Open Arms Page 9

  “Yeah, actually. Something’s going on that she isn’t telling me about. I thought maybe she and her boyfriend broke up.”

  “Who’s her boyfriend?” Kate asked.

  “I’ve never met him. He’s an older boy from Pine Ridge. Is Marlee in trouble?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said.

  Brenna chewed her lower lip. “She’s having a hard time coping with something. Usually she’d tell me.” She shrugged, but her eyes reflected her deep concern.

  “What’s her relationship with her father like?” Kate asked.

  Brenna’s brows knitted together. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “She and her dad are really close. It’s the most important relationship in Marlee’s life, for sure. That and her relationship with her grandma.”

  KATE FINISHED WASHING the supper dishes that night. Paul had helped with the bulk of the work, but she’d wanted to clean under the sink after putting everything away. He’d meandered into the living room to watch a documentary on Alaskan dogsled races.

  Kate plopped onto the couch next to him and watched for a few minutes. When the show went to commercial, she said, “Honey, do you have a sec for a question?”

  Paul turned to look at her. “Of course, Katie. What’s up?”

  “By any chance, do you know if Carl Wilson is dating anyone?”

  “Why? Did you have someone in mind to set him up?”

  Kate laughed. “No. Renee mentioned that she thought he was going out with Ashley Williams from the vet clinic.”

  “You think Carl and Ashley could be the couple from the letter?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. The letter did say the boyfriend is older.”

  “I could find a way to ask, I guess.”

  “Thanks,” Kate said.

  The show came back on the air, and their conversation faded in favor of it. But Kate couldn’t concentrate on it. She retrieved the girl’s letter from the sorter on the kitchen counter and reread it.

  She studied the loopy script with hearts for dots above the i’s and the drawing of the Celtic cross in the lower corner. One statement stood out: “My dad will...kick me out of the house.”

  Was that the statement of a girl who was close to her father?

  She glanced up at Paul, who flicked off the TV and stood.

  “I’m going to do a bit of work in the study,” he said.

  “Okay. I think I’ll check my e-mail messages. Are you going to need the phone line?”

  Paul said no, then disappeared into his study.

  Pulling out her laptop, she connected to the kitchen’s phone line and dialed in to open Mouse’s last e-mail. She read it through, feeling the tug of empathy that had come with the first reading. Then she read the previous night’s reply before writing another message to the girl.

  Dear Mouse,

  I can’t tell you how glad I am that you e-mailed me. I’m here to be your friend and to tell you not to give up. Yes, your life will be changed by a baby, but it doesn’t have to be a devastating event. Children, no matter how they come into this world, are precious. And God offers forgiveness to everyone who asks. He loves you. I hope you know this to be true deep inside, because even when you feel unloved by your father or your boyfriend or even yourself, you need to know that your heavenly Father thinks you’re something special. Don’t forget that, okay?

  Your friend,

  Kate

  Kate read back through the post a couple of times, wanting to make sure it held the right balance of encouragement and truth, then when she was satisfied, she hit Send.

  FRIDAY PASSED into Saturday. There was no reply from Mouse. Kate kept busy around the house, though there was something indefinable that nagged at her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, yet it was there.

  Paul had driven his pickup to Pine Ridge to shop for more fishing supplies, so Kate gathered her laptop and set it up in Paul’s study. She logged onto FriendsForever and scanned the opening page that gave blurbs about Kate’s friends, indicated whether they’d updated their sites or added photos, commented on this or that.

  She moved to her in-box.

  Her heart jumped when she saw a message from Mouse with the subject line, “I think I’m losing the baby.” The time stamp said it had been sent forty minutes earlier.

  Kate hurried to click on the message.

  There was no introductory line, simply,

  I’m spotting and cramping. It’s not a lot, but it is there. I don’t know what to do. As much as I hate being in this position, the thought of losing this baby scares me even more. What should I do? I need to do something, don’t I?

  Okay, I just called the hospital, and they told me I have to be seen by a doctor. Pray for me, okay? Pray real hard.

  Mouse

  Kate’s heart was in her throat. She swallowed, staring at the words. She had to go to Mouse. She glanced back at the time stamp. Forty minutes. Perhaps she could still make it.

  Kate flew to her car and tossed her handbag onto the passenger seat before turning on the ignition and peeling out of the driveway. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to slow down. Getting a speeding ticket would only eat more time out of her trip.

  Her heart kept up its staccato rhythm, and Kate’s knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel. Within less than fifteen minutes, the Pine Ridge city limits came into view. She made the turn toward the hospital and slowed to thirty-five miles per hour.

  “Lord, please stop the bleeding,” Kate murmured as she tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel. “Please let her be okay.”

  She pulled into the parking lot and rushed into the ER’s waiting room. There were several people sitting in the padded chairs across from the check-in desk—an elderly couple, a woman with two small children, and a teenage boy. Kate hurried to talk to the heavyset woman behind the counter.

  “Excuse me,” Kate said. “I’m looking for a girl who just came in, maybe half an hour ago. She was afraid she’s having a miscarriage.”

  The receptionist glanced down at the paperwork on her desk, shuffling through and scanning the pages. Finally she looked back at Kate. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t had anyone like that in here today.”

  Kate couldn’t take in the woman’s words at first. She stared at her. “Are you sure?”

  The woman nodded. “I’m sorry. Is it a friend of yours?”

  “Yes,” Kate said as her mind turned to where Mouse could’ve gone. If not the ER, then where? Finally it came to her. She patted a hand on the counter just once, then moved quickly out the door, making her way to her car and then to the clinic across town.

  The receptionist there was the same young man Kate had spoken with before. His expression when Kate came in the door said that he knew exactly who she was.

  “Is she here?” Kate breathed.

  “The girl you were looking for before?” He shook his head. “She left five minutes ago.”

  Kate glanced toward the door, hoping for a glimpse.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No.”

  Then she turned back to the man. “Were they able to stop the bleeding?”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t mean she’s out of the woods yet.”

  Kate returned to the parking lot. No one was there, save a few spring birds playing among the tall elm trees that lined the neighborhood street.

  Kate glanced up and down the street. She’d missed her. By five short minutes, she’d missed her.

  Had it been Marlee? Doubt edged in. The girl was too young to have her driver’s license. If she was Mouse, how would she have gotten to the clinic? The message hadn’t said how she planned on getting there. Perhaps someone had driven her. But if so, who?

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Kate got home, she went straight to her computer, which was still connected to the Internet in Paul’s study.

  A single line from Mouse wa
s in Kate’s e-mail: They stopped the bleeding—the baby is okay.

  To have such a scare so early in the pregnancy couldn’t be good. Had the doctor put the girl on bed rest? Was she at risk for more such episodes? The receptionist at the clinic seemed to think so. Mouse needed to tell her parents what was going on, for the sake of the child growing inside her.

  Finally Kate sent her another message:

  Dear Mouse,

  I tried to find you today at the clinic. I missed you by a few minutes. I’m worried about you and about your baby. Did the doctor give you any special instructions? Please take good care of yourself.

  When you feel ready to tell me who you are, I want you to know that I won’t betray your confidence. I won’t tell anyone without your permission, but I will be here to encourage you and tell you that everything WILL be all right.

  God is in the business of taking bad situations and turning them into something more amazing and wonderful than you could ever imagine. Hang on to that, okay?

  Your friend,

  Kate

  The next Sunday at youth group, Kate was more than ready to talk to Marlee. What exactly she would say, Kate didn’t know. How did one go about asking a teenage girl if she was pregnant? Her thoughts flicked to Livvy’s reaction when she’d asked about Anne and James. And Livvy was a dear friend!

  Kate watched the girl as she talked with her friends, trying to determine if there were any prompts for starting the conversation. Marlee looked tired, and when Paul started teaching on 1 Corinthians 13, she’d even fallen asleep.

  “Hey, Miss Snores, wake up,” Justin Jenner had teased.

  She lifted bleary eyes. Dried drool covered one cheek. Everyone got a chuckle out of it, including Marlee.

  “Marlee, do you have a minute?” Kate said once the teens started to amble off toward home.

  The teenager nodded and turned toward her, arms crossed over her midsection. She waved good-bye to Brenna, then gave Kate her full attention.

  “You okay?” Kate asked.

  Marlee shrugged her shoulders and looked away. Kate could see the unshed tears welling in her eyes. This was the second Sunday in a row where the girl was visibly upset.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Marlee said. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? I want you to know you can talk to me if there’s something going on. Did you see my message to everyone on FriendsForever?”

  The girl shook her head even as tears began to trace her freckled cheeks.

  “I stopped by the cemetery the other day,” Kate began, careful to watch the girl’s expression, “and visited your mother’s grave.”

  Marlee looked at her, her brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Her headstone has a Celtic cross on it.”

  “We’re Welsh. So...?”

  Either Marlee was an excellent actress, or she had no idea what Kate was talking about.

  “Is there anything else? My dad’s probably waiting in the parking lot. He doesn’t like it when I make him wait.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. “You head on home. But Marlee.” The girl met her gaze. “Let me know if there’s anything you need to talk about, okay?”

  Marlee merely shrugged again and then she was out the door.

  Perhaps Marlee wasn’t the girl after all. Doubt began to edge in, though Kate knew, based on her conversation with Brenna, that something was amiss in Marlee’s life, even if she wasn’t Mouse. And Kate couldn’t get past the blank expression on Marlee’s face when she’d asked about the Celtic cross. Did that mean Marlee had nothing to do with the letter or that Kate was making more of the Celtic cross than was justified? Yet Brenna’s comment that Marlee was close to her father seemed important too. A teen who was close to her father would be more concerned about disappointing him than a teen who wasn’t.

  WHEN KATE AND PAUL got home from youth group, it was almost nine o’clock.

  “Hey,” Paul said, “the guys and I were talking about heading out on an overnight fishing excursion on the eighteenth. It’s a Friday night. We’d be back Saturday afternoon. Does that work for you?”

  “Um...” Kate hesitated.

  The eighteenth was a little less than two weeks away. Kate hadn’t thought through what was on her schedule for the next day much less that far out, yet there was something about the eighteenth that stuck in her brain. What was it?

  Finally, when she couldn’t recall what it was, she said, “The eighteenth is fine.”

  BEFORE BED, Kate sat down at her laptop in the kitchen and composed her next e-mail to Mouse:

  Dear Mouse,

  I don’t know if you can tell that I’m praying for you and that I’m concerned about you. I hope so. I’ve been thinking of you constantly, especially after your scare.

  How are you feeling? Have you told anyone? Did someone take you to the hospital? I don’t want to intrude. I ask these questions out of concern for your well-being—and your baby.

  Prayerfully,

  Kate

  Kate sent the message, then she went to Mouse’s home page. Nothing new had been posted. No added Friends, just Kate and that same picture of a mouse. Kate moved back to her own page and saw that there was a note on her bulletin board from Ronda at the beauty salon.

  Dear Mrs. Hanlon,

  I just saw that you had invited me to be your friend, so I thought I’d say hello.

  Ronda

  Kate glanced over the young beautician’s home page. She had a total of 148 friends listed, most of them people from town, though there were plenty that said “from school” under the How I Know This Person tab.

  Her favorite TV shows were the popular reality shows, as well as anything to do with makeovers and fashion, which, when Kate thought about it, made sense, considering that Ronda was a hair stylist. One show in particular stood out. The comment read, “I can’t get enough of Fashionista on the Fashion Channel.”

  Kate had heard some of the kids at youth group talking about the show too. She clicked over to Marlee’s home page and glanced down the teen’s list of favorite TV shows. It too listed Fashionista as her all-time favorite show.

  From what Kate could tell, the TV show was a contest among fashion designers in which someone was eliminated every week, and the winner received a large sum of cash to help start up a signature clothing line.

  “I can’t wait to see who wins,” Marlee had posted on her bulletin board. “I hope it isn’t that weird guy, Lemuel.”

  Brenna had responded, “Come on, M! Lemuel is the BEST.”

  As Kate read, an idea came to her. She could host a season-finale party for the show. She could even make it a sleepover. They could watch the show together, maybe even do a makeover or two. If Kate could convince Ronda to come, they could have fun with new hairstyles.

  She checked out the schedule for the show and saw that the finale was Friday the eighteenth. Wasn’t that the day Paul had scheduled his fishing trip?

  That was when she remembered...April eighteenth was the anniversary of their first date. In all their years, they’d always celebrated it together.

  How could she have forgotten?

  She went to find Paul, who was in his study.

  “Hey,” she said. Paul lifted his head from his reading to look at her. “Did you say that you wanted to go fishing on Friday the eighteenth?”

  Paul nodded. “Yeah. It’s the opener. There’s a lake outside of Saint Thomas that Danny says has the best bass.”

  She studied him for a long moment. He’d never forgotten the date before. Perhaps he was planning a surprise for her. She decided to let it go. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t make other plans to celebrate the day. Besides, if he was gone, it would be easier to plan a party for the girls.

  “I’m going to plan a girls’ sleepover here, then, on that night...unless there are scheduling conflicts.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  She glanced at him as he returned to
his reading.

  Was he playing coy, or had he truly forgotten? She tried to shake it off, yet she was disappointed.

  Well, she decided, perhaps this was just the opportunity she was looking for to get to know the girls better. She would focus on that instead. She returned to the kitchen and began to compose the invitation she would post on her FriendsForever bulletin board.

  Girls Only, it said. Come to my house Friday the eighteenth at six thirty to watch the season finale of Fashionista on the Fashion Channel. Wear your most prize-worthy outfit, purchased or made yourself, and we’ll award prizes for the most creative, most wearable, and most trendy. And bring your pj’s and sleeping bag to stay for a sleepover. Feel free to invite your friends; the more the merrier.

  Hope to see you then.

  Kate

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kate’s slippers made a whispering sound as she moved around the cheery kitchen the next morning making breakfast after her morning devotions. The small kitchen had faded yellow cupboards and copper pots that hung from a rack on the ceiling. She grabbed one of the pans and set it on the ancient stove, then pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

  Paul was at the dining table. His small tackle box was open before him, with lures, sinkers and bobbers lined up across the wooden surface.

  “What are you up to?” she asked as she whisked the eggs.

  Paul lifted his head. “Sorting. Organizing.”

  “Are you going fishing again?” Kate glanced at the well-worn fishing box.

  “Eventually,” he said. “Danny mentioned going again on Saturday.”

  “This Saturday and the eighteenth?”

  Paul shrugged. “We’re having fun.”

  Kate smiled at him despite the twinge in her stomach. The kitchen was silent for a few moments. “Breakfast is ready.”

  She got the salt and pepper shakers down from the cupboard and placed them on the kitchen counter while Paul put his gear away and wiped the table with a clean rag. Then she poured two glasses of cold milk and Paul helped her set the table.

  Finally they sat and bowed their heads to pray. Then Paul took a bite of his omelet.