Shelter Me (23 page)

Shaking, I got to my feet and went in search of my phone. I couldn't even remember where I'd left it. By the time I finally remembered it was on my bedside table still, I felt sick again. My throat was dry, but I couldn't stand the thought of swallowing even a little bit of water. My stomach felt like a clenched fist.

I called Mark, forcing myself to breathe steadily.

His phone just rang and rang. I hung up and tried a few more times, then finally gave up and let it go to voicemail.

"Mark, it's...it's me...I just went out for a walk, to get some fresh air, and this car was following me. It was a big black SUV and I don't know who was driving it, he was wearing sunglasses, the license plate number I...I have it...I remember it...I don't know what to do. I don't want to call the police but I'm scared. After I got home, he stayed outside for a while just staring at the house. He knows where I live now. I shouldn't have gone home but I didn't know what else to do. Can you please just get back here? I'm really...I'm really scared. It might be stupid but I'm scared."

I spent the rest of the day hovering by the covered windows, peeking out when I dared. I kept checking my phone to make sure I wasn't missing a call back, but he must have forgotten to turn his phone back on after class. The sick feeling kept on roiling in my stomach, and I couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds.
 

When I finally saw Mark's car approaching from down the road, I felt a flood of relief. I waited anxiously by the door as he came in, absently planting a kiss on my cheek and dropping the contents of his pockets on the hall table. He brushed past me so quickly that I didn't even have time to gather my thoughts enough to speak.

"Mark, I -"

He cut me off with a gesture, walking towards the living room without slowing his pace. "Mari, sweetie, I love you, but I just need to unwind for a minute. You wouldn't believe my day."

 
I stood stunned for a moment. A flashing light caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I realized it was a notification on Mark's phone that he'd thrown on the table. I picked it up. So it wasn't turned off - had he just not gotten my message?

No, no, I wasn't going to let him cow me. I walked into the living room with as much courage as I could muster, not stopping until I was standing just a few inches from him.

He sighed heavily, clearly realizing I was there.

"Mari." He looked up from a few notebooks that were spread over his lap. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't have the energy for this right now. Can we talk later?"

I clenched my jaw. "No," I said. "No, we need to talk right now."

He sighed again, making a production of closing up his notebooks and setting them aside. "What's going on, Mari?"

"Did you get my message?" I asked him, forcing my voice to be steady.

"Oh," he said, with a little dismissive shake of his head. "Yeah. That's nothing to worry about."

"Excuse me?" I folded my arms across my chest. "What do you mean, it's nothing to worry about?"

"I mean it's fine," he snapped, looking up at me. "Mari, when are you going to learn to trust my judgment?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I was forcing myself not to sound too upset, but I could feel my sanity slipping away. What on earth was he saying? How could he know it was nothing to worry about, unless...

"Look," he said. "I was worried about you. I asked my friend to keep an eye on you while I was gone. That's all. It didn't occur to me that you might notice him, so I didn't say anything about it. I should've told you. I'm sorry. But I didn't think you'd get hysterical over it."

"You didn't think..." My head was swimming. "Wait. You - that was your
friend
?"

"Yes," he said, impatiently. "My friend Steve. We had a couple classes together last semester, but he's taking this one off, so he's got some spare time. He just lives over in Walton so I asked if he'd stop by and check on you. That's all." He let out another sigh, in case I hadn't gotten the message yet.

"You should have just told me," I said, my voice quieter than I thought possible. "I was scared, Mark. He was driving behind me while I was walking. I didn't know what was going on."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, picking up his notebooks again. "I'm sorry he scared you. Now you know, so it won't happen again."

"Make sure I was
okay
? What did you think was going to happen to me? Your
friend
stalking me down the street is the creepiest thing that happened since I moved here." I could practically feel steam coming out of my ears.
 

"See, this is why I didn't say anything. I knew you'd overreact." He sounded mildly disgusted with me, but he was already running his finger over the paper. I'd lost his attention completely.
 

That still, small voice in the back of my head could no longer be ignored.
 

"Stop treating me like a child!" I shouted, startling him.

"Well then, stop acting like one!" he snapped, grabbing his notebooks up in one hand, and his briefcase in the other. "I'm going to the coffee shop to work. You better calm down before I get back."

"Or what?" I shouted after him, as he stomped out to the car.

The only answer was the roar of his engine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jacob

So the loan fell through.

It wasn't the end of the world, right? Of course it wasn't. I'd known all along that it was unlikely, that I'd never get it, that it was ridiculous to even think it was a possibility. I never bothered calling Mr. Moore; I couldn't imagine what he could tell me that would make me feel better. I already knew my faults: too young, too idealistic, too inexperienced. I couldn't prove to them that I'd set up a profitable business, and be able to pay them back. I mean, I couldn't prove it to myself, either. But I'd believed that I could.
 

They, however, didn't. And I could hardly blame them for that.

I decided to focus on what I did have in my life. A job, a girlfriend, and an interest - some would even say a skill - with the bikes, which could still come in handy someday. But for now, I was best off focusing on the present.

Life could certainly be worse.

I moved on.

Mr. Harris just patted me on the shoulder and said I'd "get 'em next time," and I just nodded and smiled, and that was that.
 

I'd been at work for a few hours, reorganizing the clearance section, when I felt someone touch my arm.

"Hey," Lily said, with a slight smile. "Do you go on break any time soon?"

"Right about now, actually. I'm gonna go grab a soda if you want anything."

"Actually, can we go to the sandwich shop?" She was referring to the sub place down the strip, where I ate a lot of my lunches.
 

"Okay," I said. "I just have to be back in ten minutes."

She looked around. "Will anybody notice? This place is a ghost town."

I shrugged. "I don't like being late," I said. "Whether anybody notices or not. But it's okay. I can take a minute. I worked through some breaks yesterday." I wasn't sure it worked that way, but I could tell this was important and that she didn't want to wait.

She made a beeline for one of the corner booths when we walked in, and I followed her and sat down. "Did you want to order something?" I asked, even though she clearly didn't.

"Jacob," she said. "Remember how I told you that I was applying to Southwestern? And I thought for sure it was a reach for me, so there was no harm in trying?"

The oven was beeping behind the counter. I couldn't shut out the noise, no matter how hard I tried.

"Jacob," she said. "You remember?"

"Yes," I said, shaking myself back to reality. "Yes, of course. And I told you that you'd be able to get in for sure, with your community service record."

"Well," she said, a little hesitantly, "it turned out that you were right. And my parents said if they move some things around, they can cover the costs, and I...I just can't believe it."

"Congratulations," I said, reaching out and taking hold of her hands across the table. "You worked hard. You deserve it."

"Jacob," she said, hesitantly. "I - thank you. But the reason I wanted to talk to you...I really don't think we can make this work."

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I'd been suspecting this. But it still felt like a punch in the gut.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But it's a long ways away, and I...I just want a fresh start." She let out a breath. "They say that everybody who goes there leaves married. It's an amazing environment for the development of God-honoring relationships."

I wanted to ask her if she'd memorized that from the brochure, but I didn't think it was worth it.

"Sure," I said. "Wouldn't want to miss out on that."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "It's been...I've had a lot of fun being with you. But it's time to get serious about my life. This is the opportunity I've been dreaming of."

"Of course," I said. She had talked about Southwestern Bible College before, and I knew it was too far away for her to come home, except on holidays and summer break. But she'd never talked about what would actually happen if she was accepted.

This, apparently.

"I have to go back to work," I said, standing up.

"Jacob," she said. "I still really care about you. I hope you understand."

"Sure," I said. "I understand just fine."

I walked back to the store, and didn't look back.

***

As it turned out, Mr. Harris did actually notice that I was late coming back. But when I told him why, he just patted me on the back and bought me a soda.

The night passed - agonizingly slowly, but it passed. Mindless work had never really bothered me before, but now, when all I wanted to do was think about something,
anything
, it was painful. Hearing the same love songs played over and over again, on an endless loop from the speakers above my head, didn't help either. I was looking forward to a long, silent bike ride home, until I remembered that my mom had insisted on coming to pick me up, because she "didn't want me riding home in the dark."

Somehow, until that moment, I'd managed to avoid thinking about the reality of having to
tell
everyone.

I couldn't face it - not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. After breakfast.
Good morning, mom. Lily broke up with me last night.

Maybe not.

When the night was finally over, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan with only a vague memory of clocking out and walking across the parking lot. Mom was tapping the wheel, gently, with her fingers.

"How was work, honey?" she said, absentmindedly.

"Fine," I said. "What's wrong?"

Her mouth was very thin. "It's nothing. I'm just being irrational. Sara's spending the night at Katie's house."

"Oh - really? Wow. Well that's...that's good, right?"

"It
is
good," said Mom, firmly, pulling out onto the main street. "It's very good for her, and I'm beyond thrilled that she has friends. But I worry. It's my job."

"I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Oh, absolutely. She's got her medication, she hasn't had a seizure in months, and I talked to Katie's mother about how to manage it, just in case anything
does
happen. She's going to have a great time, and I'm not going to get any sleep tonight." She let out a small, nervous laugh.

Up ahead, lights were flashing. Mom lifted her foot off the accelerator, peering ahead, trying to make out the obstacle ahead. As she did, a police cruiser suddenly appeared, sirens blaring, swerving around her and skidding to a stop just up the road.
 

"Yikes," she muttered, inching forward cautiously. "What
is
that?"

"Must have just happened." I craned my neck around to try and see. I thought I caught sight of a large object on the side of the road, but I wasn't sure.

As suddenly as the last one, another cruiser raced up from the other direction, stopping so that his headlights perfectly illuminated the scene of the accident. A light green SUV was overturned in the ditch, and beside it, two paramedics were kneeling next to someone on the pavement. There was a group of teenage girls nearby, huddled in a circle, looking terrified.

And familiar. They looked awfully...familiar.

"Can you see them? I need to get better glasses." Mom was squinting.

"I think..." I swallowed. "It almost looks like Katie and her friends."

"What?" Mom was throwing the car into park and fumbling with her seatbelt before I even finished speaking. "Is Sara there? Do you see Sara?"

"No, but Mom, I'm not -"

But she was already out of the car, running towards the wreck. I hurried out after her.

"Ma'am, please stay clear," one of the officers was saying, reaching out to grab her arm, but she snatched it away from him.
 

"KATIE!" she shouted, and one of the girls jumped. Now that I was closer, there was no doubt anymore.

Katie was white as a ghost.

"Mrs. Warren," she whispered. "I'm...I'm so...I'm so sorry..."

But my mom wasn't even looking at her anymore. Her eyes were fixed on whoever was lying on the ground, behind the crouching paramedics. I couldn't look. I couldn't look, but I couldn't
not
look.

"Sara," my mom sobbed, then louder, "SARA!" One of the officers had successfully caught her arm and was holding her back. "Let me go, that's my baby!"

"She's your daughter, ma'am?" One of the paramedics looked up.
 

"Yes!" Mom was starting to hyperventilate. I reached out and touched her hand, but I wasn't sure she noticed. "Did you not hear me? What's happening? What happened to her?"

"She was in a traffic collision, ma'am. She's still breathing, and she's partially conscious. We won't be able to tell the extent of the injuries until we get her into the hospital and run some tests."

"I don't understand," Mom said, her voice shaking. "What do you mean, she was in a traffic collision? What was she doing in a car?"