“Will do.”
She hung up the phone slowly. Love and truth. She had those on her side.
Surely that was enough?
Enough for Anna, who had to be vindicated. Enough for Tanya, who must lie awake at night wondering who could have done this to her child.
Enough for this town?
That brought her thoughts back to Debbie and Cammie and the women in her study group who were so determined to create those imaginary camps set against one another, all in the name of kindness. If Nick and Tanya came for dinner, she’d show them. Anna was innocent. There was no reason for Tanya not to come. And when Tanya told those women where she’d been for dinner, they’d see how wrong they were to make separations where they shouldn’t exist—between sisters in Christ.
She’d been feeling frustrated and guilty because she couldn’t act to help her daughter, couldn’t do anything to solve this mystery. But there was one thing she could do.
She could cook. And it would mean far more than an ordinary turkey dinner usually meant.
It would be a statement of faith and trust.
Feeling lighter in spirit than she had for days, Laurie pulled a notepad out of her purse and sat down at the counter. She wrote Pick up turkey at the top of her list before the blinking light of the answering machine caught her attention.
She leaned over and pressed the playback button. Janice’s voice said very stiffly, “Hi, Laurie, this is Janice. I’m afraid I can’t make Bible study this morning after all. I’ll go with the others tomorrow. I apologize for the late notice. Bye.”
Armed camps. Trust.
Here was another person she’d pushed away, whom she’d allowed to fall into that opposing camp. She’d said unkind things about Kyle, just the way the people in Glendale were saying unkind things about Anna. What right did she have to say she didn’t trust his word? She had no choice but to trust Anna’s, or she’d find her family in pieces around her. Janice would feel the same. Families operated on love and trust. So did friendships. How many of those was she going to allow to fall by the wayside over this?
Before she lost her courage, she picked up the phone. Janice answered on the second ring.
“Janice, it’s Laurie.”
“Oh. Hello.” Silence. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes. Both of them. Janice, please let me say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things I said to Kyle. He and Anna are both telling the truth. It’s this town that’s spreading lies and mistrust all over the place, and I’m tired of letting it get to me.”
Silence.
“Janice?”
“I’m here.” Her voice was scratchy. “I’m just . . . surprised.”
“About what? You were brave enough to apologize when you hadn’t done anything wrong. The least I can do is apologize when I’m the one at fault. I hurt you, and I accused your son of lying, and I’m sorry for it. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Oh, Laurie,” Janice said on a sigh. “Of course I forgive you. We’re mothers and we’re scared, and we tend to lash out at people who threaten our kids.”
The tension snarled under Laurie’s heart relaxed enough to allow her a deep, cleansing breath. Forgiveness. What a wonderful, freeing thing.
“But that wasn’t why I was surprised to hear from you.”
It wasn’t? “Why, what’s up?”
“I shouldn’t listen to gossip, that’s all there is to it. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever grow up and be able to make decisions based on something other than ‘what will people think?’”
Gossip. Didn’t it say in Proverbs that the person who kept a watch over his mouth would keep his life? Maybe she should suggest that passage to Cale Dayton for his next sermon.
“I just got off the phone with Maggie,” Janice went on. “This article in the paper has everyone upset and saying things they don’t mean.”
“I bet they do mean them. Like what?”
“Neither of us needs this burden, Laurie. Trust me.”
Trust me. “No point in bearing it by yourself.”
“You already have enough to bear. I just don’t understand it. We’re all supposed to be sisters, supporting each other, not speculating and raising doubts about each other.”
Janice might be surprised, but Laurie wasn’t. “Ignore them. The important thing is that everything is out in the open between you and me, right?”
“Yes.” Janice paused. “I’m praying for you, Laurie.”
“Pray for our kids, my friend. They need it most of all.”
Chapter Fourteen
At 10:15, Laurie pulled up at one side of the school parking lot, where the kids who weren’t bused usually waited for their rides. Anna was nowhere in sight.
She tapped the horn, in case Anna was standing just inside the door talking, but when there was no movement besides the wet flapping of the flag on the flagpole, she turned the engine off and marched inside. Anna’s English class met in one of the classrooms behind the library on the first floor. When she peeked in the door’s wire-reinforced glass window, she couldn’t see Anna anywhere in the classroom. The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt the teacher, so she slipped into the nearest of the girls’ bathrooms.
“Anna?”
Silence.
Okay, this was going beyond annoying and becoming downright odd. The counselor’s office was on the other side of the library, with its own outside entrance. She walked into the waiting room and knocked on the inner door. “Hello?”
“It’s open.”
She peered around the door and saw a young man with a soul patch and an earring lounging at the desk. “I thought—is Gail Burke here?”
“No, she had a meeting. I’m Jed. I’m a member of the grief team.”
“Hi, Mom.”
There, curled up on an orange beanbag chair, was Anna. She wriggled to a sitting position as Laurie exhaled a long breath made up of two parts relief and one part irritation.
“Do you mind telling me why you’re not out front?” She needed to keep this short and authoritative. “We’re going to be fifteen minutes late because I had to run through the school looking for you.”
“Late for what?” Anna looked honestly puzzled.
“Our appointment with your cousin.”
Memory dawned. “Oh, yeah.”
“Oh, yeah. Let’s get moving.”
“Why? I’m already talking to a counselor.” Anna nodded at Jed. The stud in his eyebrow glinted, as if to punctuate the huge gulf between the counselor Anna had chosen and the one Laurie and Colin had chosen for her.
Talking about what? The latest fashions in body jewelry? “Anna, stop wasting time. Where’s your backpack?”
“In my locker. Mom, I’m talking to Jed. I don’t need to see anyone else.”
“At a hundred and fifty bucks an hour, you most certainly do.”
The beanbag chair seemed to puff around her daughter’s body as she sank into it, as though unwillingness were as heavy as those lead aprons you put on at the dentist’s office.
“Anna, I’m not discussing this. Get up.” She moved to the door, but Anna didn’t heave a put-upon sigh and get to her feet. Instead, she glanced at Jed, her eyes full of appeal.
“Mrs. Hale, if you don’t mind my saying so, Anna and I are making progress.”
Laurie didn’t reply. Instead, she glanced at her watch.
“I’ve been talking to him since it happened, Mom.”
“So I understand.” Laurie flicked a glance at Jed. “What I’d like to know is why I wasn’t told.”
“Parents aren’t told as a general rule.” Why was he so comfortable with this? How much experience had he had with skeptical parents? “The kids are free to tell their parents, of course, but we’re as bound by confidentiality as any other professional who might see Anna.”
“That’s ridiculous.” How could Anna see a counselor behind our backs—opening up to a stranger who may or may not know what he’s doing?
“Not really. It
’s important for Anna to know that anything she says here doesn’t leave the room. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“The point is, we could have been working together.” She ignored Jed and spoke to Anna. “We could’ve talked about this stuff at home. So Daddy and I wouldn’t have been worrying our heads off about things like you not wanting to ride over the Susquanny Bridge or deciding to beat on your brother for no reason.”
“Mom, everybody beats on their brother,” Anna pointed out.
“Not in our family, they don’t.” She took a deep breath and looked at Jed. “So the bottom line here is that you’ve been counseling my daughter without my permission and leaving me totally in the dark about what’s bothering her.”
“I’ve been counseling your daughter and helping her work through some issues,” Jed corrected gently.
“That’s very vague. How about we get specific?”
“Not without Anna’s permission.”
“No,” Anna said instantly. “You promised.”
Jed looked at Laurie and spread his hands, indicating, she supposed, that the matter was out of them.
“I don’t know anything about you, Jed. And I don’t feel confident that you’ll bring her through this.” Anna’s mental health was far too important to trust to a slacker who poked holes in his head.
“Mrs. Hale, everyone on the grief team is licensed by the state. But aside from that, you can feel comfortable that Anna will do the right thing for herself.”
At fourteen? “But—but what if—” What if it all went wrong? What if Anna had some kind of mental breakdown, and the only person who knew the cause or effect was Jed? He could go back to Pittsburgh or wherever he came from at a moment’s notice, leaving them to deal with the fallout.
“Anna is making progress,” he repeated. “The school’s policy is that if a student is in danger in any way—if they threaten harm to themselves, for instance—the parents are to be notified immediately. But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” You’d let me know if my kid was going to commit suicide, but when she screams at bridges and refuses to come out of her room, I’m on my own?
“Anna’s a good kid.” He tossed her a grin, and Anna grinned back. She hadn’t seen Anna smile since before Randi’s death, Laurie thought with a pang. Not one smile. “She has some issues, but we’ll get through them. And”—he glanced at his watch—“we have half an hour left, so if you don’t mind . . . ?”
He got up and offered his hand. Laurie took it out of habit, not because she was harboring any goodwill toward this man who had just dismissed her as though her opinions and plans didn’t matter.
“Fine. I’ll see you at home, then.”
“Bye, Mom.”
And then there was nothing to do but leave. Oh, and call Gregg to inform him they wouldn’t be coming after all. And since his office had a twenty-four-hour cancellation policy, family or not, she was stuck paying a hundred and fifty dollars for nothing.
When he got home from work and heard about it, Colin pulled out one of the kitchen stools and stared at her. “You mean you didn’t haul her out of there and keep the appointment?”
This was not her fault. They were a team. She would not get angry and take it out on Colin.
“No, I didn’t. Apparently she’s been seeing the grief counselor since it happened, and he says she’s been ‘having issues’ but they’re ‘making progress.’” She made quotation marks with her fingers in the air. “If she already has a relationship with this guy and she’s talking to him, I don’t see what good it will do to bring someone else in.”
“But you said he was a slacker type. With piercings! Honestly, Lor, what kind of example is he for Anna? At least with Gregg we know he’s a Christian.”
She yanked open the fridge and hauled the turkey out. “Oomph.” A couple of seconds digging through the cupboard produced her biggest roaster and gave her time to rein in her temper like the runaway horse it was.
“I hardly think his skill as a counselor depends on his faith, Colin.” Good grief, now she was defending a stranger. “If you want to talk to Anna and inform her we’re taking her elsewhere, so that she has to start all over again with someone new, you can try. But she’s so fragile right now I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“But you don’t even know what he’s saying to her. What kind of methods he’s using. What kind of ideas he’s putting in her head.”
“We wouldn’t if she were seeing Gregg, either. Confidentiality.”
“But at least I’d know she was in Christian hands. I may not know as much about his qualifications as I’d like, but I do know his faith is sound.”
“Colin, this is about what Anna needs, not what we need to know.”
“We’re her parents! Of course we should know.”
“Not according to the school system.”
“So, what, you’re just going to give up and let her do what she wants instead of what’s good for her? This is not boding well for the rest of her teenage years.”
Only Colin used expressions like “boding well.”
“Talk to her if you want. See how far you get. I have to do something with this bird and then get dinner ready.”
“I just want what’s best for Anna.”
“I know. We both do. But Anna isn’t a child anymore, Colin. You can’t just tell her what to do. She’s fourteen, and she wants to make a few decisions on her own.”
“This situation is too important for her to decide on her own. That kid has no clue about what’s good for her.”
“Mom? Dad?”
Laurie pulled the package of giblets out of the turkey’s cavity. Anna stood in the doorway.
“Are you having a fight about me?”
Colin’s face lost its intensity as tenderness softened his eyes. “No, sweetie. We’re having a discussion about you. Come on in.”
Anna sidled into the room. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m concerned that you blew off your cousin Gregg today. Mind telling me why?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders straightened a little, as if this wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “I told Mom. I’m already talking to Jed and working out some stuff about Randi and what happened. I don’t want to talk to anybody else.”
“Jed may be a perfectly good counselor, but I want you to talk to Gregg instead.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel he’s a better choice for you, honey.”
“Why? You don’t even know Jed. Did Mom say something bad about him?” Her glance flicked from her father to Laurie.
“No, of course not. But Gregg is a Christian, and leaving out the fact that he’s family, he’s very well qualified. Now, Jed—”
“He’s a Christian, too.” Anna swiped a box of crackers off the counter and crunched into them. “He goes to Calvary Christian Center.”
The biggest church in town, where people like the O’Days went. This, in Laurie’s opinion, was no kind of recommendation. But at least it proved he was local. If he’d been from Pittsburgh or some other big place, they might not be able to reach him if Anna needed him.
“You just don’t like him because he’s cool and you’re . . . parents.”
“Oh, Anna, don’t be silly,” Laurie said. “We’re concerned about his qualifications.”
“Jed is just as qualified as Gregg. He’s got a Ph.D. And even if he didn’t, I still wouldn’t go to Gregg. As soon as I was out of the office, he’d be on the phone, blabbing to Auntie Dawn and Grandma and you guys about what I said.”
“Anna, he can’t do that.” Colin was this close to losing his temper, which happened about once a year. Laurie knew it was because getting help for Anna was so important to him, and he just didn’t understand why she would refuse his efforts to help her.
“You’d find a way to make him tell, and then what would happen to me?”
“I don’t know why you’re treating your feelings
like some big secret.” Colin stood, the thin lines of his face set with anger.
“Do you know what’s in the paper, Anna?” Laurie said. “Kate Parsons, that’s what, telling the whole world that you held Randi under the water. They can’t put your name in the article, of course, but you can bet it won’t be a secret for long. I suggest you start sharing with us, I really do.”
Anna’s color faded, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.
“You’re worried about what’ll happen to you?” Colin said. “Here’s a news flash. You’re on lockdown for two more weeks on top of your current sentence, that’s what.”
That got her. “But Daddy, that’s all of Christmas break!”
“What a coincidence. That’s the deal. Either you see Gregg as soon as he has an opening, or you’re looking at six weeks with the same rules. Straight home from school, no phone, no TV, no friends over. No Christmas dance, and no church activities unless your mother or I are there. Take your pick.”
Father and daughter stared each other down while Laurie held her breath.
Finally Anna shrugged. “Oh well. Mrs. Blake always gives a history paper over break. I guess I’ll have lots of time to write it.”
With that she turned and, head held high, walked out of the kitchen. Colin looked as though he’d like to kick the nearest turkey. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said tightly and left the room.
Laurie regarded the roasting pan for a moment. “That went well,” she observed. The turkey said nothing. When the phone rang, she jumped about a foot.
“Hello?”
“Laurie, it’s Janice again. Janice Edgar?”
“How many Janices do I know?” She forced cheer into her voice. “I’m glad to hear your voice. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I was sitting here cutting up vegetables when God laid it on my heart to call you, so here I am.”
Her eyes stung with sudden tears. “His timing is impeccable. I’ve had a lousy day.”
“Can I help?”
“Not unless you can convince Anna it would be better for her to talk to her cousin the psychologist than the twenty-something grief counselor at the school.”
“Ah. Well, if it’s any comfort, Kyle talked to him, too. Which one was it?”
Over Her Head Page 18