by Neta Jackson
“Me too.” The words came out in a whisper. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “But that parenting job just got a lot bigger.”
Jared looked at her with a little frown. “What do you mean?”
Michelle took both his hands in hers. “We’re going to have another baby.”
Chapter 43
Michelle had to hand it to Jared. He handled his shock better than she had. “Wow,” he said. “Oh, wow.” Then, “You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“End of January or early February. Thereabouts.”
“That . . . puts a wrinkle in things, doesn’t it?”
She almost laughed.
“Wow,” he said again. “Four kids.” And then he choked up. “It’s God’s mercy we’ve still got the three we already have. Makes adding number four not such a big deal, right?” He put one of his strong arms around Michelle and pulled her close. “We’ll make it somehow, Gumdrop. We’ll make it . . .”
Jared’s cell beeped. A text from Tabby: Tavis awake Being a jerk Pls come back.
They held hands as they walked back to the boys’ room. “Let’s not tell the kids yet, okay?” Michelle said. “We need some time to figure things out.”
There wouldn’t have been any time to tell the kids anyway. The whole rest of the day passed in an antiseptic blur as nurses and aides came in to take vitals, got Destin out of bed for a few painful steps, brought meals on trays . . . and visitors.
Harry and Estelle Bentley were the first after Pastor Q. “We won’t stay long, honey,” Estelle said, wrapping Michelle in a big hug as Harry shook Jared’s hand. “Just want you to know you been on my heart all week, knew God wanted me to pray about something . . .”
“Thank you,” Michelle whispered. Praying for her all week, she said. And Estelle still didn’t even know about the pregnancy.
“Don’t you worry about meals, now. Harry an’ I been cookin’ up a storm all mornin’ since we got your call. Grace too—though she got a concert comin’ up. An’ Nicole Singer offered to make a meal or two as well.”
“Nicole Singer?” Michelle was startled. She sent a quick glance in Jared’s direction, but he and Harry were talking with the two boys.
Estelle nodded, kept her voice low. “Remember when you said we ought to pray for the Singers a couple weeks ago? Well, I ran into her on the street and on the spur of the moment asked if she’d like to join us for prayer. You didn’t come last Tuesday but she actually showed up.”
“Really?”
“She didn’t say much that night, but I had a sense she needed some serious prayer, so I actually stopped by to see her a couple days later. She opened up a bit more, I was able to pray with her. I’ll leave it to her to share what’s going on when she’s ready, but one thing for sure . . . that young lady needs some praying sister-friends.”
Estelle was true to her word. The Jaspers found a cooler with several meals’ worth of dishes on their front porch when they got home from the hospital that evening. And the next day the Bentleys showed up at the hospital again on their way home from church, this time with DaShawn. “You two gettin’ a break from babysittin’ these here hooligans?” Harry asked gruffly, winking at the boys as DaShawn bumped fists with Destin and Tavis.
“Well, we did go home to get some sleep last night, but we’ve been here since eight this morning,” Jared explained. Even Michelle had been surprised when he’d suggested they skip church and come back to the hospital that morning. “Don’t want the boys to be here alone any more than they have to.”
Harry pulled a chessboard and a bag of chess pieces out of a backpack he carried. “Well, I been lookin’ for a captive audience to play some chess with me. So why don’t you two tired souls go hang out at the lake or something for an hour or two. Go on. Get out of here. We’re good. Right, Destin?”
“I never played chess before, Mr. Harry,” Destin said, looking worried.
“Perfect. I’ll teach ya. Maybe I’ll win a game or two before you get too smart. DaShawn here beats me every time we play. It’s hard on my ego.”
Ten minutes later, as Michelle and Jared slipped out of the hospital room, Harry was explaining chess moves to Destin, DaShawn was playing Crazy Eights with Tavis with a deck of cards, and Estelle had pulled out some needles and yarn and was teaching Tabby how to knit.
“How did they know we need some time to talk?” Jared asked as they pulled out of the parking garage and headed for the South Boulevard Beach on Lake Michigan, which was just a mile away.
Michelle chuckled. “Some sixth sense from God, I think.”
Unlike the free Chicago beaches, Evanston required a beach token or daily fee, but Jared and Michelle weren’t really dressed for the beach anyway. They found a bench in the shade on the little parkway facing the lake and sat, Jared’s arms stretched out on the back of the bench, Michelle leaning against him, neither of them speaking for a while. A few thunderheads seemed to be forming to the far south, but overhead small, puffy clouds still played hide-and-seek with a relentless sun.
Michelle finally broke their silence. “What are we going to do, Jared? How are we going to manage adding a baby to our family? I mean, if I have to quit work, be home with a baby . . .”
“It definitely boggles the mind.”
They sat a minute or two more in silence. Then Jared leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s a couple things we could do. Refinance the house, for one. Reduce our monthly payments. And we’re almost done making payments on the minivan. That’ll help. But I’ve also been thinking. There’s a supervisor position open at the tower training new controllers. It’d mean a jump in salary and I could probably finagle regular hours . . . what do you think?”
She touched his arm. “Oh, Jared. I know you enjoy being an ATC. You turned down the supervisor position once before, remember?”
“Yep. But that was then. Might be a good thing now. No guarantee I’ll get it, of course, but won’t hurt to apply.”
“I can probably work at Bridges till November or December, but after that . . . I stayed home with the other three. Don’t want to stick this one in childcare too soon.” Michelle tried not to think what that would do to her career track as a caseworker.
Again a long stretch of silence. Then Jared took a big breath. “But you know it’s not just our jobs. I’ve been thinking it’s time I stepped down from the deacon board, give some of the other men in the church an opportunity to serve.”
Michelle was touched. And seminary?
As if reading her mind, Jared said. “I need to tell Pastor Q that seminary is out of the question right now. Maybe in a few years, I can do online courses or something. But God’s been telling me my first priority right now is my kids. And my wife.” Jared drew her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy, Michelle. Realized last night we haven’t even had a date night for ages. Might be fun to put that on the calendar again like we used to.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not so easy with an infant.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but we’ve got . . . what? Five or six months till Baby Jasper makes his or her debut.”
Michelle snorted. “Let’s just hope it’s not his and her like last time.”
“Oh, dear Lord, Michelle! You don’t think . . .”
They talked, brainstormed ideas, prayed a bit, even cried a little . . . and suddenly jumped when Jared looked at his watch and realized two hours had passed. “Help! The Bentleys will think we took advantage of their offer and are headed for Mexico.”
But Michelle’s heart was a little lighter as they headed back to the hospital. She and Jared were talking. They were planning. They were praying . . . together.
She should tell him about the pennies.
* * *
Destin was released on Monday afternoon. Jared had called his supervisor that morning, said he needed to take a few sick days for a family emergency. Michelle
did the same—though she did tell her boss the reason she couldn’t come in that week was both her boys had been wounded by gunfire on their way home from basketball camp.
News about the pregnancy would have to wait till later.
“Those were your kids?” Charlotte Bergman gasped into the phone. “I read about that shooting in the paper, but . . . Oh, Michelle, I had no idea it was your boys.” The woman let loose with a few choice swear words. “I tell ya, these gang wars have gotta stop. Too many innocent people get caught in the crossfire.”
Too many kids, period, Michelle thought as she hung up. On her job, she often wondered how many gang members were “innocent kids” once—kids like Pookey—but got sucked into gangs because of absent fathers, soul-crushing poverty, lack of jobs, lack of hope. Needing someplace to belong.
She’d never worried about gangs with her kids . . . but look at Tavis, thinking it was cool to adopt gang culture with those baggy, low-slung pants, wanting to be accepted by other kids. Was that how stuff like that started?
Wait. She had a sudden horrible thought. Was that how Tavis looked standing around the street corner with Destin last Friday? Like some little gangbanger wannabe?
No, no, no . . . she couldn’t go there. Her kids had made some stupid choices that day, but what a kid wore wasn’t the real culprit. Parents too busy or too stressed or too broken themselves to be parents in a world sucking young people into destructive paths. That’s where it started.
O God, help us make the right choices here! she prayed as she drove Destin and his crutches home that afternoon to get him settled. Jared was still at the hospital with Tavis, who had a few more days before the doctors were willing to release him. Later that evening, she and Jared would trade places.
“Guess I won’t be getting my driver’s license any time soon,” Destin said glumly. “Not with these.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the crutches in the back seat.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Michelle gave her son an affectionate pat on the knee. “The doc said you’re going to make a full recovery—it’s just going to take a little time. Bet you’ll be driving before you know it.” Probably before he’d be able to play basketball, but she didn’t say it.
She knew he was eager to get home, but there was something important she needed to do on the way. “Hey, Destin, mind if we stop at the bank for a minute? Shouldn’t take long.” Pulling into the parking lot of a branch bank on Western Avenue just south of their neighborhood, Michelle reached into the backseat of the minivan and retrieved Candy’s jar of pennies.
Chapter 44
Michelle pushed the grocery cart through the aisles at the local Jewel store faster than usual. Too bad she couldn’t shop on Tuesdays all the time—much less crowded than on Saturday afternoon. But even with the meals that had been showing up at their house from some of the neighbors, they were out of basics like bread and milk and Dr. Pepper. Hmph. Something wasn’t quite right when Dr. Pepper had become a “basic,” but Destin had picked up on Jared’s habit too.
She’d spent the morning with Tavis at the hospital, then Jared had relieved her so she could get some errands done—including delivering Candy’s eleven dollars and seventy-seven cents to the extended-stay motel where the Red Cross had housed the Blackwells. Candy had beamed when she handed the money to her mother. Renatta Blackwell—Michelle had finally learned her first name—had actually seemed touched by her daughter’s gift, had even grudgingly asked for one of Michelle’s cards. “Might need some help from that place you work for,” she’d admitted.
Michelle grabbed some apples, bananas, lettuce, and carrots from the produce section, then hustled to the checkout stations. She didn’t want to be gone too long. At least Tabby was at home with Destin, who was hobbling around the house on crutches. Should she be thankful the double shooting had happened in summertime so Tabby could help out with her brothers? Even the fact that the Singers didn’t seem to need her anymore for babysitting had turned out to be a blessing. Odd, the things one ended up being grateful for in the midst of a crisis.
“Mrs. Jasper . . . Michelle?”
A familiar voice made Michelle turn around as she was unloading her cart onto the moving belt. Rebecca Horowitz, her three kids in tow, had stopped in the aisle behind her, though it looked as if she were just starting her shopping. “Oh . . . hi, Rebecca.” She gave a little laugh. “Funny to keep meeting like this—second time at the grocery store, right?”
Rebecca, dressed as usual in her snood and long skirt, nodded, but her face was full of concern. “I . . . I heard about your boys, uh, getting injured.” The Jewish woman cast a nervous glance at her children, who didn’t seem to be paying attention anyway. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”
Michelle shook her head. “Thanks, but we’re doing okay. Uh, how did you hear?”
“Oh, the little boy across the street—Nathan—sometimes comes over to play with Jacob and Ruthie when they’re outside. He said Tabby—that’s your daughter, right?—was supposed to babysit but had to go to the hospital to see her brothers. I hope you don’t mind. Isaac and I said a prayer for you at Shabbat.”
Michelle was touched. “Thank you, Rebecca. I . . . we appreciate the prayers. It could have been much worse.”
Rebecca seemed to be studying her closely and a little smile tipped her mouth. She leaned close to Michelle. “You are going to think I am very nosy, I’m afraid, but . . . are you pregnant by any chance?”
Michelle was taken aback. No way had she started to show. She was only nine weeks, for heaven’s sake! But no use denying it. She nodded. “As a matter of fact. Still in shock . . . at my age, you know. But we haven’t told anyone yet, not even our kids, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to anyone.” She looked at Rebecca curiously. “How in the world did you guess?”
Rebecca grinned. “I’m a midwife. God has given me a sixth sense about these things. But actually, it’s not so mysterious. Your face . . . a little fuller. Your skin . . . a certain sheen. And you are touching your belly in a protective way. But I promise”—she put a finger to her lips—“won’t tell a soul.”
That was strange. But Michelle couldn’t help smiling as she drove home. Her skin had a sheen?
Jared called as she was putting groceries away. “The doctor came by, said Tavis might be able to come home tomorrow. So I’m thinking about staying here this evening, but going in to work on my regular day shift tomorrow. I want to get that application in for the supervisor position as soon as possible.”
So. He really was serious. “Sounds good. I’ll come to the hospital in the morning and stay till they release him. See you tonight . . . Love you.”
Michelle put away the last bag of groceries, then pulled a casserole dish of enchiladas out of the freezer to thaw for supper. She’d missed the last two prayer times with Grace and Estelle. But now she was going to be home tonight instead of at the hospital. Maybe she could run next door for a little while after supper. After all, Tabby would let her know if Destin needed her and she could be home in less than a minute.
But what if Nicole Singer showed up too? That might be kind of awkward. Jared told her that Greg Singer had showed up at the house last night while she was at the hospital to say he was sorry to hear about the boys—and Jared had kind of lost it about the SlowBurn business. Didn’t sound as if they’d worked it out about Singer reimbursing Destin for all that product he’d bought. If Nicole were there tonight, it might put a damper on what Michelle could share with the others.
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Nicole didn’t show up, and Ramona was holed up in the guest bedroom, talking with her parents in Los Angeles. “It took a lot of coaxing to get her to call,” Grace murmured. “She’s embarrassed to admit how foolish she was to run away with Max and get involved with that whole drug trafficking thing and end up here in Chicago. But I told her if I was her mother, I’d be worried sick and she needed to call, let them know she’s all right.”
Grace smiled sheepishly. “I’ve turned into a downright nag.”
They prayed for Ramona’s phone call first thing, then Grace said, “Please, tell me how Tavis and his brother are. I can’t believe they both got shot! I—I still remember how sweet Tavis was to shovel my walks for me last winter. And rescue Oreo when you-know-who accidentally let him out.”
You-know-who . . . probably Grace’s ex-fiancé. Michelle thought the singer’s new love—her agent, the very charming Jeff Newman—would’ve popped the question by now, but . . . maybe they were waiting until Grace had dealt more thoroughly with stuff from her past. Which made Michelle sorry she’d had to cancel the Hope and Healing group on Saturday. But it was what it was.
Taking a deep breath, Michelle tried to bring Grace and Estelle up to date with a short version of the whole complicated mess . . . but as her new friends listened, genuine love and concern on their faces, everything started to spill out—including finding out she was pregnant.
Both sets of eyes went wide. “Mercy, mercy,” Estelle murmured.
“We . . . we haven’t told the kids yet, so please don’t say anything. In fact, I only told Jared this weekend, because . . . because . . .” And, tears streaming down her face, she confessed the struggle she’d had with coming to terms with the pregnancy, even tempted to terminate the pregnancy. “I’m so sorry, Grace,” she said, taking the box of tissues Estelle handed her, “I know that probably disillusions you about the Hope and Healing group I’m supposed to be leading. But, yes, I came dangerously close to believing the lie that an abortion would be the easy way out.”
Grace moved to her side on the couch and wrapped her arms around her, holding Michelle tight. “No, no,” she whispered. “Now I know you truly understand.”