I’d set up an important appointment with, for tomorrow, just breezed in the door ten minutes ago. Apparently we got our days mixed up.”
“Can’t you just—” Claire started.
“No. I can’t do anything right now but stay here and be cordial.” Ben wasn’t leaving any room for argument or compromise.
That surprised her. Usually when this happened he tried to find some way to placate her. Not this time.
He went on, still sounding just as firm. “This is too important to do anything else. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Tell Laurel and Jer goodbye for me, okay?”
“Sure.” Claire hung up the phone and looked around the room for her keys to the truck. Great. It probably didn’t even have gas in it—not enough to get to St. Louis, anyway. At least it wasn’t rush hour.
“Looks like we’re on our own,” she told her sister.
Laurel made a face. “Lovely. Just promise me I won’t be explaining anything to the highway patrol. Although, I expect we could get Carrie to fix any ticket you got.”
“Not this month. I’ve already made my quota.” It was worth the teasing just to see the look on her sister’s face. Claire wondered what Laurel would say if she knew that her teasing had an edge of truth. She promised herself to watch the speed all the way to the airport. At least the boys were staying home, so there wouldn’t be anybody along to rat her out.
She called them to the truck to load the suitcases. If she was surrounded by big hulking males, might as well put those strong bodies to good use. No need to do everything herself, even if Ben was leaving her in the lurch. Again, a voice in her mind told her.
“Definitely pray for some change around here,” she told Laurel. “It’s about time.”
Chapter Three
Claire was almost glad Ben didn’t come home in time for supper that night. The dinner table was no place to argue. And she knew that given the chance tonight, she’d argue. It was easier to put together sub sandwiches and get the guys fed early, then get them to their respective activities.
Kyle was getting ready for Scout camp. He was old enough now that he went to Boy Scout camp without a parent, and he was excited about it. Claire was thankful that he’d reached the age of going with the Boy Scouts instead of the Cubs, because there was no way Ben’s schedule could have accommodated a week of camping. When had they all gotten so busy?
Trent was just going over to a friend’s house with his street hockey equipment for a quick game. It stayed light so long at this time of year, they could play for hours. Once both boys were dropped off, Claire could escape to the relative peace of her women’s fellowship at church. When Ben came home he’d find her note telling him where everybody was, and a sandwich in the refrigerator, so everything was taken care of.
After a weekend of activity, and seeing so much of her sisters, it was fun to be in the company of her church friends again. Many of them had been at her dad’s wedding, and had some comment about the flowers or the music. It was nice to remember her happy weekend instead of her aggravating day.
Finally Debi Baker, the head of the fellowship group, got everyone to settle down so she could get the evening’s program started. The woman she introduced looked so polished and put together that Claire felt a twinge of envy.
Granted, anybody presenting a program to a group wanted to look her best. But how long had it been since Claire had come to fellowship in something other than a denim skirt, or maybe a pair of khakis and a cotton shirt, if she’d gotten to the ironing? Her household priorities, and picking up the slack for Ben as often as not, made her own appearance last on the list quite often. This woman looked as if she’d just stepped out of a corporate meeting.
Debi introduced her, and the woman smiled at their welcoming applause. “Thank you. I feel like part of the group already. And that’s good, because I want to lay something on your hearts this evening. It’s June. Traditionally the season for graduations. And weddings. Who could tell me what they were doing in June, say, four or five years ago?”
A few hands went up. Claire could have told the lovely speaker what she was doing any June in the last fifteen years. And none of it involved the kind of glamour she was sure that this young woman had seen in life.
“As Ms. Baker told you before, I’m Nessa Hart, and I’m the regional director of The Caring Closet. And five years ago this June, I was a single mom with two small children, collecting public assistance while watching them grow up in a St. Louis housing project.”
There was a murmur through the group. Claire found herself backing up in her chair. This woman? Collecting welfare? It didn’t add up with her polished appearance and self-confidence. When Nessa Hart began to explain how the changes in her life had come about in five years, Claire felt a thrill go through her. Talk about dramatic change.
“Once I knew Jesus, my whole life changed. But it was harder to match the changes on the inside with changes on the outside, where people could see them,” Nessa told them. “I could change my life and become a different person. But that person needed schooling to do a job, and clothes to go to interviews and get that job. That’s where The Caring Closet came in. Obviously, I’m a believer in what they do.” Nessa was smiling as she spoke. “I passed up a promotion at another job to come and work for them. And I’ve never had any doubts that this was the right decision for me. It was the only thing I could do to give back, to launch somebody else on the same path I followed.”
While Nessa went on explaining The Caring Closet’s mission in outfitting women for the work world, a persistent thought began whispering over and over through Claire’s mind. You could do this. You could really do this. It wasn’t the sort of thing she had had in mind when she asked Laurel to pray for change. But maybe it was even better. She could hardly wait to get home and talk to Ben. She didn’t even stay for cookies after fellowship—and they were chocolate chip with pecans, her favorite.
Every light was on in the house when she got to the driveway. Ben’s car was parked, and Claire could hear the commotion of the guys in the kitchen as she got out of the truck and headed for the back door.
Trent’s hockey equipment nearly tripped her just inside. Kyle was digging into the closet in the mudroom, holding a piece of pizza in one hand. “Hi, Mom,” she heard him say from halfway in the closet. “Do you know where the rest of the tent stakes are?”
“Should be in a zipper pouch with the tent, Kyle. And either look for tent stakes or eat pizza, but not both at the same time.”
“Okay.” The hand holding the pizza disappeared inside the closet with the rest of Kyle. That wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but Claire decided to let it slide for now. She was so anxious to talk to Ben, she’d even let Kyle eat in the closet.
As she looked into the kitchen for him, an explosion rumbled from the table. It was the kind of noise that could only come from the gullet of a well-stuffed human male loaded with pizza and cola. “Ugh. What do you say, Trent?” she prompted.
“Nice resonance, Dad.” Her son’s reply brought Claire’s head up quickly.
“Benjamin Trent Jericho, you didn’t do that—did you?” His grin was all the answer she needed. “That’s terrible. What are you teaching these guys?”
“Nothing.
