The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Caught (17 page)

She looked up. “Hey yourself.” She peered over her reading glasses. “I see you brought along some company.”

I sank into the armchair on the business side of her desk. “Yeah, thought I might need the moral support.” Wonka, totally fatigued from his half-hour walk, sank to the floor with a grateful wheeze.

Avis set aside the papers she'd been working on and folded her hands. “Well, first the good news. They are
not
going to close Bethune Elementary.”

I sat up. “Avis! That's great! That's wonderful! Praise God! Oh! That is really good news.” It was. I smiled big at Avis. She had poured so much of herself into making this “a school that worked.” But we all knew nothing was guaranteed. Political pressure and back scratching made their way into school-board politics as well.

Then my smile faded. “Oh. You said, ‘first' the good news. Now comes the bad news, right? It's my job, isn't it. They're cutting my job.”

“No.” She smiled. “More good news. We're keeping all our teachers.”

This was too much. I jumped out of my chair. “Halle
lu
jah! Oh, Avis, you just made my day!” I laughed. I did a little jig right there in Avis's office. I wished all the Yada Yada sisters would burst through the door right that moment and bring some music so we could “get down” and do some
real
praising.

“Jodi.” Avis interrupted my little jig, her voice sober.

Uh-oh.
I sat down. “What? ”

“There is bad news. They—”

“Oh, Avis. Is it Rochelle? ”

She looked momentarily confused. “No, no. I mean, yes, that too. We can talk about that later. But I'm talking about what the school board has decided to do. They
are
closing three schools—one north, one south, one west.”

“But you said
not
Bethune Elementary,” I prompted. I wanted to keep a tight grasp on the good news.

“That's right. But
all
the remaining schools, including Bethune, will need to take in the displaced students. Most of them are underachieving, needing lots of help to pull them up to grade level.” Avis drew in a big breath. “What this means for you, Jodi, is an influx of students into your classroom—temporarily anyway, until we add another class.”

I just stared at her. Add
more
students to my classroom? No!

That was crazy! I already had twenty-five, give or take. I didn't know where we'd put more desks, much less teach more students who sounded like they'd need a lot of extra attention.

He's never failed me yet . . .

“OK, LORD,” I muttered fifteen minutes later as Willie Wonka and I did the
walk, stop, sniff, pee
routine on the way home. “I wanna be happy about still having my job. But it
really
feels overwhelming to add more students. I don't want to just
have
a job. I want to do it well.” But that song just wouldn't leave me alone.

Oh! O-o-o-oh! O-o-o-oh! Can't turn around
We've come this far by faith!

15

T
he house was empty when I got home; Amanda had a daytime babysitting gig all that week and wouldn't be back until six. The light was blinking on the answering machine though.
Uhh.
Didn't want to be bothered by the phone. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Rochelle showing up at Avis's house last night in a state . . . Denny accepting the new position at West Rogers High . . . Me still having a job, but with too many students . . .

I needed time to calm down. And pray.

But the blinking light nagged me. I hit the Play button, telling myself I didn't have to call the person back. But at least I'd know who called, could call later—

“Jodi? Ben Garfield here. Thought you Yada Yadas ought to know I had to take Ruth back to the hospital last night. I
told
her not to go to the Douglass's. Climb three flights up?
Oy,
she just spent a week on bed rest
.
But does she listen to me? Such a
shmegege!
Maybe she'll listen to you. Just wish somebody would pound some sense into her head before this pregnancy kills her. OK, that's it.” The machine clicked off.

I sank into a chair at the dining room table, head in my hands.
Oh God.
Guilt nibbled at my concern.We should've realized stairs would be a problem.
Good grief.
Why didn't we just meet some-where else last night?

I sighed. On the other hand, it was a good thing Avis was home and not somewhere else when Rochelle and the baby showed up last night, wasn't it?
Argh.
Why did everything feel like a catch-22?

So who's in control here, Jodi Baxter?
The Voice in my spirit stifled my whimpering.
Stop beating yourself up. You know what to do. Get your focus back. Pray for Ruth. Pray for Rochelle. Pray for the kids coming into your classroom this fall. Pray God's promises over these situa-tions. Then call Ben.

Right. I took a deep breath. At least my “stewing” time was getting shorter.

Half an hour later, fortified by a gospel CD belting out “I Go to the Rock,” a reading of Psalm 103, ten minutes of out-loud prayers, and a fresh cup of coffee, I dialed the Garfields' number.
Maybe he's at the hospital with Ruth,
I thought hopefully.

“Yeah? Ben here.”

“Oh. Hi, Ben. It's Jodi. Got your message.” Silence. “Is Ruth OK? What's happening? ”

“She's all right, I guess. She got dizzy last night, blood pressure way up, heart beating funny. Scared the heck out of me. But they got her stabilized, just keeping her for observation overnight.”

“Oh, Ben. I'm sorry. We were thoughtless, meeting at Avis's house last night. Not used to thinking of Ruth being pregnant, I guess.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well, you and me both. Still rocks my boat. Look here, Jodi. Might as well say what's on my mind. I like you ladies.Yada Yada's been good for Ruth. She needs female company. Gives her somebody else to talk to.
Huh.
Used to think my ears were going to fall off. But—”

I braced myself with another gulp of coffee.

“—you're not helping us here. She's too old to be pregnant.
I'm
too old. I was hoping to talk her into early retirement so we could enjoy a few years together. Now this.
Mishegoss.
That's what it is.”

My heart melted. “I know. Must be tough thinking about parenthood at your age.”

“Parenthood!” The word came out strangled. “We'll take up
that
one if she makes it that far. Don't you Yadas get it? This is a risky pregnancy! She should have ended it when she had the chance. I know, I know, all you good Christians have a heart attack if anyone brings up abortion. Look, I'm a Jew. I don't like it either. But when it comes down to life and death—
my
wife—sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. And I'd like a little moral support from our so-called friends.” Ben stopped, breathing hard.

A lump tightened my throat. “Oh, Ben.” I didn't know what to say.

Ben Garfield heaved a sigh into my ear. “Yeah, well, sorry for dumping on you, Jodi. Just . . . feel like I'm going crazy sometimes.”

Without knowing where they came from, words tumbled out. “Ben, I worry about Ruth too. I pray for her constantly. But you know as well as anyone how much she's longed for a child—for years! Now, it's like a miracle. A dream come true for Ruth.”

“More like a nightmare,” he mumbled. “I'm husband number three, remember? Wasn't supposed to happen on my watch.”

“Ben.” He hadn't hung up on me yet. Might as well blunder onward. “I know there are some risks. But she's getting good medical care. She'll probably be fine! And when those babies are born, you'll forget all the worry and—”

“
Babies!
Whaddya mean, abies? ”

A horrible realization hit me right between the eyes. Ruth hadn't told Ben yet.But it was too late. “Uh, you know, babies.” I pushed the word out. “Twins.”

“Twins!”
What followed was a string of Yiddish no doubt meant to blister my ear. Then—the phone went dead.

“Oh God,” I groaned, clicking the Off button and slumping against the kitchen door jamb. “What have I done? What do I do now? ”

Willie Wonka, somehow sensing all was not right, roused himself from the floor and pushed his nose into my dangling hand. I pushed him away, alternately feeling mad at myself, then furious at Ruth for not telling Ben like she should have when she found out. Irritated, I yanked open the dishwasher door and started putting away yesterday's dishes, though they seemed in danger of not making it unscathed into the cupboards.

Half an hour later the phone rang. The caller ID said Garfield. “Hello? ”

“So when was Ruth going to tell me, huh? ” Ben's voice snapped over the wires with no introduction. “Do all you Yadas know? Whaddya think this is, some kind of joke? That was cruel. Not what I expected from you, Jodi Baxter.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. Why was he blaming
me?
“Ben, she only told the prayer group last night.”
Well, mostly true, though Stu, Florida, and I were at the hospital when the docs told Ruth.
“We thought she'd told you too.”
Well, sorta true.Ruth told us last night she hadn't told him yet, but I, for one, assumed she'd
have
to tell Ben once she'd spilled the beans to the whole group.Didn't I?

“Well, she didn't. Makes me feel about as significant as roadkill. But I got one thing to say to you. You think I'm just being selfish. A grouchy old man. You think I don't know how you Yadas talk? ” I winced as he plunged on. “But give me some credit. Bottom line, I don't want Ruth to end up with a broken heart.”

“Oh, Ben. Ruth knows the risks. She does! But she's choosing to leave it with God, to walk with this miracle as long as she can.”

“No she doesn't.” He said it under his breath.

“Doesn't what? ”

“Doesn't know the half of it—look, Jodi. I gotta go.” The phone went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand a long time.
Doesn't know the half of—what?

I TRIED TO PUT BEN'S PHONE CALL BEHIND ME and think about supper instead. I'd blundered, but it wasn't really about Ben and me. He and Ruth would have to deal with her zipped lip. Besides, we had our own family issues. Josh, for instance. Here it was almost August already, and he was still like a fish flopping around on the beach.

Denny jumped in the shower when he and Josh got home that evening, but Josh appeared in the kitchen with his old skateboard under his arm. “Uh, mind if I eat supper later? Thought I'd go to the lake, do a little skateboarding. Gotta catch the daylight, ya know.” He snitched a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl and headed out the door. A moment later, I heard the skateboard rattling down our bumpy alley.

I shook my head, plopping spoonfuls of shredded potatoes-eggsflour mixture on a hot griddle for potato latkes and giving the sliced, smoked kielbasa sausage a stir in the frying pan. Skateboarding? Hadn't seen that old thing since Josh was a freshman.What was up with that?

Amanda called to say she wouldn't be home until ten; the parents had just called and asked if she could feed the kids and put them to bed too. “Sheesh, Mom. What could I say? I'm here already. Just wished they'd asked me earlier. Hope this doesn't happen every night. I've got a life, too, ya know.”

Yeah, teenagers with “a life” were what turned their parents' hair gray. At least I knew she was safe and bored for the next four hours. I had way too much potato batter for just Denny and me, but it'd turn brown if I didn't cook it up. Josh would just have to figure out how to heat them up later.

“Hey, this is nice.” Denny came in, eyeing the two plates on the table. “No kids? Hm.” He kissed me on the back of my neck as I loaded latkes on a plate, then nibbled my ear. He smelled delicious after his shower. “Can this supper wait? ” he murmured. “We could . . .”

I giggled in spite of myself. “Look, Romeo. I'm a much better lover when my stomach's not growling. And these are hot. Do you take rain checks? ”

He threw up his hands in mock resignation, fished a bottle of Merlot from the cupboard, and got out a corkscrew. “Thought we were saving that for a special occasion,” I said. “Our anniversary's coming up.”

“What's more special than having my girl all to myself? A few potatoes, a bottle of wine, and thou” —he waggled his eyebrows— “after supper.”

Huh
. Just about the time Josh would walk in. I looked at the potato latkes. I looked at my freshly scrubbed husband, smelling of alluring aftershave. “On second thought . . .” I grinned, pulled out a sheet of aluminum foil, and covered the plate of hot latkes. “These can wait.”

JOSH CAME IN AROUND EIGHT THIRTY, just as daylight was fading. Denny and I were clothed once more and still at the table, plates pushed back, sipping that no-reason-at-all glass of wine, just talking. I was glad I'd had a chance to tell Denny about my meeting with Avis this morning and the phone call with Ben before Josh got home. Now, sweaty and rumpled, Josh filled the dining room doorway. “Told you guys not to wait for me.” He rubbed one hand over his sandy hair, which had grown out about one shaggy inch.