Chasing Hope (16 page)

S
unday morning dawned bright and sunny. Sabrina peeked between the metal slats of the blinds and noted there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was early yet, but since she was awake, she might as well get going.

She caught a glimpse of her father walking down Nana’s driveway toward the sidewalk. He was dressed in a gray T-shirt and black running shorts, his favorite glow-green Nikes on his feet. He spent some time stretching, then pushed a button on his watch and took off jogging toward town.

Now would be a good time to go downstairs and get a glass of water, when she wouldn’t see him trying to hide his disappointment. She had to give him credit, he’d said very little in a negative frame—not to her face at least. But fact was, he had said very little about anything. This had to be her mom’s doing—telling him not to say anything if he couldn’t say something encouraging, or some such mom-ism. It didn’t matter. There was no need for words. His sighs and the fact that he could hardly look at Sabrina said more than any amount of words could.

Sabrina made it to the kitchen. She pulled out a glass and pushed it into the ice dispenser on the refrigerator door, thinking of the last part of the evening that made everything worse. Koen. With Lindy. She looked down at her stomach and shook her head.

“Good morning.”

Sabrina jumped at the voice, then turned and smiled. “Morning, Mom.”

Her mother reached over and patted her on the arm. “How’d you sleep?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Not great.”

“I suspected as much.” She reached inside the cupboard for her own glass. “Let’s go sit on the porch, shall we? It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

There was a white wicker porch swing on Nana’s front porch. The seat had a blue and green striped cushion, with solid blue square pillows scattered around the back rest. Mom took a cushion, placed it in the small of her back, then leaned against it. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I sat in this thing. I’ve always loved it. So many happy memories.”

Sabrina took another pillow and sat beside her mom. They slowly rocked back and forth, barely moving really, neither saying anything for a long time. Finally, Mom said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

The swing went back and forth and back and forth. Sabrina took a breath and started to answer, then choked and had to rock a little more. Finally she managed to say the one word that had been ringing through her mind for the past twenty-four hours. “Why?”

Once she had spoken the word she’d been holding inside for so long, the rest just spewed out in an inevitable release of pressure. “I don’t understand, Mom, I just don’t understand. Why? I was
so sure I heard God’s call on my life. Everything that happened seemed to confirm it—you felt it too, I know you did. I don’t understand why He did this to me, why He would issue such a strong call, then take it all away like this. I would have been fine if I’d never run the first step. Why?”

Sabrina allowed herself to sob out some of the pain for just a moment. “I know I should be grateful for all the wonderful things that I do have, and I am, really I am, it’s just that I don’t understand why God would not only take away my running, but also give that gift for it to someone like Brandy, who clearly will never use it like I would have.

“And then, after I got past all that, and started helping her—bam! Right back in my face again. Just more failure.”

“Sweetie, one race is not a failure. I’m sure she’s embarrassed and devastated right now. I talked to her on Friday night. I know that she was putting lots of pressure on herself to do well
for you
. I think the fear of not measuring up when it counted just got to her. She’s not used to success. She’s used to criticism and failure, and having no one to catch her after she falls. I think Brandy may be part of your new calling, whatever it is. You need to help her pull herself back together again. It would be so easy for her to dive off into the deep end now and never come back out. You’ve got to let her know there is someone who cares enough to try to catch her now.”

“I can’t, Mom, I just can’t help her anymore. I’ve been having nightmares about running almost every night since we started. I wake up covered in sweat, usually soaked in tears. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“Sabrina”—her mother took her hand—“I think that might be the problem. You never handled it in the first place.”

“What do you mean? I moved on. I started on a new path without sitting around and whining about what I couldn’t have.”

“That’s true, and there are plenty of good things to be said about that, but pretending that the pain is not there doesn’t make it go away. It just hides it beneath the surface until something forces it up—like when Brandy came along. To tell you the truth, I think you let the suffering deflect you from the path you were supposed to follow. You turned your back on your former dream and chose a completely different goal. What if your true calling lies somewhere back behind you? What if that’s the only thing that will ever make you truly happy?”

“God took my running away from me. I don’t think He’s all that interested in whether or not I’m happy about it.”

They sat silent for a moment.

“Honey, I wish you could hear what I hear. You’re angry. Angry toward God and I think you’re trying not to be, but right there is where you need to start. Do some digging and work through this pain. Maybe once you do that, you’ll see that He does indeed have a call on your life, and running is still a part of it—whether it’s your past running or coaching a current runner.”

Sabrina shook her head. “You’re wrong. I’m not angry.”

“Am I? Wrong?”

“Of course.”

“Let me give you one last thought, and then I promise I’ll leave this topic forever. Eric Liddell was always your role model, I know that. He won an Olympic gold medal, that is true. But there are lots of men who have won gold medals since then, men with names we do not know, whose faces we can’t remember. What made Eric Liddell so special that all these years later so many people still know his name?”

“I guess most people know his name because he refused to run that heat on a Sunday.”

“Right. And in spite of what the movie did or did not show, you know that he was strongly criticized for it, hated for it, even.”

“Yes.” Sabrina knew that the newspapers at the time had called him a traitor and worse.

“Eric loved to run as much as you did. He had earned his spot on the Olympic team, but he was willing to give up his dreams of a medal—in fact he
did
give up his dreams of a medal, when it would mean doing something that He didn’t believe God wanted him to do. In spite of the fact that he worked so long and so hard, he counted it nothing. Right?”

“Yes.”

“He could only do that because what he wanted more than that dream was to follow God in the very best way he knew how. For him, that meant not running on Sunday. For you, maybe that means living through old pain so that you can save a girl from a lifetime of pain. You need to go comfort Brandy.”

“How can I, when I can’t even comfort myself?” Sabrina shook her head. “I cannot . . .” The words died on her lips. In that instant, she knew that her mother was right. About all of it. She had been doing nothing but pretending for the last three years. Pretending to be happy. Pretending to be strong. Pretending all through church and Bible studies and every bit of it that everything was okay.

“I promised I would change subjects, so now I am. Have you decided what to do about the job?”

“It’s still not a firm offer, but the chance to work at Grace Rose is a dream come true. I don’t see how I could not do it.”

“Is it your dream come true, or the dream you think you’re supposed to have?”

Sabrina thought about that for a minute. “I thought it was mine, but now I’m not sure I understand anything anymore.” Sabrina thought about Bridges and the offer there. She thought about what her mom had said about her turning her back on the past.

Just then her father came up the front porch, still breathing hard from his run. “Good morning, ladies.”

“Morning,” Sabrina and her mother replied in unison.

Sabrina looked at her father and knew exactly what he would think about her job situation. Likely, the fact that she had this opportunity was one of the things helping him to remain so silent about yesterday’s epic failure. He believed that Sabrina was going to redeem herself with this amazing job and go on to greatness. And maybe that was the answer right there. Maybe taking that job was the only way to regain any semblance of worth again. Or maybe she needed to rethink her life and, like Eric Liddell, look for where God wanted her to be great.

“Girl, you’ve got to get up and start moving. You can’t go on like this.” Grandma’s voice hovered somewhere outside the covers, which were drawn up over Brandy’s head.

“I can’t. I’m too tired.” Brandy closed her eyes and tried to will herself back into the oblivion of sleep.

“You’ve been buried here in this bed ever since we got home from the race yesterday afternoon. It’s time for you to get up, eat and drink a little, and get moving around. This isn’t good for you, all this lying around and wallowing.”

But that was all Brandy wanted to do. Lie there and wallow. What kind of an idiot had she been? After everything that she’d planned to do, every bit of all that hard work, it all came to nothing. Brandy’s one chance had been handed to her, wrapped in cellophane and a big red bow, and she’d somehow managed to throw it all in the trash.

The covers were suddenly lifted from her head. “Now, you listen to me, young lady. It’s time for you to get out of your bed and I mean right now. You made a mistake, a big one, and there’s no doubt about that, but what you’ve got to do now is to keep moving
on. You can either let this one mistake ruin your life or you can learn from it and make the decision that next time you’ll be smarter.”

“There won’t be a next time for me.”

“I’d say that’s entirely up to you.”

“Grandma, Sabrina isn’t going to train me anymore. When Mrs. Lauderdale doesn’t get her paper work on time they’re going to send me to juvie and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I guess most people’d say I deserve it, and I probably do. We all knew it was going to happen sooner or later.” Brandy grabbed the covers and pulled them back up over her head. “Sorry, Grandma. I give you credit—you hung in there longer than anyone else, but it’s time to give up.”

The bed shifted as Grandma sat on the edge. She put her hand on Brandy’s knee. “Darling, I won’t ever give up on you as long as there is breath in my body. I love you more than anyone else on earth, and I’m going to keep on loving you no matter what you do or don’t do. You might as well get used to the idea, I’m here for the long haul.”

Not another word was said, and in fact Brandy would have almost believed that her grandmother had left the room if it weren’t for the gentle pressure of a hand on her knee and the slight lean of the mattress.

After some time, Brandy had no idea how long, she pulled the cover back from her face. Her grandmother was sitting there, head bowed, eyes closed, lips moving in some sort of silent plea to God.

Maybe sometimes you have to lose almost everything to realize that there is something valuable that you’ve had in your possession all along. In Brandy’s case, she was sitting right there beside her. “Grandma?”

Her grandmother opened her eyes. “Yes, darling?”

“You want to make some dinner together?”

“I can’t think of anything that sounds better.”

T
he sound of ocean waves grew louder and louder in Sabrina’s room, until it seemed as though the churning water would soon overtake her. She finally managed to roll over and hit the Snooze button, thus quieting her nature sounds alarm clock, and pulled her pillow over her head. Her joints all ached this morning, every single one of them. This was going to be one of those mornings that took a while before the stiffness eased up. She knew that she needed to get up and get going, but she was just so tired.

She hobbled down the hall, hoping a warm shower would help loosen things up a little. As she took deep breaths of the steam and let the hot water flow around her, she waited for relief, but it was slow in coming. Ten minutes later, she managed to get some shampoo into her hair and rinse it out. Conditioner would not be an option today. Apparently today’s look would involve a frizzy ponytail.

She pulled on her yellow ducky bathrobe and walked over to the sink to wash her face and at least try to make herself presentable.
Her nose looked worse. Much worse. In spite of the fact that the school doctor had put her on an oral antibiotic last week. Maybe she should see her again. Great. Just great. Frizzy hair and a bright red nose—not the way she wanted to start the week.

Right after breakfast she’d return Candace Davenport’s call about that internship. She would . . . accept the position . . . right? Not that the offer was 100 percent firm yet. But if it did turn into a firm offer, it would be a dream come true. A long shot that had been realized.

Out of the blue, Rita Leyva’s words from their last conversation returned to her and she suddenly felt awash in confusion. Was Bridges the right choice for her? Her mother would likely think so. Her father most certainly would not. She took a deep breath. In this particular case, he’d be right. She’d be crazy not to take the opportunity at Grace Rose. She could do something like Bridges work later on, after she’d established herself. Right now, she should do what she did well and do it as well as possible.

A brief flash ran through her mind of her younger self. She’d designed an ad campaign for Dad’s company as part of a school project. His face had beamed. “This is amazing. We pay professional firms for plans that aren’t as good as this. You should major in public relations.”

“Dad, you know I’m going to be a missionary.”

“Honey, no one majors in being a missionary. Besides, most of that life is getting the word out about your work to the right people. You’ve got a true natural gift for that. It’s definitely what you should do.”

It was one of the few things that Sabrina could ever remember doing without her father making suggestions for improvement. She’d decided on her college major that very day.

That’s the only thing that has stayed the same from my former life.

For some reason, in spite of the fact that she didn’t want to do
it, in spite of the fact that she had no time for this, she opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her old journal. She flipped it open, a little further than the last time.

Oct. 21—Every time things go wrong or get hard, the children of Israel keep repeating that they were better off in Egypt, sometimes they even start appointing leaders to take them back. To slavery! Why would anyone want to go back to slavery?

It couldn’t have been that they were well treated, because God said their cries came up before Him and that’s why He was freeing them. Why was it, then, that they would want to return?

I think maybe it’s because it was familiar. They knew what to expect and what was expected of them. Now, when things kept happening that they didn’t anticipate, they quickly lost sight of the goal and turned back toward what they could understand. Walking forward in faith, into the unknown, had proven too scary.

I hope that if my course should someday look less certain than it does now, my faith will not be proven to be so easily swayed and my heart so easily turned toward the comfort of the familiar.

Sabrina slammed the book shut, a tear splashing against the cover. What did she know? It was easy to think this way when you’re seventeen and your life is going according to your master game plan.

She tossed the book on her bed and walked out of the room. As she started down the stairs, the warm, greasy smell of bacon lofted up to greet her. And pancakes, too, if she didn’t miss her guess.

Inside the kitchen, she found Nana busy at work over the stove. She didn’t turn, but in her typical all-knowing way, she said,
“Good morning, Sabrina. Would you be a dear and pour the milk? Cakes will be up in just a minute.”

“Nana, you know you’re not supposed to do this kind of thing. That was part of the agreement when I moved in here, that you wouldn’t put yourself out trying to do stuff for me all the time.”

“I think you and I both know that I do not do anything for you ‘all the time.’ But I know this weekend was hard on you and I know Mondays are busy days for you. If a grandmother can’t do something a little extra special every now and then for her granddaughter, then something’s just not right with this world.”

“You are the best.” Sabrina poured them both a glass of milk and carried them over to the table.

“You seem like you’re hobbling this morning. You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little extra stiff. Probably because I slept funny or something.”

Nana set a plate of pancakes and another plate of bacon on the already set table. “I wish I could take your pain away from you, Sabrina. I’d take it on myself in a heartbeat if the good Lord would give it to me instead of you.”

Sabrina reached out and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I know you would.” It was true. Nana would do anything for her and Sabrina knew it.

A short time later, Sabrina stood in her room, punching numbers on her cell phone, her hands suddenly clammy. She listened to two rings on the other end.

“Grace Rose Public Relations, this is Naomi. How may I assist you today?”

“Hello, Naomi. My name is Sabrina Rice, and I am returning a call to Candace Davenport.”

“Yes. She is expecting your call. One moment, please.” The line clicked and some soothing orchestra music filled Sabrina’s ear for about three beats.

“Sabrina, so glad to hear back from you. I’m assuming you got my message on Friday?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I missed your calls. I was in class and then at work.”

“Now, that’s what I like to hear. Someone who doesn’t talk on her cell phone while at work. Yet another reason I am certain we made the right decision. I’ve got to tell you, Sabrina, I had to fight for you, so I need you to make me look good.”

“Fight for me?”

“Yes. When we were narrowing it down to the final candidates, there was the feeling among some of the decision makers that although you are obviously a self-motivated person, you might not have enough killer instinct to be truly successful in our highly competitive field.”

“Really?” A shiver ran through Sabrina, cold and prickly. “So . . . you convinced them otherwise?”

“Yes, I did, and I believe you’ll make me proud. You’ll be receiving a packet of paper work in the mail in the next week or so. Make sure you get it all filled out and returned as soon as possible. We can’t finalize everything until all the paper work is turned in and slots assigned. I think I mentioned earlier there is a slight chance of another round of interviews, but I don’t expect that to be the case this year, since we are firm on this year’s choices. I’m looking forward to our future partnership. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.” Sabrina hung up the phone with a few more misgivings than she’d had before, but realized that she’d just affirmed her plan to take the offer. A decision that she wasn’t certain she had intended to make.