Right Where I Belong

by Krista McGee

  Natalia could see God’s hand in the entire process—finding a house they both liked, that Maureen could afford, in a community with a pool, gym, and yard maintenance. Maureen was even able to take out a loan for a few thousand more than the mortgage so they could decorate the place. It was perfect.

  Unfortunately, Maureen’s discouragement had only grown in the weeks since the two returned from Spain.

  “If God worked so hard to provide for us here, why didn’t he work in Spain? Why didn’t he make your father want to stay with me? It’s hard to be thankful for a house when my life has fallen apart.”

  Natalia had learned to stay quiet. Her attempts at helping Maureen either resulted in tirades or tears—neither of which was pretty. Or beneficial.

  “All right, ladies, I’m going out to get some lunch. I need a Big Mac and some fries to get me through the rest of this day.” Jack laughed, stretching his back muscles and grimacing with the effort. “You guys want something while I’m out?”

  “I would love a salad.”

  “No,” Maureen snapped. “We’ll take care of our own lunch. Jack, you’ve done enough. Go ahead home and we’ll put these things together.”

  Jack and Natalia both looked at Maureen as if she were crazy. “Maureen, don’t be silly. It would take you guys forever to put all of this together. Besides, your sister would skin me alive if I came home now. Natalia wants a salad. What about you?”

  Defeated but still angry, Maureen gave Jack her order and watched as he walked out the door. As soon as his car pulled out of their driveway, Maureen began to cry.

  “Why does my sister get a guy like him? They’ve been married ten years, and he still does whatever she asks. He treats her like a queen . . . He’s a great dad. It’s not fair!” Maureen slid down the wall to the hardwood floor.

  Natalia vacillated between anger at Maureen for wallowing in self-pity and anger at her father for causing Maureen so much pain. She finally decided the best thing she could do would be to pray—pray for Maureen to get over her dad and pray for herself not to strangle Maureen in the meantime.

  Natalia grabbed her suitcases, which had arrived five days after she did, and took them up to her room. A bare mattress on a metal frame sat underneath the lone window and boxes were piled along three walls. Inside those boxes were her nightstands, dresser, and headboard. Jack was right: this would take forever.

  I may not be able to put my things together, but I can at least make my bed.

  She walked over to the pile of bags and found the one with her sheets—bright red jersey cotton to go with her red-and-white floral bedspread. Natalia relaxed as she placed them on her bed. She wasn’t used to beds being so high, and she would need to return to the department store and get a bed skirt to cover the ugly black rollers at the base of the bed frame. She folded down the bedspread and placed her pillows against the wall, then surveyed her work.

  It’s a start. She smiled.

  “Lucy, I’m ho-ome!” Jack bellowed.

  Who was Lucy and why was Jack calling for her? Natalia still hadn’t deciphered what he had meant when he said Carol would “skin him alive” when he came home. Natalia doubted she’d ever fully understand Americans.

  “. . . and I brought backup!”

  Natalia came down the stairs and smiled when she realized she knew what he meant by “backup”—thanks to the American cop shows so popular in Europe.

  “You’re smiling like the cat that ate the canary.” Jack laughed at Natalia.

  “What?”

  “The cat that ate the canary,” Jack repeated.

  When will people realize that saying something twice doesn’t make it more intelligible? Natalia looked behind her stepuncle and froze midthought.

  She had never seen hair quite so red. It had golden streaks and was wavy, the locks cut short but spiked. Below the hair was a giant. Her father, a little under six feet, was considered quite tall in Spain. But this young man stood almost half a foot taller. Natalia had to crane her neck to see his face. He had a warm smile—very white—with a strong nose and full, rosy lips. He was paler than most of the boys she knew in Spain, making his hair look even brighter and his big blue eyes, framed by blond lashes, brighter still.

  Not traditionally handsome, but certainly attractive. Very attractive. Carmen would go crazy over those blue eyes. Not me, of course. I am not even thinking about boys, not getting involved. Ever. But I can admire some nice eyes every once in a while. For Carmen’s sake.

  “Natalia, this is Brian Younger the younger.” Jack laughed and Brian rolled his eyes.

  “That joke never gets old, does it, Jack?”

  “Never!” Jack smiled and slapped Brian on the back.

  “Little Brian Younger?” Maureen gasped, eyes wide. “But you were always such a tiny thing. When did you get so tall? How did you get so tall?”

  Natalia was so happy to see Maureen distracted she almost missed the young man’s answer.

  “Good to see you too, Miss Maureen.” He laughed, wrapping Natalia’s stepmother in a hug, the older woman’s head buried in Brian’s chest. “I hit a growth spurt between my sophomore and junior years in high school. Eight inches in one summer.”

  Maureen stepped back to survey him. “Eight inches! I don’t even think I would have recognized you. And how are your parents?”

  “Doing great.” An older gentleman walked in and squeezed Brian’s shoulder.

  “Brian Younger the older!” Jack bellowed.

  “Pastor Brian, I have missed you.”

  Pastor Brian walked toward Maureen and hugged her, whispering into her ear. When he pulled away, Maureen excused herself, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. The pastor looked apologetically at Jack.

  “It takes time.” Jack sighed. “This hasn’t been easy.” He gazed over at Natalia. “But this beautiful young woman has certainly made it easier. This is my stepniece, Natalia. Natalia, these are the Brian Youngers. The old guy is our pastor and the young guy is trouble.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, and, thankfully, she didn’t have time to respond. The younger of the Youngers came and hugged Natalia in the same warm embrace he had given Maureen, bending down to be closer to eye level. Instinctively, Natalia kissed his right cheek and moved to kiss the other.

  “Oh, I forgot! Americans don’t greet like we do. I’m sorry.”

  “You can kiss me anytime you want to.” The younger man laughed, his face turning an adorable shade of pink. Natalia felt her stomach jump. No, Natalia. Do not even think about him like that. No boys, remember?

  “Excuse my son. Obviously, he’s starved for attention. Growing up in a pastor’s home can do that to you. It’s nice to meet you, though. Jack and Carol have told us what a blessing you’ve been to our Maureen. To leave your family and your home to come be with your stepmother . . .” The pastor’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Well, you’re already an example to us. We can’t wait to get to know you better.”

  Maureen walked in, her eyes red. She smiled at the men and walked over to Natalia. “She is special.”

  The room was silent for a moment, then Brian Younger the younger spoke up, breaking the ice. “Since you asked, I am eighteen and about to begin my senior year. My birthday is in May, and my parents decided to wait until I was six to start kindergarten because I was so little.”

  Pastor Brian shook his head. “Always have to bring that up, don’t you, son?”

  Brian smiled at his father. “I am currently working demolition, running the ESL program at church, and planning to go on a mission trip to Costa Rica in September. In general, I have turned out fantastically well—despite my upbringing.” He winked at his father. “And I’m sure I owe most of it to my elementary Sunday school teacher.”

  Shaking her head, Maureen laughed softly. “I’m glad you didn’t lose any of that humility I so admired, Brian.”

  “Enough chitchat.” Jack rubbed his hands together. “I brought these men along to wo
rk. Pastor Brian only works one day a week, you know, so I figured he was overdue.”

  Apparently sarcasm is a national pastime. I think I’ll make it here just fine.

  Chapter 9

  Over a decade working in upper-level management in international corporations, and I can’t even get an interview with a small firm here!” Maureen slammed her laptop shut and stood from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. “Divorced, unemployed, unattractive—”

  “Maureen, you are beautiful and intelligent.”

  “And unemployed.”

  “Because of the recession. You know that. But something will work out. God has the perfect job out there for you. You just haven’t found it yet.”

  “Just like God had the perfect marriage for me?” Maureen spat. “I’m sorry, Natalia. But God and I aren’t on very good terms right now.”

  Natalia walked over to Maureen and took her hand. “Someone very wise once told me that the trials we face in our lives help shape us into the person Christ wants us to be.”

  Maureen shook her hand from Natalia’s, walked into the living room, and fell into an overstuffed chair. “Oh, Natalia. It’s easy to say that to someone else. It’s much harder to believe it when it’s happening to you.”

  “So you don’t believe anymore?” That couldn’t be true. Not after all the conversations she and Maureen had had, all the times Maureen had shown her verses that spoke to both their hearts. Maureen wouldn’t forsake the God she loved.

  “No, it’s not that.” Maureen sighed, raking her hand through her short, blond hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I wake up every morning thinking today is going to be different, but it never is. Every night I go to bed angry, hurt. Alone. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

  “Maybe you should talk to someone,” Natalia suggested. Not for the first time.

  “No,” Maureen shouted, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. “This is humiliating enough without crying to Pastor Brian or Carol about my problems.”

  “If your arm was broken, would you feel the same way?”

  “What?”

  “If you fell from the stairs and broke your arm”—Natalia sat on the couch across from Maureen—“would you go to the doctor and get it taken care of? Or would you sit at home and try to fix it yourself?”

  “That’s not the same.”

  “Maureen, your heart is broken. Your spirit is broken. There’s no shame in getting help so you can heal. That’s what the body of Christ is for, right? Pastor Eduardo back home always said that. We help each other—mourn with those who mourn and weep with those who weep.”

  “I don’t know. Right now, I just want a job. I need a job. Once I have that then maybe I can think about seeing a counselor. Maybe.” Maureen stood and walked back to the table, then opened her laptop.

  The conversation was over. For now, anyway. All I can do is pray for her. God, help her. Make her see how much she needs you right now. Help her to forgive Papa and to forgive herself so she can move on.

  Natalia walked up the stairs and smiled when she entered her room. The Youngers and Jack had put everything together. No boxes in sight. Her dresser—tall, light-colored with six drawers—stood to her left, the bed sat under the window, the red curtains functioning as a backdrop to her headboard. On the right, she had a small desk with a rolling chair.

  Pulling the chair out, Natalia turned on her laptop. As she waited, Natalia looked at the picture on her desk—her last day of school. All her friends were smiling, Natalia in the center. They had thrown her a huge party. She laughed when they brought out hot dogs, fries, and apple pies.

  “We want to get a taste of what you’ll be eating from now on,” Carmen had joked.

  Natalia clicked on to the Internet and pulled up her e-mail. A note from Carmen, the title Please Come Back! screaming at her.

  Natalia read the message and laughed, amazed that Carmen could sound just as dramatic in an e-mail as she could in person.

  After the morning she had, Natalia debated whether or not to consent to Carmen’s plea. Going back home was so tempting. Maureen was falling apart, and Natalia didn’t seem to be helping. At all.

  Natalia’s eyes drifted to her Bible. She opened the front cover and saw the verse Pastor Eduardo had written on the first page the day he baptized her. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jer. 29:11”

  He had handed her the Bible and shown her that verse. “Remember this, Natalia. There will be times when your faith is shaken, when you don’t understand what is happening. Remember that God has plans for you. And those plans are good. Trust him. He will never, ever let you down. He will never leave you.”

  Okay, God. You have me here. There is a plan. A good plan. I will trust you.

  Natalia thought back to Carmen’s e-mail, then jumped up. “School!”

  After running down the stairs, Natalia almost ran into the back of Maureen’s chair. “I have to register for school! You said it starts at the end of August. That is just two weeks away! I need to get the book list and buy uniforms and—”

  “Calm down, Natalia.” Maureen looked up and sighed. “There’s a Christian school right at the church. I called the principal while we were still in Spain. Your father has paid your tuition already. We do need to get you registered, but it’s not a big deal. The school is much smaller than your school in Madrid—just a few hundred students . . .” Maureen stopped speaking when she realized Natalia had stopped listening.

  “You mean everyone there is a Christian?”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But the teachers are all Christians, and Bible is one of the subjects taught.”

  “Someone is going to teach me Bible every day?” Natalia was so excited she could barely contain herself. “I have so many questions. I was just praying the other day that God would help me understand what I am reading. And look at the answer. A Christian school!” Natalia hugged Maureen. “Can we go now? I want to see it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this. That is the best news I’ve heard since we came here.”

  Maureen shook her head and mumbled something about hoping Natalia wouldn’t be disappointed, but she was barely listening. Natalia grabbed her bag and threw on shoes, then was up the stairs and back down in less than thirty seconds.

  Maureen wasn’t quite so fast. Natalia waited impatiently, imagining what the school would look like and what it would be like to have teachers who were Christians and classmates who shared her faith instead of ridiculing her for it.

  Ten minutes later the pair pulled up to the church.

  “I know you said the school was associated with the church, but I didn’t realize it was part of it.” Natalia tried to imagine where the classes were held.

  “Yes, my Sunday school class was in the high school building. That building over there”—Maureen pointed to her right—“is the elementary building. The portables behind that are where the middle school classes and art classes meet. The choir and band rooms are in the same building as the sanctuary. The school offices are here, right next to the high school building.” Maureen pointed straight ahead, toward what looked like a house. “This used to be the church’s parsonage.”

  “The what?”

  “The house where the pastor and his family lived,” Maureen said. “Years ago, many churches provided housing for pastors. When the school started twenty years ago, the parsonage was turned into the administration building.”

  “But where do the Youngers live?”

  “They own a house about ten minutes from here, right on a lake. It’s beautiful.”

  “But I thought he worked here full time?” Natalia asked.

  “He does.” Maureen shrugged. “The church pays him well. He’s not wealthy, but he makes enough so he can provide for his family.”

  Natalia was shocked. At her small church in Spain, the pastor had
to work another job because the church could barely afford to pay for its building. She couldn’t imagine a church having enough money to pay a pastor to live on.

  “The pastors’ offices are over there, in the same building as the sanctuary.”

  “Pastors? There is more than one?”

  “Sure. Pastor Brian is the senior pastor, then there’s Pastor Mike, the associate pastor. And, there’s the youth pastor and the music minister.”

  “And the church pays them all?” Natalia asked, bewildered.

  “Of course.” Maureen opened the door to the administration building.

  Natalia had more questions, but she’d have to wait until later. The secretary, a kind-looking woman in her fifties, stood behind a tall counter filled with brochures, letters, and assorted potted plants.

  “Good morning. Welcome to Tampa Christian School! How can I help you?”

  “My name is Maureen Lopez.” She winced at the last name. “I don’t have an appointment, but I was wondering if we could see Mr. Lawrence. My stepdaughter will be going to school here this year, and we wanted to plan her schedule and maybe get a tour of the school grounds.”

  “Of course! But the guidance counselor, Mrs. Williams, will need to help you with the schedule. She’s out of town this week—gone to camp with the little ones.”

  “Oh.” Maureen sighed, giving Natalia an “I’m sorry, maybe later” look.

  “But,” the secretary continued, “Mr. Lawrence is in. I’m sure he’d be happy to talk with you and show you around.”

  Before Maureen could respond, the secretary picked up her phone and pressed three buttons. In less than a minute, the door behind Natalia opened.

  “Maureen!” boomed the principal—a tall, wiry man who looked to be about the same age as Natalia’s father. He hugged Maureen, then moved to hug Natalia. Unsure of what to make of this man, Natalia hugged him back, tentatively, then stepped away.