What She Left for Me (2 page)

“No. Is there a manager or someone I can talk to?”

The woman frowned as though Jana were somehow dissatisfied with her work. “Mr. VanCamp is in his office. I’ll see if he can meet with you.”

Jana picked up her checkbook. “Thank you.”

The woman came around from her secured booth and opened a door. Pulling it closed behind her, she walked in determined fashion across the bank lobby. Jana didn’t know whether to follow her or not, so she took a few steps in the direction the woman had taken, then paused.

“Mr. VanCamp will see you. His office is down the hall and to the right,” the teller announced as she reappeared.

Jana took a deep breath, hoping the bank manager would have some good news for her.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. McGuire,” the man said as he studied her account information. “It seems your husband came in two weeks ago and withdrew the entire amount of your savings. Because it’s a joint account, there’s nothing I can do. He was completely entitled to take his own money.”

“It was our money,” she said. “Mostly mine, in fact.” It was money she had brought into the marriage. Money she had earned and saved prior to her marriage to Rob. Money that had come from her great-aunt Taffy for birthdays and Christmas.

“Be that as it may,” the balding VanCamp said as he looked at her over his reading glasses, “the account was in both names, and he was entitled to remove it.”

Jana swallowed hard and tried to gather her thoughts. It wasn’t really a surprise, so she didn’t know why she was taking it so hard; she’d already figured this was the news she’d receive. Somehow, though, it signaled the finality of her circumstance.

She drove home in silence, not even turning on the radio to hear the news. For three weeks in the African bush she’d wondered what was going on in America. She had told herself that when she got home she was going to be more astute in keeping up on current affairs. She had learned, while in some of the poorest regions of the world, that she had it better than she could have ever imagined—that she lived a life of privilege. And while she’d already known that to a certain extent, Africa had proven it in ways she’d never imagined.

“At least I
used
to have a privileged life. How could Rob have done this to me? To us?” Memories of better days were such a fierce contradiction to the circumstances she now had to face.

“Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong?”

The questions pushed their way through her mind like soldiers taking enemy ground. So, too, did the accusations.

If I’d been a better hostess, things might have been different. If I’d stayed home from Africa, then maybe he wouldn’t have had a chance to leave. If I’d called from the airport in London to tell Rob I was pregnant, then maybe he would have called off this nightmare.
But Rob was probably already gone by the time she was headed home from Africa.

Her car practically drove itself. Jana didn’t even remember the trip, and it wasn’t until she sat in her driveway, car still running, that she realized she needed to shut off the engine.

“What am I supposed to do now?” It wasn’t exactly a prayer, but it was God to whom she spoke. She looked at the little white ranch-style parsonage. “How long will I even have a home?”

She didn’t have long to wonder at this. That evening her doorbell rang, and Jana was suddenly confronted with a team of men who wanted to talk: the elders of the church, men who were often in her home for meetings and other gatherings. She looked at Gary Rhoades and forced what she hoped was a smile.

“Come in, Gary.”

She could tell by the looks they were giving her that they already knew what was going on. She pointed to the table and the letter that still lay there from the morning. “You can read that if you want.”

The men filed over as a group and passed the note down a line, each giving it a solemn glance before handing it to the next man. It was Gary who finally spoke. “How long has this been in the works?” Gary’s tone was almost accusing and instantly set Jana’s defenses in motion.

“I didn’t know until last night.” The men exchanged a puzzled look as Jana continued. “Rob said nothing before I went to Africa. You can read that for yourself in the letter. I thought everything was fine.” Her voice held an edge that bordered on hysteria, but she was determined to remain in control.

“Why don’t we sit down? We need to talk about this,” Gary suggested.

Jana motioned to the living room and put on her hostess face again. “We’ll be most comfortable in here.” She walked across the room and took a seat on the brick ledge that edged the fireplace. Her calm was an unnatural emotion in the face of such monstrous adversity.

The men took their places and waited for their leader to begin the discussion. Jana could see that some of the men couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“As you probably know,” Gary began, “Rob gave his notice three weeks ago.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Jana replied as evenly as she could. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of these men.

Gary frowned. “Rob told us that he’d talked to you.”

“Rob said nothing. I didn’t even have an inkling there was a problem until last night, when I landed at the airport and no one was there to greet me.”

“Well . . . I . . . that is,” Gary stammered, as if looking for an explanation. “He told us that you two were getting a divorce. That it was a mutual decision. That you’d gone to Africa so that he could break it to the congregation and resign his job without a big scene.”

“All lies. Read his letter—it’s right there. He decided to do this while I was gone. At least that’s what he says, but obviously this has been in the works for some time.” Jana could barely hold her anger in check. “So while he was telling you how this was my plan, did he also tell you that he was carrying on an affair with his secretary? That he planned to clean out our bank account and leave me penniless before running off with her?” Jana asked bitterly.

“No,” Gary admitted. “We didn’t know about the situation with Kerry until last Sunday. Rob and Kerry left us a letter in the office. Jason Broadbent called us first thing to ask if we knew what was going on. Apparently his wife left no more details in her letter than Rob left in his.”

Jana hadn’t even considered Jason . . . how this might affect him. The man was fifty-something and had been talking of an early retirement so he and Kerry could do more traveling. She shuddered. So many would bear the consequences of two people and their sin.

“Of course, when Rob gave his resignation, we tried to talk him out of it,” Gary continued, looking most uncomfortable in the silence. “But he told us that . . . well, he said you were determined to end the marriage and that he didn’t feel it Scriptural to head up a church while going through a divorce.”

“I didn’t even know we were having problems,” Jana said in a clipped tone. “I thought we were very happy. In fact . . .” She let the words fade. She had been about to tell the men of her pregnancy, then thought better of it. She didn’t want them to be the first people with whom she shared her news.

“I’m truly sorry, Jana,” Gary said.

“Me too. I’m sorry for a lot of reasons, but I’m really sorry that Rob’s actions had to be such a public affair.”

“I . . . well . . . I don’t know how to tell you this, but—”

She couldn’t stand the game any longer. “Just say it.”

Her interruption seemed to bolster Gary’s strength. “When Rob resigned, we immediately went to work finding another pastor. We have an interim who agreed to move here immediately and take on the church. We signed him on for a six-month trial.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“Well, he’s slated to begin next week. That was part of the agreement. Rob said he needed the house until you were back because he couldn’t just throw your stuff out on the lawn, and he didn’t want to put it in storage. Besides, until last week, Rob was still preaching, so it was only right that we let him stay.”

Jana hadn’t thought the day could get any worse, but this news made it clear she’d underestimated the situation. “I have to move out by next week?”

“Actually . . . by Saturday.”

“I have four days, then?”

Gary and the others nodded in unison. “We will help in any way we can.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, getting to her feet in protest. “I have no money. I have
nothing.
Rob took it all. How do you expect me to hire movers to load up my possessions—what few Rob actually left me with—and vacate this house by Saturday?”

Gary’s apologetic tone only served to further her irritation. “Like I said, we’ll help in whatever way we can. We can get the church as a body to come and help pack you up. Most of the men in this room have pickups, so we can probably move you as well.”

“Sure we can, Jana,” Bill Usher said with a smile. “We’ll see you through this.”

“I have no place to go,” she declared. “You don’t understand. Rob has cleaned out our bank account. I had nearly six thousand dollars in savings. It was my money, and he took it. There’s no money for deposits on rentals or utilities or anything else. I couldn’t even go out and buy groceries today because there’s no more than ten dollars in my checking account.”

The men seemed genuinely stunned as Jana continued ranting. She stalked across the room and picked up her purse. “I have only the money left from the trip. I think maybe there’s a total of thirty dollars in here.” She tossed her purse onto the coffee table. “That’s it. Rob has taken the computer and printer, the tools, the TV and DVD player. He’s even taken my jewelry.” This last discovery had been one of the hardest of all. Her only pieces of real value had come from either Rob or her great-aunt Taffy. Her afternoon taking inventory had left Jana depleted of hope and energy.

“He took everything?” Gary questioned.

It seemed as though the elders, men who had long worked with her husband, were trying to take in this information and decide if it were true. She hated the looks on their faces—almost as if they were accusing her of lying.

“Go look for yourselves,” she said, her voice rising an octave. She felt her throat tighten and tears well in her eyes. Running from the room, she locked herself in the bathroom and remained there until she regained control of her emotions. She despised Rob for what he’d done. But she also questioned God for allowing such a nightmare to be her life, especially when she’d given up so much to be a pastor’s wife and missions liaison.

“Couldn’t you at least have left me what was mine?” she muttered, not knowing whether she said the words with God or Rob in mind.

Finally she emerged and rejoined the elders. On the coffee table beside her purse Jana noted a check. She looked to Gary for an explanation.

“We had no idea, Jana. Rob made it sound like all of this was your idea. Then when we found out about him and Kerry . . . well, we were still confused as to how it had all come to be. Now it’s kind of easy to see that you knew nothing about this—that you’re the wronged party here.”

Jana eased into the closest chair. “I’m sorry for getting so upset. I simply don’t know how to deal with any of this. I thought God was supposed to look after His own. I thought He was supposed to keep evil from overtaking His children.” She looked to each man as though to force him to contradict or support this, but no one said a thing.

“I don’t think I understand God at all.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “Maybe I never have.”

“God didn’t do this, Jana,” Bill said. “God doesn’t want this for you, any more than we do.”

“Bill’s right,” another man chimed in. “God is just as saddened by this as we are—as you are. It wasn’t His desire that something like this happen.”

“Guess He wasn’t on top of it then, is that it?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “What sweet Christian platitude will you throw at me to make this one all right? My mother used to say, ‘Jana, there are worse things than death.’ Guess I know now exactly what she meant.”

Two

On Tuesday morning, Jana made stacks of breakable dishes and coffee mugs on the kitchen table. She needed to figure out what to take with her and what to sell. She’d already decided to have a huge yard sale and get rid of almost everything. There was very little she’d need to take with her. Just clothes . . . and soon, even those weren’t going to fit.

“I don’t even know where I’m going,” she said aloud. But deep inside she knew the time had come to make the most dreaded phone call of her life. She knew there was only one place she could turn, and while it wasn’t ideal, it would put a roof over her head. Her head and the head of her baby.

Jana reached for the phone and punched in the number. She waited for the ring and held her breath.
Am I doing the right thing? Is there another answer?

“Hello?” The clipped tone of the woman on the other end of the line sent a chill through Jana.

“Hello, Mom.” Jana hated calling her that. Eleanor Templeton had never desired to be a mother. She had borne Jana in the hopes of having a son and made no attempt to hide the fact.

“Jana? Why are you calling?”

It was a typical response from her mother. Jana seldom telephoned, usually only making the expected call on Christmas, Mother’s Day, and birthdays. “I’m afraid something has happened and . . . well . . . I need a place to live.” She blurted the words, feeling like a twelve-year-old about to confess some horrible wrongdoing.