Lead Me Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  Later that morning, as Shiloh strolled to the teachers’ lounge, she saw Monica in a position she hadn’t witnessed before—staring into the eyes of a boy, who seemed to be saying just what she wanted to hear. Shiloh fought the urge to walk over and snatch her away, and her reaction surprised her. She was fretting over this girl like an overprotective aunt. What was the big deal? What teenage girl didn’t want to have a high school romance? Many did have them, and Monica wasn’t doing anything inappropriate.

  Still, when she saw Monica take the guy’s phone number and walk away with a grin as wide as a half moon, Shiloh knew the rest of the girl’s day, and semester, were going to take on a life of their own. When the boy turned and walked in the opposite direction with a smug grin of his own, Shiloh understood.

  He wasn’t just any boy. This was Trey Holloman, Sherman Park’s handsome star quarterback and citywide Student Athlete of the Year. And, according to all of the girls Shiloh had overhead talking, also the school’s most eligible bachelor.

  Shiloh was excited for Monica on one hand to see what must be her high school dating dreams come true, but on the other, fearful that a distraction like this might take her way off course. She told herself to relax; her eldest son was dating occasionally, despite his continued interest in Lia from Alabama, and balancing his school work, and so did many other teens in their church. For some reason, she felt extra-protective of Monica, though. Shiloh wasn’t sure if it was because of their twin interest in the flute, because the girl’s mother was deceased and couldn’t monitor and shepherd her, or because she didn’t want Monica’s sweet spirit marred by boy drama and issues of the heart before she was ready.

  She made a mental note to call Columbia College Chicago when she returned to her desk and find out how soon they would alert students about their acceptance to the summer music program. If Monica made it in, at least she’d have a reason to focus on that, more so than on Trey Holloman.

  twenty-two

  Jade showed up for Bible study the next Wednesday, but sat in the back and didn’t say much. The week after that, she didn’t come at all.

  Shiloh considered giving her a call the morning after she missed, but what she learned over breakfast—or rather, what Randy discovered as he read the morning paper—stunned her into inaction.

  The two oldest boys were teasing Randy for continuing to read the print version of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel every morning rather than going online like most modern people, when he held up his palm to interrupt them.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “Reverend Vic has a beauty queen on his hands again.”

  Shiloh paused midstroke in brushing David’s hair and frowned.

  “What was that?”

  “Jade Devereaux Smith has won the Mrs. Milwaukee pageant and will compete for the Mrs. Wisconsin title and ten thousand dollars in prizes next month, in Fond du Lac.”

  Lem and Omari exchanged glances.

  “Well, Dad,” Omari said, “she is fine.”

  Lem nodded and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms and grinned. “I think she can win.”

  Shiloh couldn’t believe them, or the news itself. “Maybe that’s why she missed Bible study last night. She’s focused on the beauty pageant scene again. With a busy husband and two young kids? What on earth?”

  “Wonder why Vic didn’t give me a heads-up,” Randy said. He folded the newspaper and set it aside. “That couple is something else. Oh well, if that’s what she wants to do, all the best to her, and to their family.”

  Shiloh shook her head, and because of the boys’ presence, decided not to utter what she would have otherwise shared with her husband: She could have sworn that Jade’s recently erratic behavior was due to her being pregnant. If she had entered a pageant, that clearly wasn’t the case. Now Shiloh was even more curious, though, about what was going on with Jade. She was too young for a midlife crisis, and young Nicholas was too old for her to just now be suffering from postpartum depression. What gave?

  twenty-three

  A busy day at school relegated Shiloh’s questions about Jade to the background until dinnertime. When the family gathered around the table that evening, Randy shared that Vic had shrugged off questions about Jade’s pageant preparations, but seemed proud of her victory. Lem turned the conversation to the family’s Thanksgiving plans just as Shiloh placed a peach cobbler on the table for dessert.

  “So …,” Lem said, and dipped a healthy spoonful of the cobbler into a dessert bowl, followed by a scoop of French vanilla ice cream. “When were you thinking we’d leave for Alabama this year? Right after school on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, or on Wednesday morning?”

  Randy and Shiloh looked at one another. Although Dayna had made the invitation to Florida weeks ago, in the rush of the new school year they had forgotten to tell the kids that plans for Thanksgiving had changed. How was Lem going to take this? He had a serious case of puppy love. Better to break the news now, Shiloh mused, rather than allow him to continue making plans to see Lia in November.

  “Lem, we’re doing something different this year,” Shiloh began. “Aunt Dayna and Uncle Warren will be moving into their new house soon, and they’re inviting the family to come to Florida this Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes!” David pumped his fist in the air and Raphael replicated the move.

  “Disney World, here we come!” Raphael beamed.

  Randy shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up, son. We are going for a quick holiday visit. We may not make it to the theme park this time around. I haven’t ruled out going back for spring break, since we’ll be able to stay with family, but we may only be able to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner and to see the family this time. I’ve got to get back by Saturday, so I can preach on Sunday.”

  David and Raphael’s faces fell.

  “Can’t someone else preach for you so we can stay longer and go to the park?” Raphael asked. “How about Reverend Victor?”

  Randy took a bite of the cobbler Shiloh placed in front of him. “Hmmm, good stuff, babe,” he told her before responding to Raphael. “Raphie, Reverend Vic’s wife will be busy competing in a pageant the week before Thanksgiving. I don’t want to add to his responsibilities.”

  Raphael contorted his face into a sour-lemon expression only a pre-adolescent boy could muster when it came to talk of a married mother participating in a pageant.

  “I thought that kind of thing was for young people—ladies in their twenties or something,” he said. “How old is Mrs. Smith, and can she do that if she’s married and has kids?”

  Shiloh laughed out loud. “Obviously she can,” she said. “For this pageant, you have to be married; it’s the Mrs. Wisconsin pageant, so all of the contestants have husbands, and I’m pretty sure that quite a few of them have children.”

  This time the practical eighth grader, Omari, chimed in. “What sense does it make to have a Mrs. Whatever pageant? Sounds to me like something for old ladies who think they still got it and need to be pumped up. Is she paying to participate?”

  Lem frowned. “Didn’t you just say she was fine? That means she does still have it, dude.”

  Omari shrugged. “Why does she have to prove it to everyone else, though? Especially if it’s costing money.”

  Randy beamed and bumped fists with Omari. “That’s how you’re supposed to think! What’s the cost here? You, my son, are going to be my millionaire.”

  Omari grinned.

  Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll are something else,” she said. “Enough talk about Sister Jade; we’re bordering on gossip.”

  Shiloh didn’t share that she agreed with Omari’s assessment—for some reason Jade must need to feel good about herself. The article in the paper said the winner would receive ten thousand dollars in prizes, including five thousand in cash. Unless Sister Jade was using pageant dresses and shoes she already owned—which Shiloh knew was unlikely—girlfriend might on her own spend up to the cash gift amount getting prepared for the competition.
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  “Back to what we were originally discussing—our family trip to Florida,” Shiloh said. She turned to Randy for support, but he was scarfing down more cobbler.

  “Lem, it’s settled; we’re going to Florida as Dad said, not Alabama,” Shiloh said. “I’m not sure when we’ll visit Atchity, since your grandparents are coming for Thanksgiving and we’ll get to see them at Dayna’s.”

  A range of emotions crossed Lem’s face. Shiloh started to respond, but waited, knowing any platitudes she offered right now would rub him wrong. She didn’t know much about this girl Lia, but Shiloh had never seen him this upset. He finally nodded to indicate that he accepted the decision, and ate the rest of his dessert in silence.

  Later that evening, when Shiloh was upstairs loading the washer, she heard Lem chatting and laughing, and also the voice of a girl. She paused to listen more carefully. Surely he hadn’t snuck someone into his bedroom …

  She tiptoed down the hall and peeked inside his door, which was slightly ajar. Lem’s back was to her, and he was sitting cross-legged on his bed peering at his computer screen, at a lovely, honey-brown girl with long, spiral-curled hair that fell just below her chin. They weren’t on Skype, but it was obviously a similar program.

  She shifted accidentally and the door creaked open, startling Lem. “Mom …”

  Shiloh opened the door all the way. Might as well enter now, since she’d been busted. She stepped inside and walked over to his bed, to get a better glimpse of the girl, who must be Lia.

  The teenager saw her approaching and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Griffin. How are you?”

  Well, now. How polite.

  “Well, hello …” Shiloh looked to Lem, not wanting to assume who she was and be completely wrong.

  Lem fidgeted with embarrassment, but his home training prevailed. “Uh, Lia, this is my mom; Mom, meet Lia.”

  “Hi, Lia. I’ve heard nice things about you. Did you enjoy the summer science program as much as Lem?”

  Lia nodded and smiled. “Yes, ma’am. It has made me rethink my whole career path. I’m still going to be an engineer, but now I can make a decision about the best form of engineering to pursue, since I’ve had exposure to all of the options.”

  “That’s great, young lady,” Shiloh said. “Keep up the good work.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Griffin. Lemuel just told me that your family won’t be coming to Alabama for Thanksgiving, but I hope to meet you at some other time.”

  “Do you have family in Atchity?”

  “No, ma’am,” Lia said. “My family lives in a small town near Birmingham, and I attend a magnet school in Birmingham. I enjoyed the summer program at Alabama U, though. I’m applying again next year.”

  Shiloh was about to mention that she had attended college in Birmingham and ask more about Lia’s magnet high school, but Lem shifted on his bed—her cue that she had stayed too long.

  “Nice to meet you, Lia. Take care.”

  She waved goodbye and when she was out of the girl’s line of view, winked at Lem, who blushed. Shiloh closed the door but left it cracked, as it had been before.

  So that was Miss Lia, she mused, and headed downstairs to the family room. Not bad at all.

  twenty-four

  The clarity of the flute solo was so sweet and pure that Shiloh almost wept. She sat at her teacher post in the band room this morning and listened with her eyes closed as Monica perfectly played every note of “Russian Dance,” one of the pieces the girl had chosen for the summer program audition.

  When she blew the final note, her best buddy Phaedra erupted into applause. But Monica shushed her. “Be quiet! I want to hear what Mrs. Griffin has to say!”

  Shiloh could tell the girl’s nerves were on edge, and truthfully, because she was rooting so hard for Monica, hers were, too. Monica’s life would change for the better if she were selected for this summer program. Both of these girls’ lives could change, because Phaedra had decided to audition, too.

  “Wonderful and sassy, Monica. Way to go. I think you’ll nail it. Just stay focused. And keep practicing every day between now and the audition. You will be great.”

  Shiloh swiveled her chair to the right to face Phaedra, who was strapping on her saxophone so she could play her audition pieces.

  “Show me what you got, missy,” Shiloh challenged her.

  Phaedra grinned. With a toss of her head, which was covered in spiky natural curls, she launched into the first of two sax solos that were bluesy and filled with personality, just like Phaedra herself. Shiloh closed her eyes as she listened. Wouldn’t it be awesome if both of these young ladies were accepted? Both were worthy.

  “I know Monica plans to turn her love of music into a career; you’re just as good,” Shiloh told Phaedra. “Do you want to major in music in college as well?”

  Phaedra shook her head. “No … I’m thinking of sitting out the first semester of college, so I can figure what I love most and where I want to be.”

  Shiloh was shocked, and the pronouncement seemed to catch Monica off guard, too. The girls traded stares, and finally Phaedra nodded.

  “That’s right—I said it!” Phaedra said. “I’ve been trying to tell you, and my parents, for a while that I need to spread my wings. Why waste money on a year of college when I have no idea what I’ll do with it?”

  Phaedra turned to Shiloh. “Aren’t I being wise in doing that?”

  Shiloh pursed her lips and prayed that the right words would come. “In some ways, yes, my dear,” she said. “But look at the big picture: If you enter college ready to learn, and take all of the classes you want, not just those that are required, you’ll be arming yourself with information about a variety of subjects and potential career paths that can help you understand yourself better and figure out what you’re passionate about. Sometimes that can happen inside a classroom, on a college campus. Otherwise, unless you’re planning to travel the world or do something else out of the norm, you won’t be exposing yourself to anything new and different to help you figure out what you might want to do long term. Understand what I’m saying?”

  Phaedra nodded.

  “Well, that’s just my two cents’ worth; I’m sure you and your parents will decide what’s best. You just keep practicing these audition pieces for now so you can get into this summer program. Even that is going to make a difference in how you see the world; you just wait. Don’t rule out college yet, though. It’s definitely not for everyone, but it can be a good path to find your way.”

  Phaedra laid the saxophone on a seat next to her and approached Shiloh for a hug. Monica pouted.

  “She was mine first!” she said and dashed over to flank Shiloh on the opposite side.

  Shiloh laughed and opened her arms to encircle both girls. With the three of them nearly being the same height, it was a perfect Kodak moment.

  “My girls,” she said. “I’m going to miss you when I leave soon.”

  “We don’t want Mrs. Helmsley to come back,” Phaedra said. “She’s nice and all, but you make this class much more fun. You get us. I don’t even mind practicing.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shiloh said. She smirked, but inside she was smiling, grateful that in this short time, she had managed to bond with these sweet girls, and make an impact on the students in both of her classes. Several students had told her so after the principal announced last week that Mrs. Helmsley would be returning in time to lead the fall concert.

  “We mean it,” Monica said. “You’re the first person who hasn’t laughed at my dream or told me to focus on majoring in a ‘real’ subject so I can get a real job. I’ve begun researching colleges where I can study music, and some of them have great fellowship opportunities just for flutists. I would love to travel abroad and spend a whole summer just playing my flute, and thanks to you, I’ve found programs that could make it possible.”

  Monica’s eyes glistened as she ran through the options, and Shiloh’s heart soared and sank. Please God, don’t let her follow in my exact
footsteps.

  “See?” Monica tapped her cell phone and pulled up a website featuring a list of colleges and universities with respected music programs. There in front of her, eighth on the list, was Shiloh’s almost-alma mater, Birmingham-Southern, and listed in italics just beneath the college’s name was the Leake Memorial Fellowship that had afforded her with ten weeks of flute studies in Paris, France. That trip had been life-changing in more ways than one, both beautiful and tragic.

  “Which schools do you think would be best, beyond the well-renowned ones everyone knows?” Monica asked. “Where did you go again?”

  Shiloh turned away and pretended to sort through the sheets of music on her stand. “The one in Birmingham. It’s a good school, but you don’t want a program that far away from home, do you?”

  She hoped her voice wasn’t trembling and that the girls couldn’t see her shaky hands. Shiloh took a few deep breaths, then praised God for allowing the bell that served as a pronouncement of the start of the school day to ring. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to fake her excitement for Monica much longer—not when the dream Monica was chasing was the one that had simultaneously inspired and derailed her life.

  twenty-five

  Most of the St. Stephens congregation had read the newspaper article or heard through the church “gossipvine” that Sister Jade was back on the beauty pageant circuit by the time Reverend Vic made a formal announcement the first Sunday of October.

  He strode to the pulpit after Randy’s sermon and invited Jade to join him.

  Shiloh wondered why they had waited until after the Mrs. Milwaukee pageant to share her involvement. Whatever the reason, he stood next to Jade this afternoon appearing proud and thrilled.