On the Loose (A Katie Parker Production)

by Jenny B. Jones

  I think of my overworked legs. “I wouldn’t worry about her pedaling.”

  James consults his watch. “Ladies, I’m calling Sam. Katie, he will be instructed to drop you off at school. And Maxine, he can drop you off—”

  Maxine throws up a hand. “Careful now. Remember you’re a preacher.”

  James sighs. “He can drop you off at the house.”

  “This was not my idea,” I mumble.

  “James, we rode a long way here. We’re tired. And Katie and I both deserve the opportunity to sit here with you as a family. And I see there’s a TV, so I can be a pillar of strength to you and catch up on Salem all at the same time.” Maxine plunks into an ugly orange chair and grabs a magazine.

  “Please don’t call Sam. Let us stay. You know I’m gonna be worthless at school today anyway.”

  James removes his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose. “We will discuss this when we get home. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s going to be hours before you can see Millie.”

  “I just want to wait with you.” Let me stay. Let me be sit here and pretend I’m part of this family. I’ll imagine you want me here. And that Millie is going to be fine.

  James shakes his head. “Millie is not going to be happy.” But he pulls me into a loose hug anyway.

  I settle in a chair beside Maxine, who reads a copy of Seventeen.

  Maxine turns a page. “Got a pen on you?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to take this quiz. Ten ways to tell if you’re old enough to have a boyfriend.”

  I bite my lip. “Sounds like a waste of ink.”

  The lobby doors open, letting in sunlight and two familiar faces. Pastor Mike and Laura. I haven’t seen them since her father died. Ugh. What do I say? Sorry your dad died, and welcome to our cancer party?

  “Hey, guys. Have you heard anything yet?” Pastor Mike puts an arm on James’s shoulder.

  “No, it’s gonna be hours.” My foster dad forces a smile. “How are you, Laura?”

  Laura nods. “Day by day, you know? It’s just going to take some time—for all of us.”

  Laura sits on a coffee table in front of me. “Katie, how are you holding up?”

  I nod and smile. “Great. Thanks.” I’m a mess. It’s not even nine a.m., and I need some caffeine. And I have helmet hair. “Couldn’t be better.”

  She moves in closer. Her eyes scrutinizing. “Is that . . .? Do you have a black eye?”

  Laughter comes from behind Maxine’s magazine.

  “It’s nothing.” I didn’t cake on nearly enough makeup this morning. “I’m going to go get something to drink. I’ll be right back.” Diet Dr. Pepper. Need it now.

  Laura stands up “I’ll show you where it is.”

  I sling my purse over my arm and follow my pastor’s wife down the hall.

  “So . . . um . . . sorry about your dad dying.” That sounded just as stupid as I thought it would.

  “Thanks. I know the youth group was praying hard for us, and I appreciate that.”

  Instead of answering, I study the tile beneath my feet. It’s just like the kind in Sunny Haven, the girls home I came from. The home I would return to if something happens to Millie.

  “Here we are.” Laura guides us into a small room, wall to wall with vending machines. “I’ll buy.” She digs into her purse. “I insist.”

  We each get a drink. Laura pulls out a chair at a table, and taking her cue, I do likewise. Though I really just want to go back upstairs and wait with everyone else.

  “Katie, I can tell you’re upset about all of this.”

  I take a long drink. And shrug.

  “It’s okay to be afraid, you know.” Laura puts her hand on mine. “And it’s normal to wonder what God’s up to. But I hope you know he is in control. He’s on the job.”

  I set my bottle down. A smart remark dances on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back. “Laura, I think there is a God. I know that. But as far as being a Christian . . . well, I really don’t see the point these days.” There. I said it.

  Laura twirls her wedding band around her finger. “What’s changed for you?”

  “Come on. What do people really get out of it? Look at Millie. She’s a pastor’s wife, she’s nearly perfect. And she gets cancer. And then there’s you.”

  She frowns. “What about me?”

  “You’re this amazing Christian, totally nice person. And look at what you’re going through.”

  “God doesn’t promise us this easy life.”

  “It’s just not fair. That’s all I’m saying. And Millie deserves more than this. Why isn’t God taking care of her?”

  “No, it’s definitely not fair. But you were headed in the right direction. And now you’re just totally through with God? Is that fair?”

  I grab my drink and stand up. “Fair? Nothing in my life has ever been fair. But was it fair your dad died? Is it fair my foster mom has cancer and could die? I don’t see the purpose in any of this. It’s so pointless.”

  “But it’s not pointless. I know it’s hard to understand. But God’s gonna be with Millie through all of this. And you too.” Laura rises from her chair, her eyes intense. “I know you’re hurting, and I hate that you look at the things that have happened recently as reasons not to trust in Him.”

  I throw my bottle away. Meeting over. “I think I better go back to the lobby. I want to be there when we get news about Millie.”

  Laura’s hand stops me. “Before we go, I just want to pray for us. Pray for Millie.”

  No. I don’t want to pray. I’m sick of talking to God. He’s obviously not listening. He has his holy earplugs in whenever I speak. How do I tell my pastor’s wife that praying is a total waste of time?

  “Thanks, but I really don’t want to—”

  “Laura! Katie!”

  My head snaps toward the door.

  Pastor Mike runs into the room. “Ladies, come quick. You would not believe what’s happened.”

  My heart plunges. “Is it Millie?”

  His mouth spreads into a grin. “No,” he says. “It’s Amy. She’s in the lobby.” The pastor grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. “The Scott’s daughter has come home.”

  Chapter 21

  The three of us—Pastor Mike, Laura, and I—speed walk down the hall. I round the corner, the lobby in sight. James stands in the middle of the room, his arms tightly wrapped around a young woman. Amy. His daughter. His real daughter.

  I’m an evil person! How is it I’m standing here, and I’m sad? For me. The Scott’s only child, who hasn’t been home in years, has finally returned, and I’m . . . I’m . . . jealous.

  They needed a daughter. And I filled that spot. I got to play that role. What if they don’t need me anymore? All because that deserter came back.

  “Katie.” James sees me standing near. “Come here. I want you to meet my daughter.”

  James has tears in his eyes.

  And I do too. Something about the way he said my daughter slices through me. I can’t explain it. I repeat: I’m evil. That’s the only explanation. I should be happy for him. I should be so glad Amy is safe and the Scotts can quit worrying.

  But I’m not.

  I close the distance between us, step by slow step. “Hey.”

  James wipes at his eyes. “Amy, this is our foster daughter Katie.”

  Yeah, I know. Your real daughter. Hi, I’m the fake one.

  She’s wine, and I’m grape juice. Amy is a diamond. And I’m a dull cubic zirconium. She’s mink. And I’m just a fuzzy substitute.

  I stick out my hand and clasp Amy’s. Her hand is small, smaller than Millie’s. I shake it, but hardly squeeze for fear of shattering it in my light grip.

  Everything about the Scott’s daughter is fragile. Her light brown hair hangs loose and unkempt around her face, like she hasn’t slept in a few days. The sweatshirt she wears swallows her body, like she’s lost somewhere in her own cl
othes.

  Amy smiles at me, but her eyes don’t meet mine. Or anyone’s.

  She’s uncomfortable. How ironic that this is her family, and she’s uncomfortable.

  “Amy, honey, how did you know about your mom’s surgery? We decided we wouldn’t upset you and tell you about it until it was over.”

  “I told her.” Maxine puts her magazine down. “I knew she would want to know.”

  James pulls his daughter to him again and kisses her on her head. “Thank God. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Dad . . .” The long-lost daughter speaks. Her voice slow and distracted. “I’m pretty tired. It was a long bus ride.”

  Maxine tilts her head, thoughtful. “I sent money for a plane ticket.”

  Amy smiles at her grandmother. “I’m here, right?”

  “Right. And that’s the important thing,” James says. “I’m afraid to take my eyes off of you. Afraid you’ll disappear. You’ll stay a few days, right?”

  You can tell James doesn’t want to push it. His eyes glisten with excitement and questions, both of which are firmly in check.

  I walk around the reunited father and daughter and plop into a seat next to Maxine. She pats my leg, her eyes staring straight ahead.

  “I don’t know about staying. I have a job back in Miami.”

  James lowers his voice. “Why haven’t you called us? Written to us?”

  Amy shakes her head and forces a laugh. “Not now, Dad. Gimme a break, okay?”

  “I think it’s a fair question.” Maxine pulls a fingernail file out of her bag. “The only reason we knew you were in Miami this month was because you needed money.”

  “Maxine, that’s enough.” James glares at his mother-in-law. “Amy, we love you. Your mom and I want you to stay as long as you can. Forever if you want.” He smiles.

  My heart splits in two. If James offers her my room, I’m walking back to Sunny Haven.

  “Slow down. I’m here to see Mom. Let’s not make this a big deal.”

  The hands on the clock barely move as I’m forced to listen to the Scott family reunion. A solid hour of James lavishing Amy with praise, Amy dodging questions, and me staring at the ceiling. Pastor Mike and Laura try to engage me in conversation, but I’m too busy try to act like I’m not listening to Amy to say anything too intelligent.

  The youth pastor tries again. “So, Katie, are you excited for the spring break mission work?”

  I shift in my seat. “I’m not going.”

  All conversation stops.

  For the first time in an hour, James looks at me. “What? Of course you’re going.”

  I shake my head. “No. I’ve decided not to go.”

  “When did you decide this?” Maxine asks.

  Three seconds ago. “I dunno. It’s been a while.”

  “It’s going to be a great time.” Pastor Mike stares at me like I’m an alien. “You don’t want to help the people of In Between? People who lost their homes? Everything they own?”

  I grab a magazine and open it to a random page. “I have a science fair project due about that time. And then there’s the play after spring break. I think it would be best if I stayed home and worked on that.” Whoa, some of the stuff in National Geographic should have warning labels.

  James crosses his legs at the ankle and pins me with his eyes. “Katie’s just a little stressed with school and the play right now. I’m sure she’ll be ready to tackle the mission project by Spring Break.”

  No. I’m not going. What’s the point? Go serve soup and sandwiches to some down and out In Betweenies and tell them how great God is? Hey, folks, sorry your house blew away, but I would like to tell you that God loves you. I don’t think so.

  Hours later I wake up from a cat nap as Millie’s surgeon shuffles into the lobby.

  “Mr. Scott?”

  I study this man’s face—every line, twitch, and blink. Does he have good news? Bad news? Or maybe he just came out to weigh in on the mission project issue like everyone else.

  “Mr. Scott, Millie’s out of surgery and in recovery. We removed the three tumors with no problem.”

  With one eye on Amy, I sigh with relief. The Scott’s daughter doesn’t move a muscle. No reaction at all. This chick is so weird.

  “There was some node involvement, so it is a bit more extensive than we’d hoped. We’ll talk about this more later. But she did well.”

  Yes, of course they’ll discuss it later—when I’m not around. And I know from my research lately that lymph node involvement is not good. Not good at all.

  “You can see Mrs. Scott in about an hour when she’s transferred to a room.”

  James thanks the doctor and shakes his hand.

  The Price is Right blares on the wall. While someone screams for joy over winning a sports car, six people in a hospital lobby are mute, silent. Exhausted and worried.

  Thoughts circle through my brain like NASCAR drivers, one idea chasing another. What if they didn’t get it all today? What if I have to go back to Sunny Haven? What if I get sent to live with a different family?

  James manages a small smile. “I think we have a lot to be thankful for today. Why don’t we thank God for Millie’s surgery going well?”

  We gather around James, everyone taking hands. I stand between Laura and Maxine.

  My head bows as my foster father offers up a prayer to God. The God of cancer. The God of abandoned kids. The God of druggie moms.

  “. . . And Lord we ask for healing for Millie. We pray you would lay your hands on her and . . .”

  My eyes focus on the floor. I examine Amy’s shoes. A ragged pair of boots. Brown, scratched. Ugly. I continue my inspection all the way up to her sweatshirt.

  And my eyes meet hers. I jerk my gaze back to the floor, but curiosity draws me back to her face.

  How dare she stare at me! How rude.

  “Amen.”

  Pastor Mike and Laura give a round of hugs to everyone. When it’s her turn, Amy steps back.

  I’m soon cocooned in a three-way bear hug with my youth pastor and his wife. Their words hit my ears. But not my heart.

  “God is on the job, Katie. You’ll see.”

  “Hang in there, girl. We’re praying for you too.”

  I cling to them for an extra second, then step away. Saying nothing, I watch them leave. I’m all out of words. All out of hope. Life just kicks me in the gut everywhere I go.

  James puts one arm around me and another around Amy. Maxine leans into her granddaughter. Stand next to me! Did Amy pedal for a solid hour to get to the hospital? No. Did Amy have to stomach your atomic pizza this morning? No, I did! What about me?

  “Anyone up for a late breakfast? We can grab a bite before they take Millie to her room.” James hugs me in closer.

  “I’m not hungry.” I step out of his embrace and return to my seat.

  “I think I’ll catch a quick nap.” Amy steps over my legs and settles onto the couch.

  “Maxine? Care to join me in the downstairs cafeteria?”

  Maxine grabs her purse. “I’m starved. I’ve hardly had a thing to eat all morning.”

  I pick up my National Geographic again and flip through the pages. Ten pages of ancient Egypt. Mummies—you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I throw it on a nearby table.

  “How long are you staying?” Amy’s voice breaks the silence.

  I look up, checking to make sure she’s actually talking to me. “I. . .I don’t know. I guess until my mom gets straightened out.”

  Amy picks at her fingernail. “What’s up with your mom?”

  Where is Maxine’s Seventeen magazine? I could use a good quiz right now.

  “I said, what’s up with your—”

  “I heard you.” I shrug an indifferent shoulder. “Drugs. Prison.”

  Amy sits up. “She got busted for doing drugs?”

  “No. Selling.”

  She considers this. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Cough drops.” My head bobs
to the back of the chair. I want to go home.

  “What are you so mad about?” She chews on a nail.

  “I’m not mad. I’m just worried about your mom.” Unlike you, I happen to care about your parents. “How long are you staying?”

  Amy pulls her finger out of her mouth. “Not long. Gotta get back.”

  “They worry about you all the time. They’ve been waiting for you to see the Valiant.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have time to see their theater.”

  “They restored that old theater for you, Amy. Did you know that?” Heat spikes through me. “Last fall they worked day and night on that building. Hoping you would be there opening night. They looked for you the entire night.”

  She lifts a shoulder. “I was busy.”

  “Don’t you even care? You’ve got two parents who love you, and you don’t even care. Do you know how much I would give to have parents who cared about me? Or how many times I’ve wished I had been born into this family?”

  Amy laughs, shoving her brown hair out of her eyes. “I wasn’t born into this family.”

  I rewind the words in my head. “What?”

  “Didn’t they tell you?” She stands up, grabs her jacket and brushes past me. “I’m adopted.”

  “Wait—”

  Amy pivots, facing me. “I’ve never been good enough. Never could be what they wanted me to be. And they’re treating you the same way. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

  I shake my head. “The Scotts . . . they’re great parents.”

  “Tell me, Katie, do you go to church because you want to? Or because they make you? Do they pressure you into things like, oh, I don’t know, mission projects? Yeah, they’re great parents. As long as you fit the mold—a good little Christian girl, who makes good grades and never gets into trouble. As long as you’re perfect.”

  My hands are clenched, shaking. “They don’t expect me to be perfect.” I stab my chest. “I get in trouble all the time,” I say like a badge of honor. “The Scotts love you.” Even though you’re psycho.

  A shadow falls across Amy’s face. “They love the idea of who they want me to be. Think about it. Because I’m betting it’s the same for you.” She steps toward the door. “Tell Dad I’m at home. I gotta get out of here.”