On the Loose (21 page)

“I am not getting on your bicycle, Maxine.”

“We leave in forty-five minutes. Ginger Rogers is waiting.”

“Oh, no. No way.” Ginger is Maxine’s bicycle built for two. The last time I took a ride, I ended up falling twenty feet and belly flopping into a pool. Owned by Charlie’s grandmother.

“Look, Katie Parker, here’s the deal. If you go with me, you’re in trouble. If you let me go alone, you’re in trouble. Either way, you’re facing some serious doggy-doo. Now I helped you camouflage that black eye Monday night, so you owe me. And I say we’re riding Ginger Rogers to the hospital.”

“It’s an hours’ ride at least.”

Maxine smiles. “Then you better eat up.” And she hums the rest of her happy melody.

“I can’t go
much further. I’m not gonna make it. You’re going to have to pedal alone.”

Maxine whips around, smacks me in the forehead with her gloved hand, and continues to pedal. “I did not raise you to be a quitter!”

I huff and puff air, pushing the pedals to climb the hill. “You didn’t raise me at all.”

“And there’s our problem. Now keep pedaling.”

Through the insulation of my bike helmet, I hear a sound like tin foil. Something being unwrapped. And then I notice Maxine’s feet are propped up on her bike. “Maxine!” I growl. “Are you eating?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I smell food.”

“Iths jus pitha.” I can see her jaws moving as she chews.

My legs have moved past throbbing to numb. My lungs burn for air. And Maxine’s kicked back, having an appetizer.

But I’m too tired to be mad.

We cross one more busy highway, our last before the hospital. Only two cars honk as Maxine steers us into traffic. She honks back with her squishy horn tacked to the handle bars. I’m sure the Lexus was very intimidated.

Maxine signals with her hand, and we turn into St. Mary’s parking lot. She steers us around the building and motions for me to stop.

“Um, Maxine?”

She rips off her helmet and shakes her golden hair. “Yeah?”

“This is the plastic surgery wing.” The Walter C. Monroe Cosmetic Surgery Center, a sign says.

“Oh.” She pats her face. “Habit, I guess.”

And we pedal to the next entrance.

Sliding doors
whoosh
open as we walk through the surgery center lobby. I walk behind Maxine. If we get in any trouble (which we will), I want her to walk through the fire first.

We shuffle down the hall and into a large waiting room.

An empty waiting room.

“Katie?”

I jump and spin around.

James. Holding a cup of coffee and a newspaper. “What are you doing?”

“Uh . . . uh . . . uh . . .” I grab Maxine and shove her in front of me. “It was her!”

“Katie, you were specifically told to go to school.” James’s frown deepens.

“I tried to tell her, James. She wouldn’t listen.” Maxine settles her purse into a chair. “You know kids these days.”

“And you, Maxine. I am ashamed of you. I have enough to concern myself with without worrying about you pedaling all over the county.”

I think of my overworked legs. “I wouldn’t worry about her pedaling.”

James consults his watch. “Ladies, I’m calling Sam. Katie, he will be instructed to drop you off at school. And Maxine, he can drop you off—”

Maxine throws up a hand. “Careful now. Remember you’re a preacher.”

James sighs. “He can drop you off at the house.”

“This was not my idea,” I mumble.

“James, we rode a long way here. We’re tired. And Katie and I both deserve the opportunity to sit here with you as a family. And I see there’s a TV, so I can be a pillar of strength to you
and
catch up on Salem all at the same time.” Maxine plunks into an ugly orange chair and grabs a magazine.

“Please don’t call Sam. Let us stay. You know I’m gonna be worthless at school today anyway.”

James removes his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose. “We will discuss this when we get home. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s going to be hours before you can see Millie.”

“I just want to wait with you.” Let me stay. Let me be sit here and pretend I’m part of this family. I’ll imagine you want me here. And that Millie is going to be fine.

James shakes his head. “Millie is not going to be happy.” But he pulls me into a loose hug anyway.

I settle in a chair beside Maxine, who reads a copy of
Seventeen
.

Maxine turns a page. “Got a pen on you?”

“Why?”

“I want to take this quiz. Ten ways to tell if you’re old enough to have a boyfriend.”

I bite my lip. “Sounds like a waste of ink.”

The lobby doors open, letting in sunlight and two familiar faces. Pastor Mike and Laura. I haven’t seen them since her father died. Ugh. What do I say?
Sorry your dad died, and welcome to our cancer party?

“Hey, guys. Have you heard anything yet?” Pastor Mike puts an arm on James’s shoulder.

“No, it’s gonna be hours.” My foster dad forces a smile. “How are you, Laura?”

Laura nods. “Day by day, you know? It’s just going to take some time—for all of us.”

Laura sits on
a coffee table in front of me. “Katie, how are you holding up?”

I nod and smile. “Great. Thanks.” I’m a mess. It’s not even nine a.m., and I need some caffeine. And I have helmet hair. “Couldn’t be better.”

She moves in closer. Her eyes scrutinizing. “Is that . . .? Do you have a black eye?”

Laughter comes from behind Maxine’s magazine.

“It’s nothing.” I didn’t cake on nearly enough makeup this morning. “I’m going to go get something to drink. I’ll be right back.” Diet Dr. Pepper. Need it now.

Laura stands up “I’ll show you where it is.”

I sling my purse over my arm and follow my pastor’s wife down the hall.

“So . . . um . . . sorry about your dad dying.” That sounded just as stupid as I thought it would.

“Thanks. I know the youth group was praying hard for us, and I appreciate that.”

Instead of answering, I study the tile beneath my feet. It’s just like the kind in Sunny Haven, the girls home I came from. The home I would return to if something happens to Millie.

“Here we are.” Laura guides us into a small room, wall to wall with vending machines. “I’ll buy.” She digs into her purse. “I insist.”

We each get a drink. Laura pulls out a chair at a table, and taking her cue, I do likewise. Though I really just want to go back upstairs and wait with everyone else.

“Katie, I can tell you’re upset about all of this.”

I take a long drink. And shrug.

“It’s okay to be afraid, you know.” Laura puts her hand on mine. “And it’s normal to wonder what God’s up to. But I hope you know he is in control. He’s on the job.”

I set my bottle down. A smart remark dances on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back. “Laura, I think there is a God. I know that. But as far as being a Christian . . . well, I really don’t see the point these days.” There. I said it.

Laura twirls her wedding band around her finger. “What’s changed for you?”

“Come on. What do people really get out of it? Look at Millie. She’s a pastor’s wife, she’s nearly perfect. And she gets cancer. And then there’s you.”

She frowns. “What about me?”

“You’re this amazing Christian, totally nice person. And look at what you’re going through.”

“God doesn’t promise us this easy life.”

“It’s just not fair. That’s all I’m saying. And Millie deserves more than this. Why isn’t God taking care of her?”

“No, it’s definitely not fair. But you were headed in the right direction. And now you’re just totally through with God? Is
that
fair?”

I grab my drink and stand up. “Fair? Nothing in my life has ever been fair. But was it fair your dad died? Is it fair my foster mom has cancer and could die? I don’t see the purpose in any of this. It’s so pointless.”

“But it’s not pointless. I know it’s hard to understand. But God’s gonna be with Millie through all of this. And you too.” Laura rises from her chair, her eyes intense. “I know you’re hurting, and I hate that you look at the things that have happened recently as reasons not to trust in Him.”

I throw my bottle away. Meeting over. “I think I better go back to the lobby. I want to be there when we get news about Millie.”

Laura’s hand stops me. “Before we go, I just want to pray for us. Pray for Millie.”

No. I don’t want to pray. I’m sick of talking to God. He’s obviously not listening. He has his holy earplugs in whenever I speak. How do I tell my pastor’s wife that praying is a total waste of time?

“Thanks, but I really don’t want to—”

“Laura! Katie!”

My head snaps toward the door.

Pastor Mike runs into the room. “Ladies, come quick. You would not believe what’s happened.”

My heart plunges. “Is it Millie?”

His mouth spreads into a grin. “No,” he says. “It’s Amy. She’s in the lobby.” The pastor grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. “The Scott’s daughter has come home.”

T
he three of
us—Pastor Mike, Laura, and I—speed walk down the hall. I round the corner, the lobby in sight. James stands in the middle of the room, his arms tightly wrapped around a young woman. Amy. His daughter. His real daughter.

I’m an evil person! How is it I’m standing here, and I’m sad? For me. The Scott’s only child, who hasn’t been home in years, has finally returned, and I’m . . . I’m . . . jealous.

They needed a daughter. And I filled that spot. I got to play that role. What if they don’t need me anymore? All because that deserter came back.

“Katie.” James sees me standing near. “Come here. I want you to meet my daughter.”

James has tears in his eyes.

And I do too. Something about the way he said
my daughter
slices through me. I can’t explain it. I repeat: I’m evil. That’s the only explanation. I should be happy for him. I should be so glad Amy is safe and the Scotts can quit worrying.

But I’m not.

I close the distance between us, step by slow step. “Hey.”

James wipes at his eyes. “Amy, this is our foster daughter Katie.”

Yeah, I know. Your real daughter. Hi, I’m the fake one.

She’s wine, and I’m grape juice. Amy is a diamond. And I’m a dull cubic zirconium. She’s mink. And I’m just a fuzzy substitute.

I stick out my hand and clasp Amy’s. Her hand is small, smaller than Millie’s. I shake it, but hardly squeeze for fear of shattering it in my light grip.

Everything about the Scott’s daughter is fragile. Her light brown hair hangs loose and unkempt around her face, like she hasn’t slept in a few days. The sweatshirt she wears swallows her body, like she’s lost somewhere in her own clothes.

Amy smiles at me, but her eyes don’t meet mine. Or anyone’s.

She’s uncomfortable. How ironic that this is her family, and she’s uncomfortable.

“Amy, honey, how did you know about your mom’s surgery? We decided we wouldn’t upset you and tell you about it until it was over.”

“I told her.” Maxine puts her magazine down. “I knew she would want to know.”

James pulls his daughter to him again and kisses her on her head. “Thank God. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Dad . . .” The long-lost daughter speaks. Her voice slow and distracted. “I’m pretty tired. It was a long bus ride.”

Maxine tilts her head, thoughtful. “I sent money for a plane ticket.”

Amy smiles at her grandmother. “I’m here, right?”

“Right. And that’s the important thing,” James says. “I’m afraid to take my eyes off of you. Afraid you’ll disappear. You’ll stay a few days, right?”

You can tell James doesn’t want to push it. His eyes glisten with excitement and questions, both of which are firmly in check.

I walk around the reunited father and daughter and plop into a seat next to Maxine. She pats my leg, her eyes staring straight ahead.

“I don’t know about staying. I have a job back in Miami.”

James lowers his voice. “Why haven’t you called us? Written to us?”

Amy shakes her head and forces a laugh. “Not now, Dad. Gimme a break, okay?”

“I think it’s a fair question.” Maxine pulls a fingernail file out of her bag. “The only reason we knew you were in Miami this month was because you needed money.”

“Maxine, that’s enough.” James glares at his mother-in-law. “Amy, we love you. Your mom and I want you to stay as long as you can. Forever if you want.” He smiles.

My heart splits in two. If James offers her my room, I’m walking back to Sunny Haven.

“Slow down. I’m here to see Mom. Let’s not make this a big deal.”

The hands on the clock barely move as I’m forced to listen to the Scott family reunion. A solid hour of James lavishing Amy with praise, Amy dodging questions, and me staring at the ceiling. Pastor Mike and Laura try to engage me in conversation, but I’m too busy try to act like I’m not listening to Amy to say anything too intelligent.

The youth pastor tries again. “So, Katie, are you excited for the spring break mission work?”

I shift in my seat. “I’m not going.”

All conversation stops.