Chasing Hope (17 page)

S
abrina thought her Monday afternoon shift would never end. She still felt achy, and tired, and just plain foggy. When five o’clock came at last, she retrieved her backpack and walked from behind the counter just in time to see Koen entering. He smiled when he saw her. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” It hurt to look at him, but there was no reason not to be friendly. She’d always known he was out of her league.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you have been avoiding me today. I do know better, right?” He leaned against the wall, his head tilted to the left.

“Of course. Why would I be avoiding you?”

“No reason that I can think of.” He continued to watch her closely, his expression serious. “But it did seem odd to me that you sat across the room in psych this morning and wouldn’t even glance my way.”

Sabrina adjusted her backpack on her shoulders and noticed a couple enter the snack shop hand in hand, smiling at each other and laughing. They looked so happy. And uncomplicated. She
envied them more than she could say. “I needed to talk to Rosalia about something, so I sat with her.”

“Sabrina, why are you always so closed off? Something’s obviously wrong. When are you going to tell me what it is?”

“What makes you say that?” She turned her attention back to Koen, but didn’t quite look him in the eye.

“You haven’t answered any of my phone calls or responded to any of my texts since Saturday afternoon. I gather things didn’t go so well at the race, but I’m not sure why that would make you mad at me.”

“It wouldn’t, of course, so see, you’re imagining things. What did you do for the rest of the weekend?” She asked the question in the most upbeat and conversational tone she could muster.

He shrugged. “Not much. Hung out with the gang, you know, I invited you to play tennis with us.”

“Which gang was that again?”

“You know, Jared and the group. The usual.”

“Just the usual?”

His eyes narrowed. “What is it that you think you know?”

“The correct question might be, ‘What is it that you think you saw?’”

“All right then, what do you think you saw?”

“I saw—” she paused—“the gang—” another pause for emphasis—“at the tennis courts.”

Koen looked directly at her face. “And it bothers you because Lindy was there?”

Sabrina looked away. “I have no right to be bothered, do I? I mean, it’s not like we agreed that we weren’t going to see other people, right? What you do on your own time is your business.”

“Sabrina, we
played tennis
. Period. There was a whole group of us. If you saw us, you know that.”

“I know that Lindy has had her eye on you for this entire
semester. And from what I saw Saturday night, there might have been a whole group, but I’m not sure Lindy was aware of anyone but you. And you didn’t seem to mind.”

“You’re being unreasonable. Lindy was with Emma, who happens to be dating Eric. I had nothing to do with inviting her to be there—they were just in the group at Jared’s when the decision was made to play tennis. What was I supposed to do, sit at home all weekend because you’re having a bad weekend with your parents in town?”

“Koen, like I said, you’re free to do whatever you want to do. Since it looks like I’m going to be really busy for the rest of the semester, I’m glad that you’ve found someone who has more available time than I do.”

He shook his head. “I give up. Ever since we started seeing each other, it’s almost as if you’ve been looking for an excuse to end it. Well, I can’t fight it anymore. Good luck, Sabrina.” He walked out of the snack shop, still shaking his head from side to side.

Her ribs seemed to contract around her middle and squeezed so tight that it hurt to breathe. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as if she might implode.

This was a good thing, really, to get this over and done with. It had been a lovely dream while it lasted, but one that was certain to end. Now it was back to reality. Back where things made sense, were well controlled and comfortable. A place like . . .

Egypt.

The thought continued to plague her for the entire ride home. When she reached the house, she climbed the stairs and threw herself across the bed. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself a good long, gut-wrenching cry.

T
uesday night, as usual, Sabrina sat in Campus Eats studying. Try as she might to focus on her work, the pain over Koen’s parting created a low hum inside her head that dueled in distraction with the high-pitched voice of guilt about Brandy. The two had grown so loud that she couldn’t even hear her own thoughts. It was useless to try and concentrate.

She rubbed her forehead with both hands. Surely there must be some way to get back on track, to move forward without all this pain and regret. But how?

Tomorrow was a training day—perhaps that was why the guilt weighed so heavy tonight. Still, no one could possibly expect her to keep putting in the same kind of effort as before after last weekend’s debacle.

That was the problem. It wasn’t so much guilt that she wouldn’t be working with Brandy anymore—Brandy had more than brought that on herself. No, it was the unknown of what might happen with her in court because of Sabrina’s decision. Maybe Brandy was getting what she deserved. But her poor grandmother,
well . . . Sabrina couldn’t stand the thought of putting Maudie Jenkins through more pain than she’d already endured. She could still picture the deep worry lines across her forehead and the dark circles beneath her eyes on that day when Brandy had gone missing.

The day that Brandy had waited outside her mother’s broken-down house to make certain she got some food.

What could Sabrina do, though? She really didn’t have the time to do this anymore, even if she wanted to—and she certainly didn’t want to. Still, the nagging guilt would not relent.

An idea cut through the fog. A “next step” in Brandy’s development, she would call it. She would write up an email now, for reporting purposes. She would declare this an experiment so it didn’t sound like the permanent arrangement it really was. She could use phrases like “to help Brandy prepare for independent success” and “learning exercise in self-motivation.” Yes. That’s what she could do.

She spent the next hour writing it out as concisely and clearly as possible, then emailed it to Brandy, Mrs. Jenkins, and Mrs. Lauderdale, hoping the legal system would buy off on it. She knew the judge had been a bit of a stickler in the past, but even if Mrs. Lauderdale decided to put up a fight, in all likelihood, juvenile court was so overwhelmed and backlogged, it might be a while before she could do much about it. Especially since Sabrina had been so meticulous about filling out the necessary paper work since this all started.

Finally, she was able to return to her schoolwork, with that persistent voice of guilt quieted. At least slightly.

S
abrina jerked awake knowing that she was going to be late for class. Why hadn’t her alarm gone off? She looked at the clock, her heart pounding.

Four thirty.

Thank goodness. It must have been a dream, or just a random jolt of adrenaline. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t real. A long deep breath and slow exhale served to ease some of the tension. She double-checked that the alarm was indeed set for six thirty and turned to the “on” position, then fell back against her pillows. Two more hours of blessed sleep. She rolled over and pulled the cover up tight against her chin.

Her bed was so warm and soft and comfy. Soon she felt herself floating in the haze of a peaceful breeze.

And then she was running.

Feet pounding against the pavement as she moved up a steep hill. She could hear her coach’s voice yelling down toward her, “Surge. Surge.” She paid attention to the lift of her knees, the straight pump of her arms, and the position of her head.
Form matters
most when you’re tired. Concentrate. Now’s when champions are made.
She repeated those words over and over in her head as she made her way to the top of the hill, which she couldn’t quite see because it was covered in fog. Still, she pushed to the end, knowing as she reached the top that she’d given it everything she had.

As she broke through the fog layer, she looked toward her coach, hoping for confirmation that she’d done well, already smiling because she was certain that she had. And then she saw her coach’s face and stopped running.

The woman she saw . . . was herself.

Sabrina the coach was smiling and clapping, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was cheering for herself. “I’m so proud of you. You gave it everything you had. Way to stick with it.”

Sabrina jerked awake. The dream had been so vivid, so real, that she couldn’t shake it. She kept seeing her face, hearing her voice of encouragement, and remembering how much her real coach’s words had meant to her as a runner.

She stared at the ceiling, which was little more than a gray presence in the predawn. The dream may have been gone, but all sorts of emotions still surged within her—hope, confusion, and anger. Sabrina flipped over, buried her head in her pillow, and screamed.

Why was this happening to her? Even as she asked the question she already knew its answer. She was supposed to be helping Brandy now. She felt it as strongly and with as much certainty as she’d ever felt anything. Yet just the thought of putting herself back into it, knowing how much of a risk it was, how foolish she’d look, felt impossible. Every time she had a dream, a calling—or at least the belief that it was a calling—she was eventually made to realize that she’d been wrong about the whole thing and ultimately embarrassed by the disastrous results.

She shook her head and stared at the ceiling.
God, why don’t I
ever hear you correctly? I always try to follow in faith, and things always fall apart. What am I doing wrong?

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to go back and fully remember. The dream of running, the years and years of hard work, the constant striving to be better and do better because of the call. She remembered the girl she had been back then. Full of absolute and unwavering faith. So convinced of her call and the strength of her God that she’d never questioned any of it. That strength of faith had long since disappeared behind a cloud of reality.

Really? Was it a cloud of reality or was it the difficulties of the wilderness that turned your heart back toward Egypt?

Sabrina shook her head as she tried to shake off the thought that had surfaced, unsolicited and unwanted. She was not turning away from God’s call on her life; she’d simply realized that she’d misunderstood the call.

Really?

Is that what it was?

The thought dug deep into places that Sabrina did not want to visit. This was crazy, because she knew that the voice was wrong, anyway. She looked toward the clock.

Five fifteen.

Brandy probably wasn’t even out there. Without someone there to hold her accountable, she would blow the whole thing off.

Still, in spite of what she believed, Sabrina pulled on a pair of sweats and headed for the door, having no idea what she would find—or what she would do in any case.

Brandy rounded the corner for another lap, but her feet and legs were in full rebellion. Heavy. Tired. Not like the other time
when Sabrina had told her to take it easy. No, this was a full body, no energy, emotional drain kind of exhaustion. Why was she here, anyway? It’s not like anyone would know the difference, or even care.

She wouldn’t allow herself to stop yet, but the consideration was gaining ground. It’s not like it mattered anymore.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sabrina’s voice came from the general direction of the front porch.

Brandy turned and jogged back toward it. “What are you doing out here?”

“Watching a slacker, apparently.” Sabrina walked across the lawn and sat on her usual spot on the retaining wall. “Hopefully, this next lap will prove me wrong.”

Brandy jogged directly up in front of Sabrina. “Listen, I want to say—” she took a couple of deep breaths—“about the other day—”

“Say it after your workout. Right now, I want to see some effort.”

“But I—”

“I came out to watch you run. Get moving.” Sabrina’s tone was as gruff as Brandy had ever heard. Apparently this was not going to be a quick makeup scene.

Brandy made for the far corner, moving faster than she had been just a few minutes ago. Hopefully Sabrina noticed. If Sabrina was outside, it meant she had changed her mind and was going to keep training her. Right? Or maybe she had gone back into the house by now and that was the end of it. Who knew?

Wanting to know the answer to that question pushed her to move a little faster than usual around the block. She turned the final corner, her eyes straining to see the retaining wall. A dark silhouette sat framed in the streetlight. She was still there. Brandy ran a little faster but moved past Sabrina without daring to look at her.

Three laps later, she finally chanced a glance toward Sabrina. She had her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs, apparently trying to keep warm. She seemed to be staring at the house across the street, giving no indication that she even knew Brandy was passing her.

By the end of the workout, Brandy had crafted a nice long apology. She’d thought out each word carefully, prepared to do what she could to defuse the situation. She rounded the corner from her cooldown lap to find the wall empty. Sabrina had gone inside.

Conversation over.

Friday morning, Sabrina’s alarm sounded at four forty-five. Although she hadn’t spoken with Brandy since Wednesday, she’d planned to at least go sit outside again today. This morning, however, she just couldn’t do it. She turned off the alarm and rolled over. It required too much energy to get out of bed. Maybe it would do Brandy some good to work alone.

Several hours later, when she finally did get up, it took about ten minutes before the guilt set in. That little inner voice kept saying that she should have gotten up. A second voice was quick to respond that she had not committed to anyone that she would return to training and was under no compulsion to do so.

It was a cop-out and she knew it. She needed to make a decision and stick with it. Even when times got hard.

That was something she would think about later. When she was more awake and had time. For now, she needed to hurry and get ready for class. And she had another doctor’s appointment this afternoon. These were things she needed to think about now.

Later that day, she sat in the waiting room of the school clinic. Again. This was her third visit in the past week and a half. Hopefully they would find the right antibiotic this time and get this nose thing cleared up. Her entire nose was puffy now, with red crusty scabs covering most of the left side. It was disgusting.

It was bad enough to watch Lindy Stewart in all her glory prancing around after Koen without having to look like a freak in the meantime. Sabrina was almost certain she’d heard her snickering behind her just this morning outside of psych class. To Koen’s credit, he didn’t seem to be giving Lindy anything more than polite attention, and he always smiled and said hello to Sabrina. Maybe she had been too quick to judge him. If only . . .

“Sabrina, come on back.”

Sabrina followed the aide back through the doors, had her weight and blood pressure taken, and then walked through the back into an exam room. She sat on the paper-sheeted exam table and wished the doctor would hurry up.

A scuffling sound came from the back side of the door. After so many trips here, Sabrina knew what that sound meant. The doctor had picked up her chart from the shelf outside. At least she wouldn’t have to wait long to be seen today.

The doctor of the day was young, maybe thirty or so, and pretty. She had shoulder-length brown hair, deep hazel eyes that seemed to light up her entire face, and a spring in her step—which was amazing considering the fact that she appeared to be about eight months pregnant. She stuck out her hand. “Hello, Sabrina, I’m Dr. Strohm.”

Sabrina shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Dr. Strohm wasted no more time on niceties. Instead, she immediately leaned forward, squinted her eyes, and began to check out Sabrina’s nose. “Tell me again what it is you’re taking for your arthritis?”

“Naproxen, methotrexate, leucovorin, and adalimumab are the medications specific for my arthritis, plus there are a few others I take to manage the side effects of those.”

“I see.” She nodded. “And we’ve had you on three different antibiotic ointments, plus an oral cephalasporin and a sulfa antibiotic with no improvement. Right?”

“Right.”

“I’m concerned that you have a resistant staph infection. I’m going to put in a call to your rheumatologist to discuss this, then I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Sabrina picked up a magazine from the basket in the room. Apparently Costa Rica would be a nice place to spend a vacation. She flipped through page after page of beach photos and rain forest, paying very little attention to any of it.

Her phone vibrated in the side pocket of her purse, so she picked it up.
New email
flashed on the screen. She clicked the icon.

Sabrina,

Under no circumstances does this so-called “independent study” plan in any way fit the court-appointed mandate for Brandy’s scheduled training. I need immediate confirmation that you will return to the schedule already agreed upon or I will be forced to take further action. Your prompt reply is expected.

Nancy Lauderdale

Sabrina rolled her eyes. That woman was wound way too tight. Truth was, Sabrina had indeed been present at Wednesday’s session, so other than Friday, things had gone more or less according to plan. Since the paper work wasn’t due until Monday, she saw no reason to send “immediate” confirmation. Let Mrs. Lauderdale stew for the weekend—maybe it would do her some good.

The door opened. “Your rheumatologist and I are in complete agreement as to the next course of your treatment. We’re putting all of your arthritis meds on hold. We don’t want anything to suppress your immune system right now. And, while there is another oral antibiotic we could try, given the fact that your immune system is already suppressed due to what you’ve been taking, I’m making the call to hospitalize you for a couple of days so you can get some IV antibiotics.”