Chapter 23

The sense of God’s nearness hovered over Emma throughout the next day, and she couldn’t believe how much better her work day went. She felt like she’d had ten hours of sleep instead of six.

“What’re you so happy about?” Melissa asked when she caught Emma staring into space and grinning.

Although she had no idea of her partner’s religious views, she couldn’t repress the answer that rolled off her tongue. “God loves me.”

Melissa narrowed her eyes and stared hard at her. “Whatever makes you happy. I just hope God helps you finish those 941s. You know they’re due tomorrow .”

Emma rolled her eyes. How long would it take to live down her mistake with the Anderson payroll? “I’ll get it done.”

But it was hard to concentrate on payroll taxes when she felt such anticipation, and such confusion. How had Rachel’s first glimmer of faith grown?

***

That afternoon, Andrew completed all his homework in a record 20 minutes, and Emma agreed to let him go skateboarding with his friend Sam. It was his first outing since the grounding.

He grabbed her in a bear hug. “Thanks, Mom!”

Halfway out the front door, he called, “What’s for dinner?”

She smiled. How could he be thinking about food just after finishing off last night’s lasagna? “I’ll figure out something,” she hollered as the door slammed behind him.

After a quick inventory she settled on frozen fish sticks and fries, a treat Andrew would normally enjoy only when his father was in charge of the menu. She didn’t want to waste time cooking today. A little cholesterol now and then wouldn’t kill us, she reasoned as she sorted through the pile of Rachel’s journals in her night stand drawer.

She found the entry she was looking for in the previous journal, a purple embossed leather one. She cried again over the account of Rachel’s second miscarriage, and the conversation with her friend Erin afterward.

Thursday 1/15/98 PM…She said she was praying that God would redeem my life from the pit and crown me with love and compassion…. “God loves you, Rachel. He loves you just as you are. He wants to remove your sins as far as the east is from the west.”

A peculiar pain constricted Emma’s chest. A mixture of hope and longing contended with the fear that her life was too far gone to be redeemed. She turned the page to see what Rachel had done next. When she saw that she had called Aunt Karen, her shoulders slumped. Emma couldn’t call Karen. She knew her aunt meant well, but just talking to that woman drained the life out of her.

She closed the journal and opened the Bible. She read all of Psalm 103 and Psalm 139, and then read them again. Hopeful, but still confused about the next step, she picked up the journal she’d been reading recently.

Wednesday 9/22/99At Bible study, we’ve been studying Romans 12, which says, “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.” That love isn’t just for those who love us, but also for our enemies: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.”

Last night Elizabeth challenged us to ask God who He’s calling us to love. “I don’t mean someone who will love you back,” she said, “but someone who is difficult to love. Who does God want you to reach out to?”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment. Who was Rachel’s enemy? Herself?

When I closed my eyes to pray, I thought, “Who is my enemy? I don’t have any enemies.” But then Ana Hernandez came to my mind. Ana, who makes sixth period miserable nearly every day, who does everything she can to turn the class against me.

“Oh, not Ana, Lord,” I whispered. But her image persisted in my mind while Elizabeth handed out some red markers.

“I want you to write down the name of the person God showed you on your palm,” she said. “Each time you see that name, I want you to remember how God said he has engraved us on the palms of his hands, how He will never stop loving us.”

I felt so inspired by Elizabeth’s words, but as soon as I got out of the building I was assailed by doubts. How can I possibly love Ana? We can hardly stand each other.

God, if this is what you want, I’ll try to love her. But you’ll have to help me.

Once Emma got past her relief that she hadn’t been the enemy who’d come to Rachel’s mind, she searched her memory. Wasn’t Ana the girl who spoke at the funeral?

Now she could find out how Rachel had made such an impact on the articulate young woman.

Andrew’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Mom, where are you?”

“Be right down.” She reluctantly set the journal on the nightstand. It was already 6:00, past time to make the fish sticks.

***

The phone trembled in Emma’s hand when she heard Joe’s voice. She fought to keep her own voice from trembling. “Thank God I finally caught you.”

“You’ve only called once.”

Twice. Emma bit back her response; putting Joe on the defensive would solve nothing. “I know these trips keep you busy.”

His tone softened. “Yes, and this one has been really crazy. So what’s going on?”

“It’s Andrew. Last week I got a call from his English teacher, and then today I got an automated email. He’s failing three classes.”

She repeated Ms. Appleton’s account of his sullen attitude in class.

“I hope you grounded him,” Joe said after a long silence.

“Yes, I kept him home all weekend, and I even disconnected his satellite TV and Xbox.”

Joe whistled. “That must’ve about killed him.”

“It would have killed me, if he’d had his way. I thought I’d made an impression on him because he was doing all his homework this week. But apparently he didn’t bother to turn it in. And he didn’t even finish his science test. I’m at a loss, Joe.”

She started to ask if he was still on the line, but pressed her lips together.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Joe said at last. “We’ve never dealt with anything like this.”

“Ms. Appleton asked if he was having problems at home. I didn’t mention our… situation. But I have to think things might be better if you’d–”

“Don’t pressure me, Emma.” She could hear the weariness behind his frustration. “Please, give me some time.”

“I just don’t know what else to do.” A sob caught her breath.

Joe sighed. “Hang in there. I’ll be back on Saturday. I’ll take him to dinner and have a talk with him.”

“Dinner?” she repeated, sniffling. “Aren’t you taking him for the week?”

“Of course.”

“Oh,” she said, crushed by his casual words.

“Well, I really need to…”

“Of course. I know you’re busy. Goodbye, Joe.”

She groaned and hid her face in her hands. “That wasn’t any help. I don’t know what to do, God. What does Andrew need?”

Listen to him.

Emma’s eyes flew open. Had God just answered her?

“Andrew!” she called.

He shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of tortilla chips from a bag in the pantry. “What, Mom?”

“Let’s go for a walk to the park.”

He studied her with raised eyebrows while he chewed and swallowed. “Now?”

She nodded.

“Can I bring my skateboard?”

“Sure.”

“Can I invite Sam?”

“No, I want it to be just the two of us.” She held her breath as she awaited his response.

He shrugged. “Cool.”

***

Two more days passed before Emma could get back to Rachel’s journal. She stacked her pillow on top of Joe’s and stuffed both between her back and the headboard, holding the journal against her bent knees.

Thursday 9/23/99Well, that didn’t take long. I totally blew it after one day. I prayed with Erin during my planning period, that God would show me how to share His love with Ana.

Fifteen minutes later, she had me so furious I could barely focus on teaching sentence fragments. She made a big production of waltzing in late and then she immediately launched into a conversation with Dominique. When I headed their direction, they both rolled their eyes at me.

I took a deep breath and held it, glancing down at Ana’s smudged, red name in my sweaty palm. I said nothing, just stood right next to her and gave a little smile. She smiled brightly and said in a syrupy sweet voice, “Is there something you need, Miss?” (I hate when they call me Miss!)

All 32 kids laughed, though I didn’t think she was all that clever. My heart was pounding, and heat flooded my face.

“What I need,” I hissed, “is for you to stop your conversation and pay attention.”

“In a minute,” she said, and then she turned her back on me and picked up where she’d left off.

Of course I assigned detention, and of course she said I couldn’t make her come. But I dispatched a note to Mr. Adams, who dragged her down to my room after 7th period.

“I have to go!” she cried, with genuine fear in her eyes. “My mom will worry.”

“I already called her,” I said smugly. “She said to keep you as long as I see fit.”

She slumped into a desk on the front row and laid her head on her folded arms. She didn’t even ask how long I was going to keep her.
I kept her an hour, twice the usual time. I think it was harder on me than on her. I tried to finish grading the Lord of the Flies essays, but I couldn’t concentrate on the words with all that hatred emanating from Ana.

God, I know you said you wouldn’t put more on us than we can bear, but this is too hard for me! Wednesday 9/29/99Today was Ana’s third detention in four days. This time she called me a bitch, but only under her breath. I should have sent her to the office, but I didn’t want to stack up yet another referral.

At least she came on her own today. About halfway through her time, she lifted up her head and sat with her chin in her hand.

Keeping my voice casual, I asked her if she’d mind helping me clean the desks. She shrugged and took the spray bottle that I held out to her.

When we’d finished, I looked her in the eye and said, “Thank you, Ana. I appreciate your help.” She flushed and shrugged again.

When I sat down to grade some quizzes, she said, “Can I help you grade papers, Miss?”

“Sure.” I pulled another chair up to my desk. Funny, the “Miss” didn’t grate on my nerves that time.

We sat close together, our heads bent over the answer key between us. We finished all 183 quizzes—four kids were absent today—in record time. Ana laughed (!) when she realized she’d stayed an extra six minutes. But then she frowned as she gathered up her things.

“Gotta go, Miss!” she called as she tore off down the hall. I hope she didn’t get in trouble for being late.

Such a small thing, cleaning desks and grading papers. But it feels like a breakthrough.
 Thursday 9/30/99As kind as Ana was in detention yesterday, she was doubly rude in class. I don’t get it. I thought we were making progress.

I can’t do this, God! I can’t reach her.

But you can. Help me see Ana as you see her, Father. Love her through me.

Emma yawned and stretched and then slid down the headboard onto her back. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one who struggled with a sullen middle schooler. If only she could talk over Andrew’s problems with Rachel.

She wondered how Joe was doing with Andrew, and how the dinner had gone. Although she missed him terribly, she had to admit—with a twinge of guilt—that it was a relief to get a break from his moods.

“Help me see him as you see him, Lord. Show me how to love him better,” she whispered just before she drifted into sleep.

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