by Lori Wick
Marrell nodded, reaching for a tissue from her purse. Taya was stunned. That wasn't even four months ago.
"We'll do fine together, Marrell," Taya said bracingly. "You'll see. I think you'll like the job."
"Thank you, Taya. I can't tell you what a help you've been."
"I am the one who's going to be helped. Jack gets more work all the time, and it's just too much for one person. We had a good team, me and another gal, but her husband's job transferred them out of the city. We've been shorthanded for about three months. What day does Jack want you to start?"
"He said tomorrow or Monday, whatever works for me."
"Oh, okay. Uh, let's see. How about you come in for a few hours tomorrow and a few hours Friday and start full-time next week?"
"Oh, that would work. I need to figure out what I'm doing with the girls after school, so that would be very helpful."
"Great. Have you got time to fill out some insurance forms right now?"
"Sure."
Marrell did so with a feeling of unreality. She had a job! Shay had been right, and as soon as she was done, she would head to her apartment and tell her.
"My only problem," Marrell was able to say when Shay stopped dancing around the living room, "is what to do with the girls. I won't get home until 5:15 or 5:30, and to top it off, Micki's
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going to go out for basketball, and she isn't finished with practice until 4:30. Now, there's only a week of that if she doesn't make the team, but I don't know what to do, Shay."
"I do," Shay said calmly, forcing herself not to volunteer for everything. "We let the church family know and see if anyone can help. Maybe one of the other ninth-grade girls from the youth group will be on the team, and they can drop Mic off. As for D.J., couldn't she go to Mrs. Baker's until Mic gets there?" Shay was referring to Marrell's neighbor, a kind woman in the apartment complex who Baby-sat her own grandchildren four days a week. "The girls would only be on their own for an hour or less before you arrived. They've proved themselves responsible enough for that. And if they did need something, they could always go back to Mrs. Baker's."
"How would I know they've arrived?"
"Well, Mrs. Baker would call you if there was no sign of Delancey, and likewise, Delancey could do the same if Mic didn't show up."
It sounded like a good plan, and Marrell was so muddled that she knew she would never have thought of it.
"Do you think D.J. will be upset about going to Mrs. Baker's?"
"She might be, and you might find out that she would do fine at home alone, but this way you have a backup."
Marrell nodded. It was all so much. God's Word promised that His yoke was light, but lately Marrell seemed to forget this truth so easily. Oliver had recently reminded her that she needed to stop doing God's job.
"You're just not that good at it, Marrell," he'd said, only half kidding.
She had laughed but understood his point, and now she was at it again.
I feel as if the world has been placed on my shoulders. That's not true, but some days I don't know how I'm going to keep on.
"I think I've lost you," Shay broke into her thoughts.
"Oh, I was just praying and working at understanding what my job is, so God can do His."
"I forgot to ask you what you thought of Jack Avery. Isn't he a nice guy?"
"Very. I'm embarrassed over what a fool I made of myself, but he still offered me the job."
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Shay looked surprised, and Marrell realized she hadn't told her. The redheaded woman was in stitches when Marrell described the way she had told Jack not to hire her and bolted for the door.
"Oh, Marrell, please stop. I can't take any more. You actually said that?"
"Yes, and it wasn't funny, Sharon Lacy! It was humiliating, and then I went out to Taya's desk and cried like a baby."
"Oh, Marrell, what a time this has been for you. Do you know how well you're doing?"
Marrell shook her head, clearly not believing her.
"You are, Marrell. You've been such an example to me. I would be tempted to crawl in bed and never come out, but you still go to everything and praise God for His love."
Marrell didn't see herself in this light. She thought she was the weakest woman who had ever lived: weak, faithless, and troublesome.
"I can see by your face that you expect too much of yourself, Marrell. Be careful that you don't put standards on yourself that God doesn't."
Marrell knew Shay was right. She had been expecting things of herself that God was not expecting. The verse in Matthew 6 about seeking God's kingdom and righteousness and leaving the rest to Him jumped into Marrell's mind. She would study those verses tonight after she told her girls the good news.
"I thought you would be so pleased," Marrell said as she looked into her daughters' stricken faces. "It's a good job with kind people, and that means I'll be able to take care of you."
"You won't be taking care of me; Mrs. Baker will be," Delancey said bitterly.
Marrell was stunned. "D.J., did you really think I wouldn't have to get a job? Because if that's the case, you haven't been listening."
"None of the others have worked out," Mackenzie said, as if that explained everything. "We don't like coming home and your not being here."
"I don't like it either, Mic, but right now I don't have a choice. I could try and find something part-time, but I don't think we
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can live on that. We'll have to look for a cheaper apartment, that's for sure."
The girls felt utterly defeated, and their faces said as much. Marrell was glad that she'd had time to be in the Word before they arrived home. The things she had read in Matthew helped her to remember that God was in control and that worry was a sin.
"What's it to be, girls?" she asked, her feelings well under control. "I can call Bayside tomorrow and tell them I can't take the job, or see if they'll allow me to go part-time. We'll have many changes ahead of us, but that's not all bad. I'm thankful for this job and think I should take it, but I'm willing to listen to other ideas."
"I don't have any, Mom," Delancey said, again sounding bitter, "but I still don't like it."
"Tell me, D.J.," Marrell tried to push down the thought that her youngest daughter was being completely unreasonable, "did you really think I wouldn't have to work?"
"I guess I just tried not to think about it."
"I've been doing the same thing," Mackenzie admitted. "It just seems so unfair."
There was little Marrell could say to that. She had felt that same way at their ages, and after her father died, she was convinced of it.
"I'm going to take the job," Marrell said after a few seconds of quiet. "The pay is good and so are the benefits. There's no base hospital or clinic to visit now; we've got to cover this on our own. If something else should ever come up that would let me be here, I'll look into it, but you need to understand that I won't work nights and leave you here alone. I'm thankful I found a job that has almost the same hours you do."
"I just remembered something," Mackenzie spoke up. "I have to have a sports physical to join basketball."
Marrell nodded, taking it in stride. "All right. Get the information for me, and we'll take care of it."
Mackenzie wandered off to get her book bag, and Marrell said, "Are you all right, D.J.?"
"Yeah." She wasn't, but as usual she had no idea how to explain. "What's this place like?" She came from her shell just long enough to ask.
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"Bayside Architecture? Nice. The building is three stories high, and I'm on the second floor. The parking garage is under the building. I'll have a desk in the reception room and be working with Taya Albright, who works for Jackson Avery."
"Jackson is his first name?"
"It must be. That's what the door says."
"What will you do?"
"Probably a lot of the same things I did at Shay's-typing, files, the phone too. I think it's going to work very well. Ta
ya and Mr. Avery are nice."
"Can we call you?"
"Yes. Taya said that would be no problem."
"I'll be sending notes with you tomorrow so the offices will know where to reach me, and you can write my number somewhere on your bag."
With that Delancey was lost again in her own world of pain. She told her mother she had homework-which she did-but when she got to her room, she only lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes strayed to the dresser where a picture of her father and mother had been. She had put it Face down under her old T-shirts in her drawer. It hurt too much to see his face.
When does the pain end?she asked God.When do You help someone stop hurting? What is it You want me to do to prove to You that I know it's my fault?
But there was nothing humble about Delancey's prayer. She was furious with God. At times she understood what her mother and father believed, but most of the time she felt it was too risky. There had been a few times when she had been tempted to believe, but before she could follow through with the idea, her father died. Delancey felt nothing but relief that she'd never made the mistake of trusting such an undependable God.
Almost three weeks at Jack Avery's office told Marrell it wasn't going to work. Mackenzie had made the basketball team, and her games started at the end of October. Delancey, however, was drawing deeper and deeper into herself. By the time Marrell got home each night, Delancey was in her room, the door shut. The 13-year-old had to be ordered to come to the dinner table each night, and none of her chores were being done. It was with
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a sinking heart that Marrell approached Taya at the end of her third week.
"Something wrong, Marrell?"
"Yes, Taya, there is, and I don't know how to tell you."
"You're quitting." Taya said flatly.
"It's not the job, Taya," Marrell went on without asking how she knew. "I'll give two weeks' notice, but my younger daughter is having a very hard time, and I don't get home for two hours after she does. It's just not working."
Taya looked upset but didn't say anything right then. Marrell thought she was mad at her and wished she had waited until the end of the day to say something. She hated the thought of Taya frowning about the situation for the next three hours. And then the worst thing happened: She was called into Jack's office. Marrell knew he would have to find out, but she was hoping it would be after she left for the weekend. Her heart sank with dread as she made her way across the room to his desk.
"Sit down, Marrell." His voice was as kind as ever, which only made Marrell feel worse. A gentleman, he waited until she was seated and then resumed his own seat. "Taya tells me you feel you have to quit."
"I'm sorry." She wanted to bawl but didn't. "You've been so kind, but I have to be there for D.J."
"What if you had different hours?"
"Different hours?"
"Yes. When do the girls leave for school?"
"D.J. goes at 7:15, and Micki at 7:30."
"What if you came in at 7:30 and left at 4:00?"
Marrell stared at him. "But what about the phones? How can I help with that?"
"Coming in at that time of the morning means you'll have done so much of the paperwork that Taya will be freer to answer the phones until five. This was Taya's idea, by the way."
"I don't know what to say."
"Will it work, or will the girls just feel they're losing you in the morning too?"
"I don't know, but I can't think why they would. We would be heading out the door at the same time. Well, D.J. and I would. Mic would be on her own for a few minutes, but she hasn't had the problem. It's been Delancey."
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Jack watched her concentrate and tried not to comment. The desire to tell her that they would work this out no matter what was strong. This is where she needed to be. She worked hard and never complained, but there wasn't a day that she didn't remind Jack of a lost child. He didn't know how she would be treated if she worked elsewhere; here he had control. On top of all that, Taya loved her.
"Why don't you talk it over with the girls?" Jack forced himself to say. He thought it a fine idea totellthe girls her hours were changing, but he wasn't involved enough to know if that was a good idea or not.
"No," Marrell surprised him by saying, a small frown between her brows. "You're gracious enough to offer this to me, and I accept. If Delancey isn't happy with this, then she can just learn to deal with it. It's been like living with a hermit these last weeks, and I'm sick of it. It's been completely unreasonable on her part to think that I didn't have to go to work.I'mthe one who should be having trouble with it, but I've chosen to be thankful."
Marrell sat there for a moment and stewed. Jack wanted to laugh, not because he found the situation funny, but because Marrell Bishop was adorable when she was mad.
"I'll just tell her," she went on with new resolve. "She can live with Mackenzie and me or she can move out. I'm doing the best I can. Paul always said to me that I don't like people to be mad at me, and now I've let Delancey run things because I can see she's upset. Well, I'm upset too! Does she think she's the only one involved here? I know she's only 13, but I've taken all I'm going to."
Marrell was on her feet now, pacing in front of the desk. She had become quite loud, and Taya had even gone so far as to peek in the door. Jack had a chance to shake his head at her before Marrell turned and pointed her finger at Jack.
"I'm not even going to tell her about my change in hours- not right away. First I'm going to tell her that she will start making more effort and that Micki and I are not going to tiptoe around her anymore."
Marrell finally caught herself. Her hand went to her mouth.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I don't know what came over me. You must think I've snapped."
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"No, I don't. It's hard to have your children upset with you, and it must be a relief to know that this job will still work."
He was so understanding that Marrell felt embarrassed.
"I'd better go tell Taya about the change and find out what she wants me to do before she gets here Monday."
"All right. Have a good weekend, Marrell."
"Thank you." Marrell's voice sounded normal, but she was still humiliated. Delancey would be waiting at home, in her room no doubt, and Marrell would have to go to war. Nevertheless, she was still glad to have five o'clock come. She could escape the office and having to think about the way she blew up in front of her boss.
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I want to talk to you, Delancey." Marrell hadwasted no time in going to her daughter's roomthat night and opening the door. Delancey was on the bed with a book.
"Is dinner ready?"
"No. Come out here immediately."
Delancey's sullen face and long-suffering sighs left no doubt as to her feelings. Marrell had worked through her anger, but she would have her say, and new expectations would begin today.
"Have a seat," Marrell directed when the younger Bishop arrived in the living room.
Delancey dropped into a chair but didn't look at her mother.
"Can you tell me what has you so upset? I would like to know."
"No, it's nothing."
"You're not upset about anything?"
"No."
"All right, then you've got exactly 24 hours to change your attitude, or you can pack your bags and get out."
This was enough to bring Delancey's eyes to her mother. The young teen looked up in shock to find her mother's angry face. Marrell had tried to hold it in, but Delancey's belligerence had proved too much.
"Do I make myself clear, Delancey?"
"Mom, what's the matter with you?"
"Do I say 'nothing' like my daughter does, or should I tell the truth?"
The barb hit home. Delancey hung her head.
"Do you think you're the only one to feel pain, D.J.?"
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"No."
"But that's the way you're acting, and I'm not going to put up with it anymore."
> "I can't help it, Mom."
"Yes, you can, and you will. Micki and I hurt just as much as you do, but we're not shutting the world out. If you don't want to turn to God for forgiveness and comfort," Marrell hadn't mentioned this in a long time, "that's your choice, but you're going to start talking again, doing your jobs, and making it easier for us to live with you."
Delancey didn't say anything. She didn't know how she would do as her mother asked when she felt so dead inside. And that wasn't all of it.
"Delancey, I need to hear from you now. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I'm not sure what to do. I mean, I just don't have a lot of interest in anything right now."
"Not even your sister and your mother? That's all I'm asking, D.J., that you join the family again."
"All right," Delancey said after a moment.
"I quit my job today," Marrell said almost conversationally.
Delancey stared at her mother, her mouth agape.
"You quit? Why?"
"Because I know you need me home sooner than 5:30."
Delancey took a moment to compute this before saying, "What will we do?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Avery offered me other hours. I'll go in now at 7:30 and be done at 4:00. Does that sound like it will work better for you, Delancey?"
"You did that for me?"
"Um-hm. Contrary to popular belief, honey, I love you."
With those words, Delancey cried. Marrell had tried to be there for her as soon as she got home, often fighting the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her come evening, but it still hadn't been enough. Her daughter needed more of her.
"I'm flunking two classes," Delancey sobbed. "I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. I used to ask Dad for help on my math, but he's not here. I've even hidden the teacher's notes from you and gotten in trouble over that."
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"Oh, honey." Marrell's heart broke. She'd had no idea. In some ways she didn't know what she was doing anymore either. "Go get everything and let me see it, notes and all."
Mackenzie had been in her own room for all of this but emerged when she heard the voices die down and her sister in the hall.
"You all right, D.J.?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything."
"Is Mom going to help you?" She had known her sister was struggling in math and English.