by Neta Jackson
What if . . . what if she asked God to give her a penny every day this week? Just a penny a day! That wasn’t asking too much, was it? Not a penny she went hunting for herself. She wouldn’t ask anyone for a penny, wouldn’t go to the store and get pennies in change. No, she’d ask God for a penny, one that just showed up.
The whole idea felt rather silly. But . . . that’s what she was going to do. She wanted to know for sure that God would take care of them, would sort out this whole mess.
She needed a sign.
Chapter 38
Charlotte Bergman poked her head into Michelle’s office the next morning. “How’d it go yesterday?”
Michelle almost snorted. No way was she going to tell her boss she almost had a meltdown on the 294 Tollway. “The Domingo situation? Going to be okay, I think. Rafael ended up at a friend’s house in the city, and the friend’s mom had the presence of mind to call Rafael’s mother. She picked him up—she was supposed to spend the day with him anyway—and the last I heard she was going to bring him back to the Domingos last night as planned. I made an appointment to go back and talk to Rafael and the Domingos this week, but I think maybe we need to get everyone together here at the office soon, review the situation.”
“Sounds good. Guess you earned some time off—oh wait. You took a couple half days last week, right?” Charlotte smirked happily. “Now I don’t feel so guilty ruining your holiday.”
Michelle wadded up a sheet of paper and threw it at her. “Ha. Never knew you to feel guilty about anything!” She shook her head as her boss disappeared, chuckling to herself. Charlotte Bergman could be hard-nosed, but she was fair, had thick skin, and a sense of humor. Probably why she’d lasted so long as director of Bridges Family Services.
Sighing, Michelle toyed with a paper clip. The real question was, how was it going today? First it’d been Tabby away at cheer camp, then Destin at the Five-Star Basketball Camp last week, and now Tavis . . . which he’d had to remind her about last night. “Mom, are you gonna take me to Lane Tech in the morning?”
She’d had to think fast. Right. Lane Tech Basketball Summer Camp the rest of the week. Except . . . Tavis’s camp didn’t start till ten and she had to be a work by eight.
“No sweat, Mom, I can just hang out at the school, watch the ninth graders.” Soon-to-be freshmen had the first slot in the morning, 8:00 to 10:00. But Michelle didn’t feel comfortable letting Tavis hang out at the high school for two unsupervised hours.
Jared had come up with a solution when he got home at eleven last night. Since Destin wasn’t working a nine-to-five, he could accompany his brother by bus to Lane Tech High School for the 10:00 to 12:00 session, wait for him, and get him back home again. “Boy’s got to make himself useful if he’s not working,” Jared had groused.
At least that took care of both boys for half days this week. Now all they had to figure out was supervision and activities for the rest of the summer. emTabby was babysitting for Mrs. Singer off and on all week again—good for her. Nicole Singer had warned Tabby her part-time job was probably temporary until her husband got his SlowBurn business established, but it was still great experience for a thirteen-year-old. Maybe she could even expand her babysitting services to other families on the block . . . like the Horowitzes? The Jallilis? Maybe even the little boy across the street—Danny, the one with two dads. The guys seemed nice enough, pretty quiet homebodies in fact. No wild parties, always pleasant.
In fact, the only “party house” on Beecham Street was Lincoln Paddock’s big house on the cul-de-sac sometimes on weekends. But what could you expect from a bachelor with a big house? She’d heard through the grapevine that he not only owned Lincoln Limo, but was also a junior partner at some prestigious law firm in the city. No wonder he could afford to build one of those “McMansions.”
Her desk phone rang, shaking Michelle out of her wandering thoughts. She had to get rolling. Lots to do before she could leave work today. Taking the call, she listened, scratched an address on a notepad, hung up, updated her calendar. Another distressed foster family. Another appointment to work into her already busy week.
Made her request for God to send her a penny today seem pretty silly now.
* * *
Michelle wasn’t surprised to get a call from Jared just before she left work, saying he’d probably stay over at the airport hotel that night. Summer travelers were cramming the airport, victims of the usual delays and cancellations, camping out in the lounges, waiting for early flights in the morning. The tower was facing a glut of departures in the morning, more than usual. Said he might get an hour or two more sleep before switching to his daytime shift if he didn’t have to commute home and back again.
“Okay, honey. By the way, I checked with the boys. Sounded like everything went fine getting Tavis to and from Lane Tech today. I actually think it’s a godsend that Destin’s free to take him to basketball camp this week.”
Jared just grunted on the other end. “Gotta go, hon. See you tomorrow.”
Another Tuesday night with an empty bed. Michelle didn’t like sleeping without her husband. On the other hand, she felt a twinge of relief not having to worry about too much alone time with Jared that might lead to The Conversation. She wasn’t ready yet. In fact, she should probably call Estelle and beg off from the Tuesday night prayer meeting at Grace’s house. Just tell them she wasn’t feeling well, needed to stay home tonight.
It was true. Not sure whether it was emotional or physical, but she felt exhausted. An early night would feel good. And maybe it’d be good for Grace too, if she weren’t there. Grace could share how she experienced her first group meeting at Lifeline if she wanted to without having to tweak it for Michelle’s sake.
Destin was jubilant when she got home. “Hey, Mom, guess what? I gave out samples of SlowBurn to some of the kids at the basketball camps this morning, and several of ’em said they’d bring money and buy some six-packs tomorrow.”
“You sure that’s okay? Remember what happened at the Five-Star Basketball Camp.” No way did she want Destin to get in trouble with his own school just before his senior year.
“Not a problem, Mom. I stayed off school property, caught the freshman guys comin’ outta the first camp. Didn’t have so much luck with the younger camp—you know, parents picking them up and all.”
“Mm-hm.” Michelle’s mind started to wander to what to make for supper.
“An’ that’s not all.” Destin was still grinning. “I think that mom-and-pop grocery store over near Pratt and Western might be one of my customers. The owner said he’d take four six-packs, see if his customers liked it. Had to cut the price a little, ’cause he needs to resell it for a profit—but at least the guy said he’d try it out. If their customers buy it, they’ll buy more from me!”
“Yeah, Mom,” Tavis butted in. “I helped him by saying how good it was an’ all.”
“You helped him?” Michelle gave Destin a when-was-this look.
“Comin’ home from his basketball camp, Mom. We got off a couple stops early, gave my pitch to that store. Tryin’ to ‘redeem the time,’ ya know.” Destin snickered, pleased with himself. “Only had a six-pack with me for samples, though, so I went back to the store this afternoon with four six-packs.” He whipped a check out of his pocket and kissed it. “See? See?”
Michelle had to smile. “Well, good. Put that someplace safe . . . Oh, guess you should cash it this week. Maybe you should open a separate account at the bank.”
“No worries, Mom. Got it covered.”
The boys disappeared downstairs to turn on the TV until time for supper.
Supper . . . Michelle opened the refrigerator, eyeing the leftover chicken from the weekend. She could chop that up, throw in some veggies, and make a stir-fry over rice. The kids liked that okay. Maybe add an apple-raisin-celery salad. All quick and easy.
Grabbing an apron from the skinny broom closet, Michelle slipped it over her head since she still had on the skirt and top she’d
worn to work. Her mom had given her this one a few years back, though she didn’t wear it often—Bibi had always been the dedicated apron-wearer in the Robinson kitchen. Chuckling, Michelle started the rice, then gathered a zucchini, a red pepper, a few mushrooms, and a yellow onion, and started to peel and chop.
Oh, rats, the onion . . .
She’d meant to put the onions in the refrigerator to cut down on the stinging eyes and drippy nose that seemed to happen every time she cut one up. A tissue . . . she needed a tissue. Fishing in the big apron pockets, she suddenly froze.
No tissue. But her fingers had touched something else.
Heart suddenly thumping, she pulled it out.
A penny.
* * *
Michelle felt distracted most of the evening. Okaaay. So she’d found a penny. Just a coincidence? Or had God really listened to her heart cry yesterday for a sign? Still . . . it was just a penny. Probably if she went looking, she’d find pennies in strange places all over the house. Except . . . she hadn’t gone looking. It was just like she’d asked God—to give her a penny out of the blue. One she wasn’t looking for.
Giggling to herself, she felt like calling Jared to tell him. God had given her a penny! But it wouldn’t make sense unless she told him everything. No, no, she had to wait. This weekend, she’d told herself. But she couldn’t wait too long. The clock was ticking. The doctor had said she was probably eight weeks last Friday. Every day that went by added to the pressure.
And it still wasn’t a “for sure.”
But the call came Wednesday on her cell while she was on the way back to the office from her meeting with the Domingos. “Both urine and blood tests are positive, Michelle,” Dr. Callas chirped. “Have you started those prenatal vitamins yet? And I want to encourage you to get on the phone and make an appointment with one of the OBs I recommended. If you tell me who you plan to call, I’ll put in a good word to work you in because of your age.” The doctor chuckled. “There are some advantages to being an older patient.”
So. That was it.
She was definitely pregnant.
Now what?
The voice in her head slipped in unbidden. There’s a way out . . .
Michelle punched on the radio—loud—all the way back to the office.
Chapter 39
“Mom, please!” Tabby jiggled impatiently in the kitchen while Michelle fried fish for supper that night. “I gotta go shopping tonight! I can’t wear my sandals like this—” She stuck out her foot, one sandal strap torn away from the sole. “An’ it’s too hot to wear socks and gym shoes all the time. Pleeease?”
“Honey, it’s prayer meeting night tonight. Your dad and I—”
“Mom, please! Can’t you go late or something? I’ll trade doing dishes with Tavis or Destin. We could leave right after supper.”
“Hey, hey, hey, Tabby. Chill.” Jared came into the kitchen, holding a dress shirt wadded up in one hand. “Your mom just said tonight’s already scheduled. It won’t kill you to wait till tomorrow.” He shooed Tabby out of the kitchen with a playful tweak on her cheek, then turned back to Michelle. “I, on the other hand, have a major problem.” Jared shook out the shirt, revealing blotches of red stain. “Uh . . . I splattered ketchup on the front of this at lunch today. Tried to wipe it off, but, well, as you can see . . .”
Michelle feigned horror. “You wore that the rest of your shift? Ha. Guess we’ll have to have to send a change of clothes to work with you, like we did for the kids when they were in kindergarten.”
“I know, I know.” Jared looked sheepish. “It was stupid of me. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Cold water? Hot? What?”
Michelle handed him a spatula. “Just turn the fish over in about a minute. I’ll take care of the shirt. Oh, here, you’ll need this.” She took off the apron and hung it over his head. “Don’t want any oil splatters on that shirt.”
She ran the stained shirt down to the laundry room in the basement. Ketchup splotches . . . not the easiest stains to get out. But a few sessions with cold running water, rubbing in detergent, then sponging the stains with white vinegar looked hopeful. She might as well run it through the wash. Running upstairs, she gathered up several more items from the laundry hamper in their bedroom to make a full load, then started the washing machine.
By the time they finished supper and it was time to leave for church, the wash load was done and she stuck it all in the dryer. But as the dryer started she heard clink, clink, clink. What was that? Better not be a ballpoint pen or something. What a mess that would be!
“Michelle!” Jared’s voice sailed down the stairs. “Are you coming?”
“Just a sec!” She pulled the clothes out of the dryer, shaking them as she did so. Nothing. Reaching in, she felt around the drum . . . and found the culprit.
A penny.
* * *
Michelle was so dumbfounded at finding the third penny, she had a hard time paying attention at prayer meeting. Another coincidence? God showing up? She could only imagine how silly the whole thing would sound if she told anyone.
“Sister Michelle! Sister Michelle!” Sister Paulette hustled her way after Pastor Q’s devotional as people were gathering into the small prayer groups. “What we gonna do about all those wimmins comin’ in late after the video started? They nothin’ but rude if you ask me.”
Michelle tried to focus. Women’s ministry event this Saturday. Right. Which meant moving the Hope and Healing group to one o’clock. Had she mentioned the change in time to the four participants? She’d better call Bernice, get their phone numbers—
“Sister Michelle!” Paulette snapped her fingers in front of Michelle’s face. “You in there, girl?”
“Oh. Sorry, Sister Paulette. Um, latecomers . . . don’t think we can do much about it except make a point to encourage everyone to come on time. I’ll make a note to add that to the announcements.”
“Let me make that announcement. Maybe we could do like they do at theaters—once the play starts, you ain’t goin’ in!”
Michelle could just imagine Sister Paulette, standing at the door like a bouncer. “You late! Too bad. Try next month.” They’d certainly get the message . . . but probably wouldn’t ever show up again.
They prayed for the usual requests—jobs and finances, Deacon Brown’s wife suffering from cancer, family members in the military, salvation for the lost, violence in the city, wayward sons and daughters. Michelle only half-listened, automatically murmuring, “Mm-hm” and “Yes, Lord” from time to time as if she was right in there. But she was having her own private tug-of-war with God.
I want to trust you, Lord, but I don’t see how you can sort all this out for us . . . I feel trapped, whichever way I go . . . Don’t know how we’ll ever manage if we add another child to this family—it’s too much! . . . I know, I know, I asked you for a sign, but I’m not sure finding three pennies is very convincing . . .
Still, it was kind of unbelievable.
“You okay, honey?” Jared glanced her way on the way home. “You’re pretty quiet tonight.”
She nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. Just the usual. Long day.”
And Thursday would be another long day. Jared had practically promised Tabby that she’d take her shopping Thursday night. But Michelle dreaded having to go out again after supper two nights in a row.
But that gave her an idea. Stopping by Tabby’s bedroom once they got home from church, she proposed a deal: if Tabby would start supper for her dad and brothers tomorrow evening—something easy like quesadillas or tacos they could finish up themselves—Michelle would take her shopping for sandals as soon as she got home from work. Then they could eat later when they got home from the mall. Should work on a Thursday night—Jared didn’t have to leave for his night shift until nine or so.
Tabby was ready to go when Michelle drove up to the house at five thirty the next evening. “Got everything for tacos lined up on the counter,” Tabby said, jumping into t
he minivan. “Even fried the hamburger with that taco seasoning, like you showed me. All those dorks gotta do is stuff the taco shells . . . oh, sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean Dad.” But she grinned, proud of herself.
Michelle was proud of her daughter too. Given the right motivation, Tabby was perfectly capable of moving to the next level of responsibility.
But after looking through two major department stores at Lincolnwood Mall and not finding what she wanted, Tabby wanted to look at some of the smaller stores along the mall. “Fine,” Michelle said, heading for a bench. “But my feet are tired. I’m going to sit here for a while. Come get me if you find something you like that won’t cost an arm and a leg.”
Tabby happily ran off.
Michelle looked at her watch. Seven o’clock already. She’d been hoping Tabby would find something quickly and they could be in and out and back home by this time. She heaved a sigh as the minutes ticked by . . . 7:03 . . . 7:09 . . .
Was she destined to be this tired her whole pregnancy?
There’s a way out . . . no one need ever know . . .
Michelle stood up quickly. She had to get moving, should go look for Tabby. But her mouth had turned to sawdust, she needed a drink. Spying a water fountain just down the way, she hurried over. As she bent over to drink, something rolled across the floor into her line of sight and bumped into her shoe. Michelle stared at the object lying by her foot. Then, hand shaking, she bent down and picked it up.
A penny.
Goose bumps stood up on her arms. She quickly looked around. No one was close by, but someone must’ve just dropped it. It wasn’t hers. But all she saw were parents with strollers whisking this way and that, a knot of teenagers laughing as they disappeared into one of the stores, a janitor down the way sweeping up litter and dirt with a broom and long-handled dustpan.
What was she going to do, call out, “Did someone drop a penny?”