Stand by Me (14 page)

This time the phone picked up on the second ring. “Candy residence.”

Kat pushed the Speaker button and frantically waved Brygitta over. “Mrs. Candy? This is Kat Davies at Crista University, returning your call. About subleasing your apartment?” Grinning, Brygitta bounced over to Kat's bed and they put their heads together—short pixie cut to wavy waterfall—listening.

“Oh yes. Our neighbor upstairs, Peter Douglass, told us you and some other graduate students might be interested in subleasing for the summer. That might work out for us, as we're going to Costa Rica for a few months and don't really want to leave our condo empty for that long. A business venture, very exciting, we . . .”

Kat rolled her eyes at Brygitta as the woman kept talking.
Costa Rica. Very nice. Lucky you. But we don't care where you're
going, lady, just tell us about the apartment!

As the woman finally took a breath, Kat jumped in. “Can you tell us what you're asking?”

“A thousand ten per month. Worth every penny—”

Brygitta nearly fell off the bed.
“A thousand TEN?”
she mouthed at Kat.

“—the apartment is completely furnished, of course,” Mrs. Candy went on. “Two bedrooms plus a study with a fold-out futon, utilities included, quiet street. Parking is crowded but, well, that's living in the city, right? Uh, how many did you say would live here?”

“Uh, at least three, hopefully four. Three women, one man. We're all students here at CCU. We can provide references if you'd like. We also attend the same church as your neighbors, the Douglasses.”

Brygitta hit her on the shoulder. “Shameless name dropping, you hussy,” she whisper-hissed.

“Ah, well, that's good. We're not church people ourselves, but we don't want any loud parties or drugs or drinking or anything like that.”

Kat stifled a laugh. “No, no, you don't have to worry. We're all very responsible. In fact, Nick Taylor is in seminary, studying to be a pastor.”

Brygitta bounced off the bed and hopped around the room, mimicking Kat silently.
“Nick is in seminary, studying to be a
PASTOR!
”

Kat waved her down, trying not to laugh. “Um, would it be possible for us to see the apartment? That way you could meet us, and we could talk about the available dates and expectations.” Kat thought fast. “Would you be available Sunday afternoon? We'll be in the neighborhood for church in the morning and could come over if that would work for you.”

She grabbed a pen and scribbled as Louise Candy gave her the address. “Thank you very much. See you at one o'clock on Sunday. I'm sure we can find it.”

Kat punched the End button on her phone and screeched. “Eeee! Brygitta! I think this is going to work out! Can you believe it? Falling into our lap like this? I gotta call Nick and Livie!”

“Yeah, but . . . a thousand
ten
a month? That's outrageous.”

“Not if we divide it four ways. That's only two-fifty and some change each. We pay more than that here.”

“Yeah, but—”

Kat shoved the paper at Brygitta. “Hey, can you Google this address and find where it is in relation to SouledOut while I call the others? Hopefully we can walk there.”

Brygitta took the paper. “Uh, Kat? You just wrote the address on your take-home exam. With a ballpoint pen.”

Chapter 13

A
vis dragged herself home late that evening. Even though they'd acted quickly, returning all students to their classrooms and keeping them there until security had had a chance to sweep the school, news of the pistol on the playground had spread like poison ivy at summer camp. So not only did she have to meet with the police and the boy's mother—a single mom who lived with her brother—but she also had to field calls from frantic parents until almost seven o'clock. As it turned out, the handgun belonged to the boy's uncle and had never been used, but since handguns were illegal within Chicago city limits, the gun had been confiscated and the uncle had been given a citation to appear in court. The charge: possession of an illegal weapon and endangering a child.

Peter was sympathetic. He even picked up the phone and ordered takeout from Jamaican Jerk, a tiny restaurant on Howard Street popular with the locals, so she didn't have to cook. “Guess now's not a good time to talk about Nony's invitation,” he admitted. She rolled her eyes at him and locked herself in the bathroom, drawing a deep bubble bath and soaking in it for half an hour, letting the hot water draw the tension out of her muscles.

When she finally reappeared swathed in a comfy caftan and a head wrap, the food had arrived and she realized she was famished. Diving into the oxtail and beans, jerk chicken wings, and sweet potato fries, she felt energy seep back into her bones. Finally, leaning back in her chair and sucking on a chicken-wing bone, she relented. “It's all right, Peter. We can talk about Nony's invitation.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if not quite sure she was serious.

“Actually, as I was praying at school today, I realized your idea of talking to the pastors is a good thing—you know, get their thoughts and prayers to help us decide what's the right thing to do.” She picked up another sweet potato fry and tried to read his expression. “Or . . . were you thinking we would make a decision and then kind of just announce it to them?”

He made a face. “Well, I wouldn't have said it quite that crassly. But I was hoping we would come to some agreement on a direction and present it to them for their wisdom and counsel.”

She toyed with another sweet potato fry. “I can see that. It's just . . . I don't know how to think about the future with so many things hanging fire. We don't know for sure whether Bethune will be closed next year or not. And we still haven't heard from Rochelle.” Her composure broke a little. “I'm . . . I'm really worried about Conny, Peter. Whatever's going on with Rochelle can't be good for him.”

“I know. I'm worried about Conny too.” Peter laid down his fork and stared at his plate for a long minute. Then he sighed. “I need to be honest with you, Avis. Things aren't going that well at Software Symphony. With the economy the way it is, people aren't buying upgrades for their computers or investing in new applications. Sales have slowed way down, and we're barely breaking even. I may need to lay off some of my employees soon if things don't turn around. Which makes Griffin's offer to buy me out seem like a godsend.”

“Oh, Peter.” How had she missed the worry lines around his eyes?

“To tell you the truth, I'm inclined to pick up the phone and tell Griffin I'll accept his offer before he changes his mind. Because I don't think the economy is ever going to fully recover.”

By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, Avis didn't feel much like going out again to Bible study. Repercussions from the pistol incident—suspending the student for two weeks, calling a special meeting for concerned parents Tuesday evening, making a full report to the school board—had taken up most of the last three days. And now she was getting pressure from some of the teachers and staff to install a metal detector at the doors of the school. Something she absolutely did
not
want to do. This was an elementary school, for heaven's sake!

But she and Peter had asked to meet with the pastors after Bible study, so she grabbed a quick bite at home and then drove her Camry to the Howard Street shopping center, since Peter was coming straight from work. Rolling the windows down, she realized that May temperatures had moved into the seventies that day for the first time, and she'd basically missed it.

Attendance at midweek Bible study was small compared to Sunday morning—mostly singles and couples without children since it was a school night. She gave a quick glance at the people filling the circle of chairs. Two were Yada Yada sisters: Estelle Bentley and her husband, Harry—another couple who'd gotten married in their fifties—and Jodi Baxter. The Meeks, Fairbanks, and several others were also there. Pastor Clark was already seated, talking earnestly with Harry Bentley. She noticed that the thin, lanky pastor did look paler than usual.

No Peter yet.

Estelle—a good-sized black woman but well proportioned—wrapped Avis in a big hug. “Sister Avis, are you all right? Sister Jodi told me what happened at school this week. Lord, have mercy! Do you need Harry to patrol the hallways? He does security, you know.”

Avis smiled wearily. “Thanks, Estelle. We want to dial down the hysteria, not pump it up. But thanks for offering your man. I'm sure he doesn't need more to do.”

Estelle raised her eyes heavenward. “
I
need him to have more to do. Can't stand to have a man under my feet all day. Thank God for that security job he's got part-time.”

Chuckling, Avis chose a seat. It wasn't as if Estelle was home all day herself. The woman still worked part-time as a cook at the Manna House Women's Shelter in the Wrigleyville neighborhood, where several SouledOut members were either on the board, on staff, or volunteered.

Jodi plonked herself in the seat next to her. “Surprised to see you here after all that's gone down at school this week. You okay?”

Avis just squeezed Jodi's hand and nodded. As much as she loved her friend and third-grade teacher, she just didn't feel like talking any more about the drama at school. “Where's Denny?”

“Oh, you know. Boys' wrestling match tonight at West Rogers High. Says the athletic director should be there for the boys. Ha. I know Denny. He can't stand to
not
be at a game or match or what have you.”

Peter slid into the seat on the other side of her just as Pastor Clark announced the topic for that evening would be “Our Identity in Christ.”

“Sorry I'm late,” Peter whispered. “Phone kept ringing up to the last minute.”

She squeezed his hand. “We just started. But better shut off your cell phone.”

The study was a good one, though Avis felt her identity as a child of God wasn't an area where she struggled. But she could tell that Gabby and Philip Fairbanks, who were working to repair their marriage, were listening intently and looking up every scripture. Well, praise God. If they kept Jesus at the center of their relationship, they might make it.
“A cord of three
strands is not easily broken . .
.” Maybe she'd share that verse from Ecclesiastes with Gabby to encourage her.

As soon as the study was over, Avis and Peter followed Pastor Clark back to the pastors' office. Joe Cobbs had been preparing for his Sunday sermon during the Bible study, but he jumped to his feet and welcomed them when they knocked on the door. As they settled into the chairs he offered, Pastor Cobbs raised his eyebrows at them. “So what's this about? You guys finally deciding to get married?”

That got a laugh. He knew good and well Pastor Clark had married them at Uptown a few months before the two churches had merged.

“I think it took the first time.” Peter grinned, but Avis could tell he was nervous by the way he leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his thighs, rubbing his hands together. “We want to talk to both of you about some decisions we need to make, but—”

“It's complicated,” Avis said, then wished she could take it back.
Good grief
. She knew better than to finish her husband's sentences.

But Peter just said, “Honey, do you have that invitation from the Sisulu-Smiths? Why don't you read it for the pastors.”

Avis pulled the envelope with the South African postmark out of her purse and read the note from Nonyameko. Both pastors knew the Sisulu-Smiths, who had been members of Pastor Cobbs's church before the two churches merged, and then members of SouledOut. They had stayed close to the couple when the tragic beating had almost taken Mark's life, and their move a year later to South Africa had been a loss for the whole church.

“Wow.” Pastor Cobbs shook his head when Avis had finished reading the letter. “That's an amazing invitation from Nony and Mark. Are you two seriously considering going to South Africa? I'm jealous.”

“Well . . .” Peter glanced at Avis. “There's more.” She listened as her husband admitted the restlessness he'd been feeling, realizing the two of them had some good years left and maybe they should choose how to spend them, rather than just drift along the same old paths. He noted the falling sales at Software Symphony, and then the amazing offer of a buyout. And finally, the confidential notice Avis had received from the school board about possible school closures, including Bethune Elementary—right after getting this invitation.