Open Arms

by Traci DePree

  Still, Kate wasn’t so sure.

  Angie returned a few minutes later with crackers and cheese and a glass of juice. Ashley gratefully ate, and her color started to return. Kate heard the sound of sirens outside.

  “Please tell them to go away,” Ashley begged Kate. “I won’t go with them.”

  “Just let them look at you,” Kate said. “If they say you’re okay you don’t have to go.” Finally the girl conceded.

  Kate saw the pained look in her eyes as they listened to her heart and took her blood pressure. Finally the Emergency technician turned to Kate and said, “She seems okay. Could’ve been anything.” He turned back to Ashley. “Did you get up too fast?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps.” But Kate saw the uncertainty pass in her eyes as if she was afraid of being caught in a lie.

  The emergency personnel must not have noticed it, because they had her sign a form and were on their way.

  A MESSAGE FROM MOUSE finally came on Friday morning, though it looked as if it had been sent late the previous night.

  I told my boyfriend I’m pregnant, and now he hates me. What can I do, Mrs. Hanlon? I knew it would be hard, but not this hard. When we first started going out, my friends warned me not to date a boy who was so much older than I was. I should have known he didn’t really love me. People talk about unconditional love, but I don’t believe it exists. At least I haven’t seen it. I sure didn’t see it when I told him the news.

  My dad will be even more angry because there’s no way the two of us will ever get married. You don’t know my dad. He expects his children to be perfect. And the thing is, I’m most sad that I’ve let him down, and myself. I know you said that my life isn’t over, and I really want to believe that, but I’m not seeing it. As far as everything I love, my life is over. I’ll never go to college, never make something more of myself.

  I don’t know about this adoption thing. I think that would be hard too. There is no good answer, at least not anymore. It’s too late for good answers.

  Thank you for talking to me. I know you’re trying to help me even though I can’t tell you who I am. I really wanted to tell you who I was today, but I couldn’t do it. Thank you for caring for me, even if God and my parents and my boyfriend don’t care.

  Your friend,

  Mouse

  Kate stared at the screen as her hope began to fade. Kate would have to be much more direct, she decided. She would just have to come out and ask each of the girls if one of them was Mouse. And yet she couldn’t do that. There was a reason Mouse had kept her identity secret. If Kate blurted the question out, it would be a breach of respect, and if that was gone, what else was there? At least Mouse was still e-mailing her. That was something. When the time was right, she would reveal herself. Wouldn’t she?

  What if she did something rash instead, like running away? Would Kate be able to live with herself?

  One thing was clear. There were no easy answers.

  Finally she decided to do the only thing she could do: write the girl back.

  Kate clicked the Reply button and stared at the blank screen. Then with a prayer for wisdom, she began as simply as she could.

  Dear Mouse,

  There’s a verse in Romans 8 that says, “I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

  In other words: Neither poor choices nor good, neither acting perfect or sinful, neither unwanted pregnancy or graduating at the top of your class can ever keep God from loving you the way he already does. He won’t ever stop.

  I can’t imagine how difficult all of this is for you, and I hope more than anything that you’ll tell me who you are so I can help you. I’ll even come with you to tell your parents if you like. Or if you don’t want me to do that, I won’t. But I’m here for you. Okay?

  Kate

  CARS WAITED in a line that was at least a block long. It snaked from the library all the way down Main Street to Copper Mill Presbyterian. Several of the boys had brought hoses, and Kate had gathered sponges, rags, and soap into a laundry basket that sat on the library’s lawn for any and all to access.

  Kate, Paul, and the other volunteers were busily washing Copper Mill’s vehicles. Justin Jenner, the younger of the two Jenner boys, and Anne Jackson walked up and down Main Street with signs that read “Afterprom Fund-raiser Car Wash” and “This way to a cleaner car,” with an arrow pointing to the parking-lot entrance at the library. There were four stations set up with five to seven people at each. They all took turns hosing and scrubbing, with one rinsing and two buffing.

  Kate worked alongside Marlee and Brenna, who were giggling every time they got the hose. Marlee seemed to be doing better, though it had only been two days since her grandmother’s funeral. Kate was glad that the girl had made the effort to get out and be with her friends. At least she wasn’t in her room, isolated.

  Even Kim and Chad Lewis had come out for the event. They were laughing at something one of the teens said as they worked side by side on the far side of the parking lot, scrubbing and polishing cars. Chad had taken off of work to come, and Kate was sure that Kim was thankful for the effort.

  As Kate reached for a dry towel from a stack on the pavement, she felt a cold splash of water hit her back. She arched away from it.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Hanlon,” James Jenner said from the adjoining station. The stocky boy had a huge grin on his face.

  Kate stood there for a moment with her mouth open, catching her breath. Straightening, she turned toward James. She pointed a finger at him and warned, “You’d better watch it, buddy!”

  “Uh oh. I’m in trouble,” he said, ducking behind the car. James laughed, and for a moment, Kate felt like a sixteen-year-old again.

  She glanced over at Ashley Williams, who’d also come out to help. Though she looked better than the previous night, she hadn’t joined in the laughter, and she seemed quieter than the other times Kate had seen her. Her eyes met Kate’s from the front of the car where she was drying with a big beach towel. She glanced away.

  It wasn’t until Kate saw Carl’s Toyota Corolla pull in for a wash that she realized something more was going on. As soon as Ashley spotted him, she picked up her purse and started to leave.

  Kate hurried to follow her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not feeling well,” Ashley said.

  “Ashley...does this have something to do with Carl?”

  Ashley stopped walking and stared at her. “What did he tell you?”

  “Nothing,” Kate said as her heart picked up its pace.

  “Good,” Ashley said. Then she turned to go. “I need to get home to my folks.”

  “Ashley...wait.” Kate knew she was pushing it.

  “Really, Mrs. Hanlon. I have to go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  All the next day, Kate thought about Ashley leaving the car wash and waited for an answer to her FriendsForever message. Mouse remained silent.

  Paul had gone on another fishing outing with Danny and Sam, so Kate had the house to herself. She felt a stab of resentment that he hadn’t mentioned that their first-date anniversary was coming up, but she quickly reminded herself that she too had forgotten the date when he’d asked about taking off on a fishing trip on the eighteenth.

  She logged onto her FriendsForever account and perused Ronda’s and Ashley’s home pages, looking for any clues, but there was nothing new.

  The pain in Ashley’s eyes the previous day haunted her.

  She opened her in-box and clicked over to Mouse’s last e-mail, the one that said her boyfriend had taken the news badly.

  Had she finally scared Mouse away for good? The thought made Kate’s insides ache. She’d only wanted to help, yet it looked as if she’d messed everything up.

  Kate tried to keep busy the rest of the day by calling people fro
m town, asking for volunteers to chaperone at the afterprom party, and checking over the remaining details. The rising cost of the event was shocking. Kate was glad the funds were coming from the citizens of Copper Mill. The members of Faith Briar Church never would have been able to afford the event on their own.

  She went over the numbers one last time, then laid her binder in its spot on the counter so she’d know where to find it next time she needed it. Then her thoughts turned again to Mouse. Finally she picked up the phone and called Livvy.

  “Yesterday morning I told her I’d help her tell her parents the news, and I haven’t heard from her since,” Kate said. “I’m worried now that that might not have been the best thing to say. Maybe it’ll scare her away. It’s hard enough to be a responsible married adult and be pregnant with your first child, but to go through something like this when you’re young and alone. She seemed so vulnerable in her messages...”

  “You can only do what you can do,” Livvy said. “And God is watching over her.”

  “I know. Thanks, Liv. I needed that reminder.”

  KATE WAS GLAD when Monday rolled around. She had an appointment at nine o’clock to rid herself of her orange hair.

  All the heads under the dryers turned to take in Kate’s neon style when she entered. Kate felt her face flush with warmth.

  “Kate, I can’t believe you didn’t come back sooner to get your hair fixed,” Betty said. “It’s been almost a week!”

  Betty turned to Alicia, one of the other stylists at the shop. “Didn’t Ronda make room in her schedule?”

  “I scheduled the appointment for Kate,” Alicia said. “But I had no idea...” Her gaze lifted to the atrocious hair. “I didn’t know it was an emergency. Why didn’t you tell me, Kate?”

  “It’s fine, really,” Kate said. “Hair is hardly ever an emergency.”

  “But you’ve been going around town looking like that?” Betty was clearly appalled.

  “It’s really not that big a deal,” Kate said.

  The lines in Betty’s face that had been tight and drawn relaxed, and Betty took in a deep breath.

  “How can I make these kids learn?” she said quietly. “The customer comes first. That’s what I always tell them; we have to make the customer happy.”

  Kate smiled and patted her arm.

  “I still have to make this up to you,” Betty insisted.

  “As long as you help chaperone the afterprom party with me, I’m happy,” Kate said.

  “Done!” Betty said, then she paused to think. “But that’s not enough. What do you say I take you on a shopping excursion? We’ll go to Chattanooga, hit the vintage stores, look for fancy prom attire to really embarrass those teenagers at the Grand March.” She grinned mischievously.

  Kate smiled. She liked how Betty thought. She hadn’t given what she’d wear to the event any consideration, so she held out her hand and said, “It’s a deal! But we’ll have to bring Livvy along too.”

  The two women shook on it.

  Soon Betty was caught up in dyeing Kate’s hair. She set a timer and placed it on the stand next to Kate.

  “When that goes off, you’ll be done,” Betty assured her.

  “Just like a stuffed turkey,” Kate said dryly.

  Betty turned to the next customer, who was waiting on the front bench, and called the woman over.

  Betty and Alicia both seemed unusually rushed for time that morning. Every chair in the place was filled with a customer. The stylists scurried from one to the next. It wasn’t like them. Finally the reason dawned on Kate.

  “Is Ronda here today?” she asked Betty when it was time to rinse her hair.

  Betty shook her head no and leaned Kate back over the sink. The warm water soothed Kate’s scalp.

  “She’s out sick again, even though I told her we had a tight schedule.”

  “Did she say why?”

  Betty shrugged and didn’t say anything as she gently lifted Kate upright and wrapped a towel around her head.

  “Does she have a boyfriend?” Kate asked. Betty gave her a curious look.

  Kate took her seat at the hair-cutting station, and Betty began to comb out her wet locks.

  “She talks about a boy from Pine Ridge all the time. I think he’s in his last year of college.” She paused to take a breath, then changed the subject. “Usually she seems to at least care about the quality of her work, and she’s the best back-comber I’ve ever seen. But if things keep going the way they have been, I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep her on staff.” She glanced at Kate’s hair.

  Kate pictured Ronda’s handiwork: the many elderly women in town with hair teased so high that they could have housed small animals inside.

  Betty moved to the other side of Kate and combed through her soggy tresses.

  “Ronda usually seems on the ball and is very personable. I’d hate to see you lose her,” Kate said.

  Betty nodded as she reached for the scissors to begin Kate’s trim.

  “Do you think she’d mind if I stopped by to check on her?” Kate asked. “I mean if I stopped by to see her at home today?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Betty turned toward Kate and placed her hand on her hips as if waiting for an explanation, but Kate didn’t say anything else.

  RONDA LIVED WITH HER FOLKS in a small apartment over the Copper Mill Chronicle. Kate almost missed the door that led up narrow stairs to the tight second-story landing. Betty had told her that Ronda’s place was the first apartment on the left, before the hallway disappeared around the corner.

  When Kate arrived, there was a note on the door that said, “Ronda, I stopped by, but you were gone. Call me. Will.”

  Kate wondered who Will was.

  She knocked on the door and waited as the sound of padding feet drew near. Finally the ancient wooden door creaked open.

  “Mrs. Hanlon?” Ronda said.

  She wore a pink bathrobe, and her hair was a tangle, not from backcombing, but from a day spent in bed. She opened the door wider. Her gaze moved to Kate’s revived hair.

  “You got your hair fixed,” she observed.

  “Don’t worry about my hair,” Kate said. “Betty mentioned that you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d stop by. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Ronda stepped back, motioning for Kate to follow her into the small two-bedroom apartment that reminded Kate of Mary Tyler Moore’s place on the TV show of the same name. The only difference was that this apartment had bedrooms off the main room. It was a cute apartment, with homemade crafts here and there—needlepoint pillows and ceramic dolls with crocheted dresses in glass-fronted display cases.

  Ronda climbed onto the sofa and tugged the blankets up around her as she turned off the TV.

  “I don’t know what it is,” she said. “I start feeling better, and then I go back to the salon, and wham I’m under it again. I start feeling nauseous, and my eyes get all scratchy...”

  Kate studied her. She didn’t look well. Dark circles lined her eyes despite the sallow pallor of her skin.

  What was it with the girls in this town? Kate thought. Weren’t any of them healthy?

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Ronda said. “Like Betty says, it’s all in my head.”

  “Do you think you’ll feel up to going back to work soon?” Kate finally said.

  “I hope so. I can’t afford to keep missing, with all my cosmetology-school loans still to pay off, and...everything else.”

  “How much work have you missed?”

  “Too much. I’m convinced it’s the perm solution.”

  “You mentioned before that you thought you were allergic?”

  Ronda nodded. “Betty says that people don’t just get allergies when they’re older, but I’ve been looking it up online, and she’s wrong. People can develop allergies at any time in their lives, and they can go away just like that too.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “It’s kind of hard to be a beautic
ian and be allergic to perm solution. I have no idea what I’ll do. I’m worried that Betty is ready to fire me as it is.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  Ronda seemed to consider that for a moment. “No, but I probably should. Thanks, Mrs. Hanlon.”

  “For what?” Kate said.

  “For more than you know.”

  AS KATE LEFT THE APARTMENT and made her way to the Bixby house to begin preparing Faith Freezer lunches, she felt a sudden confidence that Ronda couldn’t be Mouse. Scratchy eyes weren’t a known symptom of pregnancy, and to top it off, Ronda didn’t seem to have any aspirations beyond Copper Mill as Mouse did.

  That left Ashley. She had all the earmarks, all the symptoms. If only she would open up to Kate in person.

  When Kate arrived at the old Bixby house, where volunteers for the Faith Freezer Program prepared meals for the needy and homebound in the area, several cars were already parked in the driveway.

  Renee Lambert greeted her as she entered and reached for one of the white aprons that hung from a hook along the sink wall. Kate was thrilled to see that Kim Lewis was already there, peeling potatoes for mashing.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” Kate said to the kindergarten teacher. “Didn’t you have class today?”

  “No. The kids had off today. One of the benefits of being an elementary school teacher,” Kim said. “Chad had some meetings scheduled at the office, or he’d be here too.”

  Kate tied on an apron and reached for a peeler. She looked forward to spending time with Kim. She thought about mentioning her thoughts about adoption, but she knew it wasn’t the time yet.

  Renee prepared pork chops at the other side of the room. Dot Bagley stood at the sink peeling carrots.

  “So,” Kate said, turning toward Kim, “what did you think of the car wash?”

  Kim smiled, her gaze still on the spud in her hand. “We had a lot of fun. I like teenagers. I even thought about teaching at the high-school level, but something about those six-year-olds drew me in.” She shook her head.

  “You like teenagers?” Renee said, looking up. “They don’t have manners like we had in our day. Our parents demanded a lot more of us. Sometimes I worry about this generation and its morals—or lack of them.”