Lead Me Home (15 page)

An 8 a.m. cell phone call from Monica on a Saturday morning could mean only one thing: Her letter from the summer music program had finally come.

Shiloh opened both eyes after peeking to check the caller ID and sat up in bed. “What’s up?” She was too excited to render a formal hello.

“Good morning, Mrs. Griffin, can you meet me for breakfast, or maybe for lunch?”

Shiloh paused. “Okay …,” she said, drawing out the word. “That’s all you got for me? Did your letter come? What’s the word?”

Monica’s laugh was tinny. “Don’t make me tell you on the phone …”

“You’re killing me, little girl.”

“If I tell you, will you still meet me for breakfast or lunch?”

Shiloh sighed and checked the clock. “I have to meet Mrs. Smith, Reverend Vic’s wife, at ten this morning to help her prepare something for her pageant. It’s eight now, and I’m not dressed. It will take me half an hour to get to the Sherman Park area, so if we meet before ten, it will be rushed. Can you tell me what the letter says and plan to have lunch with me? I will come by your house and pick you up. You’re a church member now, not my student, so we aren’t inappropriately fraternizing.”

Monica giggled. “Well, I got in …”

“Yes!” Shiloh squealed and pumped a fist in the air. She was glad
Randy was already up and gone to a Boy Scout outing with David and Raphael; otherwise she would have wakened him.

“Congrats, my dear! You are on your way.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Griffin,” Monica said.

“Why don’t you sound happy? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I’m very happy. And proud,” Monica said. “It’s just that … well, that’s why I’m asking to meet you. I need to talk to you about it all.”

Shiloh was perplexed, but knew she needed to be patient. She had to ask just one more question, though. “Did Phaedra get in?”

“I don’t think so,” Monica said. “I texted and called her several times yesterday after I got my letter, but I didn’t hear back from her. That makes me think she wasn’t accepted; I hope she won’t be mad that I was.”

“She’s your best friend; she’ll be happy for you. Just give her some time, she’ll come around.”

They ended the call with Shiloh agreeing to call Eleanor to let her know she’d be coming by to swoop up Monica around noon. Shiloh’s thoughts turned to Phaedra, and she was tempted to call the girl to see if her and Monica’s assumptions that Phaedra hadn’t been accepted were correct.

If that were the case, it was a reality that Shiloh could accept more easily than Monica’s not being chosen for the program. Monica clearly had both a gift and a passion for the flute; she lived it, breathed it, ate it. Phaedra, on the other hand, was a great saxophonist, but a music career wasn’t her heart’s desire.

Shiloh had been praying for Phaedra to find one or a few things that lit her fire, something she could get excited enough about to pursue after high school. As a tenth grader, she had a few more years to figure it out. In Monica’s case, the earlier you were identified and placed on track to hone your gift, the better chance you had of becoming a professional musician.

Shiloh climbed out of bed and strolled to her walk-in closet to decide what to wear for her first meeting of the day, with Jade. Though her “Second Lady” had thawed some hearts in the Bible study and had proven that there was a real, God-loving person beneath the hair, makeup, and designer clothes, Shiloh still felt the need to show up at Jade’s place looking like more than a slug. So even though it was Saturday, she put on her dressy black jeans and a cute top instead of her faded and worn T-shirt. Truthfully, she had to admit that after taking a little extra care with her attire, she actually felt better.

Nearly four hours later, after leaving Omari and Lem with a list of chores to complete before they could get together with friends, and helping Jade craft the speech about hearing loss that she wanted to deliver at the looming pageant, Shiloh was still feeling cute when she pulled up to the stucco, one-story house in North Milwaukee that Monica shared with her dad and grandmother.

Eleanor peeked out of the front door and waved hello as Monica trotted out to the car and climbed in. Before they drove away, Shiloh leaned over and gave the girl a hug.

Monica grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. Griffin. I wouldn’t have accomplished this without you. You told me I could do it, you helped me find audition pieces, you cheered me on. Thank you.”

Shiloh beamed and squeeze Monica’s hand. “You are more welcome than you know, Monica. I’m proud of you. I didn’t know your mother, but I’m guessing that she’s looking down from heaven, smiling on you with a proud heart, too.”

Monica turned away and peered out of the window, and Shiloh worried that she had upset her. When the girl turned back toward Shiloh, her cheeks were wet.

“I still miss her,” Monica said softly and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “And I wonder what she would say about all of this.”

Shiloh didn’t know how best to respond, so she prayed.
Heal her heart, Father. Let her feel her mother’s love even from afar, and let her know that you are here and that you love her, forever and ever.

“Where to, Miss Monica? What do you have a taste for?”

Monica attempted a smile. “A burger is fine.”

Shiloh frowned and started to protest that this occasion called for something more special and celebratory, but then she had an idea. “You know, I’ve been wanting to try this place downtown that my two Sherman Park teacher buddies were always raving about—let’s go to Stack’d Burger Bar.” Shiloh would have to call or text Eva and Kris later, and brag about finally visiting one of their favorite dining spots without them.

Monica nodded. “I’ve heard of it. They have gourmet burgers, and veggie burgers, and all that kind of stuff. Let’s give it a try.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were in downtown Milwaukee, in the Fifth Ward, waiting to be seated. For a Saturday around lunchtime, the place was quieter than Shiloh had expected. She was sure that on this unusually mild weekend in early November, people were outside raking leaves before the weather turned cold, or finding fun things to do. She and Monica would benefit by having fewer people to talk over, as they mapped out her future as a professional flutist.

They ordered and enjoyed their delicious burgers on pretzel buns, along with the restaurant’s specialty—fried pickles and onion rings. They also chatted about the school recital held at Sherman Park earlier that week. Shiloh took this as an opportunity to share the concerns she’d had that night about Trey Holloman.

“I saw the look you gave Mr. Football Star when he walked by with one of the cheerleaders that night,” Shiloh said and took a sip of water. “Don’t let him worry you; guys like that blow through girls like nothing. Just like he was in your face and now he’s in hers, he’ll be hitting on someone else next week.”

Monica seemed sad, but she agreed. “I know; you’re right.”

Shiloh decided not to dwell on it and switched subjects to the real reason for their meeting today. “Tell me about the summer program. When do you leave? How long will you stay?”

Monica finished her half-full glass of soda, sat back in her seat, and sighed. She seemed overwhelmed.

“You okay, Monica? I thought you were excited.”

She sat forward again and perched her elbows on the table. “I am, it’s just that …”

Monica’s voice quivered and Shiloh glanced around to make sure they hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention. Even though they were in the clear, she signaled for the waitress to bring their check, so they could head out and find a private place to talk.

Monica took a deep breath and continued. “I have something to tell you, Mrs. Griffin, and I don’t know what it will mean for this summer.”

Shiloh tried to remain expressionless, like she did when one of her sons was baring his soul about something that freaked her out, but she didn’t want him to know. She stayed silent, so Monica would keep talking, and reminded herself that though she felt it, the girl could not hear or see the anxiety causing her heart to thump faster and louder.

“What is it, my friend? You can tell me anything.”

“Mrs. Griffin, I want to go to the summer program, and I guess I will. But first, first I have to get rid of this baby.”

Shiloh’s eyes bulged, but she caught herself before the shriek left her throat. In one breath, this gifted, sweet child had zapped Shiloh back to her own youth, to that summer in France, when she had sat with herself, by herself, and come to a similar conclusion about a baby she was carrying. She had made a decision that devastated her.

Shiloh inhaled and pulled herself back to the present, to this conversation. “Monica … are you telling me that you are pregnant, sweetheart?”

Monica’s eyes swelled with tears and she lowered her head, unable to make eye contact with Shiloh. Her shoulders shook with her silent sobs. When the waitress returned with their check, she peered at Monica in concern.

Shiloh shook her head, indicating that the woman shouldn’t bother her. “She’s upset so we need to go. Let me give you cash for our bill, and you can keep the change.”

When the waitress was gone, Shiloh gently grasped one of Monica’s wrists and led her out of the restaurant, to the car. She wanted to weep, too. This girl had become her daughter, and her heart was broken that Monica was so scared and broken.

The van was parked a block away, in front of an empty warehouse, and after unlocking it with her keychain fob, Shiloh decided that rather than get behind the wheel, she and Monica should sit on one of the passenger rows, so they could talk. When the van door whizzed open, Shiloh ushered Monica inside, then climbed in behind her. She locked them inside, reached for the box of tissues she kept in the section between the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat, and handed one to Monica. She gave the girl a few minutes to compose herself, hugged her, then waited.

When Monica’s tears were spent, she looked at Shiloh with red eyes that conveyed a palpable fear. “I’m sorry; I’ve let you down.”

Shiloh reached for Monica’s hand. She wanted to tell the girl she had let herself down, but she knew that would be hurtful. She also wanted to ask who and what had happened, but in her heart, she already knew.

“So Trey Holloman had his fun, then decided to flaunt his new
girlfriend in front of you.” Shiloh stared past the driver’s seat of the van, through the windshield. “Now I understand why you were angry at the recital. Does Phaedra know?”

“She knows what happened between me and Trey, but that’s all,” Monica said. “I got the letter in the mail yesterday right after school. Before Grandma Eleanor came home, I went to one of the neighborhood drugstores where she doesn’t shop and got a pregnancy test, because my stomach had been feeling funny and I was two weeks late. The double blue line came up really quick …”

Shiloh sat up.

“So you just found out all of this yesterday? You haven’t been to a doctor yet?”

Monica shook her head. Now Shiloh understood the 8 a.m. call and the girl’s urgency to see her today. The poor girl probably hadn’t slept all night.

“I didn’t know what to do. I figured you would know,” Monica said.

But Shiloh didn’t. She was still living with the consequences of her long ago secret decision; how could she advise someone else what to do, with two lives hanging in the balance?

“Monica, I’m in this with you no matter what. I hate that you fell for what Trey was after. Did it happen just once?”

Monica looked away, embarrassed. “Yes. It happened on our third date, and then he stopped calling and wouldn’t answer my calls. He told me that he was going to come to the recital, and I thought it was because he wanted to see me. Then he showed up with her, Miss Prissy, and walked by me like I didn’t even exist. I guess that was his sick way of letting me know it was over.”

Monica shook her head, as if to erase the memory. “I believed it when he told me he was falling in love with me. I should have known better.”

“How would you have known better?” Shiloh asked.

She recalled that day at Sherman Park in September when she had seen Trey flirting with Monica and asking for her phone number. She should have warned the girl then, instead of staying out of it. Eleanor was a wonderful grandmother, but Monica needed her mother there to be overprotective, to tell her how boys think, and to help her see past their sweet words and promises and kisses. She rubbed Monica’s hand.

“When you know better, you can do better,” Shiloh said. “One thing I hope you are planning to do is to accept your spot in the summer music program and participate.”

Monica looked at her and frowned.

“For what? Either I’m going to be a candidate for that TV show,
16 and Pregnant
, give up the baby for adoption, or do what I said in the restaurant. My dad and grandmother are going to team up on me, and make me decide. And whichever way I choose, my punishment is going to be staying home with them all summer, not going to some fabulous program for gifted students.”

“But you
are
gifted, and this is a great chance to jump-start your plans for college,” Shiloh said.

Even as she uttered the words, though, she knew college and otherwise planning for the future were the last things on Monica’s mind right now. What could she, or should she, tell this girl about how to proceed? She knew Monica’s relatives fairly well from spending time with them at church, but not well enough to know how they would react to Monica’s situation. But Monica needed to tell them, and soon.

“I take it you haven’t bothered to call Trey and share this news?”

“I sent him a text and asked him to call me about something really important,” Monica said, “but I haven’t heard from him, and I don’t really expect to.”

Shiloh didn’t say more; she pulled Monica into her arms and hugged the girl. She was frustrated at Monica for putting herself in this position and wanted to scold her and shake her. On the other hand, Monica’s revelations had thrust Shiloh back in time, to her own youth, when as a girl much older than Monica was today, she had made some similar naïve choices that left her terrified and tortured.