by Neta Jackson
Denny and Josh had just left for their last week of coaching summer camp when the phone rang. “Jodi.” It was Avis. Calm, cool, and collected. No hint of the melodrama going on at her house. “Can you come by the school office today? The local school council met last Friday and I have some answers to your questions. Of course, nothing’s official until—”
“Avis! Just tell me! Do I have a job or not? ”
“Eleven. How about eleven? All right? See you then.” Click.
Good grief. I changed out of my shorts and pulled on a denim skirt. No way was I going to dress up for a meeting with Avis in the middle of summer, even if we were meeting at the school office. I even allowed myself a half hour and took Willie Wonka with me for his morning walk. But as we made our way toward Bethune Elementary in typical Wonka fashion—walk, stop, sniff, pee—I realized something extraordinary.
I didn’t feel anxious. In fact, that old spiritual I’d come to love stepped once more in slow rhythm through my spirit . . .
We’ve come this far by faith
Leaning on the Lord
Trusting in His holy Word
He’s never failed me yet . . .
Only three cars sat in the parking lot, one of them Avis’s black Camry.Wonka and I stepped into the cool hallway of the school, its polished floors wearing silence like an ill-fitting shroud. School hallways weren’t supposed to be quiet. They were supposed to be full of running feet, childish voices, stern commands to “Slow down and walk!”
No one was in the outer office, but Avis’s door was open. I halfexpected to see her in one of her typical school-day outfits, usually slacks with a soft blouse and a jacket, that somehow managed to seem professional and feminine at the same time. But she was actually wearing a lightweight running suit, pale blue with white stripes down the leg, a tank top, and lightweight jacket. “Hey,” I said.
She looked up. “Hey yourself.” She peered over her reading glasses. “I see you brought along some company.”
I sank into the armchair on the business side of her desk. “Yeah, thought I might need the moral support.” Wonka, totally fatigued from his half-hour walk, sank to the floor with a grateful wheeze.
Avis set aside the papers she’d been working on and folded her hands. “Well, first the good news. They are not going to close Bethune Elementary.”
I sat up. “Avis! That’s great! That’s wonderful! Praise God! Oh! That is really good news.” It was. I smiled big at Avis. She had poured so much of herself into making this “a school that worked.” But we all knew nothing was guaranteed. Political pressure and back scratching made their way into school-board politics as well.
Then my smile faded. “Oh. You said, ‘first’ the good news. Now comes the bad news, right? It’s my job, isn’t it. They’re cutting my job.”
“No.” She smiled. “More good news. We’re keeping all our teachers.”
This was too much. I jumped out of my chair. “Hallelujah! Oh, Avis, you just made my day!” I laughed. I did a little jig right there in Avis’s office. I wished all the Yada Yada sisters would burst through the door right that moment and bring some music so we could “get down” and do some real praising.
“Jodi.” Avis interrupted my little jig, her voice sober.
Uh-oh. I sat down. “What? ”
“There is bad news. They—”
“Oh, Avis. Is it Rochelle? ”
She looked momentarily confused. “No, no. I mean, yes, that too. We can talk about that later. But I’m talking about what the school board has decided to do. They are closing three schools—one north, one south, one west.”
“But you said not Bethune Elementary,” I prompted. I wanted to keep a tight grasp on the good news.
“That’s right. But all the remaining schools, including Bethune, will need to take in the displaced students. Most of them are underachieving, needing lots of help to pull them up to grade level.” Avis drew in a big breath. “What this means for you, Jodi, is an influx of students into your classroom—temporarily anyway, until we add another class.”
I just stared at her. Add more students to my classroom? No!
That was crazy! I already had twenty-five, give or take. I didn’t know where we’d put more desks, much less teach more students who sounded like they’d need a lot of extra attention.
He’s never failed me yet . . .
“OK, LORD,” I muttered fifteen minutes later as Willie Wonka and I did the walk, stop, sniff, pee routine on the way home. “I wanna be happy about still having my job. But it really feels overwhelming to add more students. I don’t want to just have a job. I want to do it well.” But that song just wouldn’t leave me alone.
Oh! O-o-o-oh! O-o-o-oh! Can’t turn around
We’ve come this far by faith!
15
The house was empty when I got home; Amanda had a daytime babysitting gig all that week and wouldn’t be back until six. The light was blinking on the answering machine though. Uhh. Didn’t want to be bothered by the phone. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Rochelle showing up at Avis’s house last night in a state . . . Denny accepting the new position at West Rogers High . . . Me still having a job, but with too many students . . .
I needed time to calm down. And pray.
But the blinking light nagged me. I hit the Play button, telling myself I didn’t have to call the person back. But at least I’d know who called, could call later—
“Jodi? Ben Garfield here. Thought you Yada Yadas ought to know I had to take Ruth back to the hospital last night. I told her not to go to the Douglass’s. Climb three flights up? Oy, she just spent a week on bed rest. But does she listen to me? Such a shmegege! Maybe she’ll listen to you. Just wish somebody would pound some sense into her head before this pregnancy kills her. OK, that’s it.” The machine clicked off.
I sank into a chair at the dining room table, head in my hands. Oh God. Guilt nibbled at my concern.We should’ve realized stairs would be a problem. Good grief. Why didn’t we just meet some-where else last night?
I sighed. On the other hand, it was a good thing Avis was home and not somewhere else when Rochelle and the baby showed up last night, wasn’t it? Argh.Why did everything feel like a catch-22?
So who’s in control here, Jodi Baxter? The Voice in my spirit stifled my whimpering. Stop beating yourself up. You know what to do. Get your focus back. Pray for Ruth. Pray for Rochelle. Pray for the kids coming into your classroom this fall. Pray God’s promises over these situa-tions. Then call Ben.
Right. I took a deep breath. At least my “stewing” time was getting shorter.
Half an hour later, fortified by a gospel CD belting out “I Go to the Rock,” a reading of Psalm 103, ten minutes of out-loud prayers, and a fresh cup of coffee, I dialed the Garfields’ number. Maybe he’s at the hospital with Ruth, I thought hopefully.
“Yeah? Ben here.”
“Oh. Hi, Ben. It’s Jodi. Got your message.” Silence. “Is Ruth OK? What’s happening? ”
“She’s all right, I guess. She got dizzy last night, blood pressure way up, heart beating funny. Scared the heck out of me. But they got her stabilized, just keeping her for observation overnight.”
“Oh, Ben. I’m sorry. We were thoughtless, meeting at Avis’s house last night. Not used to thinking of Ruth being pregnant, I guess.”
He snorted. “Yeah, well, you and me both. Still rocks my boat. Look here, Jodi. Might as well say what’s on my mind. I like you ladies.Yada Yada’s been good for Ruth. She needs female company. Gives her somebody else to talk to. Huh. Used to think my ears were going to fall off. But—”
I braced myself with another gulp of coffee.
“—you’re not helping us here. She’s too old to be pregnant. I’m too old. I was hoping to talk her into early retirement so we could enjoy a few years together. Now this.Mishegoss. That’s what it is.”
My heart melted. “I know. Must be tough thinking about parenthood at your age.”
“Parenthood!” The word came out strangled. “We’ll take up that one if she makes it that far. Don’t you Yadas get it? This is a risky pregnancy! She should have ended it when she had the chance. I know, I know, all you good Christians have a heart attack if anyone brings up abortion. Look, I’m a Jew. I don’t like it either. But when it comes down to life and death—my wife—sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. And I’d like a little moral support from our so-called friends.” Ben stopped, breathing hard.
A lump tightened my throat. “Oh, Ben.” I didn’t know what to say.
Ben Garfield heaved a sigh into my ear. “Yeah, well, sorry for dumping on you, Jodi. Just . . . feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”
Without knowing where they came from, words tumbled out. “Ben, I worry about Ruth too. I pray for her constantly. But you know as well as anyone how much she’s longed for a child—for years! Now, it’s like a miracle. A dream come true for Ruth.”
“More like a nightmare,” he mumbled. “I’m husband number three, remember? Wasn’t supposed to happen on my watch.”
“Ben.” He hadn’t hung up on me yet. Might as well blunder onward. “I know there are some risks. But she’s getting good medical care. She’ll probably be fine! And when those babies are born, you’ll forget all the worry and—”
“Babies!Whaddya mean, abies? ”
A horrible realization hit me right between the eyes. Ruth hadn’t told Ben yet.But it was too late. “Uh, you know, babies.” I pushed the word out. “Twins.”
“Twins!” What followed was a string of Yiddish no doubt meant to blister my ear. Then—the phone went dead.
“Oh God,” I groaned, clicking the Off button and slumping against the kitchen door jamb. “What have I done? What do I do now? ”
Willie Wonka, somehow sensing all was not right, roused himself from the floor and pushed his nose into my dangling hand. I pushed him away, alternately feeling mad at myself, then furious at Ruth for not telling Ben like she should have when she found out. Irritated, I yanked open the dishwasher door and started putting away yesterday’s dishes, though they seemed in danger of not making it unscathed into the cupboards.
Half an hour later the phone rang. The caller ID said Garfield. “Hello? ”
“So when was Ruth going to tell me, huh? ” Ben’s voice snapped over the wires with no introduction. “Do all you Yadas know? Whaddya think this is, some kind of joke? That was cruel. Not what I expected from you, Jodi Baxter.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. Why was he blaming me? “Ben, she only told the prayer group last night.” Well, mostly true, though Stu, Florida, and I were at the hospital when the docs told Ruth. “We thought she’d told you too.” Well, sorta true.Ruth told us last night she hadn’t told him yet, but I, for one, assumed she’d have to tell Ben once she’d spilled the beans to the whole group.Didn’t I?
“Well, she didn’t. Makes me feel about as significant as roadkill. But I got one thing to say to you. You think I’m just being selfish. A grouchy old man. You think I don’t know how you Yadas talk? ” I winced as he plunged on. “But give me some credit. Bottom line, I don’t want Ruth to end up with a broken heart.”
“Oh, Ben. Ruth knows the risks. She does! But she’s choosing to leave it with God, to walk with this miracle as long as she can.”
“No she doesn’t.” He said it under his breath.
“Doesn’t what? ”
“Doesn’t know the half of it—look, Jodi. I gotta go.” The phone went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hand a long time. Doesn’t know the half of—what?
I TRIED TO PUT BEN’S PHONE CALL BEHIND ME and think about supper instead. I’d blundered, but it wasn’t really about Ben and me. He and Ruth would have to deal with her zipped lip. Besides, we had our own family issues. Josh, for instance. Here it was almost August already, and he was still like a fish flopping around on the beach.
Denny jumped in the shower when he and Josh got home that evening, but Josh appeared in the kitchen with his old skateboard under his arm. “Uh, mind if I eat supper later? Thought I’d go to the lake, do a little skateboarding. Gotta catch the daylight, ya know.” He snitched a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl and headed out the door. A moment later, I heard the skateboard rattling down our bumpy alley.
I shook my head, plopping spoonfuls of shredded potatoes-eggsflour mixture on a hot griddle for potato latkes and giving the sliced, smoked kielbasa sausage a stir in the frying pan. Skateboarding? Hadn’t seen that old thing since Josh was a freshman.What was up with that?
Amanda called to say she wouldn’t be home until ten; the parents had just called and asked if she could feed the kids and put them to bed too. “Sheesh, Mom. What could I say? I’m here already. Just wished they’d asked me earlier. Hope this doesn’t happen every night. I’ve got a life, too, ya know.”
Yeah, teenagers with “a life” were what turned their parents’ hair gray. At least I knew she was safe and bored for the next four hours. I had way too much potato batter for just Denny and me, but it’d turn brown if I didn’t cook it up. Josh would just have to figure out how to heat them up later.
“Hey, this is nice.” Denny came in, eyeing the two plates on the table. “No kids? Hm.” He kissed me on the back of my neck as I loaded latkes on a plate, then nibbled my ear. He smelled delicious after his shower. “Can this supper wait? ” he murmured. “We could . . .”
I giggled in spite of myself. “Look, Romeo. I’m a much better lover when my stomach’s not growling. And these are hot. Do you take rain checks? ”
He threw up his hands in mock resignation, fished a bottle of Merlot from the cupboard, and got out a corkscrew. “Thought we were saving that for a special occasion,” I said. “Our anniversary’s coming up.”
“What’s more special than having my girl all to myself? A few potatoes, a bottle of wine, and thou” —he waggled his eyebrows— “after supper.”
Huh. Just about the time Josh would walk in. I looked at the potato latkes. I looked at my freshly scrubbed husband, smelling of alluring aftershave. “On second thought . . .” I grinned, pulled out a sheet of aluminum foil, and covered the plate of hot latkes. “These can wait.”
JOSH CAME IN AROUND EIGHT THIRTY, just as daylight was fading. Denny and I were clothed once more and still at the table, plates pushed back, sipping that no-reason-at-all glass of wine, just talking. I was glad I’d had a chance to tell Denny about my meeting with Avis this morning and the phone call with Ben before Josh got home. Now, sweaty and rumpled, Josh filled the dining room doorway. “Told you guys not to wait for me.” He rubbed one hand over his sandy hair, which had grown out about one shaggy inch.
“We definitely did not wait for you,” Denny deadpanned, twitching one corner of his mouth at me. “Just having a late dinner. Come on. Sit.”
Josh filled a plate with leftover latkes and sausage from the warming oven, slathered them with applesauce and sour cream, and sat down. He looked at us suspiciously. “Whassup? ”
Denny shrugged. “Mom and I were just saying it’d be good to talk about your plans for the rest of the summer since this is the last week of sports camps. Your plans for the rest of the year, actually. Not going to college this fall is one thing. But . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Josh stuffed a forkful of latkes into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s why I took the skateboard—to get out by the lake and think. I kinda want to spend a year at Jesus People, but . . . I dunno. It’s pretty intense. Most of them live right there in an old SRO hotel, pretty much like dormitory living.Not just singles; families too. Nobody has jobs—I mean job-jobs out in the city, like regular people. They support themselves with their own roofing business. But I like the kinds of ministry they do—housing for the elderly, an after-school program, weekly meal for the homeless, stuff like that. Plus they staff at least three shelters—some for women and children, some homeless, some abused, even a couple of floors for families, trying to
keep them together. That really got Edesa excited. She’s been visiting some other women’s shelters in the city, too, realizing how few of those women have any kind of health care. Or even basic knowledge about self-care. But . . .”
Josh stopped long enough to tackle the rest of his supper. Edesa? Interesting how Josh just slipped her name in there hand in glove. All sorts of questions popped into my head. But the Voice in my spirit overrode my mouth. Just listen, Jodi.
Josh finally pushed his plate away and gulped the last of his milk. “OK. I know this sounds stupid, but I’m kinda waiting for God to tell me, ‘This is it. This is what I want you to do.’ And . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t feel sure. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Maybe I should just get a job. I’m trying to pray about it.”
I looked at Denny. Couldn’t read his face. A job. Glad that got mentioned. Couldn’t see Josh hanging around the house for a year, sleeping in, coming in at two in the morning,wasting his time. Uhuh. No way.
Denny scratched the back of his head. “I’ve never been to Jesus People here in the city. Just Cornerstone a couple of times.” He grinned at me. “Back when we still had eardrums. But it’d be easier to talk about this if we had a little firsthand experience ourselves. Maybe go with you a time or two.”
To my surprise, Josh brightened. “Good idea. How about this Saturday? Edesa and I volunteered to help with their Saturday meal for dinner guests.”
“Dinner guests? ” I was confused. “I thought they did a weekly meal for the homeless.”
Josh grinned. “That’s it. Dinner guests.”
I FINALLY WORKED UP COURAGE to call Ruth that week and apologize for spilling the beans about the twins to Ben. Silence thickened on the other end of the phone. “Ruth? ” I’d told myself not to wallow in guilt, that the real problem was Ruth not telling her own husband when she found out. But her silence killed me. “I’m really sorry. It just slipped out.”