Lead Me Home (16 page)

She couldn’t and wouldn’t make any decisions for Monica, because she knew that someday Monica would be her age, looking back over her life and assessing both the powerful and painful decisions she’d made. Monica would need to discuss her options with her family and make her decisions based on their counsel and guidance, not Shiloh’s. One thing was certain, though: Shiloh knew she was going to have to break a promise to herself to never tell another soul what she had done in France that summer. In order to save Monica, she would have to step into her Esther moment and at some point tell the truth about her past.

Monica seemed dazed, but when Shiloh asked to pray with her, she agreed.

“Dear Father, we’re coming to you this afternoon with both gratitude and heavy hearts, with fear and doubts. Monica has shared something both personal and life-changing with me. She has made some choices that have led her here, and here we are, seeking your will and your guidance. We don’t really know what to pray for, God. We are grateful for the acceptance into the summer music program, yet this other news … Lord, we don’t even know what to say. You know I am speechless and heartbroken. Monica is afraid and in search of answers. Speak to her heart, Lord, and give me wisdom as well, so that I can nurture her in a way that pleases you. Allow her father and grandmother to show compassion when she tells them her news, and let them respond with wisdom and with a solution that honors you. Help Monica to know that no matter what, she is not alone; I am with her, as are you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Shiloh thought of the Scripture in Isaiah that Jade had shared in Bible study not too long ago, about not fearing and trusting that God was with you. She needed to believe that right now, and she wanted Monica to believe it as well. In the short term, she might have to help carry the girl through. Her silent prayer was that Monica’s father and Eleanor would do the same.

Monica lifted her head and wiped the fresh round of tears streaming down her cheeks. “What now?” she asked.

Shiloh reached for her purse on the floor and dug around inside until she found her cell phone. When she had it in hand, she answered Monica’s question.

“I think we should call your dad and grandmother to see if they’re both home, and if so, I’ll go in with you to tell them what’s going on.”

Monica looked like she’d rather get hit by a bus. “I know what they’re going to say, after they kill me. I can’t face them; I can’t. This will tear them up, they’ll be angry …”

Shiloh sat in silence and let Monica have her moment. When she was calmer, Shiloh still waited. And finally, Monica slumped her shoulders and relented. “Call them.” She whispered her surrender, but Shiloh could tell she knew it was inevitable.

Instead of calling, Shiloh texted Claude to ask if he and Eleanor were there, because she and Monica needed to have an important talk with them. He responded seconds later and told her they would be waiting for her and Monica to return.

Shiloh squeezed Monica in a tight hug, as if doing so would transfer strength from her heart to the girl’s. Ten minutes later, they both had moved to the front seats of the van, and were riding in silence to Monica’s home. The radio was turned down, and although she wasn’t certain, Shiloh had a pretty good idea of what Monica had on her mind. Shiloh alternated from praying for Monica’s future, to praying for Claude and Eleanor to offer their support regardless of the heartbreaking circumstances, to praying for this whole experience to somehow shape Monica for the better and draw her closer to God.

When they pulled in front of Monica’s house, her father Claude was standing on the porch, hands on his hips, waiting for them. His furrowed brow told Shiloh that her text had set off a round of worry. His eyes locked on Monica and stayed there while Shiloh parked. He didn’t appear angry or sad, just resolute.

Shiloh stepped out of the van first and walked around to the passenger side, where she opened the door for Monica, who had begun weeping again. Shiloh helped her out of the van and to the porch, where her dad waited. Eleanor emerged from the house and embraced Monica.

“It’s alright, baby, whatever it is.”

“You know and I know,” Claude said, without looking at his mother, Monica, or Shiloh. Instead, he turned his eyes heavenward. “She’s pregnant.”

Monica looked at her father, both stricken and surprised.

Shiloh wasn’t, though. If one of her sons had come home in a similar situation, she would most likely be able to surmise or detect the source of their angst, or at least narrow the possibilities.

Claude still didn’t look at his daughter, but when she answered him with a timid, “Yes, Daddy,” his eyes filled with tears, and Shiloh saw the first hint of anger.

“That sucker!” He punched at the air. “I knew the first time he came around here sniffing for a date that he was up to no good. I don’t care how good he is in football, a jerk is a jerk.”

Shiloh looked from Monica to her father. She hadn’t realized that Trey Holloman had met Claude, taken Monica on at least one formal date, and still had found the nerve to take advantage of her.

“Then he walks you up to the house and pecks you on the cheek like he’s a gentleman.” Claude was speaking now through clenched teeth. “He knew I was watching from one of the windows and wanted to leave a ‘good impression.’ Jerk. Where is he now, huh?”

He punched at the air again, and Monica disengaged from her grandmother’s embrace so she could approach him. She stood tentatively nearby, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he didn’t, she spoke again. “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He looked at her and the tears spilled down his cheeks. “What would your mother say? I’ve done the best I can by you, even getting
your grandmother to move in with us to keep things as normal as possible. And you didn’t have enough sense to tell that knucklehead boy to go on about his business?”

“Claude!” Eleanor stepped toward the two of them and touched her son’s arm to calm him. “Let’s take this inside. Everyone is upset, and we need to sit down and work through this.”

Claude shook his head and set his jaw. “Sorry, Mama. There’s nothing to discuss. My baby is not ready for a child. She’s just in tenth grade.”

He looked at Monica, who still stood to his side, facing him, and enduring his tirade.

“Someone from Columbia College Chicago called yesterday about that program you were selected for, to congratulate you. You were one of twenty-five students selected nationwide, out of three hundred and fifteen applicants. Should we call them back and ask if they offer childcare?”

Monica flinched and lowered her head. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I know I’ve messed up.”

He exhaled loudly and slowly, and then grabbed her, and gave her a hug. “We’re going to fix this so you’ll still have a future, but promise me you won’t do this again.”

Monica’s eyes widened as she leaned into her dad’s embrace. Eleanor frowned, and Shiloh’s heart sank.

“Claude …,” Eleanor said again. “Let’s go on in and sit down and get some idea of what Monica is thinking, what she has to say about all of this. Mrs. Griffin is here … she can pray with us, and help us process all of this.”

Shiloh nodded at him, to indicate her willingness to help. “I can call Pastor Randy as well, if you’d like him to come over.”

Claude hesitated, then shook his head. “Prayer alone won’t fix this—not any more than it helped my wife when she was dying,” he
said. “Thank you for your support, Mrs. Griffin, and thank you for being here for Monica. I think the three of us will figure it all out from here, but thank you for everything.”

He turned toward the house with Monica, who was still gripping his waist, to lead her inside. She glanced at Shiloh but followed her father’s direction. Shiloh saw a mixture of fear, helplessness, and desperation in the girl’s eyes. Shiloh did the only thing she knew to do: prayed for God to take control of the situation in the way that would be best.

This wasn’t the first time Shiloh wished she could sit on the back pew or in the balcony at St. Stephens Baptist, but today that desire was immense.

She wanted to sit and watch the door, to see if Monica and her family would come strolling in fifteen or so minutes before service, as they had done every Sunday for the past five weeks. She prayed they would. She needed them to. And regardless of whether Monica knew it, she needed them to bring her, so she could spend a few hours in God’s presence, basking in his unconditional grace and love, no matter what the future held.

Shiloh hadn’t heard from Monica since leaving her in her father’s care yesterday, and as a result, she was a distracted mess. She had sent a text to the girl around 10 p.m. the night before, simply asking if she was okay, and after receiving no response, she hadn’t slept much. After asking several times what was wrong, Randy finally seemed to get the message that she wasn’t ready, or able, to talk about it.

“Is it Monica?”

Her simple nod and rush of tears yielded the response she needed from him. A hug, a promise to pray for Monica, and an offer to listen, or visit with Monica himself, if and when needed.

Shiloh sat in service now, fretting that she couldn’t turn around in her first-row pew without being conspicuous. She tried to calm herself and lose herself in the present, knowing that worry wouldn’t
change a thing, and that she was honestly in the best place to help Monica, if Monica couldn’t be here herself.

She clutched her Bible and stood as the young adult choir rendered a beautiful version of Stephen Hurd’s “Lead Me to the Rock.”

When my heart is overwhelmed, my prayer is, lead me to the rock …

She contained her tears by lowering her head and closing her eyes to utter yet another prayer for Monica, Claude, Eleanor, the baby she was carrying, and even Trey Holloman. The choir continued singing, and the lyrics comforted her. God
was
her firm foundation, and Monica’s. He
was
their solid rock.

The song reminded Shiloh that she wasn’t in control of any of this, and while she needed to pray and be vigilant in waging war against evil and doubt on Monica’s behalf, she also had to surrender Monica and her destiny to God.

Shiloh lifted her head and opened her eyes to find Randy staring at her. She gave him a broken smile and he gave her a broad one, reassuring her that he was standing with her, just as God was, and when she was feeling weak, he would be her strength. Shiloh wanted to blow him a kiss or at least wink at him, but even that wouldn’t go unnoticed in this setting. She settled for a slight nod, which he acknowledged with one of his own.

She wasn’t sure whether Randy did it intentionally, but he helped allay her questions about Monica and her family’s presence in service by calling for a period of fellowship earlier than usual.

“Stand and greet at least five people not sitting next to you!” he said. “Tell them good morning! Tell them you love them! Tell them God is good, all the time, and all the time, God is good!”

Shiloh was grateful for the opportunity to circulate and to see if she could find Monica, Claude, and Eleanor in the mingling congregation. They typically sat in the left rear section, and she made her way in that direction. They were nowhere to be found, and while her
spirits sank, she had to admit that she wasn’t surprised. She had to give this situation to God, and leave it with him.

As that reality resonated with her, a truth struck her core: How could she ask God to help her release her burden for Monica, when she hadn’t released the guilt from her own sins that weighed her down? How could she be more concerned about Monica’s fate than about her own? As the members began returning to their seats and Shiloh greeted and smiled her way back to the first pew, the truth filled her spirit. This wasn’t just about Monica’s future, it was about hers, too. Both of them might be delivered, but without one stepping up first, the other might not have a chance. If Shiloh didn’t share her experiences, Monica might feel just as alone with her shame as Shiloh had.

Shiloh took her seat and glanced at her husband, who was reviewing a Scripture he would read aloud in a few seconds. Was God really asking her to do the unthinkable and shatter not only her world, but his, too?

Shiloh hadn’t forgotten the questions or the answers that had consumed her during worship service today, but tonight as she wrestled with how and where to begin the conversation with her family, a call from Dayna removed the sense of urgency. Daddy had suffered what doctors believed was a mild heart attack.

“Mama called me right away to ask my advice about the protocol the doctors are using to treat Daddy. I think it’s fine, but she was so upset that I told her I’d take care of letting you and Jessica know,” Dayna said. “She rode to the hospital in the ambulance with Daddy and called me as soon as they wheeled him away. I’m taking a late flight out of Orlando to be with her. The deacons from church are with her now, but one of us needs to be with her as she meets with doctors and tries to figure out what’s going on. I called an administrator I know at the hospital a few minutes ago and found out that the nursing supervisor in the heart unit was one of my RN classmates at Alabama U. I’ll make sure Daddy gets the best care possible.”

Dayna sounded efficient and thoughtful, and Shiloh had the feeling her older sister was on autopilot—operating as she routinely did in her workplace. Thank God Dayna had a nursing degree and worked in a hospital setting every day. That would serve Daddy well.

“You’ll be getting in late,” Shiloh said, still trying to process it all. “Who is picking you up?”

“Deacon Miller offered to come and get me.”

“I may need to be picked up, too,” Shiloh said. “I’m grateful that you’re going and getting there so quickly, Dayna. I’m coming too, though. I’ll check flights as soon as you and I hang up.”

Shiloh hadn’t known what she was thinking, though; Daddy was more than Randy’s father-in-law. Before Shiloh could finish explaining what Dayna had shared, Randy had begun texting Vic and a few key deacons at St. Stephens Baptist to let them know he’d be out of town for a few days, checking on his father-in-law in Alabama.

“I can drive through the night and get us there before noon tomorrow,” Randy said.

“But you preached two services today,” Shiloh said. “You are worn out. You can’t drive through the night like this.”

“I’ll be fine,” Randy said. “Who can you get to come and watch the boys while we’re gone? Lem will say he’s fine staying here and looking out for them, but he’s just sixteen and David’s just nine. We need a mature adult keeping an eye on all of them.”

Lem entered the family room just as Randy made that declaration and seemed miffed. “Didn’t hear why you’re trying to line up a babysitter for your eleventh grader, but no thanks, Dad.”

Randy gave Lem a Cliff Notes summary of what was going on with his grandparents, and the teen’s attitude shifted from indignation to concern.

“Is Pawpaw going to be okay? I just talked to him yesterday,” Lem said. “He called me on my cell to chat for a few minutes.”

Shiloh was surprised and touched. The father she had grown up with didn’t have time for that kind of emotional outreach to his daughters; he dispensed it all to his congregation. It was nice to see that beneath his tough exterior, he was understanding the benefit of connecting with family. He and Lem must have bonded over the summer in the same way he had once bonded with Randy. The fact that he’d withheld that level of attentiveness from his daughters was
bruising, but Shiloh decided to focus on the fact that he was at least trying with his grandson.

“Your mom and I are going to leave as soon as we can get somebody to come over and stay with you guys,” Randy said.

“I’ll call Sister Stanley from church,” Shiloh said. “She’s watched the boys before and she’s retired; hopefully this won’t be too much of an imposition for her.”

Lem stuck his hands in his pockets and looked from one parent to the other. “I hope she can come and stay, too, because I need to go with you.”

Shiloh almost snapped at him in irritation. “This isn’t about facilitating your and Lia’s love connection, Lem,” she said after taking a deep breath. “Daddy is sick, and we are driving down to get to his side as soon as possible. No time for anything else.”

Randy glared at him. “Your mother’s right. You need to get your priorities straight.”

Lem turned away and then turned back toward them. “Please let me go, please. Maybe if Pawpaw sees me, that will help him. I’m not asking you to drive me to Lia’s, but I want to go.”

Shiloh was a knot of helpless emotions. Her thoughts see-sawed from Monica and her choices, to her father and his health. It was all too much, and she didn’t have the strength to fight Lem. She looked at Randy and lifted her palms in surrender. She couldn’t make this choice; she needed to focus her prayers and energy on Daddy and Mama right now.