Stand by Me (42 page)

Avis was aware that Olivia gradually stopped shaking, and her sobs quieted. When she finally said, “Amen,” the young woman gave her a teary smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But . . . I don't think I can go back to that job. I—I want to go home. I miss my sister . . . I sh-shouldn't have left her alone this summer . . .” The sobs threatened to start up again.

“Shh, shh, it's going to be all right,” Brygitta said, rocking her gently.

Nick beckoned to Avis and Peter. Kathryn followed them into the kitchen. “I can take her home,” the young man said in a low voice. “I actually think it's a good idea. Livie wasn't all that sure about staying here this summer anyway. Too bad about the nanny job, but . . . we need to do what's best for Livie. Her younger sister's staying with an aunt and uncle in Madison, Wisconsin. It's not that far. I'll check out bus or train schedules, and the three of us can chip in on a ticket—”

“Nonsense,” Peter said. “Take one of our cars. Madison's only three hours or so from here, you can go and be back in the same day. We'll manage.”

Nick's mouth dropped open. “Oh, Mr. Douglass! That would be awesome, but . . . are you sure? I didn't think about driving. Maybe we could rent a car—”

“No need. It's done.” Peter reached out, putting a hand on Nick's shoulder. “Just let me know when the two of you are ready to go and we'll get the car keys to you.”

“Whoa.” Nick shook his head. “I can't believe it, but . . . thank you.”

Avis had kept her mouth shut, even though she was more than a little surprised that Peter—her Peter, who rarely let
her
drive his Lexus—would offer one of their cars to this young man, whom they barely knew. He probably meant her Toyota, but she couldn't help an inner smile. If Peter was being generous, she knew better than to squelch it.

“It's my fault, you know.”

Avis had almost forgotten Kathryn, but the young woman stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at the floor.

“Oh, come on, Kat, it's not your—”

“Yes, it is, Nick!” Kathryn's head snapped up and her blue eyes flashed, a vivid contrast to the dark hair bunched on the back of her head with a clip. “I never should've pushed Livie to stay with us in Chicago. I thought the fact that her mom has this creepy boyfriend and her kid sister told Livie she was getting out of there was God saying she should come with us! But . . . we all knew Livie was anxious about living in the city, and we never did talk about whether she should've gone to her aunt's to be with her sister. The kid's still in high school, for crying out loud.”

“I know, Kat, but—”

But Kathryn was shaking her head. “I don't know. I don't know. Everything's just . . . wrong.” With that, she ran out of the kitchen.

Nick looked at Avis and Peter apologetically. “Sorry. Guess we're all a little shaken. I better go talk to her.” He started after Kathryn.

Avis held up her hand to stop him. “You might wait a little while, Nick. If the Holy Spirit is trying to say something to Kathryn, don't get in the way. She is a bit impetuous, you know. Maybe she needs some time to think . . . and pray.”

Nick hesitated. “Yeah. Guess you're right.” He followed them to the door. “Thanks again.”

Peter seemed pensive the rest of the evening. Avis made a quick soup with some leftover chicken, adding chicken broth, rice, lime leaves, coconut milk, and red pepper flakes to spice it up, and served it up on the back porch to enjoy the mild evening. Both were quiet as they ate, Avis mulling over the mystery of the earrings. If Peter hadn't bought her a new pair, then these had to be the ones Rochelle had taken—which now seemed the case. But the only reason Rochelle would have taken—stolen—them was because she was desperate for money. And yet . . . she'd returned them. But how? Avis knew Rochelle didn't have a key to their apartment. No one else did either—well, the Baxters had a spare, in case theirs got lost or stolen. But Jodi wouldn't give it out. Would she?

“Avis?”

Peter's voice interrupted her musings. She looked up from her soup. He'd barely touched his.

“I've been thinking about Nick. I'm going to offer him a part-time job at Software Symphony for the summer.”

“You said that a week ago.”

“I know. Have to admit Wednesday night's meeting knocked it off the radar for a couple of days. But we crunched numbers today, think we can do it.”

Avis nodded. “That's good.”

“But that's not all. He's young and inexperienced, but I see the way he's concerned about those girls, takes the initiative to take care of things. Yes, they're all friends, but it's more than that. He's got a pastor's heart. And I've been thinking . . .”

Chapter 39

T
he clock said eight thirty and she had to be at Bethune Elementary by nine, but Kat hated to leave. She'd wanted to see Livie off, but the girl wasn't completely packed yet, even though she'd had all day yesterday. Brygitta had already left for the coffee shop, doing the Wednesday morning shift, with Kat picking up the afternoon shift.

“Come here, you,” she said, pulling the younger girl into a hug, still mindful of Livie's bruises. Fresh tears threatened as they embraced. Kat had to fish for a tissue. “I'm going to miss you, but going to Madison is good. Elin will love having her big sis with her.”

Olivia nodded. “Yeah. But I'm sorry, Kat. Sorry I'm messing everything up for you guys. You know, not being here to pay my share of the rent and stuff—”

“Hey, we'll manage. It's just for the summer anyway. And I shouldn't have pushed you so hard to come in with us.” Kat had rehearsed what she wanted to say, but it was hard getting the words out. “That was selfish of me. Not really thinking about what was best for you. Will you forgive me?”

“Oh, Kat!” Olivia threw her arms around Kat again and hugged her tight. “Of course. And . . . maybe Elin and I will come down some weekend to visit, okay? Maybe ride those Segways or something!”

Kat laughed. “Now that's daring!” Another glance at the clock. “Gotta go. Wish I could go with you two, but . . . Nick! Where are you? I gotta go and want to say good-bye!”

“He's outside checking the car. Go on. I'll call when I get there.”

Grabbing her backpack, Kat hurried down the stairs and out the door. Sure enough, Nick was leaning in the open driver's side door of Mrs. Douglass's Toyota Camry, checking out all the features. “Hey,” she said, coming up beside him. “Wish I could go with you. But I gotta do my tutoring thing.”

Nick straightened and turned to her, wire rim sunglasses perched on top of his head. “Wish you could too. Would love the company on the way back.” A slight pause hung in the air. “Especially your company.”

She expected a teasing grin, but his hazel eyes held hers, as if he was serious.

“Yeah, well . . . see you tonight. Be safe.” On impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Then quickly walked away.

Kat's face burned. She could still feel his cheek, a bit whiskery, on her lips. The smell of his aftershave. What did she do that for? She wasn't sure, except . . . she wanted Nick to know she cared about him, wanted him to come back safe.

Kat felt a little more comfortable her second day of tutoring. She had two boys and one girl in her math tutoring group. Yusufu Balozi was from Uganda, very polite, and spoke English with an enchanting accent. Towheaded Kevin Green never seemed to understand her instructions the first time, so she found herself repeating things a lot. Cute Latoya Sims had her hair done in two dozen tiny braids with tiny beads at the ends—that must've taken somebody a long time! But all three had one thing in common: they hated long division. She'd have to think of ways to make it fun.

But that afternoon, as she served up lattes and scones, chai tea and muffins at The Common Cup, Kat wasn't thinking about long division. Her heart was already feeling Livie's absence in their second-floor apartment, and her mind was frantically searching for what she was going to say to Rochelle when—if—she met up with Mrs. Douglass's daughter later that day.

And suddenly, right in the middle of putting together an arugula salad with dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, golden raisins, walnuts, feta cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette, the two trains of thought came together with the speed of the Metra Express during rush hour. She stopped right in the middle of tossing homemade croutons into the salad.

Livie had just left. They now had an empty bedroom—well, the study, but it had a foldout futon.

Most likely Rochelle didn't have a place to stay.
What if .
. .

Kat moved through the rest of her shift in a heady fog. The idea was absolutely crazy. Or brilliant. Or both. So crazy, so brilliant, it had to be God.

And it sure would have to be God's idea if it was ever going to work.

Buying a carrot-raisin muffin to tide her over until she got back to the apartment for supper, Kat headed straight for the El station after work and took the Red Line to the Berwyn El stop. The usual Wednesday evening produce trucks were parked next to the loading docks of the Dominick's grocery store, but this time Kat simply waited, leaning against the store's brick wall.

Thirty minutes went by . . . then an hour. And still no Rochelle.

But she told me to meet her here this week!
Kat slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the ground, and she laid her arms and head on her knees.
Jesus, I'm not a very good pray-er,
but if this idea is from You, please help Rochelle to show up. And give
me the courage to—

“Hey. You okay?”

Kat snapped her head up. “Rochelle! You came!” She scrambled to her feet.

“Told you to meet me here, didn't I?” The young woman's hair seemed even wilder than last time, a dark mass of tangled ringlets and waves. Her face seemed thinner, pinched, as if she had lost weight. “Did you get that package to my mom—without her knowing it was from me?”

Kat laughed, feeling giddy. “Yes! You won't believe how it worked out.” She told about the Yada Yada Prayer Group meeting at the Douglasses', bringing the cake, Rochelle's mom going into the kitchen for plates, Kat sneaking the package into their bedroom. “She never saw me. I'm sure she has no idea how it got there.”

“Did she find it?”

“I'm sure she did—or will soon. It's right on her dresser, tucked behind a photograph but not quite hidden.”

Rochelle pondered this. “Okay. Thanks a lot. That means a lot to me.” She turned to go.

“Rochelle, wait. I have something important I want to talk to you about. If I'm wrong, you can tell me to shut up and go away. But please listen.”

Rochelle just looked at her.

Kat wished they could sit somewhere, order a cup of coffee, have a long chat. But that wasn't going to happen. Not here. Not now. She needed to talk fast.

“Rochelle, I know a place you can stay where you and Conny could be together.”

Rochelle's eyes twitched. “How do you know we're not together?”

“Because Conny said he's staying with his dad. And I'm guessing you're not. And I'm also guessing you don't want Conny staying with his dad. You want him to be with you.”

Rochelle looked away, her eyes blinking fast. Then she turned back. “Where is this place?”

“With me.”

“You!” Rochelle stepped back. “But you live right below my mom's apartment.” She started to shake her head. “No, no, you don't understand—”

“I understand one thing. Your mom misses you and Conny terribly. And I think you and Conny miss her too. Whatever happened between you, it's not worth living like this. Separated from your kid. Digging in those Dumpsters.”

Rochelle snorted. “You do.”

“That's different. Like you said, I don't have to. It's a choice . . . look. Just think about it. But don't wait a whole week. Can we meet somewhere and talk about it?” Kat thought fast. “I work at The Common Cup. It's real close to the Morse Avenue El station.”