Reinventing Rachel (20 page)

“Pulling away—as in, leaving the church?” For a brief moment Rachel thought she might have found a kindred spirit.

But Leah quickly shook her head. “No, no—just pulling away from
that
church. I haven’t been comfortable there for a really long time, and when I started going to Lakeshore I met some people who felt the same way I did about things, and we’ve been toying with the idea of starting a “house church.”

The phrase “house church” triggered the memory of Macy. Rachel cringed as she remembered her condescending treatment of the concept when she’d ambushed the poor girl that one night. “Yeah, I know about house churches.”

Leah’s expression brightened. “You do?”

Rachel chuckled. “Yeah. I actually know quite a bit about Christian culture and … stuff like that.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, what were you saying about house churches?”

“Oh, well—just that we’re thinking of starting one. There are about five of us at the seminary, and then a few friends that are disillusioned with the institution of church.”

Rachel smirked. “Your father must be thrilled.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it hasn’t gone over well. Plus he’s been paying for school, but now he’s threatening to stop if I don’t come back to his church and take the job he offered me there.”

“He offered you a job? Doing what?”

“Leading all the young-adult ministries.” Her tone told Rachel exactly what she thought of that idea.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve got an apartment with three other girls, and my dad pays my share of the rent, as well as my tuition. If he sticks to his word, then I’m going to be on my own come new year. I might be able to get loans for school, but I can’t afford the rent with what I make here. As it is I’m just barely scraping by with books and food and utilities.” She sat up straighter and pinned Rachel with her green eyes. “So how is it you know so much about Christianity?”

Rachel’s stomach leapt. “Look at the time,” she said with a wry smile as she examined the imaginary watch on her wrist. “I think my break is over.” She stood as Leah began to laugh.

“I’m not letting you off the hook.”

“I know. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. Sorry.”

Leah’s mirth was instantly gone. “Totally okay.”

“But … maybe we’ll talk about it some other time.” Rachel said the words before she had too much time to think about them.

“Fair enough.” Leah opened her notebook. “I’ll be praying for you, Rachel.”

Rachel nearly asked her not to, but shut her mouth and nodded instead. “Thanks.” She never thought she’d be willing to talk so much with Leah—and be so close to actually opening up to her. It seemed that all her relationships were completely upside down.

o

Jack pulled the truck to the curb. “Walk you up?”

“Thanks.”

“So what do you think it means that the hospital hasn’t called you yet?”

She sighed as she searched her purse for her keys. “I don’t know. I think I’ll call there this evening, see if I can get through to her room.” She unlocked the door. “And if not, then I guess tomorrow—”

Daphne sat on the couch, legs curled beneath her, staring at the TV that wasn’t on. “You’re home!” Feeling awkward, she turned to Jack. “I guess I’ll—”

“Talk to you tomorrow.” He gave her a kiss and slipped out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving Rachel to figure out how to navigate the situation alone.

“So, when did you get back?” she asked as she set down her things.

“Six.”

“The hospital never called me. I thought they were going to tell me when you were discharged. I could have picked you up.”

“No big deal.” Daphne spoke without taking her eyes off the television. Rachel wondered if she’d had a mental snap.

“Um … have you eaten? Want me to fix you something?”

“No.”

No to which question?
Rachel was getting concerned. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” She finally tore her gaze away from the blank screen. Her eyes looked dull. “I’m just tired.”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She sat down on the armchair and kicked off her shoes. “Is there … anything you want to talk about? I’m dying to know what happened. You really had me scared.” Daphne shrugged as her eyes drifted down to the coffee table, where the
Cosmo
back issues were in disarray. “I’m still your friend, Daphne. I’m still here for you. I want to help you if there’s anything I can do. And even if there isn’t, maybe whatever it is that’s bothering you wouldn’t be so bad if you got it off your chest.”

“Thanks, but no.” Daphne unfolded slowly and stood. “I’m going to bed. ’Night.”

Rachel watched her walk away, scrambling for something to say that might bring her back or at least snap her out of the fog she seemed to be in. But her bedroom door was shut before she came up with anything.

Concern was replaced with frustration, then fear. There was nothing she could do if Daphne didn’t want to cooperate. And Rachel had no recourse, no way to sneak in the back door of Daphne’s struggle. Without appealing to God—or to whatever nebulous “higher power” might be out there—to move in someone’s life, their only strength came from within themselves. And if they had no desire to change, or they had the desire but didn’t have the strength, then what else could you do?

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe I just need to leave.
If Daphne didn’t want her help, and Rachel was going to keep bearing the brunt of her “junk,” then there wasn’t much point in staying. And yet again, maybe just being there, just being
around
, was enough help for Daphne. What if that was all she needed but Rachel bailed? Honestly Rachel wasn’t sure she was willing to stick it out either way.

But where would I go? How would I find a roommate?
She longed to hash things out with her mom, or Barbara.
What about Ruby Jean?

For some reason she was reluctant to go to Ruby Jean for more advice. Her wisdom seemed to be based on such shaky ground. No matter how much she tried to get on board with it, her stubborn belief in absolute truth—which she was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to shake—made that difficult. Rachel didn’t trust it. Though she wasn’t ready to think yet about where that truth was rooted. She had enough on her mind without trying to tackle that.

Then who
can
I trust?

She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. That was a good question.

Chapter 16

Halloween was drippy and cold. Rachel felt bad for the trick-or-treaters already roaming the neighborhood when she left for her afternoon shift. It was the kind of day that made her glad she worked in a coffee shop, the kind of day that begged for hot chocolate and an overstuffed chair from which to watch the costumes that paraded down the sidewalk.

Ruby Jean had a tradition of throwing a Halloween party for her staff every year. They closed the shop early, and dinner was catered from a local Italian place. She bought soda and wine and an obscene amount of candy and told everyone to invite a friend of two if they wanted. Rachel invited Daphne, but she turned her down in favor of a party one of her friends was throwing. Rachel almost hoped Daphne would invite her along, because she didn’t know if Daphne had told anyone about her hospitalization and feared no one would stop her if she started knocking back drinks.
There’s that codependency Jack warned you about.

But Daphne didn’t invite her, and Rachel spent the evening trying to keep up with the conversations around her while her thoughts were somewhere else. She didn’t feel like being there, either, which made it even more difficult to loosen up and have a good time. She’d been in a perpetual bad mood ever since Daphne’s overdose. She felt like a cartoon character with a black cloud above her head; she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow that hovered behind her all the time. But she knew it would look bad if she didn’t show, so here she was, helping Ruby Jean set up the bar.

“So why Halloween?” she asked Ruby Jean. “Why not the traditional Christmas party?”

Ruby Jean opened a stack of plastic cups. “There are already a million Christmas parties,” she said. “Everyone’s already busy and overbooked, and I didn’t want to put one more obligation on my staff, especially since so many of them are students who are crunching for finals or leaving to go home for the holidays. So when else was I going to do it? Thanksgiving? Not much of a party holiday. Same with Easter. But Halloween already has a party vibe. Plus, it’s one of our slowest nights of the year.” She ripped into a bag of mini candy bars and began to fill a row of mismatched candy dishes she’d lined along the counter. “It’s also the Wiccan new year, so why not join the festivities?”

“Wicca—do you pull any practices from that religion?”

“One of the few I haven’t, no. I like some of the tenets, though—their respect and reverence for the earth, the idea that there is a balance in the natural world between male and female, for example, the idea that there’s both a god and a goddess. It’s one of the few religions where women tend to rank higher than men, too, which I appreciate.” She popped a chocolate in her mouth and pocketed the wrapper. “I’ve known a few witches, too, and they were sweet women.”

“So … just like all the other religions we talked about, you think Wicca is just another manifestation of people trying to connect to the divine?”

Ruby Jean smiled. “Bingo.”

Rachel though for a minute. “What about the idea of black magic? Do you believe it exists?”

Ruby Jean shrugged. “Sure. But I don’t think witches practicing black magic is any different than any other religion doing harm in the name of their god. The Inquisition, jihad, bombing abortion clinics—they all think they’re doing what their god wants them to do.”

Their conversation was cut short when the caterer arrived. Rachel pondered Ruby Jean’s thoughts while she balled up the foil that had covered the pans of lasagna and fettuccine Alfredo and set up the cutlery and paper plates. By the time folks were sitting down to eat, Rachel had come up with more questions. “Okay, so, do you think God exists, R. J.?”

She thought a moment, then nodded. “I do, yes. I don’t know what form he or she takes, or if it’s more of a force than a sentient being—but yes, I believe there is some kind of higher power.”

“I guess I’m just wondering how it all works in your opinion. I mean, doesn’t it seem like God, whoever he or she or is, reveals Himself in contradictory ways? To these people over here he says, ‘Love your enemies,’ but to those people over there he says, ‘Wipe out the infidel.’ Or ‘I am the one true God’ versus the Hindu pantheon versus Buddhism that says there’s no God at all. I guess I don’t know how to find peace in affirming the validity of so many different beliefs. And …” she said, emphasizing her point with her plastic knife, “what comes when you die? Which one of those religions has the right idea about the afterlife? How do you know what you’re going to get in the end?”

Ruby Jean listened to Rachel’s interrogation with patience, then set down her plastic ware and folded her arms on the table. “Well,” she said slowly, eyes focused on the basket of garlic bread in the center of the table, “I’ll be honest with you. I
don’t
know what I’m going to get in the end. I think that’s one of the reasons I approach it all buffet-style—I figure I’m bound to hit on the right thing now and then, and I guess I’m just banking on God—whoever that is—to recognize that I always tried to do the right thing.” She looked to Rachel and gave her a small smile. “I have doubts too. I think everyone does at some point, regardless of how devoted they are. Sure I wonder if I’m missing something, if there’s something else I should be doing. But I don’t think we can know for sure who is right, and I don’t want to waste my energy worrying about something I have no control over.”

She twirled fettuccine onto her fork. “Do I have peace? Eh, maybe 85 percent of the time, which is a lot more than some people, so I’m grateful for that.” She took a bite, leaving Rachel to ruminate on her response.

Rachel felt the dark cloud above her grow heavier. For some reason, it felt like one of the most depressing confessions of faith she had ever heard. To live with no anchor for truth beyond your own thoughts and devices, to have no certainty about what came next—to just strike blindly into every tradition in the hopes of hitting the bull’s-eye …

But where was Rachel these days? How was her stance any less depressing? At least Ruby Jean was making an effort to find truth. What had Rachel done lately to sort out her beliefs?

Rachel pushed away her plate of pasta and drained her cup of wine. Suddenly she didn’t have much of an appetite.

Later in the evening Jack pulled Rachel onto one of the purple-upholstered wing chairs and offered her a Hershey’s kiss. “It sounded like you and Ruby Jean were having quite the discussion at dinner,” he said.

“Yeah, we were. I’m interested in her views on spirituality.” She munched the chocolate, then said, “You and I haven’t talked much about religion. Were you raised with any specific beliefs?”

“No, actually, I wasn’t. My mom was raised Catholic, but didn’t practice. Though we did go to Christmas and Easter Mass most years. My dad was a lapsed something-or-other; I don’t remember what.”

“I know you don’t have any religious beliefs, but have you given spirituality any thought at all?”

He rolled the candy foil in his fingers as he spoke. “Eh, dabbled a little bit with the thought of a generic higher power in college, but never really settled on any one idea or belief system. Sometimes I wish I had been raised with something, though—I think it’s a lot easier to work toward goals when you’ve got something driving you. Like, you pursue a particular career because you believe God has destined you to be ‘that,’ whatever ‘that’ is, and because you want to go to paradise, or heaven, or whatever you want to call it, you really devote yourself to pursuing that calling. When your life is comfortable and you don’t have anything egging you on like that, it’s easy to let yourself get lazy.”

Rachel gave him a sideways glance. “You sound like you’ve thought about this.”

He flashed a sheepish smile. “Well—I have, actually. Remember when you got the promotion and I told you I was a little jealous?” She nodded. “It made me start thinking more about my own life, my own goals—or lack thereof. I’ve coasted since college. My sights were set on baseball, and when that got taken away, I just started to drift. I never pursued accreditation after getting my sports medicine degree. I’ve been thinking lately that I want to get back to that, start building a career instead of just having a job.”

Rachel squeezed an arm around his shoulder. “That’s really great. I’m happy for you.”

Jack ducked his head, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, well … anyway, I started thinking I might start looking into religion, too.”

Rachel sat up. “Why?”

He shrugged. “A man reaches a certain age, he starts thinking about what the next life holds.”

Rachel laughed. “Jack, you’re not even thirty!”

He grinned. “I’m kidding. Not about the religion part, though—that I’m actually serious about.” She gave him a questioning look. “I know, I know, I don’t look like the churchy type. But still, part of me feels like I might be missing something important.”

This was too much for Rachel to think about. “I’m going to get another drink. Can I get you something?”

“Maybe. What are you having?”

“Wine, probably.” Jack gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “What?”

“I don’t know … maybe I’m just imagining it, but it seems like you’re drinking a lot lately.”

Her defenses rose. “Not ‘a lot.’ Not more than you.”

“It’s just weird, that’s all I’m saying. It doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

She pushed herself from his lap. “If you had two beers it wouldn’t be a big deal at all. I have two glasses of wine and suddenly I’m some lush, is that what you’re saying?”

Jack ran his hand through his hair, frustration written on his face. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He waved her away. “Fine, go, get a drink, forget I ever said anything.”

She gritted her teeth against the words fighting to be voiced as she poured herself another glass. He obviously had no idea how much it helped her or he wouldn’t have brought it up. She swallowed down half her cup, topped it off, then poured one for Jack. She knew he was just being hypocritical—he was way more of a drinker than she was. Heck, most of the staff were already completely tanked—this was only her second glass. At least she knew when to stop.

Rachel and Leah were the official clean-up crew. Almost everyone else was gone, having left behind the typical party detritus. “It’s surprising how much trash such a small group of people can generate,” Leah said. She was going from table to table with a garbage bag, cleaning up the plates and empty cups. “There were, what, twenty people here? You’d think it had been three times that.”

Rachel was moving slowly with the broom, frustrated with her body’s lack of coordination.
I really need to get home and into bed. I’m exhausted.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s nuts,” she said, trying not to let on that she wasn’t really listening.

Things with Jack had been tense the rest of the night. He had the morning shift the next day, so he’d left early in the evening, and Rachel had been almost glad to see him go. She wished she could have gone as well; all she really wanted was to sleep. It was all she ever wanted to do these days. And yet she had the hardest time doing so when she finally crawled into bed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Leah asked.

Rachel shook her head. “Sorry?”

“Are you all right? You’re really quiet tonight.”

“Oh.” Rachel made an effort to stand up straighter and look more awake. “Just had a rough few nights, that’s all.”

“Ah. Understandable.”

They cleaned in silence for a while more, until Rachel said, “So I have a deep question for you, if you’re up for it.”

“Sure.”

“Who do you think God is?”

Leah stopped what she was doing and laughed. “That’s out of nowhere.”

“It’s my question
du jour
.”

“Gotcha.” She smiled and resumed her cleaning, then said, “Well, I was raised to think of God as sort of a Big Brother. Not the mentoring kind, the Orwellian kind. But the more I study the less I agree with that view. I don’t think He’s that punitive, or that … I don’t know … that sneaky, trying to always ‘catch’ us, you know?” She gathered a paper tablecloth in her hands and scrunched it to a ball. “I’ve never been happy with my relationship with him, and I think my false view of him is to blame. I mean, on the one hand, I was taught he loves us, but then in the next breath I was told to watch out that I didn’t disobey him, as though that love he had for us was based on what we did. But now I don’t think that. I think he loves us, unconditionally, and we’re sort of like a bunch of toddlers who keep making stupid mistakes. You don’t tell a two-year-old you love them, but they’d better watch out. Right?”

Rachel shrugged. “Makes sense.”