SHAUN WAS READY TO LEAVE FOR WORK BY THE TIME SAVANnah finally awoke on her second day at home. “How are you – oh.” Looking closely gave him his answer. “Still that bad, huh?” She nodded silently as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat before I leave?”
She gingerly eased herself onto a barstool. “Some tea?” Her voice was raspy and weak, no different from when she’d awoken yesterday. After spending the day on the couch, mostly sleeping, he’d have thought she’d be doing at least a little better.
He filled the kettle. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Mostly. Up for water once, but that was it.”
“Are you going to be okay today? Do you want me to stay home? Jessie is working today, I think.”
Her hand gave a small wave. “No, go to work. I’ll probably just sleep all day anyway.”
He pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup and set it on the stove beside a pot. “In case you get hungry later.”
“Thanks.”
He made the tea, then kissed her on the forehead. “I’m sorry you’re miserable.”
“Thanks. Me too. Hopefully it won’t last long.”
“You’ll kick it quick, I’m sure.” He pocketed his wallet and grabbed his keys and cell. “Call me if you need me to come home, okay? I can work from here if I need to.”
“Thanks. Say hi to everyone.”
Five minutes out, the gas light lit on the dash. He groaned, having forgotten about Saturday night’s jaunt up to Denver that ruined his fuel budget, and backtracked to the gas station a block from home. The lost time was worth the money he’d save filling up there versus the station closer to the ministry office.
Shaun opened his wallet and considered his array of credit cards. He chose one toward the back, figuring it was time to add it into the rotation, just to be safe. He tried not to think too much about the price of the gas as he swiped his card and punched in his zip code. Highway robbery. Every tick of the price on the pump display made him want to wince. Picking up Savannah and Marisa had been cheaper than a rental, but it still meant taking money from somewhere else. He’d have to forgo lunch the rest of the month to make up for it.
A few minutes later he was parking in his usual spot in front of Abide & Abound’s office. A banner announcing their tenth anniversary hung in the front window, and a little rush of pride made him smile as he pulled his briefcase from the front seat. This humble endeavor of theirs had grown so much in the last decade. Once upon a time it had been him and Savannah cooped up in his home den, but now they boasted six employees on the payroll and a proper, though nondescript, industrial park office just outside of downtown Colorado Springs. He had an office here, the only one amidst the maze of cubicles, and Savannah would pop in once a week to “greet the troops” before heading out to a coffee shop to work and have meetings.
It’s a heck of an accomplishment, he thought as he locked the car. Though not without its trials. He tried not to think about the trials currently dogging him as he entered through the smoky glass door.
“Good morning, Shaun,” said Brenda, their receptionist and customer service representative. “Savannah get home alright last night? How did the last stop on the tour go?”
“It went well-but Savannah’s got the flu. She and Marisa actually came back Saturday night because she could feel herself getting worse and she didn’t want to get stuck unable to fly.”
Brenda’s face fell. “Oh no! Can I pick anything up for her, or you? I can stop at Vitamin Cottage over lunch, get her some of that immune booster tea she likes.”
Shaun smiled, but shook his head. “She’s fine. Marisa bought a bunch of stuff while they were in Omaha, so she’s set. I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I’ll add her to the prayer chain.”
“Good idea. Thanks.”
Brenda was an example of why he loved this ministry so much. They all cared about each other. It was like working with family.
Though that wasn’t always a good thing.
He greeted their resource director and their accountant, the only other two staff members currently in. Savannah insisted on letting people set their own hours, within reason. “No point in making people drag themselves here at nine if they’re completely unproductive until eleven,” she’d say, and as long as things got done properly and on time, Shaun supported that. Monday mornings held one small exception: the ten a.m. staff meeting. It was Shaun’s favorite part of the week.
He turned on his computer and opened the blinds a fraction, letting in slivers of the blinding August sunshine. He unloaded his briefcase, thanked Brenda when she appeared with a cup of coffee, and then sat down to orchestrate his day.
A quick look at the calendar reminded him of the two speaking engagements Savannah had early next week. It was a good thing she tended to get over illnesses quickly. It would kill him to cancel those gigs, knowing how well they paid. Thank goodness she never took anything the week after a tour.
He pulled out the receipts Marisa had given him and began to separate Marisa’s from Savannah’s. He was grateful for Marisa’s thrifty nature and Savannah’s Scottish roots; there were never receipts for steak dinners or fancy designer water. He itemized Marisa’s reimbursement report and set it aside for her to sign later. Before itemizing Savannah’s report, he pulled an envelope from his desk drawer and rummaged through it a moment, then pulled out a receipt for a haircut dated the week before Savannah had left for the tour. He added in the receipt from this morning’s gas purchase, crumpled them all, then smoothed and crumpled them again before examining them for legibility. Three of the totals were now much more difficult to decipher. He itemized everything on the report, changing a couple 3's to 9's and one 5 to an 8 before photocopying all the receipts and attaching the copies to the reports.
His conscience twinged, but he tried to ignore it.
He spent the remaining forty-five minutes preparing his notes for the staff meeting, and at just a few minutes before ten, left his office for the conference room.
Brenda had already placed a platter of donuts in the center of the table and flanked it with a pitcher of water and a pot of coffee. Shaun opened the window to let in some air and took his place at the head of the table. The other staff trickled in, each of them asking about Savannah as they entered.
“The tour went very well. I’ll give a quick rundown of the numbers and what we need to do for follow-up in a minute,” he said when the meeting officially started. “And thanks for all your concern for Savannah. She’s still feeling pretty sick, but you guys know how she is; she’ll bounce back quickly. Darlene,” he said, turning to their resource director and resident prayer warrior, “would you please open us in prayer, and ask for healing for Savannah?”
“Certainly, Shaun.” The staff joined hands and Darlene brought them all to tears with her praises and supplication like she always did. Shaun allowed himself a peek at the others as she spoke, reveling in the community he and Savannah – and God, of course – had built over the last decade. Knowing the dividends coming in from the conference boosted his spirits even more.
When “Amen” was finally uttered, Shaun launched into the agenda as napkins were dabbed to cheeks and the donut platter passed around. “Final numbers from the conference aren’t in to me yet, but from Savannah’s book table we netted nearly 25% more than we did on the last tour, so that’s a blessing. She prayed personally with about thirty-four women to receive the Lord, and with nearly eighty to rededicate themselves, and Marisa prayed with a bunch too.”
“Amen” rang out from multiple people at once.
“So, Brenda, you’ve got your work cut out for you there. Let Marisa know if you’ll need some help following up with those women; she’s on vacation this week but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping with those when she comes back.
“Alright then, moving right along…” Shaun exhausted the agenda in less than the usual hour and led them in prayer again before everyone left for their cubicles. He caught the new accountant, Nick, before he could leave. “Here is Savannah’s reimbursement report. I meant to do this at home this weekend so Savannah could sign off on it, but I forgot to bring home the form. You can call her if you want to go over it, or I can take it tonight and have her sign it.”
“Oh, not a problem,” Nick said as he scanned the report. Shaun had counted on him saying that. “I’d hate to bother her when she’s feeling so lousy. I’ll just ask you if I have any questions.”
“Great, Nick. Thanks.” Shaun went back to his office, high on the feeling of a meeting well run and the knowledge that checks from the conference book tables would soon be in the mail. His to-do list for the day was long, but he was energized now to tackle it. He woke his computer monitor from sleep mode and pulled up his email. Time to pare down that inbox.
Six new messages sat at the top, but it was the third that caught his eye and made his gorge rise. No, please. Not again. He clicked away from the list of new messages, bringing up instead a page of the oldest of the 264 emails he needed to sort through.
She would have to wait. He couldn’t handle that right now.
SAVANNAH AWOKE FROM HER NAP on the couch feeling worse than when she’d first laid down. She whimpered as she sat up, every joint and muscle screaming, and dragged the quilt up over her shoulders. A soap opera now played on the TV, and she changed it over to the country music video station just to have something on in the background. She really needed something to eat. And some water. Definitely some more water.
She slowly rose from the couch, quilt still clutched around her, and hobbled to the kitchen to refill the giant water bottle she always carried. The can of soup Shaun had left beckoned to her from the counter as she waited for the bottle to fill. What she really craved was her mother’s homemade chicken noodle soup, the recipe for which she had once memorized but now could scarcely remember. At one time she’d made that soup nearly once a month, freezing some for when illness might strike, and bringing the rest to the person whose illness had inspired her to cook it in the first place. The sorry can of soup wouldn’t cut it, but she was in no shape to attempt reawakening her culinary skills at the moment. She sighed and pulled out the can opener from the utensil drawer.
Once the soup was ready she sat back down on the couch with a steaming mug of it. The heat barely seemed to permeate the chill in her fingertips. She stared at the television, letting video after video play without comprehending anything. Her mind was elsewhere – assessing every body system, cataloging every pain and complaint, and thanking God that she didn’t have to go through this often.
The dregs of her soup were stone cold when the doorbell jolted her from her thoughts. She ignored it until the sound of familiar laughter caught her ears. Her girlfriends. She’d forgotten about their lunch.
She set down the mug and shuffled as quickly as she could to the front door. The faces of her friends fell in unison when she opened the door. “Oh, hon,” said Mary. “You look like death warmed over.”
“I feel worse than that, if you can believe it.” She stood aside as Mary, Andi, Colleen, and Bethany filed in, each carrying a potluck item. “I forgot, girls. Just completely forgot. All I have left is soup.”
“Do you even want company?” asked Colleen. “We can leave if you just want to sleep.”
“No, come on in – if you don’t mind exposing yourself to my germs.”
Andi grinned. “Hey, you’re the germaphobe of the group. You know we don’t care.”
“Oh good. My mind just-” She waved a hand. “Never mind. I could use the company, that’s all. I hate being here alone.”
“You hate being anywhere alone.” Bethany led the procession to the kitchen, then nodded to the pot on the stove. “Is that your homemade chicken noodle soup in there?”
“Don’t I wish. It’s just a can.”
“Oh, bummer. I remember you made that for me when I had that terrible flu the year Riley was born. Do you remember that? Man, that was good soup.”
“I think between the four of us you’ve probably made that soup twenty times,” said Mary.
“I think it’s the only thing that made me sad when you started working at A &A full-time,” Colleen admitted. “No more homemade chicken noodle.”
“Yeah, we really sacrificed for you, Van. I hope you can appreciate what we gave up when you started working.” The women all laughed, and Savannah rolled her eyes and managed a grin. Their company was healing. She was glad they’d been willing to stay.
“Are you hungry, or was the Campbell’s enough for you?” Bethany asked as she uncovered the dish she’d brought in. “I have twice-baked potatoes.”
Savannah shuddered. “The soup was enough. Thanks, though. You all dish up what you want and come into the family room. Help yourself to drinks, too.”
She moved to the cupboard for plates, but Mary beat her there. “Go sit down. We know where everything is.”
She left them chuckling at her relief and reclaimed her place on the couch. They all came in together, plates heaped with side dishes and desserts. Savannah was supposed to have supplied the main dish. “Sorry again, girls.”
“No worries.” Mary sat on the opposite end of the couch and set her drink on the end table. “More room for Colleen’s cheesecake.”
“So what’s your diagnosis, Van?” asked Andi.
“I don’t know. Just the flu, I guess.”
“Weird time of year for the flu.”
She shrugged. “Leave it to me to pick it up on the off-season.”
“When was the last time you were sick? I mean, seriously, in the twenty years I’ve known you I think I’ve only seen you sick, like, twice.”
“I had a cold right before my second tour with Women of the Word.”
“I remember that!” Colleen snapped her fingers. “You were worried you wouldn’t be well in time.”
“But you were over that in, like, three days. I remember calling to see if I could bring dinner for Shaun and Jessie, and you were already past the worst of it.”
“Yeah, you’re so good to your body, you’ll be over this by Friday, easy.” Mary grinned. “Now, if it were me,” she said, waving a hand to indicate her ample figure, “I’d be bedridden for a week. I wish I had your self-discipline at the gym-and the kitchen. And the grocery store.” The others laughed, but Savannah shook her head.
“This isn’t going to be as easy to get rid of, I don’t think. I’ve never felt this awful in my life. Honestly, it’s kind of disconcerting.”
“Well, I hate to bring it up, Van, but you are getting older.”
“Mary!” Andi laughed.
“Well, it’s true! You’re, what, nearly forty-seven, you work like a maniac, you just got back from nearly three months on the road. Your body is just plain worn out, sister. Of course you feel the worst you’ve ever felt. When was the last time you got sick at the tail end of so much activity?”
“That’s true,” Colleen said.
Savannah pouted. “Not that it makes me feel any better.”
“I know.” Mary gave her a sympathetic smile. “But seriously, you’re going to be fine. The flu can be pretty dangerous, though. Go to your doctor if you’re really and truly worried. Just don’t be surprised if he tells you you need to relax a little. Like you said, it’s been a long time since you got sick. You’re just due for a good hard knock to the immune system.”
The conversation turned to homeopathic flu treatments, and Savannah let the others chat and eat while she sat back and sipped her water. Mary was probably right. Just a flu, maybe a bad one, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Right?
She just couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that she was wrong.
JESSIE WAS ON HER WAY to turn off the Open sign when Torrie grabbed her elbow as she walked past the Bibles. “Jess, this customer is looking for Lutton’s Biblical Parenting. Could you check the shelves? I’ve got a customer on hold on the office phone.”
Jessie smiled at the woman and tilted her head towards Marriage & Family. “Sure, it’s right over here.”
The woman fell in step behind her. “I looked once but didn’t see it. The computer said you had it, though.”
“Someone might have mis-shelved it; happens all the time. I’m pretty sure we had at least a couple copies, though.” She ran a finger along the spines, then knelt to check the bottom shelf. “Ah ha! Here we go.” She pulled a copy and handed it to the customer. “Great book, too. Can I help you with anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
Jessie walked her to the front and rang up her purchase. Once the customer was gone, she flipped the switch on the sign and locked the door. Closing didn’t take her long, and when she finished her job she poked her head in the stockroom where Torrie was doing inventory. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”
“Will do – oh, wait a minute.” Torrie nodded to an open-top box on the floor. “Copies of your mom’s books for that fundraiser we’re helping with. Think you could take them home and have her sign them?”
Jessie had forgotten all about those, but being reminded made her question whether she’d gotten this job solely because of the access it would give Torrie to Savannah. It was the kind of thing she’d hoped to avoid. Were it not for her love of books, she wouldn’t have applied at all. She hoisted the box with a grimace. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Tell her thanks for me.”
“Will do.”
Jessie backed out of the front door, grimacing under the weight of the box. Hardbacks were a pain to move-but they made great gifts. The private Christian school where they were helping with the fundraiser would make a mint selling the autographed copies.
She dropped the box into the front seat of her car, and the inventory list blew off the top. Her mother’s face smiled up at her from the book’s cover. She tossed her purse over it and shut the door.
Once home, she was not at all surprised to see her mother asleep on the couch. The first few times she’d found her that way, Jessie had been stunned. She’d never seen her mother nap. Savannah never had the time. But this flu she had was really kicking her butt. Jessie wasn’t happy that her mother was miserable, but she did feel a teensy bit smug at seeing her laid out as badly as Jessie had been when she’d had the flu last year.
Human after all.
The uncharitable thought burned in her spirit. It had been a particularly bad day for the kindness of her thoughts toward her mother. She’d overheard one customer gushing to another about Savannah’s talk at the conference, which had then segued into a hearsay-based discussion of her marriage and family life. Jessie had bitten back a correction, not wanting to reveal her own identity. But hearing her mother nearly sainted by two total strangers had really gotten under her skin.
Seeing her mother curled beneath the quilt kicked her guilt into high gear. Savannah couldn’t help what people said about her or control other people’s motives. Jessie knew her anger was misplaced, but it had turned in Savannah’s direction for so long that she channeled it toward her practically out of habit.
Time for penance. Jessie left the books by the door and went to the kitchen. It was nearly seven-thirty already, but she was hungry and could tell by the lack of dirty dishes that her mother likely hadn’t eaten much that day. She decided to go all-out and make her mother’s chicken soup.
Standing on tiptoes, she pulled the wooden recipe box from the cabinet above the stove. She hadn’t cooked anything from scratch in ages – but then again, neither had Savannah. Before she’d started working, Savannah had always made everything by hand – even bread. Jessie could remember coming home to the most amazing smells when she was in elementary school. But the bigger A &A got, and the more writing Savannah was contracted to do and the more speaking engagements she received, the less time she spent in the kitchen, until the only one who cooked anything anymore was Shaun. And his repertoire was limited to the basics; everything else came from a can or box.
Jessie flipped through the index cards until she found the soup recipe that had nourished her through countless childhood ailments. How long had it been since she’d had it? Eight years, easily. She read the ingredients, mouth watering at the memories of the taste, and began pulling items from the fridge and pantry. She’d never made anything more complex than pancakes from scratch when the boxed mix had run out – she hoped she wouldn’t mess up the soup. She was a lousy cook and she knew it; she seemed to be missing the domestic gene, and by the time she’d been old enough to start helping in the kitchen Savannah had been wrapped up in A &A and book tours and hadn’t had time to teach her anything. But it’s not rocket science, right? I can totally do this. So what if the recipe is two cards long?
She had the chicken boiling in a pot when Savannah wandered in, her short hair sticking out in crazy directions and her eyes droopy with sleep. “What’s going on in here?”
Jessie summoned her compassion. “I’m making you chicken noodle soup.”
“Well, that’s sweet, Jessie. Thank you.” Savannah glanced into the pot. “What’s in here?”
“The chicken.”
“What did you use?”
Jessie held up the card. “Well, it said to use a whole chicken, but we didn’t have one so I just used a bunch of chicken breasts. I looked up the amounts to make sure I’d have enough-”
“It’s not the amount so much as the taste that’s going to be affected. Without the dark meat the flavoring will be all wrong.”
Jessie’s compassion left her in a single breath huffed in irritation. “How was I supposed to know that? The card didn’t say that, and it’s not like anyone ever taught me that kind of thing.”
She instantly regretted the words, but Savannah didn’t appear to notice the dig. “Oh well, better than nothing, I suppose. Just add some stock and rosemary.” She set the top back on the pot and said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” and wandered out again.
Jessie focused on the carrots she was dicing, trying not to let her thoughts darken again. For once she’d love a reason to not resent her mother. Savannah had had the chance right then. Had she come alongside Jessie and walked her through the recipe-explaining the difference chicken breasts would make compared to a whole chicken, showing her the best way to prep the vegetables and explaining how to make sure everything was done at the right time – Jessie would have gladly shelved years of hurt. But instead she’d done what she always did-swooped in, dropped a confidence-destroying bomb, and then retreated, leaving Jessie to figure it out herself.
Blinking away tears, Jessie consulted the recipe card again, but didn’t really comprehend it. For years she’d longed to have a mom who took her under her wing instead of assuming she was smart enough to work everything out on her own, a mom who knew how to offer suggestions without making it sound like criticism. But her hope of ever having that had all but died out. Savannah would always be Savannah; there was no point in wishing she’d change.
Jessie turned off the burner beneath the pot and swept the vegetables into a bowl, then covered them in plastic wrap and stuck them in the fridge. Her enthusiasm was gone. She’d make mac n’ cheese from a box instead.
SHAUN WAS JUST FINISHING HIS bag lunch the next day when a knock came on his door. “It’s open,” he called.
Nick entered, holding an expense report. Shaun’s heart went into panic mode, beating like Morse code.
“Hey, Shaun – oh, you’re eating. I’m sorry.”
“No, not a problem. I was almost done. Come on in.”
Nick walked to the desk and held up a piece of paper. “I was going over Savannah’s reimbursement form and found an error in your math.” He pointed out the total he’d come up with, written next to the total Shaun had recorded. Instantly Shaun saw his mistake. “It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to show you so you didn’t wonder why the amount was different when you got the check.”
“Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it. You’d think I’d be able to operate a calculator, huh?”
Nick shrugged. “Hey, it happens. At least you’re getting more than you were expecting.”
“Ha, yeah.”
“I’ll get you the check by the end of the day. Come see me if you don’t have it before you leave, in case you want to go early to take care of Savannah.”
“I will. Thanks.” Nick left, closing the door behind him, and Shaun let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d done this dozens of times, but he’d never forgotten to check his math. What had he been thinking? The last thing he needed was to give Nick a reason to start checking those forms more closely.
His appetite gone, Shaun stuffed the rest of his lunch back into the sack and shoved it into the trash can beneath his desk. Now he felt jumpy. He couldn’t concentrate, and his thoughts kept going back to the second he saw the report in Nick’s hand and was sure he’d finally been caught. How much longer until his luck ran out? He’d been under the impression that Nick rubber-stamped whatever Shaun turned in, but apparently he was more diligent than Shaun had realized.
He stood and paced the small office for a second, trying to dissipate some of the adrenaline, then headed for the front door. “I’m going out for a bit,” he told Brenda. “I’ll be back in an hour.” Slipping on sunglasses, he set out towards the small park a couple blocks away. The noon sun seared him through his golf shirt, but the shade above his favorite park bench when he arrived made up for the heat. He sat down beneath the cottonwood and closed his eyes. The adrenaline was mostly gone now, but the problem still remained.
He’d have to do something about Nick.