Rain Dance (15 page)

“This desk is great.”

“I think so too. Eve sent it. That makes the whole thing even more amazing.”

“Was the lamp designed by the same person?”

“Yes. She ordered them made for my Washington office. When she realized she couldn’t change my mind, she shipped them here.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too. I love them. I just don’t get it.”

I pondered my response carefully. “I know you and Eve aren’t close, but it’s pretty cool she knows your style and got it for you. I mean, she wasn’t planning your office to be a carbon copy of hers, right?”

“Your point is interesting. This is nothing like she’d choose for herself,” Stacie admitted. “She’s into old. Antiques trip her trigger. But that doesn’t prove anything. With Eve, everything comes with strings.”

A laptop computer, the black desk lamp, a crystal vase filled with daffodils, some photos in silver frames, and a clock with a timer rested on the desk. Near the window sat a round, glass-topped table with four matching black leather chairs clustered around it. A black leather couch with yellow, red, green, and blue throw pillows occupied the center of the room. In front of the couch sat another table. Rather than magazines or knickknacks, a stack of puzzles and a pail of markers waited for small clients’ hands to use them.

Time to change the subject. “This office is so you, Stacie.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you going to put on the walls?”

“Pictures of things children enjoy that are emotionally safe. Beach balls, sand castles, that kind of thing.”

“Cool.”

“I’m excited. Dad bought me the rest of the furniture—even the things for the baby and the kid’s table. Sit on this couch—it is so soft.”

We sat down. After glancing at her watch, she stroked the couch’s smooth leather.

“Do you need to be anywhere right now?”

“No. Want to talk?”

“I guess.” Grabbing a pillow and hugging it close, she took a deep breath. “So I wonder—what does Eve want in return?”

“You’re so sure this isn’t a gift from a mother to her daughter?”

“You don’t know Eve.”

“You’re right. But maybe your being pregnant touches her, and this is the only way for her to let you know.”

“She can communicate with everyone but me.”

“Relationships are strange sometimes. She seems like a woman who has a reason for everything she does.”

“That’s what I mean—what does she want in return for this gift?”

“No, I meant something else. I don’t think Eve wastes time or opportunity. I wonder if she is trying to say something to you she can’t find a way to put into words.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe that she is proud of you even if you aren’t following in her footsteps. Or she might be saying I love you.”

“You think?”

“Could be.”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“What do you trust?”

She shrugged. “Usually I don’t.”

“Speaking of trust, we’ve shared almost everything else in our lives except my faith. I’m not sure it’s safe to talk about what I believe.”

“Why? I knew we would eventually.”

“I don’t want to offend you. I’m also afraid my evidence and closing arguments won’t convince you.”

She hugged the pillow tighter and waited. I tried to swallow what felt like a rock in my throat.

“It’s all right, Jonica. Go ahead.”

Truthfully, I think she just wanted me to get it over with. I was in full agreement with her. I’d rather be at home telling Ben how it went than living this moment where I could fail in a big way.

“Here is the evidence I hope you will consider.” I pulled a small Bible out of my purse. “I’d like you to read and deliberate on the first four books of the New Testament, especially the trial and execution of Jesus. If you decide not to believe that what’s recorded here is the truth, you aren’t rejecting me. You’re disbelieving the Word of God.”

“And if I agree to do this, what do you expect from me?”

“Your honesty. I marked a special place in John; the third chapter. I think it’d be interesting to hear your take on what Jesus told Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews and a man of the law. I’d like to know how you would have represented Jesus if He’d asked you to be His lawyer. Your opinion of Pilate also interests me. And I’d like to know, after you read these books as a lawyer, who you think Jesus was and is. If you want to read further into the New Testament, you’ll meet a man named Paul. He was well acquainted with Jewish and Roman law.”

“They had lawyers in Bible times?”

“Yes. This one wrote several of the books in the New Testament.”

Her eyebrows rose as I handed her the book. I don’t know if she noticed my trembling hand or the unsteadiness of my voice. Good grief. I sounded like a law professor giving an assignment, not a friend asking her to consider my faith!

“I also marked a couple of spots where Jesus interacted with women. I think you’ll be interested in how He treated them. He has never been the chauvinist some want to make Him into.”

She took the Bible from my hand. “I’ll think about it.”

With a simple sentence and not the detailed excuse I’d braced myself for, we were done. Whatever she did with the challenge was up to her.

Watching Stacie run her hand over the Bible’s cover, I was reminded again of her beautiful mother. I felt certain Eve’s public service didn’t reveal the mystery woman behind the persona. Who had influenced her life the most? What experience had forged her heart of steel? Where would she be without her drive? When alone, did she miss her daughter? How could I find out so my friend would know she was loved?

I heard Ben’s voice in the quiet place of my mind urging me to stay out of their relationship. Shoot. All I wanted to do was to make my friend happy.

We sat in comfortable silence. Stacie had accepted my challenge and in her hand rested the Word of God, which He promised would not return void. Did she realize the power she was unleashing in her life?

Stacie

Pregnancy changed me body and soul.

Sometimes a soft fluttering caught my attention. I’d wait to feel it again, barely breathing, afraid I’d miss it.

I vacillated between slight nausea and extreme hunger. I cried without warning, and at the most unexpected times loneliness for the fetus I’d aborted washed over me.

The sudden bursts of grief stunned me. Mike and I no longer talked about it—the other child. I kept the sorrow to myself, tightly bottled in a secret chamber of my heart. We focused on the current pregnancy.

Our baby . . . alive and well. Nothing else could matter. To face the past meant to shatter, and I needed to be whole.

Chandler Daniels called to let me know the office awaited my inspection. Dad called to ask where I wanted my desk. The delivery guys were on their way with it, and I met them there.

Four weeks earlier Dad had taken me shopping. I kept the colors basic black and white with primary colors as accents.

Dad had the kid’s table custom-built. It sat low to the ground and big, colorful print pillows served as chairs. The tabletop performed a dual function. A whiteboard framed in painted wood, it was strong enough to color on, put puzzles together, and play games. It would also serve as a drawing board. It provided a safe place to express emotions and then wipe them away. With the legs painted black, it matched the decor.

“It looks like you’re specializing in children,” Dad commented.

“I am. The anger that drove the woman-defender thing I had going seems to have evaporated.”

“That could be a very good thing.”

“Mike agrees.”

Then I had to ask. “How is Eve taking my pregnancy?”

“She’ll get used to it. Don’t worry.” He drew me into a hug. “Your mother will fall in love with this baby.”

“I hope so.”

“I must go. I’m meeting Chandler Daniels for lunch.”

“Do you know him well?”

“Yes.”

“Does he ever share his religion with you?”

“Every chance he gets.”

“Are you ever offended by his preaching?”

“He doesn’t preach, and when he does mention his faith, I don’t find it offensive. It’s just part of who he is and he has good intentions.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“No.”

“Is he getting to you?”

“No again. Is Jonica getting to you?”

“She doesn’t talk about it much either, although I know it’s important to her.”

It almost made me sad, but what I knew of her religion made no sense to me.

When Dad left, I grabbed my phone and called Jonica. I could hardly wait for her to see the office. Of course, the tour had to wait. I was hungry. The little morning sickness I experienced came in the evening and lasted until mid-morning, so by lunchtime I was famished. She came right over and we walked to Wong’s. The waitress, Linda, remembered us. When she asked if we both wanted coffee, I said, “Decaf for me. I’m pregnant so no caffeine for a few months.”

“Congratulations. Two egg rolls?”

“Yes.” Our voices blended in a sweet harmony.

“Jonica, I want everyone to know. It’s too early but I’m dreaming about my belly showing the world I’m pregnant.”

She laughed. “Then you’ll be uncomfortable and missing your size four jeans!”

“I know. Nuts, huh?”

“No. It’s just part of the whole process.”

We ate and caught up, then returned to my office.

“I’m impressed,” she told me. “You make black and white look inviting instead of stark. You did it in your home and again here. I love it. The way you made the kids’ table the center of the room will show your young clients right away that this is a special place for them.”

She liked the nursery too. I couldn’t tell her how the crib brought me both joy and horror. I longed to see my baby curled up in sleep there, eyelashes resting on chubby cheeks. But the lost one in the nightmares haunted my daydreams.

We talked about the desk, and she brought up a lovely scenario about my mother. It was easy for Jonica. Her mother showered her with love and acceptance. She had no idea who mine was.

I wanted to stay in my little corner of the world a while longer, and we settled in on the couch. After all my chatter I quieted down to enjoy just being with my friend.

When I mentioned trust, our conversation headed in a new direction. Jonica took a deep breath and reached into her purse. Out came a small Bible. I braced for condemnation and a stiff sentence if my response was outside her religious law.

I was relieved by her approach. No sin or hell talk. She asked me to read four books and report back my findings. She seemed more interested in a conversation than a conversion. When her voice shook, it revealed her nerves, but I sensed she was hopeful I’d accept her challenge. To be honest, the idea of studying ancient law, lawyers, and a trial intrigued me.

She handed me the small purple book. It wasn’t as intimidating as I remembered Bibles looking.

“It’s a gift to you. If you ever want to know more, you can look.”

“It comes with strings.”

“It does. But you might find that these strings set you free instead of binding and gagging you.”

I noticed my first name embossed in gold on the front as I rubbed my hand across the leather cover. We sat quietly together, at ease even in our diversity.

I wished her God had the power to change my mind. I hoped she wasn’t counting on that.

Chapter
14

Jonica

Our friendship grew, and we were both more comfortable since I’d shared my faith. She’d wondered when it might happen, and I’d felt tense waiting for the right time. What Stacie did with anything she learned wasn’t up to me, so I left it all in her court. It was between her and God.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

I had moments when self-doubts stabbed and jabbed their way to the front of my mind and brought on times of regret. Maybe if I’d shared the traditional plan of salvation I’d have ‘closed the sale’ and she’d already be saved. I doubted my adequacy. Then I’d release Stacie to Him again. The God who created her could surely speak to her with or without my help.

Stacie shared each phase of her pregnancy with the joy of a child on Christmas Day. Hearing the heartbeat, feeling the movement, and seeing her rounded tummy brought giggles and amazement. One day, shopping for nursery furniture, she grabbed my hand and pressed it to her belly.

“Feel that?” she asked.

“I do,” I whispered.

The movement fascinated me. A life formed by God rested inside my friend and under my hand.

“Mike gets the same look on his face you do.”

She ooohed and aaahed over the multitude of baby things—each one cuter than the last. Watching her, I understood Mike a little better. Both of us stood on the sidelines mesmerized by the mystery of life, while Stacie experienced it as only an insider can. With Ben and Mike in my corner, I wasn’t alone in the baby bystander business.

Now I knew the little room at home had a purpose. It would always be a safe place for other people’s babies. A new kind of hope rose in my chest. I looked forward to rocking them, singing to them, and loving them. I was inching toward healing and acceptance.

“This is it! Look!”

I turned to look and found her sitting in an oversized white wicker rocker. She looked at home.

“My Aunt Jenny is making a quilt in bright yellow, green, and white. She also offered to cover the cushion of any rocking chair I found. This is perfect. What do you think?”

“I think it’s the one.”

Stacie purchased two child-sized easels, extra pads of paper, and markers. I bought the rocking chair. It seemed the perfect gift—a place for my friends to rest while they cared for their little one. A gift for all three of them.

Stacie made delivery plans for the purchases, and we hurried on our way. The next stop was my parent’s house.

Mom welcomed us both as daughters. The house smelled of baking, fresh coffee, apple cinnamon potpourri, Odyssey perfume, and Old Spice aftershave.

“I love your hugs, Rose,” Stacie said.

“I love yours too. Now you two get in here and eat some of these homemade cookies.”