Mother of Prevention

by Lori Copeland

  “Mama!”

  Kris awoke from a deep sleep to a sitting position. “What?”

  I patted my eldest daughter’s back. “Nothing, sweetie. Kelli’s calling me.” Yawning, I rolled on my side and peered at the bedside clock. Eight-thirty. My stars. We’d slept two and a half hours!

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Kelli leaned over and patted both of my cheeks, peering sleepily into my eyes.

  “What would you like to eat?”

  “Chicken.”

  “You’re going to grow tail feathers,” I teased. “How about some nice steamed broccoli, carrots—”

  “Yuck!”

  We had a good laugh at the thought of Kelli eating vegetables of any sort. I had to work on the child’s finicky eating habits.

  I rolled off the bed and we straightened our appearances before we rode the elevator downstairs. The evening clerk informed us there was a fast-food chicken place across the highway. I froze at the thought of getting two children across the busy interstate. We walked the mile to the intersection, and crossed at the light.

  We returned to the room carrying shopping bags of chicken wings—they had no nuggets—French fries and coleslaw; as I said, I needed to work on my children’s dietary habits. Mine, too. I’d bypassed the salad bar, with scattered bag lettuce and salad dressing, smeared the length of the bar. It looked as if chickens had been roosting in the croutons, and the fresh fruit was canned, swimming in sugar, a last-ditch attempt for dedicated low-fat dieters.

  Inside our room I spread fresh towels over the bed and set out the bounty. The three of us kicked off our shoes, climbed on the buffet table and started foraging. By now we were hungry as wolves.

  Kelli paused, looking sternly at me. “I will say the blessing.”

  I guiltily spat out a piece of fry into a napkin. “Sure, honey.” Kris and I bowed our heads.

  “Thank You, Jesus, for the hot wings and French fries. Could You please help the nice lady to get some chicken nuggets, ’cause kids like chicken nuggets better’n hot wings, but Mom says chicken’s chicken and I can tear the skin off and the meat won’t be so hot.

  “Thank You for letting us house hunt and not get hurt by some bad person or bad thing. Please let us find a good home, God. Amen… Oh. Wait!”

  I quickly bowed my head again.

  “Please tell Daddy hi, and we love and miss him, but if he’s having a good time, like playing golf all he wants, and he don’t have to fight dangerous fires, and his back don’t hurt so much when he plays football, ’cause he loves to play football but he can’t because it hurts his back, then let him stay with You. Mommy says we’ll just come there and join him one of these days. Really amen this time.”

  I quickly dashed a hot tear from the corner of my eye and echoed, “Amen.”

  Kelli dived into the French fries. “Do you think God will let us have that good house, Mommy? I really like it.”

  “I don’t think so, honey, but we’ll find another—maybe one even better.” My mind pictured the cramped, two-bedroom apartment we’d most likely be occupying, and my heart ached. I wanted so much more for the girls. If I stayed in Oklahoma we could live in the house, old and decrepit as it was, but also roomy and comfortable. Though one could happen anytime, tornado season was usually confined to early spring and summer.

  Should I go home and tell Maria I wasn’t going to take the new job, that I was going to quit La Chic and maybe open a small shop of my own? Start with a couple of experienced cosmetologists and build. I rubbed my temple, massaging the tight ache. I’d thought I would be so comfortable with the “new beginning,” but suddenly I wasn’t. I had all kinds of doubts.

  I’d lost all trace of hunger, too.

  I fixed Kelli’s plate—Kris was steadily stuffing fries into her mouth—and slid off the bed.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Mommy?”

  “I’m not hungry. I’m going to call Liv.”

  The children seemed content with my choice, so while they ate I took the prepaid phone card out of my wallet, praying that Liv would be home tonight. I pecked out the series of numbers and waited until the phone rang once before I pulled up a chair and settled in for a long, badly needed talk.

  Tom answered.

  “Hi! It’s me!”

  “Kate? Well, son of a gun. How are you—thought you were in San Francisco this weekend.”

  “I am—we are. I’m in a room at the Holiday Inn Express, eating chicken wings and French fries.” I frowned, consulting my watch. There was a two-hour time difference between Oklahoma and California. So it was eleven-thirty there… “I’m sorry about the time.”

  “No, we were up. We had dinner with the Brysons tonight and got back late.”

  “Jill and Tony?” One of my favorite church couples. Neil and I had gone to a movie and pizza with them a week before he died. A wave of homesickness engulfed me, and I gripped the receiver tighter. “Can I speak to Liv a minute?”

  “Sure thing—hold on.” Tom put his hand over the phone and I heard his muted voice call, “Hey, gorgeous, somebody wants to talk to you.”

  A few seconds later Liv picked up.

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly losing interest in the phone call. I missed Neil so badly it hurt.

  “Hey, yourself! What’s going on? Did you find a house?”

  “Yep, found the house of my dreams.”

  “No kidding! Well, praise the Lord!”

  “But I can’t afford it,” I added, bursting Liv’s bubble.

  “Oh, shoot.”

  “Oh, Liv, I wish you were here to see it. It’s perfect—three bedrooms, ivy growing on the front of the house. Porch boxes and green canvas awnings.”

  “So how much are you short?”

  “Fifty thousand. Plus repairs. It needs some updating, but it’s still a great price.”

  “Oh, man.” Like most of us, Tom and Liv made a comfortable living, but they clipped coupons and ate chicken more often than steak. I told her about how Gray had encouraged me to make an offer, and how he said the owner wasn’t as interested in money as she was in finding a home for the house.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “I love the house and there isn’t even a remote chance that I’ll get it, but it’s probably a blessing. It needs new floors and carpeting, and then there’d be all that upkeep—taxes, insurance, lawn to mow.” I made enough excuses to make me feel better, at least.

  “Well, you know what Pastor Joe says—God doesn’t work on our time frame. If He wants to bless you by giving you that particular house, a mere fifty thousand isn’t going to deter Him.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath. If I get that house, it will be tantamount to God parting the Red Sea.”

  Liv laughed. “You think God couldn’t get you that house?”

  “He could. I just don’t think that Kate Madison is uppermost in His mind right now.” After all, the world was in turmoil. Maybe once every terrorist on earth was disarmed, then peace came to the Holy Land, and poverty, child abuse and racial hatred were wiped out, then God might give my piddly situation some thought. Still—and here it was again—I could hope. Hope that the phone might ring and Gray Mitchell would be calling to say the owner accepted the offer and the girls and I were free to move immediately.

  “I’ll let you get to bed,” I apologized. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Okay—are you all right, Kate?”

  “As good as I’m going to get,” I predicted.

  “I wish I was there with you. You’re coming home tomorrow, right?”

  “We have a late-afternoon flight.”

  Liv’s tone sobered. “Tom says to remind you that we’re all praying for you, praying that through this darkness you’ll find an even greater purpose for your life.”

  When I got through this I was going to remind Liv to be careful when she tried to console. How easy it was to say things like There’s always a reason for your pain. Or You’re young, you’ll remarry someday. Then there were the practical
soothers. Get a grip. Life goes on. Losing Neil had taught me one thing—until I’d walked in that person’s shoes I couldn’t console, I could only be there. Be a friend.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow evening.”

  “Safe flight, Kate.”

  Thanks for reminding me. I hung up, smiling. Liv was God’s gift to me tonight.

  “Mom, we’re eating all the chicken,” Kris reminded me.

  “Okay.” Resigned to apartment living, I got up and headed to the “buffet.”

  The phone jangled.

  I turned and picked up the receiver wondering what Livvy had forgotten to tell me.

  But Gray Mitchell’s voice was on the line. “Kate, hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No.” I gripped the receiver. Had he presented the offer so quickly?

  “I’m just walking out of the nursing home.”

  “And?”

  “The owner needs time to think about the offer.”

  My heart dropped. I knew it. I knew the offer was preposterous, so why did I feel so deflated—like a pricked balloon?

  “She’s promised to read the four-page summary I wrote about you and your particular situation, and she promises she’ll get back to me soon.”

  “Did she say when?” The stubborn part of me still clung to the notion that I could be lucky enough to buy something in the Bay Area for fifty thousand under asking price.

  “Not an exact time, but I expect to hear something within the next couple of weeks.”

  “Two weeks.” I shook my head. “I don’t have two weeks. The girls and I have to be moved by the end of November.”

  “She could get back to me sooner, and if she accepts I can have a closing date and date of possession faster than most contracts.”

  “Can you suggest the name of a rental agency?” I gave up. I didn’t want to move to an apartment, but time and circumstances left me no choice. With any luck, maybe someday the owner’s cats would put the house on the market and I could have enough saved by then to purchase the home. But then, with my luck the cats would be greedy and double the price.

  I could hear doubt and a hint of impatience creep into Gray’s voice, but he rattled off a couple of rental agencies and phone numbers.

  “I’ll call first thing in the morning and make arrangements to see an apartment before our flight leaves.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider. I believe eventually the owner will come around.”

  “Honestly, I see no reason why she should. The home is lovely. She should have no problem selling the property at the asking price.”

  I hung up, my appetite gone again.

  “We didn’t get the house,” Kris surmised.

  “We didn’t. Sorry.”

  “Bugs,” Kelli said. That was her choice expletive.

  I helped clean up the dinner remains, and later carried the trash to a hallway receptacle; I didn’t want the room to smell like coleslaw.

  I took a hot shower and put on clean pajamas. I waited in the bathroom until I heard Kelli and Kris say their prayers. Then I turned out the light and crawled into bed with my two daughters.

  We lay in the darkness listening to sirens shrill up and down the expressway. Overhead an occasional outgoing flight roared over the hotel roof. San Francisco was noisy.

  I dropped off to sleep the way I did every night: worrying. How would Kelli and Kris take to living in an apartment? Leaving their friends, their school and the church family they’d been born into. Kris’s Brownie group.

  Kelli’s gymnastics.

  God, if You’ll just somehow let me get a house, any house instead of an apartment, I’ll make it. You can’t take Neil away and leave me to face this alone without help from You.

  I paused. Oh, great. Now I was in the bargaining stage, and I resented every moment of it.

  The male flight attendant proceeded down the aisle closing overhead bins. I helped Kelli with her seat belt, then sat back and fastened mine. No house. No future. The dreaded return home flight looked like a piece of cake.

  I popped an antihistamine into my mouth, thinking I’d sleep through most of the three-hour flight; I knew the children would. Kelli’s head was already bobbing.

  The standard pilot’s patter came over the intercom. Clear weather—should have a nice flight. He gave the flight path. Sit back, relax and enjoy the view.

  I closed my eyes and thought about the morning’s events. I’d phoned the rental agency around eight, and by ten o’clock someone from the office had come to pick us up. We looked at three possibilities. The apartment complexes were nicer than expected—and why shouldn’t they be for the price? All had pools, palms, shuffleboard and centrally located laundry rooms. In addition, the apartments each had their own hookups for folks with washers and dryers.

  Disheartened, I’d let the girls pick the complex and apartment they both favored, which was the exact opposite of the one I’d picked, but at this juncture I really didn’t care if I lived under a rock. I couldn’t rid myself of the desire to own that house—the cute porch flower boxes. Green awnings. Picture-book perfect.

  Neil would have loved it.

  By now the jet had taxied to takeoff position. The aircraft sat waiting for tower clearance. I was already starting to feel the antihistamine; I lay back against the thin pillow, snuggling deeper into the blue, lint-covered airline blanket. Vaguely I heard the pilot tell the flight attendants that the plane had been cleared for takeoff.

  Gradually, then picking up speed, the plane streaked down the runway. I automatically gripped the armrests, waiting for the sensation of wheels leaving the ground, then the gentle bump as they retracted into the belly of the 727.

  I dozed in the hushed pressurized cabin, aware of voices around me. Businessmen discussing their day, a woman trying to comfort a crying infant.

  The plane climbed and then banked east, encountering small air pockets as it gained altitude. I’d once heard the crucial times in a flight were takeoff and landing. I opened my eyes and gazed out the window. Fluffy cumulus clouds ballooned below; above me, an aquamarine sky spread a dazzling awning over the craft. The plane leveled, and I relaxed, closing my eyes, breathing a sigh of relief after the uneventful takeoff.

  I didn’t hear the flight attendant offering drinks and pretzels from the service cart—I slept right through that. What I did feel two hours into the flight was a large jolt, so violent the force shook me awake. I blinked and looked at the flashing seat-belt sign. Suddenly the plane dipped, soared, then leveled again.

  And then plunged. I grabbed at my throbbing eardrum.

  Kelli stirred, opening her eyes a crack. “Are we crashing, Mommy?”

  I tried to assess fellow passengers’ reactions. Some were reading; others were working on laptops. None appeared unduly concerned.

  The plane jolted hard. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Flight attendants discontinue food service and please take your seats.”

  I glanced at the young woman attendant who brushed past me on the way to her jump seat.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She smiled. “Turbulence. Nothing to worry about.” She sat down and strapped herself in. Tightly.

  The front of the plane dipped. Shook. Once the craft dropped so quickly and so steeply that three overhead bins popped open and oxygen masks fell down.

  I swallowed, gripping the arm of my seat so hard that I could see the veins in my arms. Kelli and Kris, white-faced and shaking, sat paralyzed beside me.

  Dear Lord…please. I know You’ve tried Your best to keep me off planes and I won’t listen. Perforated eardrum should be enough, but if You’ll just keep this thing in the air—

  A couple of women’s voices rose in panic when the plane hit a series of pockets.

  The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry about the rough ride. I’ve tried several altitudes, but so far I haven’t found any smooth air. There’s no need for alarm. Please remain in your seat with your s
eat belt tightly fastened. As soon as the tower gives me clearance, I’m going to take the craft up to 33,000 feet and see if I can’t find you a better ride.”

  The plane bucked and vibrated. I broke into a cold sweat. I’d worried that I’d go down and leave the kids orphans, but maybe God’s plan was to take us all at the same time.

  Poor Mom and Dad—and Neil’s parents. They’d been through enough lately. It would kill Dad. He had loved Neil so much—now to lose me and the children.

  I reached over and took my girls’ hands, aware I should be putting on a brave front. Ha, ha—look death straight in the face, but right now death didn’t seem very funny, though the thought of seeing Neil made it easier.

  Passengers in the back panicked. A couple of young mothers screamed, clutching infants tightly to their breasts.

  I clamped my eyes shut and prayed, holding my throbbing right ear with my right hand, and bending over to keep hold of the girls’ hands with the other. The cabin pressure was suddenly excruciating in my eardrum. Funny how I went straight to God in times like this but could barely speak to Him about Neil.

  I didn’t want to discuss Neil with Him. He shouldn’t have taken my husband. There wasn’t one single reason Neil should have been on that stairway the exact moment the structure collapsed. Two minutes more and he would have cleared the corridor, been safely on the twelfth floor. The fire had raged on the sixteenth floor.

  Friends and well-meaning co-workers had been quick to mention that God is seldom early, but He’s never late, and we don’t always know why life happens the way it does.

  Well, that day His timing was perfect. It could have been any other husband or father on that stairwell that day, but it was my husband.

  Kelli and Kris’s father.

  And why? What had Neil ever done to God other than serve Him and rear his family in a Christian path?

  More oxygen masks popped open as the plane seesawed through unstable air. I was so tense that my insides set up like concrete. The elderly gentleman on my left ate from a bag of airline pretzels, his expression calm under bushy white brows. How could he eat through this?