On the Loose (14 page)

“Why? Is there going to be more hugging?”

James shrugs. “Probably.” His hand disappears into his shirt pocket only to come right back out. With car keys. “Tonight we’re going to start your first driving lesson.”

D
riving? Now?

I swallow. “Tonight? But it’s late! It’s dark!”

“The sun hasn’t even set yet. Come on. Driving lesson number one begins in two minutes.”

I do not return James’s big grin. I don’t want to drive. I’m perfectly happy being chauffeured by Frances right now.

“You’re never gonna catch a dude if you can’t even get a driver’s license,” Maxine drawls.

I snatch the keys and walk out the front door to the family sedan. With much grumbling I open the car and climb in. James sticks his head in the other side.

“Hey, Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re on the wrong side. The driver’s side is over here.”

“I thought I would just take notes tonight.” I tap my head. “Mental notes. You know, study the road.” I gesture to the steering wheel. “Go ahead. Get in.”

“That’s not how it works.” James holds the driver’s side door open and stands there patiently. Tapping his foot.

“Oh, you wanted me to drive tonight. As in take the wheel. Master the road. Sorry, I guess we have different approaches to learning. See, I prefer to observe, James. I feel that much can be gleaned from—”

“Katie?”

“Yes?”

“Get in this seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

After we are both buckled in and I’ve adjusted the rearview mirror a half dozen times, I put the keys in the ignition. The car roars in response.

“Is the car always that loud? Maybe something’s wrong with it. We should probably try this some other time.”

“So the left pedal is the brake. Put your right foot on it.”

All out of stalling tactics, I obey.

“Now the other pedal is the gas, of course. I want you to put the car in reverse, keeping your foot on the brake. When I tell you to, you’re going to give it a little gas.”

“Maybe we should let Maxine try this. She’s good at giving a little gas.”

James barely cracks a smile at my attempt at levity. He’s in teacher mode and nothing is going to interfere. “Got it in reverse? Now slowly let your foot off the brake and then lightly touch the gas pedal. With that same foot, Katie.”

I have two feet! Why can’t I use both of them? What’s my other foot supposed to do? Just hang out? Maybe when I’m really good I can rest it on the dash.

“There now, you’re backing out. Good job. Turn the wheel slightly. Check your rearview mirror and see how you’re doing. Keep turning. Great.” James smiles and pats me on the back.

I jerk back. Don’t touch me, man. I’m driving here. I’m driving! I navigate the car away from the house and down the long gravel driveway. I guess this isn’t so bad. I hope I’m not speeding though. I check the speedometer.

Five miles per hour.

“You’re doing great. I knew you’d be a pro at this. All right, now you’re going to take us out of the driveway. Slowly turn left.”

The wheel slips out of my hand, and I jerk it back. The car lurches my way and gravel flies everywhere.

“Easy there. You’re doing fine. Just straighten it up a bit.”

My foot slips off the gas. I look down to make sure I’m putting it back on the right pedal.

“Katie, watch where you’re going.” James grabs the wheel and steers us back toward the right side of the road. “Much better. Okay, now you’re going to drive us down Smith Street here. Use the blinker. This is a smooth road. Very little traffic.”

My hands relax on the steering wheel, and I ease back into the seat a bit. I can do this. I’m actually driving.

I drive us up and down some streets, using my blinker with skill and precision. Well, actually I use the windshield wipers with skill. I have yet to find the blinker on the first try. But our windshield is nice and clean.

The sun rests at the bottom of the horizon, ready to let the moon take over. The In Between sky around me is a springtime mix of violets and blues.

“Super job, Kiddo. I suppose we better wheel her on back home. Why don’t we try one last challenge before we go. See that driveway on up there with the gnomes around it?”

I nod my head and study the circular drive at the end of the road.

“I want you to pull into that drive and back out of it. Think you can handle that?”

I smile, now more confident with this driving business. “Sure.” Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I take out a few gnomes and their property value goes up?

I drive slowly toward our destination. Feeling brave, I reach over and turn on some driving tunes.

“Katie, there’s something I want to talk to you about before we head back.” James lowers the volume. “Lighten up on the gas there. Good. Now you’re going to ease into the driveway.”

My hair hangs loose in my face, and I shove it behind my ears. I think I could do this driving stuff. If I never went any direction but forward.

I check my side mirrors to make sure I’m not destroying any tacky ceramic elves. Turning the wheel slightly I maneuver the car into the driveway. Just about got it. There. I’m in! I did it!

“Nice work, Katie. Now back out of the drive. Bring the car back onto the road. Katie . . . you know how Millie and I have been going to all of these appointments lately?”

“Uh-huh.” My focus on the road is like a sniper on his prey. I am relentless. My efficiency knows no bounds. James’s voice is barely a buzz in my ear.

“Millie and I have been talking to some doctors, you know. Had quite a few tests.”

Just a bit more and I’m in the road. Nothing’s coming. Side mirror check—all clear. Rearview mirror check—excellent. Here I go, ready to get back on the street. Just gonna reach for the gear shift and get ready to put it in drive. I’ll put my foot on the brake and . . .

What?
What did he just say?

“. . . so while the news isn’t the best, we are hopeful, Katie. We know God’s in control.” James’s eyes are intent on mine. “Are you okay with this? Do you have any questions?”

The houses around me become a blur as I focus on my foster dad. “What did you just say?”

He clears his throat. “I said Millie has cancer.”

My head explodes. Or maybe it’s my heart. Suddenly I feel nauseous and trapped. Trapped in this car. Must get us back home. No. This is not happening.

“Hey, Katie, put it in park and let me drive us home.”

I’m vaguely aware of James’s hand on my shoulder. What is it I’m supposed to be doing? Backing out into the street, right? Right. Okay, almost there. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be home. Where Millie is. Millie and her cancer.

“Let me drive. Katie?”

Agh, my head. I can’t think
. Just gonna apply the brake a bit and—

“Hit the brake! Hit the brake! Watch out for the—”

Crash!

“Light pole.”

“Millie? Millie!”

Slamming the front door, I sidestep Rocky and search through the house for my foster mom. I cruise through the living room, the dining room, and kitchen, coming to a halt in the breakfast nook, where Millie sits alone drinking coffee.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known? What did the doctors say?”

My words come out in a jumbled-up mess.

Millie rests her mug on the table. “What happened to your face? There’s a huge red mark on your forehead.”

Absently I rub the spot above my left eye. “I hit the steering wheel. Millie, I don’t understand why—”

“You hit the steering wheel?” Millie is out of her chair in an instant. She wears her mom face now, and her hands grab my cheeks as she looks me over.

“You have to tell me everything you know about the cancer.” I jerk my head out of her grasp and take a step back.

James enters the kitchen looking a little disheveled.

“What in the world happened?” Millie shoves me in front of her for James to see. Like he didn’t have a front row seat to my little vehicular disaster. “You said you were going to start with the basics tonight, James. Not a lesson on how to deploy the airbags.”

I love it when Millie gets motherly. Except for moments like these, when I’m trying to get her to focus on the matter at hand.

“I might’ve put a little dent in your car.” I risk a look at Millie. She winces. Yup, Millie, I wrecked your car. Just my way of saying,
Sorry you have cancer
. Most kids probably would’ve gone with a Hallmark.

James pours himself a cup of coffee. He inhales the aroma like he’s trying to breathe in some strength. “I told Katie about the cancer.” He swallows down some java. “Right when she was backing out.”

Millie puts a hand to her hip. “And?”

“And Smith Street is short one light pole tonight.” James forces a smile.

“Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Did you black out or anything? James, did she black out?”

I grab Millie’s hands. “No. I’m fine. Your car isn’t, but I’m fine. The issue here is you. What’s going on?” I swallow back a lump in my throat. “You have cancer.”

Her head nods once. “Yes.”

I drop my eyes and focus on the tile floor. “What does this mean?”

Millie’s soft hand rests on my shoulder. “It means I’m going to have surgery soon to remove it. They’ve found three lumps. So they’ll go in and remove the breast, the cancer, and then they’ll go ahead and do some reconstructive surgery while I’m out. Later I’ll take some treatments—some chemo, radiation. It’s going to be fine.”

I move my shoulder and her hand falls. “Don’t say that. It’s going to be fine? How do you know? It’s not fine.” I look at both of them. They don’t get it. “Do I have to go home?”

Millie moves in to hug me, but my hands go in the air and I shake my head.

“You’re not going anywhere,” James says.

“Have you talked to Iola Smartly?”

A look is swapped between my foster parents before Millie answers. “No.”

“So you don’t know if I have to go back to Sunny Haven yet.” I turn away from them both and stand in front of the bay window in the breakfast nook. A single hot tear slips down my face. I brush it away as quickly as it drops.

“There is no reason to think Mrs. Smartly will want you to return to the girls’ home. Nothing’s changed. James and I still want you here. With us.”

Another tear.
Keep it together, Katie. Do not fall apart right now
.

I wrap my arms around myself and sniff. “How bad is the cancer?”

Millie clears her throat. “Things are going to be fine.”

“Are you gonna die?”

“No.” Millie smiles. “That was one of my first questions. It is serious, but Katie, we know God is in control, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” I swipe my hand over my nose. “How can you think that? Things could not be anymore
out
of control. You have cancer, Millie. Where is God in that? When I was praying and asking God for you to be healthy and not have cancer, where was he then? Because he sure wasn’t listening to me.”

James closes some distance between us. “Katie, you’re new to the faith. I know things don’t make a whole lot of sense right now, but God doesn’t promise us that we get whatever we want when we pray. And he doesn’t guarantee bad things won’t happen to us.”

“This is just so typical. This is
so
my life. Things were going good. I should have known it wouldn’t last.”

“Honey, things are going to be all right. This is treatable.” Millie tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I know it’s scary. But I’m going to be depending on you more now.”

“I just ran your car into a phone pole.” Newsflash! I’m not the one you want to trust with anything important. Like a bumper.

“The car can be fixed.” Millie thinks for a moment. “Right? It
can
be fixed, can’t it?” At her husband’s nod, Millie continues. “We’re still going to teach you to drive. You are still going to audition for that play tomorrow. And life will go on. I’m simply going to rely on you a little more in the next few months.”

“Whatever you need, Millie. My bone marrow, my blood, you name it.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of walking the dog and getting Mom to fold her own underwear.”

“Oh.” I can do that, too.

My foster mother folds me into a hug. James scoots in and pulls us both to his chest. We stay like this for a full minute. I lean into these two and think about how far we’ve come. How far I’ve come. Six months ago I wouldn’t have let them lay a hand on me, but now I’m one of them. Aren’t I? And I know I need these people. I’ve come to depend on them. Trust them. But there’s really nothing they can do to protect me from this. My reality is that Millie is sick, and I’m going to have to watch her suffer through that. And if the cancer is stronger than her, I’ll lose the closest thing I’ve had to a mom.

“As long as we’re here together, why don’t we pray?”

James’s idea is like a Gatorade shower on our happy huddle. Prayer? Whatever. We’ve already prayed about this. And God said no. End of story. I really don’t have anything more to say to the Big G right now.

“Make room for the matriarch!” Maxine, now dressed in her red silk pajamas, enters the kitchen and butts into our circle. As we bow our heads, James’s voice becomes a hum in my brain. Instead of hearing his words to God, I concentrate on the floor. And the Sponge Bob slippers on Maxine’s feet.