Plan

by Lyle, Linda;

  “Go on,” Randy said, looking intently at her.

  “Are you a Christian?” She glanced out from under her lashes and was surprised by the warm smile on his face. It had been several days since she had seen that smile.

  “Yes, I am.” He shook his head. “I’m guilty of the same. You mentioned God answering your prayers, so I assumed you were a Christian. I never asked, either, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Well, now that that’s out of the way let’s go charm Ms. Stanford.” She sounded more convincing than she felt.

  She followed Randy out, taking an extra moment as she locked the door to calm her racing heart. He was a Christian. That was one more reason to love him. As she walked around him to the car, their shoulders brushed, and a shiver ran up her spine. He pretended not to notice, but he stepped away a little too quickly so she was certain he’d felt it too. Rachel could feel her stomach knot up and her face burn. Now that he had Kathryn, he couldn’t even stand to touch her. She watched him settle into the driver’s seat, and she didn’t take her eyes off of him until they pulled into Ms. Stanford’s driveway. Tonight might be her last night with him, she realized. She felt compelled to take in every inch of his profile, every mannerism.

  “We’re here.” Randy’s voice broke her concentration. She picked up the report and what was left of her composure and got out of the car. Randy followed her up the stairs. They seemed so steep, yet they arrived at the door too soon. When the butler answered the bell, Rachel almost turned tail and ran. Almost.

  “Please follow me,” the butler requested. She was tempted to mock his tight-jointed walk like they did in the cartoons. Instead, Rachel walked calmly in his wake. His broad back blocked her view of the room until he stepped aside. She almost gasped at the sight. It was a library, but the word hardly described the place. It was more a haven for books, books, and more books. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the circular room, except in the center of the far wall where it stopped at a massive fireplace and on each side where bay windows stood as sentinels. On one side a black lacquered grand piano was placed at an angle. In the middle a Queen Anne sofa and wingback chairs surrounded the fireplace. On the right, a massive cherry desk faced the room. Emily Stanford was seated in the leather chair behind it, looking more formidable than ever. Rachel took a deep breath and went to the seat the butler indicated. The clock chimed the half hour as Ms. Stanford looked up from the papers she had been reading.

  “Did you bring the report?” Ms. Stanford asked.

  “Yes. It’s right here.” Rachel fumbled in her briefcase until she remembered that Randy had Ms. Stanford’s copy in his case. “Uhm. Dr. Harris has it.” She tried to cover her embarrassment, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Stanford,” Randy said as he handed her the report.

  “That’s Ms. Stanford.” She emphasized the Ms. with all the starch of a military dress uniform.

  “Sorry,” Randy mumbled.

  “I’ll look this over and then we can discuss it at length over dinner. Miles will show you to the dining room.”

  The butler appeared at Rachel’s right. Ms. Stanford turned to the manuscript without another word. Rachel followed Miles into the dining room. “Ms. Stanford will join you shortly,” Miles said and then disappeared as quickly as he appeared. She stood in the doorway uncertain of what to do.

  “She’s not long on ceremony, is she? Or small talk, for that matter,” Randy whispered. When she didn’t answer, Randy continued, “Look. Everything will be okay. Don’t let her get to you.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Hey, we’re in this together. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but for how long?”

  Randy didn’t have time to respond before Ms. Stanford swept into the room and motioned for them to take seats at the table. As soon as they were seated, she rang the bell at her side and a maid materialized with the first course.

  “I was impressed with your report, Ms. Grant, and you too, Dr. Harris.” She paused to take a bite of salad. Rachel followed suit with a prayer that she didn’t drip dressing all over herself. “I’ve decided to buy the Center.”

  Rachel almost choked on the broccoli she was carefully chewing. “Excuse me?” she managed to squeak.

  “I’ve decided to buy the Center property. I called the city and asked them to put a hold on the demolition until I could meet with them to discuss terms.” Rachel stared at the woman in disbelief. Her cold blue eyes were as sharp as steel and unwavering. “I will have my executor handle the money for the renovation. I will forward your ideas to him, and he will have the final say regarding the project. However, there is one thing. I expect Ms. Grant to meet with me once a week to keep me informed. Is that clear?”

  For the first time, Ms. Stanford looked up from her food and stared directly into her eyes. Rachel swallowed hard. “Why me?”

  “Because you will be the director.”

  Rachel wasn’t sure if she had heard correctly. Director? What did she mean, director? “Ms. Stanford, I’m no director. I’m a teacher. Susan is the director.”

  “I contacted Susan, but she has already accepted a position at the high school. Besides, you are my first choice.”

  “But, Ms. Stanford, I don’t have any experience in administration,” Rachel protested.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Ms. Grant. Either you are the director, or I withdraw funding. Are we understood?”

  Rachel stared, mouth open, for several moments. Ms. Stanford’s eyes locked with hers, and she knew she had no choice. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. I’ll expect you Monday after your class to discuss the details.”

  That was all Ms. Stanford said during dinner. Randy didn’t say a word until they were on their way down the sidewalk.

  “Well, it looks like you get to keep the Center.”

  Rachel couldn’t think of an answer. They drove to her apartment in silence. She barely heard Randy’s goodbye. She unlocked the apartment and dressed for bed in a daze. It was only eight o’clock, but she couldn’t handle anything else tonight. She needed time to take it all in and digest it. What exactly did Ms. Stanford mean by director? Rachel was sure to find out on Monday.

  nineteen

  Wednesday dawned bright and clear, but Rachel’s head was as a fuzzy as a teddy bear. It wasn’t until she looked at the calendar that the significance of the date hit her. Today was her birthday. Her thirtieth birthday. Rachel suddenly felt the need to sit down. She didn’t feel thirty. How was it possible? Her reverie was broken by the shrill ring of the telephone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How’s the birthday girl?” Rachel moaned inwardly. Her mother’s cheery voice was the last thing she needed to hear this morning.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Well, you don’t sound fine.”

  “I just got up. I’m still a little groggy.”

  “Well, get up and at ’em. Today’s your day. I just wanted to make sure what time you eat lunch.”

  “Why?” Rachel questioned.

  “Because it’s your birthday and I’m going to take you to lunch.”

  “Mom, you don’t have to do that. A phone call is all that’s necessary.” Rachel prayed that her mother would take the hint. No such luck.

  “Don’t be silly. I can’t let you celebrate your birthday alone. I’ll meet you at the school at noon in the lobby.”

  “Mom, you really don’t have to come all the way up here. Really. I’m fine.”

  “Now, that’s enough. It’s already decided. I’ll see you at twelve. Bye.”

  The phone clicked before Rachel could open her mouth again. She sank back into the chair and gave her moan full vocal range. A birthday dinner. Just what she needed. Dragging herself back to the bathroom, she took her time getting dressed for work.

  The day went from bad to worse. By the time her first class was over, she was ready to go home and back to bed. It started with an innocent
remark made by an unsuspecting student. It was about twenty minutes before the end of class, and Rachel had decided to let them out early so that she could get this birthday lunch over with as soon as possible.

  “Since it’s my birthday, I’m letting class go early today,” Rachel said. Cheers and applause broke out across the room.

  “How old are you?” Steven asked. “Thirty-four or thirty-five?”

  Rachel had turned to clean the blackboard, but stopped in midswipe and stared at the board. Without looking around she ground out, “I’m thirty, thank you very much.”

  Several of the students booed Steven. One even cuffed the side of his head as they headed out of the classroom. Steven stopped at her desk on his way out.

  “Sorry about that, Ms. Grant. You look good for your age.” She whirled around as he tried to dig his way out of the situation. “I mean…I mean you…I’m sorry.” He looked pitiful, but Rachel was in no mood to be kind. She just stared him down. He backed his way out of the room saying, “I’m sorry” so many times that she thought she would scream.

  After that, she went into the faculty restroom and took a good long look in the mirror. She didn’t see any wrinkles or crow’s feet, but her eyes were puffy and her make-up looked smeared. She tried to fix it, but ended up making it look caked on instead. Rachel was about to leave when something shiny caught her eye. At first she thought it was a piece of tinsel, but a second glance showed a silvery hair mixed in with the brown. She yanked it out and stared at it. Not another one. She stared in disbelief at the mirror. A closer inspection showed several more scattered throughout. She was too young to have gray hair. Make that silver hair. This stuff glowed in the dark.

  A glance at her watch sent her scurrying toward the lobby. The last thing she needed was a lecture on being late. She had spent way too much time staring into the mirror. Rachel entered the lobby just as the bell tower struck the noon hour. She spotted her mother sitting on a couch in the corner, her foot tapping time. Taking a deep breath, Rachel steeled herself and crossed the room, all the while repeating, “Stay calm” to herself.

  “Hi, Mom.” She plastered a smile to her face and accepted a hug.

  “Hi, dear. How’s the birthday girl?” Her mom’s voice was a little too perky.

  “You already asked me that, but I’m fine. Where do you want to go for lunch?” Rachel asked.

  “That’s up to you. It’s your birthday.”

  “Fine. Let’s go to The Magnolia.”

  “The Magnolia? Isn’t that the little restaurant here on campus?”

  “Yes it is. Is that a problem?” Rachel ground out.

  “Well, no. If that’s where you really want to go, then let’s go. I just thought you might want to go to a nice restaurant downtown.”

  “I like The Magnolia and it’s close. Traffic is bad this time of day.”

  “Fine. Fine,” her mom replied. Rachel could tell she was disappointed, but it was her choice and she had made it. For once her mother would just have to accept it. “Let’s go, then.” She said it with a smile, but Rachel could tell that her mom was playing the sacrificial lamb to the hilt.

  The walk across the quad was filled with idle chatter, mostly from her mom. Edna Grant could be quite a gossip. She knew more about the school and the community events than the people involved in them, and she was determined to tell Rachel all of it before they reached the restaurant. They ordered and then took the trays to a table near the corner. Edna was still spouting gossip like a perpetual water fountain even as they sat down. Rachel was so lost in her own thoughts that she was startled to hear Randy’s voice.

  “I thought I saw you come in.” She could feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. She turned to answer him, but nothing came out. His face was only inches from hers. Her mother answered for her.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Edna Grant, Rachel’s mother.” She held out her hand and Randy took it with a smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Grant.”

  “Call me Edna.”

  “Edna.” He nodded. “I’ll let you two ladies get back to your lunch.”

  “Oh, please stay,” Edna begged. “It’s Rachel’s birthday, and it would be so nice to have some of her friends here. More like a party. I rarely get to meet her friends from here.” To Rachel’s ears it sounded more like an accusation than an invitation, but then again, she was used to it.

  “Why don’t you stay, Randy?” Rachel gave him smile and patted the seat between them. She wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea or not. His presence might tame her mother’s tongue, but on the other hand, it might just be more embarrassing. Either way, she didn’t want to be rude to Randy.

  “Well, if you put it that way, I’ll go get my tray.” He looked as uncertain as Rachel felt. He returned in a moment with his food and sat down between them.

  “Randy is it?” her mother asked. It was just her way of forcing out more details.

  “Dr. Randall Harris, this is my mother, Edna Grant. Mom, this is Dr. Harris.”

  “Randy is fine,” he replied.

  “So what do you do, Randy?” her mother inquired.

  “I’m an English professor.”

  “Well, how did you meet Rachel?”

  “Mom,” Rachel complained, “we’re not playing twenty questions. Let him eat his lunch.” Rachel smiled an apology at Randy.

  “I just wanted to get to know your friends a little better,” her mother admonished.

  The rest of lunch was spent in idle chitchat with Randy bearing the brunt of the conversation. Edna was sulking, and Rachel couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. Randy finished lunch in record time and then made his excuses.

  “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Grant. Happy birthday, Rachel.” He brushed her shoulders with his fingertips and then disappeared. She wished she could disappear like a magician’s assistant.

  “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with yourself, young lady,” her mother huffed.

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked the question, but she already knew the answer.

  “A nice, eligible man and you sit there like a knot on a log. How do you ever expect to catch a husband by cowering in a corner?”

  “Mother, finding someone to spend the rest of your life with is not like picking out melons at the grocery store. It takes time. Besides, I’m not trying to catch Randy,” she lied. The last thing she was going to do was to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing she had been dumped again. “He’s got a gorgeous girlfriend and he’s moving away after this semester.”

  There she had said it, but it still hurt to hear the words out loud. She had to face facts. He was involved with someone else, and he was planning to move to be closer to her. Rachel’s mother was still fuming silently. Rachel could imagine wisps of smoke coming out her ears and nostrils, just like a steam engine. The image brought an unexpected smile to her face which only made Edna angrier.

  “What are you smiling at? Do you like making me miserable? Hmmm? Well, the joke’s on you. You’re the one who’s going to spend the rest of her life alone.” Edna grabbed her purse with a flourish and left a wounded Rachel alone at the table.

  She knew she should go after her mother, but she didn’t have the strength left to fight. She was an old maid and she might as well get used to the idea. She tried to think of the positive side of being independent, like freedom to do whatever she wanted. Yet, hard as she tried, nothing could take away the knot in her stomach or the lethargy that seemed to be taking over her body. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed.

  That wasn’t to be. On her way out, she almost ran into Randy and Kathryn in the parking lot. She was curled onto his arm like a parasitic vine. Rachel mentally slapped herself for the thought. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that she was beautiful and could have any man she wanted, while an old maid like herself only attracted jerks and morons. She waited behind the shrubs until they got into his car and pulled away.

  Rachel tried to s
hake her gloomy mood on the ride home, but those ugly phrases kept coming back to her. Are you thirty-four or thirty-five? You’re going to end up all alone. By the time she pulled into her parking space, the tears were just below the surface. She made it into her apartment before she embarrassed herself completely. Ten minutes of uncontrolled tears and sobbing only gave her a headache instead of the release of her frustrations.

  She flipped over on her side to reach for the tissues on her nightstand, but found instead her Bible which was buried under a stack of books. It had been a while since she had really read her Bible, or prayed, for that matter. She held the leather volume in her hands and prayed for help. She didn’t know what else to pray. Then she flipped the Bible open at random and started reading the thirty-seventh chapter of Isaiah. It was about how King Hezekiah was being threatened by the Assyrians who had conquered many peoples. The Assyrian spokes-man, Rabshakeh, said that God could not protect them. Hezekiah was depressed and frightened, but he went to the Lord with his fears. Rachel realized that her situation was very similar. She was being attacked by words and her own fears. She needed to trust in God, that He would never leave her alone. He would always be there. She looked back down, and the words of verse six leaped off the page. “Be not afraid of the words that thou hast heard…” In that instant, Rachel knew the Lord was speaking to her. Don’t believe the words of others. Believe the word of God. He had always been faithful before, and He would be faithful again.

  She marked the verse with a slip of paper, then closed the Bible. She hugged it to herself and prayed for guidance. God had something planned for her life, but maybe it wasn’t the plans that she had made for herself.

  “What should I do?” Rachel prayed.

  “If any man has ought against you, go and make it right.”

  Mother. Rachel rebelled at the thought. Mother should come to her. She was the one who started it all. She was always putting Rachel down and making her feel unlovable. But that still, small voice wouldn’t leave her head. Rachel knew that she would have to confront her mother. They had to settle this once and for all or she would never know true peace. Rachel bowed her head and asked for strength and guidance. Tomorrow after class, she would go home and try to make her understand.