The Still of Night (52 page)

“You don’t have to tell us.” Deborah touched her hand.

Gina said, “We just want to cheer you up. And if you’d like to share what’s got you down, we’re here.”

It was there before her, the chance to let go of the secrecy. She heard Morgan’s mocking tone.
“We’re safe as long as no one checks my phone records.”
Had she actually called him, shown her concern, prolonged the impossible?

Pat squeezed her shoulders. “You think you’re the only one with stuff? Think again, girl.”

Jill sighed. “My stuff beats your stuff any day.”

“Maybe.” Pat’s smile warmed the kitchen. “But God doesn’t see it that way.”

Jill turned and took down the box of decaffeinated green tea. How would it feel to just tell it all? Stop pretending? She lifted the lid of the steaming kettle and dropped four bags in. The relief would be immediate, but it wouldn’t last. Shelly knew, and Dan and Brett, but they didn’t hold her to the same standards as these women. And there were other people to consider. Her parents most of all. She could not risk word getting back to them, even if these friends did understand.

Jill opened the cabinet and took down glasses. “I would just appreciate your prayers, for me and two others.”

“That works,” Pat said.

Jill smiled for real, thankful they didn’t push. She hadn’t considered these women friends, not the hang-out-together sort, though she knew they were close to each other. To her they were church friends, Sunday friends. Well, it was, after all, Sunday. She poured the steeped tea over the ice. “Do you like it sweet?”

The answers were mixed, so she got the sugar canister and let them doctor their own glasses.

“Why don’t we all sit down.” Pat stretched one dark elegant arm toward the living room.

They settled in with the rain casting the room in grays. Jill turned on the lamp next to her giraffe chair. Sweetly and without pretense, the women prayed for her unspoken concern. Their willingness to support her even without knowing the situation was a balm to her spirit.

Pat crossed the room and knelt before her. “You need to remember what you are.”

Jill looked into her eyes. “What am I?”

“A daughter of the King. A bride of the Bridegroom. Beloved.”

Tears welled up. The words held so much love.

Deborah came to stand behind Pat. “And know that all things are possible with God.”

Jill shook her head. “I just wish I knew what was supposed to happen.”

Pat smiled. “Then fall on your knees and ask, and when the answer comes, listen. Then do.”

Jill swallowed. “That’s the hard part.”

“I know it.” Pat squeezed her hand. “But you gotta let people uphold you. Who you got praying? You standing alone?”

“I guess so. Mom might be praying for me, but not about any of the rest. She doesn’t know either.” Not the new aspects that would dredge up the old.

Gina rested her hands on her hips. “You need to tell her. Not because she needs to know, but because it’s hurting you to keep it in.”

Jill winced. Altogether too perceptive. If it was time to bring things to light, that was the place to start. But sometimes it seemed it would be easier to shout it from City Hall than voice it to her mother. And Dad? No way.

“Don’t let the enemy steal your courage.” Pat covered her hand with the other. How could she know what had just gone through her mind? “Let’s just take authority over that right now.” And she prayed.

Jill closed her eyes as something eased inside her. Maybe she would call her mother, see if there was a time they could talk. She was not fully confident but encouraged enough by the time they left to do her daily devotional, then get on her computer and journal, then check for mail from Kelsey. The letter was brief.
Jill, could you please send me
a picture of you? I want it next to Morgan’s. Love, Kelsey
.

Halfway through the movie, Stan called. Morgan left the boys tossing popcorn and peanuts and went into the office to talk freely.

Stan’s voice sounded as if he was using a cordless phone in a tunnel. “Just calling to see how Todd’s doing.”

If he’d called a few hours earlier, Morgan would have said he was catching a morning flight home. But Todd had actually warmed to Dana’s sons and not shocked them so far. It was a good move on Dana’s part to send her older boy, Luke. Not only was he gregarious, but Todd related at a different level than with shy, innocent Matt. They’d played a game of pool in which Todd waxed them, and Morgan wondered how many pool halls he’d frequented.

“He’s doing all right. We’ve had some ups and downs.” The downs being like a bungee jump from the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Well, that’s Todd. I have to say, I miss him. I’ve been home with Melanie and Sarah for the week, but I think Todd and I were making some headway.” Stan sounded eager for affirmation.

“I guessed as much. He’s talked about you in positive terms, and when we’re not knocking heads, he’s eager and amiable. Whatever you’re doing, it’s making a difference.”

“Lots of prayer.”

That would be Stan’s modus operandi. “He’s got his sore spots.”

“Which ones have you poked?”

“His dad.”

Stan was quiet a moment. “Well, he beat him up pretty bad. Once the mother left, he just went off the deep end, bender after bender, and Todd took the knocks. It’s all in his case history, but I don’t usually tell it.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, the way Todd had reacted. But it was all the more frustrating that the kid made the parallel between that kind of man and him.

Stan cleared his throat. “I wasn’t easy about sending him out there. But he just came alive talking about it, and when I prayed it seemed the right thing to do.”

“I understand your hesitation. You have a heavy responsibility.” He’d been surprised himself.

“One of the checks is, I need to talk to him every night.”

Morgan glanced through the crack in the door. “He’s watching a movie with some neighbor kids, but hold on, I’ll get him.” Morgan brought the phone to Todd. “It’s Stan.”

Todd sagged into the couch in his typical attitude and took the phone. “Yeah? Yeah. Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay. Bye.”

Morgan would have offered the office, but the conversation was over. He checked, and Stan had hung up. Morgan leaned on the arm of a chair and watched a few minutes of the movie, then went to return the handset. He noticed Todd’s gaze follow him to the base at the bar.

He had told him he wouldn’t drink, but Todd obviously didn’t believe him. Well, Todd had grounds for his distrust. He hung up the phone and rejoined them. Seeing Todd relax sent a pang. The kid didn’t need any more stress in his life, certainly no more fear of being hurt. And he suspected the emotional hurt and betrayal was as bad as any beating.

The movie Luke had brought was an older sports story called
Rudy
. Todd seemed to relate to the main character’s struggle, maybe being undersized himself. Morgan thought the end a little farfetched, where the dogged bench warmer scores the winning touchdown in the last play of the season, but it was supposedly true—at least based on a true story—and the message was one Todd could use. Don’t give up.

After the neighbors went home, Morgan sent Todd to bed and made a point of going up himself. He sat down on the bed and rested his hands on his thighs. It felt like ages since he’d woken with a headache and faced one insult after another. But it had been good to help Todd in the water and see him enjoy the evening. What a precarious age thirteen was. Or fourteen.

How was Kelsey doing? How long would it be until he heard? Had the marrow engrafted? How was he supposed to go about his days as if nothing were different? He’d thought having Todd would take his mind off it. In a way it had, but in a thousand other ways it triggered thoughts and questions.

Seeing Todd’s thin, bony legs made him try to picture hers. Had Kelsey ever swum in the ocean? Searched for shells in the sand? What if she were down the hall? They’d say more than four words to each other. There was so much he wanted to know.

Did she wonder about him? Or was the dad who raised her the only man she cared about? One phone call. He’d heard her voice. Why didn’t he ask her for a picture?

He sighed heavily. Sleep would be good. He’d need his energy for tomorrow. Maybe at Disneyland, Todd would lighten up and stay off his case.

Jill snuggled Rascal under her chin the next day as she lay on the couch for another gray morning. Setting aside the educational journal, she buried her fingers in Rascal’s fur and stroked him with her nails. His purr was surprisingly smooth, which meant he was not only content, he was peaceful. The rain had softened overnight but not stopped, and it still fell steadily, making the water run off the gutters in streams. She’d spent a few hours reading, escaping, occupying her mind and wondering if she should have bared her soul to Gina, Deborah, and Pat the day before.

Sitting up, she settled Rascal onto the couch where he arched up in a luxurious stretch and fluffed his tail, tempting her to settle back down with him and doze. But now that she was up, she had to do something. She’d missed her run again because of the rain. It was not worth the mud. But she wanted to do something.

The phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hello?”

“I have to talk to you.” Shelly sounded breathless.

“Are you all right?”

“Yep. Can you come over?”

Jill looked outside. “Sure. Be right there.” She unfurled her umbrella at the patio door and ran across the yard.

Shelly closed the door behind her, then pulled up her shirt, baring her belly. She pointed with her finger. “They got a heartbeat.”

The smile broke into Jill’s face. “That’s great. I didn’t know you were that far along.”

“Look.” Shelly kept her finger in place. “Don’t tell me you thought that was all me.”

Jill laughed. “You’re doing it the healthy way. I weighed less at five months than when I started.”

“Figures.” Shelly poured them each a glass of milk and set out a plate of cookies with thick chunks of chocolate and walnuts. “This baby demands chocolate.”

Jill raised skeptical brows. “Really?”

“I read an article that said you need to anticipate and respond to your baby’s needs. I’m only complying.” She bit a chunk from the edge of a cookie.

Jill took one from the plate. “What’s my excuse?”

“You don’t need one.” Shelly drank her milk. “So do you want the nitty-gritty?”

“Every detail.” Jill savored Shelly’s baking. Mrs. Field’s, eat your heart out.

Shelly went over her doctor’s appointment in detail. “You should have heard it, this whooshy sound, then clear as a bell this little heart-beat. Of course you’d never know that’s what it was until they told you.” Shelly snatched up another cookie, then got up and motioned. “Come here a minute.”

Shelly led her into the bedroom. “I found the best book.” She lifted a coffee-table-sized book from the bed. “It’s all these photographs of babies in the womb. Look at this one.” She flipped through, then back, then found the page. “He’s sucking his thumb.”

Jill stared at the picture, one she’d seen before in documentaries and magazines. Still, to see the cartoon-shaped baby with his thumb in his mouth made her tremble. To think she might have destroyed that precious life inside her. But she hadn’t. And that was the grace in all of it.

“And this one.” Shelly showed her a much earlier picture. “That’s about how big Brett Junior is now. It looks like a tadpole with wings.”

“Brett Junior?”

Shelly bit into her cookie. “We won’t actually call him that.”

“Especially if it’s a girl.”

“If it’s a girl, I’m calling her Natasha.” Shelly swallowed and flipped the page.

“Boris for a boy?”

Shelly sent her a look. “Very funny. But I kind of like Rocky. And knowing Brett, his first Christmas gift will be boxing gloves.” She popped the end of the cookie into her mouth. “Rocky Barlowe has a ring, don’t you think?”

“What does Brett think?”

“We haven’t talked about names yet. He’s been working swings in addition to his shift.” Shelly rubbed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “They’ve had a rash of burglaries, drug related they’re pretty sure. He and Dan have been working like crazy.” Shelly plumped down on the bed. “Jill, are you and Dan done for good?”

“Why?” Jill settled across from her.

“He’s seeing a lot of Melissa.”

Jill turned the page of the book to a full-page photo, all red and amber. “I think that’s good.”

“At the game it seemed like he wished it was you hanging on his arm.”

“We’re friends.” She looked up. “I’m glad we could keep that. He’s not a bitter sort of guy. I wonder what went wrong for his marriage.”

“Liz.”

“Oh, Shelly, it’s never black and white.” Jill shook her head. “I’ve been seeing that too clearly.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t know Liz.” Shelly dragged another immense book onto the bed. “Look at this one. I found it in the same section of the store. It’s Anne Geddes.” She flipped open the cover. “She has all these babies inside flowers and stuff.”

They looked through the book, exclaiming over the newborns in pea pods, on rose petals, in tulips. Jill’s heart swelled for Shelly, who not only seemed past her disbelief but engrossed in anything to do with babies. She grabbed her hand. “I am so excited for you. And Brett.”

Shelly’s entire face smiled. “I just thought it wasn’t for me. But now my whole mind is changed, and I haven’t even had him yet.” She sobered. “Will you be there with me? Would it be too hard for you?”

Jill looked down at the baby sleeping on a leaf, stroked it with her finger. “I’d love to.” She swallowed. “I only got to hold Kelsey for half an hour.”

“You can hold mine anytime you want. You’ll be his auntie.”

Jill smiled. “I can’t wait.” But could her heart bear it? She slowly paged through the book again, amazed and enthralled by the beauty of the impossibly small beings, curled up or hunched like caterpillars. The flower parts were artistic, but nothing matched the miracle of those tiny, tiny babies. It rushed in on her so potently. Kelsey’s fuzzy skin, her curved, wrinkled arms and little bowed legs, the heel of her foot hardly larger than a thumb.