by Neta Jackson
But they had the main thing going for them: both she and Josh loved God and loved each other like crazy. Gracias, Jesús!
The phone rang. “Excuse me a minute, Rochelle.” Edesa headed for the kitchen phone. “Hola? . . . Oh, Gabby! . . . He needs what? . . . Turpentine? Well, I guess I could bring it when I take Rochelle to the El. Is he in a hurry to get it? . . . All right. Just a moment . . .” Edesa covered the receiver. “Rochelle, can you and Conny stay for lunch?” When Rochelle nodded, she turned back to the phone. “Tell Josh I’ll bring it after lunch . . . All right.”
Edesa came back to the table. “Josh needs me to bring him a can of turpentine from the basement. Probably to clean his paintbrushes. Hope I can find it.”
But Rochelle’s mind was somewhere else. “I asked Nick straight-out if it was because I’m black, which he denied, of course. Then I thought . . . maybe it’s because I’m HIV positive. And of course he denied that too. That’s when he told me there was someone else.” She rolled her eyes. “And just to rub it in, last night at supper he said straight-out he’s planning to court Kat once he moves out. In front of both me and her. Made me wish I could just disappear. So I did. Walked out.” She snorted. “Ha. He’s going to court her. How d’ya like that for a fancy-smancy, white-guy word.”
But suddenly Rochelle’s eyes filled again and she had to grab another tissue. “But, Edesa, I really thought he might be the one. What if . . . what if I never find a guy like him?”
Oh, Jesús, give me wisdom. “Rochelle, let me ask you something. If it weren’t for Conny—I mean, if you were single, not a mom—would you be in love with Nick Taylor?”
“But I am a mom! I’ve got to think about Conny first. I want a guy who’s crazy about Conny and vice versa . . . that’s important.”
“I know . . . but if Conny weren’t in the picture. What then?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Why are you asking me that?”
“Because it wouldn’t be enough to love Nick just because he’d make a good dad. You’d need to love him just for himself, because marriage lasts a lot longer than raising kids. The kids grow up, leave home, and then what?” She reached out to touch Rochelle again. “Rochelle, how long have you known Nick?”
The young woman had the grace to blush. “Well, uh, about five weeks.”
“That’s not very long. Do you really know Nick the person? His hopes? His dreams? He wants to be a pastor, you know. Do you want to be a pastor’s wife?”
Rochelle just stared at her. “I . . . I haven’t really thought about that. I have to admit it wouldn’t be my first choice.” Her eyes dropped to her mug, which she toyed with, turning it back and forth with her fingers. Then her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. “Criminy. Me, a pastor’s wife. That’s a good one.”
Picking up Rochelle’s mug, Edesa put it in the microwave to reheat, giving the girl some space to think about what she’d just said. But when the microwave dinged, she set the mug down in front of her and said, “There’s something else you need to think about. And that’s Kat . . . If Nick is going to ‘court’ her, as he said, can you live with that? Living together in the apartment, I mean.”
Rochelle looked away. Then she reached into her back jeans pocket and pulled out a folded note. “Found this under my door this morning . . .” She slid it toward Edesa.
Edesa picked up the sheet of small notebook paper and unfolded it. “Dear Rochelle,” the note said. “I know that Nick moving out is difficult for you, maybe confusing. You said maybe you and Conny should be the ones to move out instead. But I want to ask you to stay. First of all for Conny’s sake. Nick really cares about your son—we all do—and he wants to continue being there for him. He wants to be ‘Uncle Nick,’ and I think that can happen, even if he’s staying upstairs. But second of all, I still believe it was God who brought you and Conny here. I think you know that too. And we all agreed you didn’t need to pay room and board until you got a job. That hasn’t changed. The fact that you haven’t found a job isn’t your fault! You’ve filled out dozens of applications and sent out a zillion résumés. God’s been taking care of all our needs, and He’ll give you the right job. Just wanted you to know I hope you’ll stay.” It was signed, “Love, Kat.”
Edesa looked up. “That’s . . . quite a note. What do you think?”
Rochelle shrugged. “She didn’t say anything about her and Nick. Me having to watch them get all lovey-dovey.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how you feel about him—”
A screech from the bedroom brought them both to their feet, and then Gracie flew into the kitchen. “Mommeee! Conny won’t give me the yellow one an’ I need it!”
Conny was right on her heels. “But I had it first! If she takes it, it’ll ruin my space station!”
“They’re my Legos!”
Edesa grabbed Gracie and settled the two-year-old on her hip. “Uh, I think it’s time for lunch! How about a picnic on the back porch, sí?”
The picnic on the back porch had been a good idea, though Rochelle seemed lost in her thoughts much of the time. And then it was time to go. Conny scrambled into the third seat of the minivan while Edesa strapped Gracie into her car seat in the middle row. “I want Conny to sit with me,” Gracie pouted.
“I know, niña. Another time.” Maybe it was a good thing Conny was in the far back, because there was something she’d wanted to ask Rochelle.
She waited until they were on the way, then spoke in a lowered voice. “Rochelle, about the HIV . . . is Conny okay?”
Rochelle glanced furtively into the far backseat. “Yes, thank God! We had him tested after I found out I was infected. I think it happened after he was born, because the doctors said the baby was clean.” She was silent a long moment. “But, Edesa . . . in spite of what Nick said, I realize any man who finds out I’m HIV may run the other way. I think I have it under control, and the meds are getting better all the time . . . and I’ve met some couples where one partner has HIV and they seem to be managing—you know, safe sex and all that. But . . . what if I never meet a guy who’s willing to marry me? What if you-know-who”—she jerked a thumb toward the backseat—“never has a real dad? I mean”—her voice trembled—“what if I develop AIDS and . . . and die? What would happen to Conny?”
Edesa cast a quick look at her passenger as the Sheridan El station loomed half a block ahead. Pulling into a parking space, she turned off the motor and faced Rochelle. “Mi amiga, listen to me. I’m not going to pretend I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. And I understand your desire for family. But worrying about what might happen only robs you of the blessings you do have, right now. You said it yourself—Conny’s clean! That’s a gift. And he does have family who cares about him—your mom and Peter, to start with. And—”
“Yeah. But they’re going to South Africa. What if they decide to stay?”
Edesa smiled. “One day at a time, Rochelle. Don’t borrow worries from tomorrow. One thing I know for sure, God knows you inside out, better than you know yourself. If you doubt that, read Psalm 139. We call it the ‘Yada Psalm,’ because it talks about how intimately God knows us. You’re an incredible woman as well as a great mom. You may be surprised what God has in store for you, the ways He wants to use you to bless others—if you just trust Him with what is, rather than worrying about what isn’t.”
An El train rattled into the station up ahead. Conny’s honey-brown face popped up between the two of them. “Mo-om! We just missed the El. Are you and Miss Edesa gonna talk forever?”
Rochelle fished for another tissue, blew her nose again, and gave Edesa a quick hug. “Thanks, Edesa.” She opened the door. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go.”
Edesa watched as mother and son disappeared into the station before starting the engine. Oh, Dios, wrap your arms around Rochelle. Let her know how much You love her.
A few minutes later she pulled up beside Manna House. “Okay, Gracie, let’s go see Daddy. He needs his turpentine.” Locking the ca
r, she took Gracie’s hand and hustled up the steps, rang the doorbell, and was buzzed in. “Hola, Angela.” She stopped at the receptionist’s cubby. “Do you know where my husband is painting?”
“I think down in the rec room. But Miss Gabby told me to tell you to stop by her office first.” The Korean girl leaned out the window of her cubby. “Hey there, Gracie. Do you want to help me answer the phone?”
Edesa was about to protest, but Gracie darted into the door at the back of the cubby and crawled up on Angela Kwon’s lap. Oh well, it was her idea, not mine.
Heading for the lower level, she waved greetings to several of the residents hanging out in Shepherd’s Fold. Downstairs, lunch was over and two of the residents were wiping tables and sweeping the floor. Edesa knocked on Gabby Fairbanks’s door— the once-upon-a-time broom closet turned into a tiny office.
“Edesa! You’re here!” Gabby jumped up from her desk and gave her a hug. “Just a minute . . .” She stepped outside her office and beckoned to someone. A moment later Estelle Bentley squeezed into the office too and pulled the door shut behind her.
Edesa looked from one to the other—Gabby with her head full of red curls and Estelle wearing hers bunched up into that food servers’ net cap. “What’s going on?” She held up the bag with the can of turpentine. “You said Josh needs this.”
“Well, uh, he probably does.” Estelle waved dismissively. “I’m sure he can use it to, you know, clean his brushes or something. We just needed to get you here because . . .” She gestured impatiently at Gabby, as if telling her to pick up the conversation.
Gabby nodded, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a tiny smile. “We’ve been worried about you, Edesa. Complaining about being tired and all that. So we got you something and want you to use it.” She picked up a slender package from her desk and handed it to her.
Edesa’s eyes widened when she saw what it was. “Oh . . . oh . . . do you think—?”
Estelle stepped away from the door and opened it. “Well, go, girl, and find out!”
Chapter 40
On one hand, Kat thought, things didn’t seem that different with Nick living upstairs at the Douglasses’. He still showed up for supper the next night—her turn to cook. Still helped with the dishes and hung around playing with Conny afterward. Still teased Bree about sounding like she was talking in a barrel with that cold of hers.
On the other hand, Kat’s whole world had changed. Nick loved her. He’d told Rochelle he wanted to court her—which sounded kind of old-fashioned, but she knew what it meant. Courting wasn’t hey-I-like-you-wanna-go-out-on-a-date? It was testing-the-waters-because-I-think-I-want-to-marry-you.
Should she tell her parents she had a serious relationship? Yes, she owed them that much . . . but not yet. She didn’t want anything to clip her wings, because right now she felt as if she could fly.
But earth rushed up to meet her on Friday, when Kat realized the first day of the food pantry test run at SouledOut was only one week away—and they had no food. Not one can, not one loaf of bread, not one head of lettuce. In fact, no one out in the neighborhood who might need it even knew there was a food pantry starting up at SouledOut Community Church the first Saturday in August! Her head had been so far in the clouds, she hadn’t even gone to the Rock of Ages food pantry this past week to let the staff and volunteers know they could refer people there on Saturdays in August.
What had she been thinking?!
Bree had gone back to work at the coffee shop Friday morning and even said she’d take her turn cooking Friday evening. Rochelle hadn’t said anything about the note Kat had slipped under her door the other night—hadn’t said much of anything, frankly. Kat kind of dreaded supper. Were things going to stay as tense as they’d been the past two nights?
But just as Bree hollered hoarsely that supper was ready, a cell phone rang. Rochelle dug out her cell from the back pocket of her jeans and wandered away from the table. “Hi, Rochelle here . . . Who’s this? . . . Edesa? . . . Wait, wait, my Spanish isn’t that good. Speak English . . .”
“Can we eat?” Conny complained, propping an elbow on the table and kicking the rungs of his chair.
But the next moment Rochelle screeched. “What?! You’re pregnant? Edesa! That’s fantastic!” They all turned, bug-eyed, to look at her and saw Rochelle hopping up and down. “Edesa’s pregnant!” she mouthed at them and then turned back to the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me when I was there yesterday? . . . When? . . . They did what?”
Kat grinned at Nick and Bree, whose mouths had dropped. Edesa and Josh Baxter were expecting a baby? That was so cool! Edesa had said Gracie would turn three in August—that was good spacing, wasn’t it? She wondered if they’d been trying or if this was a surprise. None of her business, of course.
Rochelle bounced back to the table. “Couldn’t believe she didn’t say anything yesterday. Conny and I were there, having lunch at her house! But she said she didn’t know—not until Gabby Fairbanks and Estelle Bentley tricked her into coming over to Manna House and gave her one of those, uh—” She stopped and eyed Conny, who was busy helping himself to Bree’s chicken and rice. Out of his line of vision she made motions with her fingers to describe what Kat could only assume was a home pregnancy “stick” that you peed on. “And it was positive!”
“You mean they suspected before she did?” Bree blinked her watery eyes.
Rochelle shrugged. “Well, she’s never been pregnant before. She and Josh adopted Gracie, you know.”
Nick laughed aloud. “Well, that makes my day! I’m gonna call Josh and put my name on the list for a cigar.”
“Oh, right,” Kat sputtered. “A cigar-smoking pastoral intern.”
“Uhh . . .” Rochelle looked a bit sheepish. “Edesa didn’t tell me not to tell you guys, but maybe we should let them tell other people. She might want to tell her Yada Yada sisters—like my mom—herself.” She glanced at Conny. “On the other hand, since you-know-who knows, might not be secret long.”
Conny rolled his eyes. “My name is not ‘You-Know-Who.’ It’s Conrad Johnson the Second—after Mommy’s daddy.” Which got another laugh.
The tension of the past few nights seemed to have disappeared with the big news. Kat decided to say she was feeling slightly panicked about getting ready to launch the food pantry next weekend, and she asked if anyone could help her post flyers the next day.
Rochelle’s eyes widened. “Ohmigosh, I wanted to put the name on the flyers before printing them out—you know, the name we came up with at Yada Yada last Sunday! I gotta ask my dad if he’ll let me print them out at Software Symphony tonight!” And she was gone, out the apartment door and running upstairs.
“Wait for me, Mommy! I wanna go to Grampa’s work too!” Conny jumped out of his chair and flew after her.
Kat looked at Nick and Bree. “Um, I think that’s a ‘Thank You, Jesus’ moment.”
Nick grinned. “Absolutely.”
“But . . . I still need some serious prayer about this food pantry. We need food, we need volunteers, we need—”
Bree jumped up. “Volunteers? Hold on, let me get my notebook.” She was back in half a minute. “I made a list of the Yada Yada women who volunteered, remember? Phone numbers and everything. I’m sure we’re covered for the first Saturday.” She flipped pages in her notebook and studied her list. “Yep, yep, not to worry. In fact, you let me worry about making up the volunteer list. Just send anybody to me who wants to help. I’ll remind them and everything.”
“Oh, Bree, thank you.” Kat gave her roomie a hug. But the panic still lingered. “Please, we need to pray about getting enough food to give away. I have no idea how the food collections are going. And I tried to talk to the manager at the big Dominick’s in the shopping center to give us any perishables they’d otherwise throw away, but he just hemmed and hawed and told me he’d have to ‘check it out’ with—”
Rochelle and Conny breezed back into the apartment. “All set.” She dangled two sets o
f keys. “I’ve got Mom’s car if one of you is willing to drive me. I let my license expire.”
“I’ll take you,” Nick said. “But Kat’s asking for prayer about pulling this whole thing together between now and next Saturday, so let’s do that first. You want to pray with us, Conny?” Nick held out his hands, one to her, one to Conny, and the others joined hands around the table. Kat felt a little weird, Nick holding hands with her on one side, Conny and Rochelle on the other. But his prayer was spot on, that they’d each do what they could do and trust God to bring it all together. “Because we don’t want to forget, Jesus, that this food pantry belongs to You. Touch the hearts of people to donate food, and touch the hearts of the people who need it to come. And we look forward to seeing what You’re going to do—”
“Amen!” Conny hollered. “Is there any dessert?”
“In fact, there is,” Bree simpered. “I was so glad to be feeling better, I bought us two quarts of the coffee shop’s fresh strawberry ice cream after my shift. Who wants some?”
No one turned her down . . . and then Nick, Rochelle, and Conny got up to go finish the flyer job at Software Symphony. Kat watched as they went out the door, and for a moment her eyes locked with Rochelle . . . and then they were gone. Arrgh. Okay. She was grateful for the support of her housemates, she really was, but she still wrestled with uncomfortable feelings as she loaded the dishwasher—in spite of the note she’d written the other night. There went Nick with Rochelle and Conny like a little family. Had things really changed?
She felt Bree’s arms wrap around her from behind. “Hey, you,” Bree murmured in her ear, “you’ve got to trust him, starting now. After all, didn’t he tell Rochelle to her face that he’s courting you?”