Everyone nodded. “That’s good thinking, Ida Mae,” Arlette said, a hint of admiration in her voice.
“In addition to that, where is he all day? Did he really find a job and is doing this other thing on the side, or is he just leaving for the day to make Mary think he’s found a job? For that matter, just how much does Mary know?”
“I don’t think she knows a whole lot,” Ren spoke up. “Nick isn’t even sure what’s going on—how would Mary know more than Nick?”
“True, true.” Ida Mae made a note on her pad. “I believe our next step is to follow Nick and see where he goes.”
“I just gassed up my van,” Arlette said, knitting needles aquiver.
“Actually, I was thinking we should send Ren,” Ida Mae said. “Nick knows all of us by sight from church. He’s never met Ren.”
“Yeah, inactive member that I am,” Ren said.
“Who knew your inactivity would come in handy?” Tansy said brightly, always ready to find the positive in a situation.
“Ren, when is your next day off?”
Ren pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and consulted it. “Tomorrow, actually.”
“Okay, great. Do we have any idea when Nick leaves the house for the day?”
No one knew, so Ida Mae proposed that Ren be in position around six a.m. just to be on the safe side. “I’ll make you a good breakfast before you go,” she promised before he could raise an objection, and as she’d hoped, that squelched his protest. “In the meantime, let’s keep to our posts so we don’t miss anything.”
The meeting essentially concluded, the rest of the brownies disappeared, and the group trickled out of the house. Ida Mae placed a call to Reed and Heidi to see if she could swing by the next day, and then she called Hannah.
“How is Joey doing?” she asked.
“He’s all right, I guess. He’s in a lot of pain still.” Ida Mae could hear the tiredness in Hannah’s voice. “They said it would be a little while, so we’re trying to be patient.”
“And what do you need, dear?”
“I need a nap.” Hannah tacked on a chuckle, but Ida Mae could tell she was serious.
“I’ll be over in half an hour.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Hannah protested.
“Yes, I do. I’ll be there in half an hour, and you’re going to bed early. What time does your husband get home?”
“One thirty. He’s still on the late shift.”
“Then I’ll stay until he gets there.”
Hannah tried to protest again, but Ida Mae wouldn’t let her.
“We need you, Hannah. I tried to take notes and make sense of them, and I’m terrible at it. What am I going to do if you get sick from exhaustion and it takes you longer to come back to me?”
“Well, if you’re sure . . .”
“I’m more than sure. I’ll be there.”
Ida Mae hung up and grabbed her purse. She shoved her book, her journal, and a pen inside, then rummaged through her cupboards for some good snacks. She changed the laundry from the washer to the dryer and watered her plants, and was all set to go. Then the phone rang.
“Sister Babbitt? This is Marsha DeLong. Is it too late for me to call?”
“Of course not,” she said, glancing at the clock. Well, it was a little late, but she had just called the Hunters and Hannah, so she couldn’t be too critical. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I was out doing my visiting teaching this afternoon, and you know how we’re supposed to report things we think you should know?”
Ida Mae pressed her lips together. This was how they got involved with the Dunns. “Yes?”
“Well, Darcy Gimble has gotten herself into some trouble. I mean, trouble. You know what I mean.” Marsha lowered her voice until Ida Mae could hardly hear her. “She’s pregnant.”
Darcy was nearly eighteen and the Laurel president. Ida Mae was greatly surprised at the news.
“Darcy? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Sister Babbitt. Sister Gimble told me about it—they’d just found out. She was in tears.”
Ida Mae’s head was spinning. She’d worked with Darcy on various projects and thought that of anyone, that girl had her head on straight. “I’ll go over tomorrow,” she promised, jotting a note on her calendar.
“Thank you, Sister Babbitt. I know Sister Gimble would appreciate the visit.”
Ida Mae threw on her coat and walked out to her car. Darcy Gimble, pregnant. She never would have dreamed it. Becky Patterson, yes. Wendy Markum, definitely. But not Darcy.
She brought herself up short as she climbed into the car. She had no right to judge Becky and Wendy like that. Sure, the girls weren’t very active and they exhibited behavior that wasn’t in accordance with Church teachings, but how did she know what they were thinking and feeling? How did she know they were destined for teen pregnancy—she couldn’t read their minds. She immediately felt ashamed of herself.
“I’m sorry,” she prayed aloud. “I shouldn’t judge like that. I was just so surprised about Darcy.”
She pulled out of her driveway, her thoughts skittering all over the place. Darcy’s mother was so proud of her grades—she’d been telling Ida Mae just last month that Darcy was getting ready to start applying for scholarships. The girl never dressed immodestly. She was just the ideal teenager in every way.
Then Ida Mae had a thought that struck her even more forcefully than her judgment of Becky and Wendy. She pulled over to the side of the road, unable to concentrate because of the way her mind was tingling.
She had no right to judge Darcy positively any more than she had the right to judge the other two girls negatively.
Didn’t the scripture say, “Judge not?” It didn’t say, “Judge not negatively.” It was just a plain, blanket statement—“Judge not.”
Sure, Darcy was a “good girl.” No one ever worried about her because she was good. But in labeling her that way, was it possible that her needs had been overlooked? Had they been so busy shepherding the lost sheep that they forgot to feed the ones in the pen?
Tears rolled down Ida Mae’s cheeks. She felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. True, her calling did involve a lot of running around to put out fires. Emergencies always came first. And, sometimes, there were so many emergencies, it seemed like she did nothing else. She remembered the old saying about the squeaky wheel getting the grease. How many wheels were suffering in silence?
“Forgive me,” she prayed again, this time with all her heart. Never again would she judge someone to be above needing love and support.
*
Hannah’s house was quiet when she arrived. “The children are asleep,” Hannah said, “but Joey will wake up soon for his next pill. Poor thing—he can only sleep for a little bit at a time, and he has to take a pain pill every four hours.”
“Where is his pill?”
Hannah showed her where the bottle was.
“He should take it at midnight. If he wakes up before that, get him a drink and make him comfortable until then, okay? We have to be careful not to dose him too frequently.”
“Okay.”
“And his leg needs to stay up on the pillow that’s in there. He keeps wiggling off, but it needs to stay elevated.”
“Sounds pretty typical, a five-year-old being wiggly. Now, you go lie down. You look all worn out.”
Hannah offered her a grim smile. “Thank you. This means a lot.”
Silence fell over the house, and Ida Mae settled into the easy chair in the corner by the fireplace. She pulled out her book and begin to read, just reaching the part where the main suspect was getting ready to make a phone call to accomplices unknown when she heard Joey start to cry. Glancing at the clock and seeing that it was only ten, she moved quickly into his bedroom, hoping to soothe him before Hannah woke up.
“Hi, Joey,” she said, peeking in.
“Hi, Sister Rabbit,” he said. She’d tried to correct him in a half-hearted way once, but foun
d his nickname for her so endearing, she couldn’t insist.
“Your mommy is taking a nap, so I’m going to watch you, okay?”
“Okay.” Tears were lined up on his cheek, and he wiped them away with his pajama sleeve. “My leg hurts.”
“I bet it does, sweetie.” She helped him put it back up on the pillow, then glanced around the room, wondering what she could do to amuse him for two hours. “Are you sleepy?” Maybe he’d go back down until midnight.
“No.”
Well, there went that bright idea.
Her eye fell on a bookcase. “Should I read you a story?”
“Okay.”
“Which one?”
He pointed. “Thomas.”
She pulled the blue-and-black book of the shelf. “Thomas and Friends. I don’t think I’ve ever read this one.” She took a seat next to the bed and read him the story.
“Now Barney,” he said.
The next hour ticked by. She read every single book on his shelf and was about to start again when she noticed he had fallen asleep. It was eleven fifteen. Only forty-five minutes to go. She put his leg back up on the pillow and tucked him in.
She’d never had a broken leg, but she could imagine what it must feel like. Poor little guy.
At ten after midnight he woke up, and she gave him the pain pill. He fell asleep after a few minutes and she went back into the living room, her hand to her forehead. She felt like she could use one of those pills too—her head was killing her. How was Hannah coping with all this and a baby too?
Ned came home right on time and thanked her profusely.
“It was my pleasure,” she told him, embellishing the truth just a little. The experience hadn’t been bad in any way—it was just her worry for the child that made it difficult. She drove home in a bit of a fog, briefly wondering why she seemed to be doing so much childcare lately. Could she call a babysitting specialist to work in the Relief Society? That might take a load off, if there really was such a calling. She’d have to ask.
Chapter Thirteen
The phone rang first thing in the morning. Ida Mae reached for it, missing it on the first grab. She should have left it in the hall instead of bringing it into the bedroom—she hated answering the phone half asleep.
“Hello?” she mumbled when she finally had the instrument in her hand.
“Ida Mae? It’s after eight o’clock. Are you still in bed?”
“Good morning, Arlette. I was out living the wild life last night and came home drunk.”
“I don’t find that amusing, Ida Mae.”
“Sorry.” No, I’m not, Ida Mae thought. Call me at the crack of dawn, expect me to be cheerful, and see what you get.
“I just wanted to see if Ren got out the door safely.”
Ida Mae sat up like a shot, fully awake. She was supposed to get up and make him a good breakfast that morning. It had been part of the deal.
“I’m sure he did,” she said, pressing a hand to her head. “I overslept, what with this hangover and all.”
“Really, Ida Mae. I’ll call back later when you aren’t feeling so fractious.”
Ida Mae hung up the phone and climbed out of bed. Had Ren already gone, or was he counting on her to wake him up? His bed was empty and somewhat made, and as she walked into the kitchen, her eyes fell on a note propped up on the table.
I didn’t know you could snore like that, Auntie. I came in to check on you at 5:30 and thought you’d swallowed a truck. See you later, and don’t worry about me. I ate.
Ida Mae smiled, then threw a bagel in the toaster. She might not have swallowed a truck, but she felt like she’d been hit by one. She’d been back at her house by two that morning, but she’d been awake another hour, wondering if there wasn’t anything else they could do for Hannah. She’d call some of the ladies in the ward and see if they couldn’t go in and help her more in the evenings.
Dressed in her lavender velour pantsuit and feeling much better after her shower, Ida Mae headed over to the Hunters’. Heidi greeted her at the door, and they went into the living room where Reed and Rose waited on the leather couch.
“I believe I may have a solution to your difficulty,” Ida Mae said, coming straight to the point as was her typical style. She saw no reason to beat around the bush when the bush was on her timecard. “Rose, do you know Hannah Eyre?”
“The blonde with the two small boys? I’ve noticed her at church.”
Ida Mae glanced at Reed. She’d already talked the whole thing over with him, but she wasn’t sure how Rose would take to the idea. “Well, she has a basement apartment that’s just adorable. It’s a walkout, so there aren’t any stairs, and it’s got a lot of sunlight. It’s one bedroom, one bath, and fully furnished. She’s been trying to rent it out, but everyone seems to want two bedrooms these days. What would you think of going to live there?”
Rose glanced at Reed. “You already know about this, don’t you?”
“I do. I think it’s a good idea, Mama. It would give you the space you need, but you’d also have someone handy if you needed them.”
“Hannah will check on you regularly and make sure you get your medication,” Ida Mae said.
“And you’ll get Meals on Wheels, too,” Reed added.
“The two of you are ganging up on me, are you?” Rose straightened in her seat. “You don’t have to roughhouse me.”
Ida Mae opened her mouth to protest, but then caught the gleam of humor in Rose’s eye.
“I’d like to see the apartment,” Rose went on. “And talk with Hannah a little bit. I do want my independence and I hate the idea of someone having to check on me, but I guess we’re to the point where I’ll have to give a little.”
“I’ll go over with you tomorrow morning,” Ida Mae promised.
Heidi walked her to the door. “I feel so guilty,” she said softly, glancing behind her. “What kind of person am I, kicking my husband’s mother out into the street?”
“Hannah’s apartment is a far cry from the street,” Ida Mae said. “And she really is nice. So’s her husband, but he’s not home a lot, and when he is, he’s asleep. You’ll mostly be working with Hannah if you need anything.”
“Do you think this is the right thing to do?”
Ida Mae looked Heidi firmly in the eye. If there was anything this woman needed, it was firmness and lots of it. “Heidi, your first priority is to your own children and husband. They need you right now, more than the ordinary family because of the challenges you’ve been given. If you try to spread yourself around, not only will it be too thin, but you’re going to give yourself a nervous breakdown. I would not be suggesting this if I didn’t think it would work.”
She detected an internal sigh of relief in Heidi’s features. “All right,” she said, a smile appearing. “I think we’ll go see the apartment.”
Upon reaching her kitchen, Ida Mae called Hannah to set up a time. Ten o’clock was agreed upon, and then she asked after Joey. “Does he have a favorite treat or toy I could bring him tomorrow?”
“He really likes bubble gum,” Hannah said.
“I’ll bring some,” Ida Mae promised.
After confirming with the Hunters, Ida Mae sat down and stared at the phone. She dared it to ring. Just let it try. Five whole minutes went by with no sound but the ticking of the hall clock. A miracle.
*
Tansy and Ida Mae sat across from Anne Gimble, whose eyes were red from crying. “I just can’t believe it,” she said over and over. “My little girl is going to have a baby.”
“When did you find out?” Ida Mae asked.
“Just a few days ago,” Anne said. “I’m still in shock.”
“She’s seventeen—is that right?” Tansy asked.
“She just turned eighteen. I guess she’s an adult now, like that makes any difference.” She sniffed and dabbed at her nose with the tissue balled up in her hand.
Ida Mae ignored the bitter tone in Anne’s voice, knowing she spoke out of fear.
“Darcy’s a good girl, Anne. The two of you will find a way to make it through this.”
“A good girl? Sister Babbitt, she’s pregnant.”
“I know she is, Anne. But she’s got a good heart.”
“How is Darcy handling the news?” Tansy asked, intervening before Anne could reply to Ida Mae.
“She’s really upset. She keeps telling me that she never meant for this to happen. But then, I don’t know too many girls who get pregnant during their senior year and are happy about it. As for the father—what a laugh! He’s just a boy himself. He can’t be anyone’s father.” She shook her head and tried again. “The young man was planning to put in his mission papers next month. It’s just so sad.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Tansy leaned forward and handed Anne a new tissue.
“I can’t think of anything right now.” Anne shook her head. “She can’t be having a baby.”
“It does seem impossible,” Ida Mae agreed. She was in a unique situation, one of being able to empathize from personal experience. She didn’t want to say anything, but she knew Anne needed to hear what she was going to say.
“About thirty years ago, I was in the same situation you’re in,” she said, choosing her words carefully as though picking her way through a minefield. “My daughter came to me and told me she was pregnant. She gave the baby up for adoption. It was a really rough time for our family because she didn’t understand the consequences of what she’d done, and her lifestyle just kept getting more wild. Darcy’s a good girl, Anne. She won’t have to go through the years of heartache my daughter has. She’s going to be fine.”
“I just can’t help but feel like she’s ruined,” Anne said. “What kind of future can she have now? What decent man is going to want her?”
Ida Mae stiffened. Be calm, she said to herself. You are here on the Lord’s errand. “We’ve been given the ability to repent,” she said as gently as she could.
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