Stand by Me (36 page)

Chapter 33

G
rabbing a waterproof windbreaker from her bedroom, Kat hurried on down the stairs and out the front door of the three-flat. The heavy thunderstorm had passed, leaving only a drizzle behind. But she needed to walk. Not talk. Her friends would leave the Douglasses soon and want to know why she left—and she couldn't tell them! She'd confided to Brygitta about meeting Rochelle at the Dumpsters, but that was before Conny showed up and spilled the beans. And again she'd promised not to say anything to the Douglasses.

Tucking her thick hair into the hood of the windbreaker, Kat walked quickly down the tree-lined street, the freshly washed leaves softening the concrete and bricks of the urban neighborhood.

Oh God, what am I supposed to do?!
Mrs. Douglass said Rochelle's ex was abusive—and she assumed Rochelle and Conny were safe from him. But Conny said he was living with his dad! Was he in danger?

The residential blocks gave way to Sheridan Road, a busy north-south street. Crossing with the light, Kat kept walking for another block and found herself at a dead-end cul-de-sac facing Lake Michigan, a park off to the left, and a sign saying Pratt Avenue Beach. Ahead of her, a concrete fishing pier jutted out into the lake.

Cutting through the park, Kat headed out onto the pier, deserted after the rain. The choppy lake looked gray and ominous, throwing foamy waves against the sandy beach. She'd have to come back and find this pier again when the weather was nicer—though the lake had a wildness right now that reflected the churning in her own spirit.

How important was her promise to not tell? Rochelle had been adamant about not wanting her mother to know Kat had seen her. Which probably meant the Douglasses hadn't actually seen their daughter recently and maybe didn't even know where their daughter was living. So if she told Mr. and Mrs. D, would that help anything? Could they do something about it?

On the other hand, if Rochelle found out that she told, she'd definitely be upset. Maybe undo everything Kat had done so far to build a little trust between them. The girl was so skittish! How easy it would be for Rochelle to disappear out of Kat's life as quickly as she'd appeared.

Hardly noticing that she was getting fairly soaked from the mist and spray, Kat turned at the end and walked back along the pier. Because of the heavy cloud cover, nightfall was overtaking the city early. But her thoughts were racing. What were her options? If she didn't tell Mrs. Douglass what she knew, then—short of not doing anything—it seemed like she had only one option.

She had to find Rochelle and talk to
her
.

Kat fidgeted all through the worship service on Sunday. Nick had been exasperated because she'd walked out on the Douglasses' supper party and wouldn't tell him why. “Look, I've just got something on my mind,” she'd said. “Can't you just leave it at that?”

“
Uh-huh
. Fine talk coming from the girl who told
me
, ‘We're your friends! You can tell us what's bothering you!'” He'd left her alone the rest of the evening.

To Brygitta she'd just murmured, “It's that whole Rochelle thing I told you about. Just pray about it, will you? And don't say anything.”

Olivia had fussed at her like a mother hen, sure that Kat would catch her death of cold when she came in dripping wet. She'd run a hot bath and made Kat get into dry clothes—which was kind of humorous, given that Livie was the “little sister” of the group.

Now, sitting in the next-to-last row at SouledOut, Kat glanced often at the Douglasses, sitting in the second row on the far right side, their usual place. It was all she could do not to run up there and tell Mrs. D that she'd seen her daughter not once, but three times now, had talked to her, and had seen Conny too. That their grandson was staying with his father, and if they were worried, they should get him away quick! But she felt frozen. What had happened between them and Rochelle?

Last night out on the pier, finding Rochelle and pleading with her to get Conny out of his father's house had seemed like a good idea. But how? When? The only place she knew to look for her was at the Dumpsters behind the Dominick's on Sheridan Road—but mini-term was over and she wasn't commuting between CCU and Rogers Park anymore. She'd have to make a special trip. Was she scheduled to work Wednesday night? Even if she wasn't, it was a crapshoot whether Rochelle would even be there.

Pastor Cobbs got up to preach, but Kat barely listened. The Douglasses had seemed like such a together couple when she first met them. The kind of parents she wished she had—a school principal and local businessman, down-to-earth professions, people who would understand her changing her major to education, her desire to teach kids. Also solid Christians who wouldn't make fun of a daughter's new faith. In fact, watching Mrs. D worship had touched something deep inside Kat, something she hadn't really experienced as a new Christian. Mrs. Douglass seemed to have a very real, very deep,
personal
relationship with God.

And yet . . . Kat had had a hard time getting to know her, even though she and Mr. D lived right upstairs. A distance she couldn't quite break through. Why did she think they could be friends? Mrs. Douglass seemed out of touch with
her
daughter too.

Was it any different than the distance she felt from her own parents? Her father's letter—if you could call it that—was tucked in her backpack. Not a word asking how she was or what she was doing. Did they know her
at all
? Did they even care?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sax player, a tall black guy with just a tinge of a Jamaican accent who'd been leading worship that morning and came to the mike again after the pastor sat down. “This song by LeToya Luckett may talk to you as it did to me, when I was going t'ru a rough time. Seemed to have mi name, Oscar Frost, written all over it.” He turned to the music group and snapped his fingers, “One . . . two . . .”

Kat listened as the praise team sang, “When life closes in, praise . . .” Others in the congregation joined in, but Kat just listened. The song had her name written all over it too. Talking about when things didn't make sense . . . when there seemed to be no way . . . when the pain wouldn't end . . . praise anyway! Give it everything you've got! Lift up your voice and praise God!

A glance toward the right front showed Avis Douglass lifting her voice, lifting her hands, and practically shouting her praise. But even from the back, Kat could see tears running down her face.

Was she crying because of her daughter? If so, how did she do it? How did she praise through her pain?

Kat wasn't there. Didn't know how to get there either.

It wasn't like her parents were abusive or alcoholics or anything, just . . . not there for her. Most people would say, “
What
are you complaining about? Count your blessings! You've grown up
with money, college, opportunities. You're a privileged kid
.”

Still . . . the empty hole inside hurt. Hurt a lot, if she let it.

After the song the pastor reminded everyone about the upcoming congregational meeting Wednesday night to discuss interim leadership and other issues related to Pastor Clark's sudden graduation to Glory. “Nonmembers are welcome to attend this meeting and give input, but anything requiring a vote will be limited to members. Are there any other announcements or prayer requests before we close?”

To Kat's surprise, Brygitta popped up. “Just want to thank God that Kat Davies and I found a job at The Common Cup over on Morse Avenue. It's a full-time job but we're sharing it, each half time. But Olivia Lindberg and Nick Taylor still need to find summer jobs if anyone has any leads. Thank you!”

Olivia and Nick both looked a bit embarrassed, but the pastor took it in stride, even including a prayer for those who needed jobs in his benediction. And then chairs scraped as people mingled and moved toward the coffee table. Kat sighed and stood up. She should just get a grip.
Good grief
. She did have a lot of blessings—good friends, a place to live, this church, even a new job! She should—

“Sister Kathryn! How are you,
mi amiga
?” Edesa Baxter leaned over a chair and gave Kat a hug. “So happy to hear you found a job! Congratulations! But . . . pouring coffee? Didn't you tell me you wanted to find a job as a tutor?”

Kat nodded. “Well, yes. Eventually. But Bree and I just stumbled on this job. It practically fell into our laps. So we decided to split it—half time each. Figured a half-time job was better than no job at all.”

Edesa lifted her eyebrows under the tight corkscrew ringlets that fell over her forehead. “So you are still free half time?” Her smile widened until her dark eyes crinkled. “Then you should see Sister Avis! She runs a summer program at the elementary school. It is called STEP—Summer Tutoring and Enrichment Program. It starts next week, I believe. I'm pretty sure they can always use more tutors. Except . . . it doesn't pay. All volunteer staff. But if you're interested, you can ask Jodi Baxter or her husband, Denny, about it. They volunteer in the program.”

Kat's heart had started beating faster the moment she heard the word “tutoring.” A summer program at Mrs. Douglass's school? That would be perfect!

Only after Edesa had given her another hug and flitted away to talk to someone else did it occur to Kat that she should've asked if Edesa had thought any more about teaching a class in nutrition this summer.

Oh well. One thing at a time. She'd check out the STEP possibility first. Hopefully she'd be able to work something around her work hours at the coffee shop.

Sacked out on the living room couch with Bree watching a Hercule Poirot Mystery that evening—it felt
so
good not to have any homework hanging over their heads—Kat heard somebody's cell phone ring. She listened. “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy” ringtone. “Livie's phone,” she muttered and turned back to the TV. But a moment later they heard a screech and Olivia dashed into the room, cell phone in one hand, watering can in the other.

“I can't believe it!” Her mouth was a round O. “That was Amanda Baxter—you know, Jodi and Denny Baxter's daughter from church. She's home from U of I. After what you said in church this morning, Bree, she called to say she knows about a nanny job up in Wilmette. This family had called her, but she already has
two
nanny jobs for the summer and had to say no. But she said she called them this afternoon and they still need someone if I'm interested.” Olivia looked from one to the other, blue eyes wide. “What do you think? Should I do it?”

Bree laughed out loud. “Ha-ha. See, Kat, I took lessons from you about speaking up, letting people know what we need. And look! A job for Livie. Wahoo!”

Kat turned down the volume with the TV remote—though Poirot was just about to do his reveal-all summation to the gathered souls in the drawing room. “That's really cool, Livie. If you like babysitting. But Wilmette? Isn't that a suburb up north? How would you get there?”

Olivia shrugged. “The El I guess. Amanda said it goes that far.” She made a face. “I don't really like to ride the El by myself, but . . . I guess people do it.” She plopped down on the couch. “Would you guys pray with me about it? I mean, it's already an answer to prayer, but guess I need some prayer for wisdom. And courage.”

Giving up on the final scene with the funny Belgium detective—Kat was sure the nephew had done it—she turned the TV off so the three of them could pray. But as they held hands with Livie and prayed about the nanny job, she wished desperately that she could ask her friends to pray for her. She needed wisdom too! And courage.