Reinventing Rachel (2 page)

Red flags were flying all over the place in Rachel’s mind. “Macy, I wish you would have told me that you didn’t feel close to God. Everyone struggles with that after they’ve been a Christian a while. I’ve got a whole bookshelf of studies we could have done together—”

“No, no, studies wouldn’t do it. Trust me.” Macy pulled her hair into a ponytail, then let it fall back to her shoulders with a sigh. “You know, I really have to get this study guide done. It’s due tomorrow. Thanks for coming by, and for the ice cream. Maybe I’ll see you next week.” She was obviously avoiding Rachel’s eyes as she pulled a textbook back to her lap and began to leaf through its pages.

Rachel stood, feeling awkward at being given the cold shoulder by a sixteen-year-old. “Sure. Good luck with that. I’ll pray the test goes well. Give me a call if you ever want to talk, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

Rachel let herself out of the room and returned the spoons to the kitchen where Mrs. Bell was emptying the dishwasher. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Sure.” She forced a smile. “See you later.” But as she walked down the steps to the sidewalk, Rachel had a feeling it would be the last time she visited.

That night when Patrick called, Rachel vented about her conversation with Macy. “I mean, where is the accountability? You can’t just decide, ‘Hey, forget church—I’m going to go do my own thing.’”

“Sure you can.”

“Well, you can, but it’s not right.”

“Rachel, I think you’re taking this a little hard. You don’t know anything about these people. How can you know that they’re wrong?”

“It’s just a feeling I have.”

He made a noise of dissent. “Well, feelings can lie.”

“True. But regardless, I feel like I need to do something.”

“Keep your nose out of it, Rach.”

“I’m not talking about crashing their meeting or anything. I’m just going to call Barbara and see what she’d do in my shoes.”

“Now that is a good idea.”

“Hey, speaking of good ideas …” Rachel sat up straighter on her bed. “I was thinking maybe we could consider moving the wedding date up.”

“Up? Like, to the spring?”

“No, like, to August.”

“This August?” He laughed. “Are you nuts?”

Rachel felt a sting, but she pushed through. “No, hear me out—I was talking with Lily before the service today, and she mentioned there’s lots of people who would be willing to help out with the wedding. Like, she said she’d make the cake, and that Gwendolyn Meyers could do the flowers—”

“Whoa—Rach, honey.” Patrick’s voice held a note of condescension. “Think of what you’re saying. Plan a wedding in three months? Do you really want the biggest day of our lives to be thrown together under the gun like that?”

“The wedding isn’t as important as the marriage, Patrick. I’m tired of only seeing you a couple days a week. I’m tired of sleeping alone. I want to be married. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do, but I don’t want us to look back in ten years and wish we’d done things differently. We’ve only been engaged for five months. That’s nothing compared to some people.”

“I don’t care about other people’s relationships, Patrick. Who cares if other people stay engaged for longer. The point is, why should we?”

“Sweetheart, listen. We’ve only known each other a year. We still have a lot to learn about one another. I want to make sure we’re both prepared, that’s all. I don’t want to rush anything and regret it later.”

Rachel’s stomach fluttered. “You’re not sure you want to marry me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Patrick muttered an uncharacteristic curse under his breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, Rachel. I’m saying there’s nothing wrong with taking things slowly, that’s all.” He let out a sigh. “Look—what if we compromised? This summer is too early, but yeah, maybe next summer is a little far off. What about this winter—like New Year’s Eve? Yeah—big party for the reception, big countdown. Think of what our anniversary will be like every year.”

The flutter in her stomach morphed to butterflies of excitement. “Seriously? Patrick, that sounds amazing. I love it! And you’re totally cool with that?”

“Yes, totally cool.”

“You’re wonderful. I love you so much. What a great idea.”

“And if you want to hit up the church ladies for a little help, go for it. Probably save your parents a bundle.”

She laughed. “I’ll talk to Lily next week and see what she says.”

“Listen, babe, I need to get going—and you need to call Barbara.”

“Yes, you’re right. Okay.” Rachel hung up with a smile on her face that made her cheeks ache. She pulled her organizer from her desk and flipped to the end, then wrote “Wedding!!!!” on December 31. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she sang as she tossed the planner back to the desk and dialed Barbara’s number. Her friend answered just as Rachel expected voice-mail to pick up. “Barbara, hey. It’s Rachel. I’m not calling too late, am I?”

“No, no, this is fine. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Great, actually—we just set a date for the wedding. New Year’s Eve!”

“Oh wow, that’s really fantastic. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Hey, listen—could we get together this week? I’m concerned about one of my girls, and I’d like to get your insight on what I should do.”

“Well, um, sure—that’s good timing, actually, because I needed to talk to you too. How about tomorrow? Are you free?”

Rachel grabbed the planner again and flipped to the spot her bookmark held. “I work until three, but I’m free after.”

“Great. Let me meet you at the coffee shop.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, Rachel hung up and went to the kitchen to throw together a belated dinner, which she ate in front of the television. She was just getting ready to turn in for the night when Trisha, her roommate, came in from work. Her red-rimmed eyes brought a frown to Rachel’s face. “Hey, you okay?”

“No.” Her expression made it seem like she had more to say, but instead she ducked her head and disappeared into her room, the door shutting behind her just a pinch short of a slam.

Rachel stared at the door for a moment, debating what to do before switching off the TV and heading for her room. There was only so much she could do for her backslidden roommate without getting pulled into her drama. She flung yet another prayer heavenward for Trisha before devoting her remaining waking moments to wedding plans.

o

Work always flew for Rachel. From the minute the first customer walked through the door to the time she pulled off her apron and logged out of the office computer, her head was immersed in the business of
Espress-Oh!
and her managerial duties. She loved what she did and knew how blessed she was to have a job she looked forward to every day. Ever since her first cup on a high school mission trip, coffee had been her morning eye-opener, her mood stabilizer, her hobby. The aroma alone was enough to perk her up and clear her head.

But when she crossed to the other side of the counter, she left the responsibilities of her position behind and became just another caffeine addict hanging out in the beachside shop. This week she needed to focus her extracurricular energy on her seminary application essay. She’d decided to go back for her master’s in Christian education, and she was thinking about going into full-time high school ministry. Managing a coffee shop wasn’t something she wanted to do forever, and working with young women on the cusp of adulthood as they navigated faith and life struck a chord. All she had left for her application was the essay, but creativity continued to elude her. She was supposed to write about her faith—when she had become a Christian, the high and low points of her relationship with God—but for some reason she was stymied. “I’ve been a Christian all my life, and it’s always been great” didn’t strike her as master’s-level writing, and embellishing a seminary application essay didn’t seem like the best idea, but the statement was the truth. Church had been her second home since birth, and her life had always been blessed. A loving family, a happy childhood, health and financial stability, with a handful of life’s unavoidable disappointments and sad moments, but no tragedies or life-altering events. Those without a belief in God might called it charmed, but she knew better. Obedience and faith had their rewards.

By the time Barbara showed up, Rachel had managed a decent opening paragraph. She shut the laptop when she saw her friend ordering a drink at the counter, and waved her over when she glanced around.

“Long time no see!” Rachel gave Barbara a hug before she sat down with her iced tea. “I don’t think we’ve talked, except over e-mail, since—wow, now that I think about it, it’s been nearly three months! How is that possible?”

Barbara gripped her iced tea tighter; the plastic cup buckled beneath her fingers. “Yeah, yeah—there’s a reason for that, actually.”

Rachel frowned as she noticed her friend hadn’t yet met her eyes. She leaned in closer, arms folded over the laptop. “What’s up, Barb?”

Barbara’s eyes, when she finally met Rachel’s, were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Rachel also noticed Barbara’s skin was bare—no trace of makeup. And Barbara never left the house without lipstick or mascara. “I have something I need to tell you, Rach. Remember the knee surgery I had last year?”

“After your skiing accident last February—yeah, I remember.”

“Right. Well …” She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and blurted, “I’ve been addicted to painkillers ever since.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Barb—my gosh, I had no idea.”

“No one did. But I’ve been falling apart the last few months, and I couldn’t hide it anymore. Devon found out, and tried to help me quit, but I couldn’t do it.” Her eyes began to tear and she dropped her gaze to the table. “He’s taking me to a rehab clinic tomorrow.”

Rachel couldn’t think of what to say. “Barb … I’m so sorry,” she said, incredulity stammering the words. “I wish I’d known. I mean, I wish I could have helped.”

Her friend sniffed and took a long sip of her drink. “Thanks, Rachel. I wish you could have helped too—I wish anyone could. But it’s way bigger than I ever thought it would get, it’s totally out of control—
I
am completely out of control.”

“That’s hard for me to imagine.”

“Tell me about it.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. Rachel reached out and gripped her arm. “Anyway, I wanted you to know,” Barbara continued, “and I wanted to apologize, because I haven’t been a very good friend or mentor. I haven’t been honest with you. And I know you called because you wanted to talk about one of your girls, but honestly, I can hardly put two thoughts together anymore, so I don’t think my advice would be any good.”

“No, no, that’s fine, I understand,” Rachel said, not fully believing her own words. “Listen—get better, okay? Call me when you come home and we’ll catch up. I’ll be praying for you.”

Barbara’s gaze drifted away. “Yeah, okay …” She licked her lips, her stare resting on a point somewhere over Rachel’s shoulder. “God and I aren’t doing so well these days. I’m kind of struggling with my faith … and with the concept of faith in general, I guess. So, yeah, I appreciate the prayers.” She chuckled. “Though I don’t really think they’ll help.”

Rachel was stunned. She didn’t know how to respond, and she said as much.

“It’s all right,” Barbara said. “I wasn’t expecting you to be able to make it better. I just thought you should know.” She stood. “I need to go. Devon’s waiting for me in the parking lot—he won’t let me drive, which is probably good, actually.”

“Oh—okay. Well …” Rachel stood, and they engaged in an awkward hug. “Like I said, give me a call when you return home, if you feel like getting together.”

“I will, thanks.”

Rachel watched her friend leave, wincing at the defeat that showed not only on Barbara’s face but in her hunched posture and clumsy steps. Rachel sat down, intending to pray and then continue her essay, but instead she slipped into a haze of disbelief and sadness for her friend. It was Barbara’s confession of faltering faith that shocked her the most.

Rachel never would have guessed Barbara was so weak.

Chapter 2

Rachel was on lunch the next day when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. The readout on the caller ID brought some sunshine to her gloomy day. “Daphne, hey!”

“Oh good, you
are
still alive.”

“Haha, right back atcha. What happened to ‘call you next week’?”

“When did I say that?”

“Two days before Christmas.”

Daphne groaned. “Okay, you win. Better late than never, right? How are you?”

“Pretty good. We moved the wedding to New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s great! Well, then this is even more fitting. We need to celebrate. What are you doing the weekend after next?”

Rachel frowned, thinking to herself. “I don’t have my planner, but off the top of my head I don’t think I have anything big. I usually work Saturdays, but I can trade with someone. Why, are you coming back?”

“No. I won the yearly sales challenge, so we’re going to Vegas, baby!”

Rachel let out a laugh that startled the coworker who was restocking the supply shelf beside her. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”

“Well, I will admit you weren’t my first choice.”

Rachel let out a snort. “I love your honesty.”

“Well thanks.” Rachel could hear Daphne’s smile in her words. “Of course I’d want to do Vegas with my boyfriend, but Marc can’t go because of his work schedule, and Carolyn is into the guy she’s seeing right now and doesn’t want to be gone for a whole weekend. And my other friends … eh, just not the kinds of people I’d want to share a hotel room with, you know?”

“I can understand that.”

“So please, please, please? Free food, some gambling cash, a totally awesome suite at the Paris Las Vegas,
naturellement—
the closest I’ll probably ever get to the
ville de mon coeur.
It would be so fun, and we haven’t seen each other in so long.”

Rachel had to concede that. And while she could think of better locations in which to catch up on their friendship, Las Vegas didn’t have to be Sin City if she didn’t want it to be. “Let me think about it. When do you have to know by?”

“That depends—if you want to fly, I need to know by Friday. But if you’re going to drive, I can reimburse you for gas. Your choice.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to drive for four hours. I’ll fly, thank you. If I decide to go, that is.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve checked my calendar and considered whether my delicate sensibilities can handle the shock.”

Daphne chuckled. “Okay. You do that. Kiss kiss, darling.
Au revoir
.”

“I’ll call you Thursday or Friday, and
au revoir
to you, too.”

Rachel shut her phone and smiled. She’d needed a boost to her spirits, and the fact that it had been Daphne who had brought that boost showed that God could use anyone for his purposes.

Still, her mood was overcast by the storm clouds of Barbara’s bad news. She just couldn’t get over it. She’d known Barbara for nearly fifteen years. How could she have missed that her mentor was in such a dark place? And how could Barbara have let herself slip so far? That was the part Rachel just couldn’t fathom.

She finished her sandwich and swirled the remains of her Brazilian Santos in her mug before drinking it down. She had five minutes left of her lunch, which was just enough time to call her mother about dinner.

It rang six times before getting picked up. “Oh, Rachel. Hello.”

“Mom, what’s up? You okay?”

“Um … just not feeling well today, that’s all.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, Mom. Is that why you missed church Sunday—you were sick? Do you have a cold or something?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, I’m sure you don’t feel like cooking tonight, so you’ll be happy to know that Patrick and I can’t make it anyway. Or rather, he can’t make it—he got asked to sub in a softball game for a teacher friend of his. But we’re free tomorrow. Do you want to move it or just cancel for this week?”

Her mother’s silence lasted a long beat. “Well, actually, why don’t you stop by tonight anyway, if you haven’t made plans for yourself. We can do dinner, just the two of us.”

“Two? Where’s Dad?”

“He won’t be here tonight.”

“Oookay.” Her mom sounded weird.
Must be the cold medicine.
“All right, then. Sure, I’ll come by. Six still all right?”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine.”

“Great. See you then.” They said their good-byes and Rachel hung up just as her lunch break was ending. She slipped her phone into her pocket and went back to the counter to check on the baristas.

Julia and Ben were lounging against the counter and talking during the break in business. “Everything good?”

“Yeah—slow, though,” Julia said. “I’m off in five, but can I just go now? I need to get gas before I leave for class or I’ll never make it.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Julia pushed off the counter and said good-bye to Ben before disappearing into the back. Rachel followed her, saying a quick prayer in her mind, and catching her just before she left. “Hey, Julia—did you give any more thought to that study I told you about?” Rachel just knew if she could get Julia to the young-adult Bible study at church, she’d be hooked.

Julia bit her lip and gave Rachel a sheepish look. “Yeah … thanks again for inviting me, but I don’t really think it’s my thing, you know? I’m not really into all … that.”

Rachel smiled despite her disappointment. “I understand. But the invitation is always open, just so you know.” Not that she was going to give up that easily. Julia was a sweet girl, and Rachel was worried about the way she’d been describing her weekends lately.

“Thanks. You’re sweet.” Julia gave her a little wave before letting herself out through the back door.

Rachel went back to work, praying alternately for Julia, her mother, and Barbara. After work she stopped at home to change clothes before heading to her mother’s. Trisha was just getting ready to walk out the door when Rachel walked in. “Hi and good-bye,” Rachel said with a grin. “What is it today?”

“Hobby House.”

“Have fun,” Rachel said with a wave as her roommate passed her on the steps that led up to their apartment. Trisha worked three different jobs, all with crazy hours, and given how often she seemed to be running late and dashing out the door, even she couldn’t keep them all straight.

She took an apple into her bedroom and opened her laptop.
I really think you want me at this school, God. So I could use a little inspiration here.
She waited for the words to come, the one lonely paragraph mocking her. After a while of staring at the screen she finally gave up, put her laptop away, and headed out the door for dinner.

Rachel pulled into her parents’ driveway twenty minutes later, navigating the cracks in the pavement where the tree roots had disrupted the cement before parking behind her mother’s ancient Volvo. Returning to the house where she’d grown up never failed to elicit a childhood memory of one kind or another. Today she caught a glimpse of younger versions of her and Daphne hanging on the tire swing in the backyard under the summer sunshine.

When she got out of the car she took a quick look at the house across the street where Daphne’s parents still lived. The shades were down, as usual, and the grass was long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen them.

She turned back to her parents’ house and opened the door, stepping into the living room and inhaling to see if she could guess what was cooking. But all she could smell was the familiar scent of the house.

“Mom?”

“Hi Rach. In here.”

Rachel took off her sandals and walked to the kitchen. Her mother, looking haggard, sat at the table where a stack of takeout menus lay in a pile. “Oh, Mom, you poor thing. This must be one rough cold.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and sat down across from her. The woman looked awful. There were bags beneath her eyes, untouched by makeup, her cheeks sunken and pale. She had always looked at least ten years younger than she really was, but today she looked ten years older. Rachel’s heart pounded in her chest. “Mom? You okay?”

Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “I don’t have a cold, Rachel. But there is something I have to tell you.”

No, no, no. I can’t take any more bad news. God, please. Not cancer, God. Not a tumor. Oh please …
“What is it, Mom?”

“It’s your father. He … he left.”

Rachel’s heart stopped. “Left? You’re not saying … You don’t mean …”

Her mother took a deep breath and sighed. “We’re separated, Rachel. And we’re getting a divorce.”

Rachel felt sick. She stared open-mouthed at her mother before she finally spoke. “I don’t get it. Did you guys have a fight? Was he cheating on you? Were—Mom,
you
aren’t having an affair, are you?”

Her mother let out a humorless laugh. “No, Rachel, I am not. And no, we didn’t fight, and no, he wasn’t cheating, either. But there is a reason. I didn’t think you’d ever need to know, but now it looks like you do.” She stood and pulled a glass from the cabinet, then filled it at the sink. “Your father has bipolar disorder. He’s always been fairly good at staying on his medication—by the time you came along we had his dosages pretty well figured out, and when he did get unstable, we were usually able to quickly sort out his levels.”

She handed her glass to Rachel, who held it without drinking. “But the last few years he’s been fighting the medication, insisting he doesn’t need it, that sort of thing. In March he got more depressed than ever, and I had to check him into the psych ward at Good Shepherd.”

Rachel thought back two months, and remembered going to her parents’ house to take in the mail and water the plants. “So … you didn’t go to Grandma’s? Where did you go when Dad was in the … hospital?”

“I went to Sacramento to see Gayle. She’d been bugging me to visit for ages anyway.” Gayle was her mother’s best friend. Gayle’s daughter Pauline was a year younger than Daphne, and for a number of years Pauline had been Rachel’s other best friend, her
Christian
best friend, as opposed to Daphne, her best friend whose soul she needed to bring to the Lord.

“Did Gayle know about Dad?”

Her mother nodded.

“Who else knows?”

“Well, your father’s family knows, of course, and my parents, and—”

“Who
doesn’t
know?”

Her mother sat back down with her own glass of water. “No one at church knows. Most of our casual friends—the neighbors, the men your father golfs with, those kinds of people—they don’t know.”

Rachel shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “How could you not tell me?”

“Mental illness is one of those topics you just don’t talk about, honey. And he was afraid you’d think differently of him, pity him—be scared of him. He was so stable for so long that there never seemed to be a reason why we had to say anything, so we didn’t. And then, when he started to have more trouble, he didn’t want to say anything because he didn’t know how to admit he’d slipped. We always just kept an eye on you, to make sure we caught any signs that you might have it too. But you haven’t shown any, so we don’t think you inherited it.”

Rachel stood. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe any of this. This is nuts.” She ran her fingers through her hair, gathering the shoulder-length locks in a wad at her neck and squeezing them tight, then letting her arms fall limp at her sides. “So, what happened? Why did he leave?”

“He’s off his meds. Went off them almost a week ago. He’s never been manic like this before. He disappeared Saturday night and didn’t come back until Sunday afternoon, and when he did he was talking about taking a road trip, going to … I don’t know, New York or something.” She waved her hand, looking tired of the whole conversation. “He spent all afternoon talking about it, then went out and bought a boatload of food and travel-sized shampoos and toothpastes. Then Monday morning he got up and told me he couldn’t be tied down anymore, and he needed to leave to find himself. So he packed a bag and left.”