Meant to Be (17 page)

“The box is in the bottom right-hand drawer of my bureau,” she finally says, jerking me back to reality.

“Oh.” I go over, pull open the drawer, take out a pale blue cloth-covered box, and bring it over to her. Then I sit and watch as she slowly unties the faded ribbon that holds it closed and then removes the lid. There's not much in the box: papers, some photos, a yearbook. Mom picks up a photo and holds it up for me to see. It's a teenaged girl with long dark brown hair. She's wearing a fringed leather vest, wild-colored flared pants that are straight from the sixties, and a big smile.

“She was really pretty,” I say as I look at her even features and big brown eyes. “Kind of reminds me of Julia Roberts, well, when she was younger.”

“Yes.” Mom hands me another photo. “She was very pretty. And that wasn't even a great picture of her.”

I take the second photo, a head and shoulders shot
that looks like it must've been taken for school. “Wow, she was beautiful.”

“Shannon was a free spirit.” Mom leans back in her chair, looking at another picture with two girls this time. I can tell that one of the girls is Shannon. She has on a very short orange and hot-pink dress and white knee-high boots. The other one I suspect is Mom.

“Is that you?” I point to the serious-looking college-aged girl wearing a somber gray jumper over a neat white blouse.

“Yes. It was shortly before Mother died.”

“Oh…”

“Shannon and father argued a lot,” Mom continues. “Over her clothes and appearance and the boys she dated and staying out late. I think all the fighting just made it easier for her to leave after Mother died.”

“That's too bad.”

“Shannon was certain that she was going to make it big in Hollywood.”

I study the pretty, bright-eyed girl and think perhaps she might've had a real chance. “Did she?”

“Not that we ever heard.”

“Oh.”

“I just wonder what became of her, Kim. Do you think you can find out?”

“G? do my best.”

“What's going on here?” my dad says as he peeks his head into the bedroom. “You girls taking some kind of sentimental journey? No guys allowed?”

Mom laughs. “Of course you're allowed, Men. I was just showing Kim some pictures of Shannon.”

“I see.”

“Did you ever meet her, Dad?”

He shakes his head and comes over to look. “No. But your mom's told me a little about her.”

“I've asked Kim to see if she can find Shannon on her computer. I know it's a long shot, but I'm just curious. I wonder what's become of her…if she's still around.”

Dad puts a hand on Mom's shoulder. “Well, if anyone can find her, I'm sure Kim's your girl.”

Mom smiles. “Kim's my girl whether or not she finds her.”

“Do you mind if I get started?” I say. Tm pretty curious.”

“Please, do,” says Mom. “I'm curious too.”

So I begin my search tonight. But after trying several things, getting a couple of false starts and a few disappointments, I finally give up. Just for the night. I will continue my search tomorrow. Then I take a few minutes to e-mail both Matthew and Natalie before I force myself to answer some Just Jamie letters. And if you ask me, the first one I read is totally whacked.

Okay, I was probably a little harsh. But I want this girl to get the point. And maybe that stupid “Tom” will read my column and get a clue too. What on earth makes some people think that crud like that is acceptable? I mean, I've seen this stuff in the news, but you like to think it happens someplace else, not your hometown.

I feel like darkness is closing in on me. Not to sound overly dramatic, but the pressure is intense. First of all, Natalie is not getting over the Ben thing. She's more depressed than ever. Even her mom is concerned. She called me from work yesterday and asked if I knew what was wrong.

“Natalie won't talk to me,” she told me.

“Join the club,” I said. Probably not encouraging, but I feel like I'm hitting my head against the wall trying to get through to Nat these days. I'm ready to give up.

“What do you think I should I do?” she asked, desperation clear in her voice. And I realized here is a hard-working single mom trying to raise two young kids and a teenager with a broken heart. Not easy.

“I don't really know, Mrs. McCabe,” I said helplessly. “I'm kind of at a loss with her myself.”

She sighed. “Well, maybe she'll snap out of it. But if you think of anything, will you let me know? Call me at work if you need to.” Then she gave me the number and hung up.

But when I sat down at my computer, I began to think about it. Why didn't I have any good advice? What would Jamie say? That's when I decided to Just Ask.

Okay, I don't plan on actually running this letter, but it did seem an obvious answer when I actually sat down and wrote it all out. I'm starting to wonder if Jamie is my
alter ego or something—like she pops in when I sit down to write and just takes over for me. Anyway, it seemed like good advice (if I do say so myself), and I thought it was worth a try. So I called Nat, and in the nicest way possible I attempted to tell her that I thought she needed help.

“Help for what?” she said in that dead-sounding flat voice.

“To get over this thing with Ben.”

“I'm over it.”

“No, you're not, Nat. Everyone around you can see that you're not. You're hurting, and I think you've actually become depressed. You need help.”

“Like my mom can afford that.”

“What about a counselor at your church, wouldn't that be—?”

“No way.”

“But you need help, Nat. I'm worried about you. Your mom's even worried.”

“I'm fine,” she said with a note of finality.

“But, Nat—”

“I gotta go.”

So later on I called her mom at work and told her my idea about counseling. “I suggested this to Nat, but she wasn't interested.”

“Counseling?”

“Yeah, without telling you too much—for Nat's sake—I will say that I know some details of her breakup with Ben that I think could be really disturbing to her.
She talked to me about it, but she needs to talk to a real professional, you know? Are there counselors at your church?”

“Sure. My friend Marge is a really good counselor. In fact, she's suggested that Natalie come in sometime. She was worried that the divorce might be hard on her.”

“Why don't you encourage Nat to go then?”

“Maybe I will. I guess I just didn't realize that whatever she's going through would derail her like this. I mean, she's been such a trooper through everything.”

“I guess we all have our limits.”

“I guess so.”

And I feel like I'm getting close to my limit too. Besides Nat, it seems as if my mom is getting worse. And while I keep praying and trying to have faith, I am really scared that she's not going to make it. I can't imagine life without my mom. It's like I don't even want to think about it. And I don't really want to talk about it either. And I'm pretty sure that my dad doesn't want to talk about it. So we just keep tiptoeing around, acting like she's got a bad case of the flu that will go away soon.

And it's times like these when I think it might help if my boyfriend were a Christian—someone who could encourage me through this darkness. Not only does Matthew not have any answers, all he brings up are more questions. And I know he doesn't get faith at all. I guess I miss Nat's encouragement not to give up. I doubt that she's even praying at all these days, much less for
my mom. Its like we've all fallen into a dark hole.

But then there's my mom. Considering the pain that I know she's in, she's amazingly cheerful. I guess that's one reason Dad and I keep deceiving ourselves that she's going to get better. And maybe she is. Maybe God is just testing our faith right now. Does He do that? Oh, maybe I'm the one who needs counseling. I don't know. Maybe I should ask the expert.

Sure, lets just send everyone to the shrink, Jamie. You got any other great answers? Okay, maybe its true; maybe I do need help. But I haven't the slightest idea of where to go. I mean, Faith Fellowship is a pretty small church, and besides the pastors we don't have any professional counselors there. I suppose I could talk to a pastor, but what would I say? And what would he say to me? ‘Trust God, Kim, He knows what's best.” Or would he tell me to “Just pray harder,” like Nat has done in the past.

Finally, I decide to quit second-guessing everyone, and I call up the church. I'm pretty sure there's nothing they can do to help, but I end up with Pastor Tony on the phone, and he makes an appointment with me for after school tomorrow. Now I'm feeling kind of freaked. Like what am I going to say to him? I think I've actually talked to him about three times so far. But here's one good thought: At least I can tell Nat that I'm going in for counseling. Maybe that will make her see her own need.

As I go into the church and inform the secretary that I'm here for my appointment with Pastor Tony, I tell myself it's no big deal. People do this every day. Just relax, Kim, Tony's a really nice guy and an intelligent pastor. What can go wrong?

But my palms are cold and sweaty, and my voice comes out in a scratchy croak when I merely attempt to say, “Hello.”

“Have a seat, Kim,” he says in a kind voice. “I'm so glad you came in to talk. I've actually been meaning to give you a call.”

“Me?” I sit in the chair across from him and study his desk. There are a few papers here and there, but all in all its fairly neat. And there are photos of his wife and little boys, and not for the first time I think what an attractive family they are.

“Yes.” Pastor Tony leans forward, elbows on his desk, and looks evenly at me. “How's your mom doing?”

That's when I totally lose it. I start just sobbing and crying, and Pastor Tony moves his chair around to the other side of the desk, and the secretary, just outside the door, comes in with a box of tissues and starts patting my back. And without me saying a word, the two of them each put a hand on my shoulder, and they start to pray. At first I am a little alarmed. I mean, no one has ever done this for me before. But then I begin to relax, and although it's hard to focus completely, I pick up bits and pieces of what they are praying.

“Give her strength, dear Lord.

“And give her the peace that passes understanding…”

“Hold her in Your arms, Father God.

“Please, bind their family together in Your never-ending love…”

“Let Kim bring all her questions and doubts to You…”

After a few minutes they are both saying, “Amen.” And feeling self-conscious although somewhat better, I thank them and wonder if that was it? Is my session over now?

But Tony sits back down in his chair. “You've got a heavy load to carry, Kim. But God doesn't expect you to carry it alone. He wants you to bring all your worries and fears to Him, and if you get too tired to carry them to God, He wants you to trust your Christian brothers and sisters to carry them to God for you. That's how we bear one another's burdens. It's like we carry them to God and place them at His feet. Sometimes we do it on our own, and sometimes we ask others for help. Does that make sense?”