill her thoughts again. When they weren’t together, she wondered what he was doing. Would have imaginary conversations with him. He even began showing up in her dreams.
She had to face it. Disregard her previous sense of what God willed between her and Hank. She felt like she was falling in love with him again, was sure the same thing was happening with him. She could see it in his eyes.
Lord, I don’t need this, became her daily cry. If these feelings aren’t from You, please, take them away.
After praying for several days, she approached Pastor Scott after a Wednesday night service. “I need you to put my plans to go to Zimbabwe on hold.”
He frowned, remaining silent for a long moment.
“Are you sure?” he finally asked.
“Positive,” she replied, and the pastor nodded solemnly.
The Friday before the big day, Mr. Medina surprised both of them by putting substitute teachers in their classrooms and telling—actually, more like ordering—them to spend the afternoon in the teacher’s lounge tightening up any loose ends. Sheila was more than happy to give up her restless class to someone else’s charge, and hoped that Hank wouldn’t mention to Medina that they already had everything taken care of.
In case Medina popped in on them, she made a show of lugging her notebook and the binder holding the detailed schedule for the day into the lounge. Hank one-upped her on that score. He dragged in a wheeled carry-on at about 1:15, and emptied the contents onto the table.
“Just in case, you know what I mean?” he said, winking, and she burst into laughter.
After catching her breath, she asked, “Well, what do we do for two hours?”
Hank shrugged. “How about just shoot the breeze?”
They’d been talking for about twenty minutes when they heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Sheila said, assuming it was some child. None of the adults in the building ever knocked on the lounge door. She started somewhat when a grown woman wearing a visitor pass stepped through the doorway.
She started even more when Hank jumped up and said, “Barbara, what are you doing here?”
He knows her. Jealousy swept over her when he walked over to the strange woman and greeted her with a hug. Who was she?
When they parted from their embrace, Hank turned to Sheila. “Uh, Sheila, this is Barbara. I knew her from my dad’s church.” He cleared his throat. “A few years ago.”
Barbara smiled warmly as she walked over to Sheila and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. You teach fourth grade, too?”
Sheila struggled to return the smile as she accepted the handshake. Whoever this woman was, Hank had told her nothing about Sheila. And why had Sheila never heard of this woman? She was growing more irritated by the second. “No. I teach Kindergarten. We’re working on a project together.” She gave Hank an accusing glance, but he was already looking back at Barbara.
“So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Sheila knew that tone. Hank used to talk to her that way, with a tenderness that caressed her eardrums, a few months earlier.
When they seemed to be headed to something deeper than a friendship.
Sheila felt the blood drain from her face. Hank isn’t - he’s not - But Sheila couldn’t deny what was staring her in the face.
Hank was in love with another woman.
Sheila felt sick to her stomach. So what she thought had been happening between her and Hank had been a complete misperception on her part. Hank was only interested in her as a friend. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and took a deep breath to alleviate the nausea.
“I wanted to tell you that I had a job interview with a firm in Keller.” Barbara beamed. “I feel real good about it.”
“Keller?” Hank’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “That’s not too far from here.”
And to think, Sheila had as much as admitted to her pastor that she was about to turn away from the call of God on her life. Why hadn’t she stood up to Medina for once? After all, he couldn’t fire her for not serving on a committee. Deep down, she’d known that working with Hank would eventually bring her pain, in some way, shape, form, or fashion. She never would have guessed, however, that the pain would come in the form of a beautiful Hispanic lady.
“No,” Barbara said, “it’s not far at all.”
They shared a smile, a
nd suddenly, Sheila felt like she was intruding on something private. “Excuse me,” she said, and got up to leave. She brushed past Barbara without apology, wandering the halls for a good ten minutes as she blinked back tears. She would be in Margaret’s room, crying on her shoulder, no doubt, as soon as her last student was picked up, but until then, Sheila had to hold herself together.
When she got back to the lounge, Barbara was gone, and Hank was once again seated. He glanced up at her, brow wrinkled with concern. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” Sheila picked up her belongings with a sweep of her arm. “Oh, you’re going to need this.” She dumped the binder with the schedules on the table and whirled around.
“Where are you going?” Hank said as she reached for the doorknob.
Sheila wanted to face him with the answer, but she knew it would be her downfall. “To Zimbabwe,” she answered, and headed out of the lounge to find Mr. Medina.
* * *
Miguel had been kicking himself every day since the incident with Mr. Johnson in the nightclub. Sure, the guy had been intruding on his date with Miss Carson, not to mention getting in his face with religion. He had a good smack in the face coming, and Miguel wouldn’t have thought twice about it if it hadn’t happened in front of Diana’s teacher. She would never want to see him again now, roses or no roses. And he didn’t blame her.
Diana came bounding in from school that warm afternoon. “Papá, you’re going to let me sing at the carnival, right? Miss Carson said that it’s on Tuesday. I missed her today. She wasn’t there after lunch. She said she had some work to do for the carnival. So I can go, right?”
Amused by her excited outburst, Miguel picked up his daughter in a smothering embrace. “Sí, anything for my little girl. Are you hungry?”
She nodded emphatically, and he set her down at the rickety old table with some leftover buttered tortillas and a glass of water. “I’m sorry we’re out of milk.” He sat down next to her, feeling overcome with shame. He thought giving up drinking would free up some cash, but here he was again, without enough grocery money to buy milk for his only child.
Diana shrugged in her usual nonchalant way. “That’s okay.” She gulped the water down thirstily. “Miss Carson says water is better for you, anyway.”
“She did, did—” A searing pain in his side cut his words off short, and he doubled over.
In an instant, Diana was out of her chair and by his side. “Papá, are you okay? Should I call Tía Rosa?”
My medicine. I need my medicine. “No,” he said, gasping for air. “But in the bathroom there is a jar of pills. Get it.”
Diana was off like a shot, and as soon as she returned he dumped several pills into his palm and swallowed them down with the rest of her water. The pain began to subside, and he straightened up. Diana was staring at him like a frightened deer.
“I’m okay, sweetheart.” Miguel reached out his arm.
Diana walked toward him with a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He held Diana to his side for a long moment, hoping she would not begin to worry about him. Even more, he hoped that she would not mention this episode to Rosa.
“Maybe you should go to Miss Carson’s church.”
The whispered suggestion startled him as though a loudspeaker had suddenly blasted in his ear. “What?”
Diana looked up into his face with serious eyes. “God does things in Miss Carson’s church. Maybe if you go, He’ll make your hurt go away.”
The familiar tide of fury began to rise within him, but he checked it before it manifested itself in its usual angry torrent. This was his daughter speaking. She was six years old. She didn’t know any better than to believe what she had been told.
Then again, she seemed to be handling life a lot better than he ever had. Maybe she knew something he didn’t. However odd that idea, Miguel decided to go with it. It might be his last chance.
“Diana,” he said, feeling the first spark of hope in years, “You must be the smartest girl on earth.”
CHAPTER 20
Nearly two months had passed since Sheila’s confession to Margaret about causing the death of her young cousin-once-removed. Although the past pain had diminished to the point where she could think about the accident and no longer feel a sharp stab of regret and guilt, the days and weeks following Spring Break she kept wondering if she should try one more time to talk to her sister Linda, to reconcile with her. Perhaps, Sheila thought, if she could somehow get through to her sister that God had given her peace about the situation, Linda would be willing to ask for and receive the same peace.
The sun burned with unseasonable heat the day after the May Day festival. Still worn out from the backbreaking labor she’d endured the day before, she dragged herself out of the cool shelter of her car and to her apartment door, hoping that the 95-degree temperature of the day was not a portent of a summer filled with 105-plus-degree days.
As exhausted as she was, she’d decided two days earlier to call Linda just after the festival. If she waited another day, she feared she would lose her nerve.
Upon entering her apartment, she dropped her bag next to the door, turned up the air conditioning, and walked over to the telephone. She hesitated, a vivid picture of her throwing it to the floor flashing through her mind. Was she some kind of masochist? What was she thinking? Linda had not changed in four years. What made Sheila think that five months had made a difference?
Shut up. You are not going to chicken out now. Pick up the blasted phone. “Jesus, help me,” she sighed, picking up the receiver. She dialed her mother’s number.
The phone rang four times before anyone answered.
“Hello?”
The voice was so weak, Sheila barely recognized it. “Linda?” She clenched her free hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.
For a brief eternity, silence reined. Sheila was sure her sister was going to hang up on her. Or release the same old torrent of angry accusations. She braced herself, determined that whatever happened, she would be able to put it in God’s hand and not let it ruin the rest of her day.
“What do you want?” Linda’s voice was more weary than hostile, and the resigned reply took Sheila by surprise.
“Linda, are you okay?”
“You didn’t call to ask me that.” She sounded angry, but her harsh tone couldn’t mask the slight slur in her speech. What was wrong with her?
Sheila decided not to press the issue. “I—this is kind of hard to explain,” she began. “During Spring Break, I realized that God had forgiven me for what I—what happened with Lorena. And Peter.” She took a deep breath. Please let her hear what I’m saying. “And I’ve been at peace ever since. I know it’s God’s will for you to find peace about it, too, and for there to be peace between us. If—if you want, I can pray with you, and—”
A humorless guffaw broke off Sheila’s plea. “Well, isn’t this just special. My sister the preacher.” Linda’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m so glad to hear you no longer care about what you did to Lorena, but you know what? I still do.”
Sheila had prayed not to get upset at any point during the call, but she couldn’t help the anger that suddenly flooded through her. “It was an accident, can’t you understand that? A terrible one, yes, but an accident. I loved Lorena as much as anybody, and I don’t get why you keep acting as if I did it on purpose.
“No, no wait. Yes, I do get it. If you finally admit that I’m not the criminal in the whole thing, you might actually remember that you’re the one who asked me to run to the store that day to—”
“Shut up!”
Sheila winced at the scream, then realized she had hit the nail on the head. For four years, Linda had dealt with her own guilt in the incident by blaming Sheila.
She waited for her sister to hang up.
Linda did not.
“Don’t you try to pin Lorena’s death on me. It was not my fault.” The broken sobs with which
she spoke defied her words. “Don’t you ever call me again, you hear me? If God wants us to be sisters again, He’s going to have to do a whole lot more than give you some imaginary feeling.”
Then she hung up.
Sheila stared numbly at the receiver in her hand. Well, I tried. She set it down on the dining room table. Plopping into a chair, she folded her arms on the table and let her head sink into them. She had so much wished to make things right with Linda before she left for Africa. Now that seemed impossible, barring a miracle. Which Sheila didn’t even have the strength to hope for.
She did, however, have the strength to speed-dial Gary. If she couldn’t get Linda to forgive and forget, she was going to find out what was wrong with her.
“What’s wrong with Linda?” she said as soon as her brother answered.
A pregnant pause preceded his response. Something totally out of character for him. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Unless he was hiding something. “What do you mean? I guess she’s still mad at you—”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Calm down. Gary was the one sibling she felt she still had a relationship with, and snapping at him would do nothing to improve it. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I just got off the phone with her—”
“With who? Linda?” Gary’s voice went up a few decibels.
“Yes. Can you believe it? She didn’t hang up on me.”
“Shelly, that’s wonderful.”
Not as wonderful as I wanted it to be. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Which one?”
Now he deserved her wrath, and made no effort to hide her exasperation. “She sounded like she’d been hit over the head by a two-by-four. Do you know what that’s all about?”
Another pregnant pause. “No.”
Liar.
Sheila spent the rest of the week in a fog, letting her students get away with misbehaviors that previously would have warranted a trip to the time-out chair, and walking through lessons with robot-like indifference. Saturday she spent extra time praying, so that by the time Sunday morning arrived, she had begun to feel a bit more rejuvenated. She walked into the church, ready to worship God, ready for Him to touch her.
After singing several songs, God’s presence descended on Sheila like a dove, and she felt the burden of the past week, especially the calls to Linda and Gary, lift off her shoulders. Others around her seemed lost in the same presence, some weeping, some praying, some standing silently with lifted hands. The band played quietly for what felt like an hour, but was only perhaps ten minutes, and then Pastor Scott stepped up to the podium.