Over Her Head (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 489)

by Gail Gaymer Martin

“That’s what I figured. No sense in leaving a message for Barb.” She tugged on her top button, gloom covering her face. “I’m so sorry, Mark. It’s just another example of my imperfections. I had to do it my way. . .and alone. If I hadn’t chased you off, you would have seen the things on the car roof.”

  He could have given her a lecture, but it wasn’t the time. Anyway, it would have done little good. Lana had to learn control and patience for herself. . .and that could only be with God’s help. At least she hadn’t dashed out to her car so she could solve the problem herself.

  Unforeseen, she faced him, then moved toward the doorway. “On second thought, let me go home and look. I’m the one who caused the problem.”

  Mark’s last thought slithered to the floor. “No, I’ll do it, Lana. You take care of the kitchen.”

  She followed him to the door but didn’t argue, and he was grateful.

  The trip was only a matter of blocks, and as he drove, Mark kept his peripheral vision glued to the road, looking for telltale signs of his belongings. Seeing nothing, his hope lifted, but when he pulled up to the driveway and stopped short of the spot where Lana’s car had been, he saw nothing.

  He climbed from the car and walked along the driveway. In a crevice between the driveway and lawn, something caught his eye. An EpiPen. If that had fallen there, where was everything else?

  He moved in a full circle, wondering if a neighbor had picked it up for safekeeping or worse a child. If his carelessness by not closing his kit had caused a child injury, he’d never forgive himself.

  The side door flew open, and Mark jerked.

  “Mark.” Barb stood in the doorway. “Are you missing some of your things?”

  With his heart in his throat, he could only nod.

  “The stuff’s inside. Come on in.”

  She pushed the screen open, and he took a calming breath before going inside.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” he said, catching his breath. “Lana called, but she got the answering machine.”

  “I just got in. I’m thankful no one found it.” She gestured to the duffel bag and travel kit sitting on the kitchen table. “Can you picture the little kids in the neighborhood playing grown-up in your shoes?”

  He unzipped his shaving kit and pulled out the checkbook. “Or writing checks.” He gave her a grateful grin.

  “Whew! I didn’t know that was there. I assumed the stuff was yours. Lana mentioned you were moving today.” She pulled out a kitchen chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink.”

  With his mouth as dry as Death Valley, he accepted the offer. “Let me call Lana first, if you don’t mind. I know she’s worried.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, pointing toward the telephone.

  When he’d heard Lana’s relieved exclamation, Mark gave her a quick explanation and hung up. Sliding into the chair, he took a long, cool drink of the iced tea.

  “How did your bags get in our driveway?” Barb asked as she joined him at the table.

  “Guess,” he said, then told her the tale.

  “She’s a character, isn’t she?” Barb shook her head. “I love my sister with all my heart, but she’s like a marine sergeant sometimes.”

  With his mouth full of tea, Mark sputtered. He covered the front of his mouth with his hand in a futile effort to keep from showering the table.

  Barb grabbed a paper napkin and slid it across to him. He mopped up the drizzle and shook his head. “I called her something like that a week or so ago.”

  “How did she take it?” Her smile told him she was joking.

  “I think she’d heard it before,” he said, remembering when he’d teased her during their after-church breakfast.

  “From me.” Barb took a swallow of tea and leaned against the chair back. “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” She gave him a wry smile. “You know that saying.”

  Mark nodded. “I’m afraid I admitted my flaws to her—and she won’t let me forget them either.

  “If we didn’t have flaws, we’d be angels or something.” She grinned. “Poor Lana got the worst of it since she was the oldest. We have wonderful parents, but our father has always been the kind of man who lets you know what he never had and what you have. Know what I mean?”

  Mark nodded again, although not totally sure he understood.

  “Dad never had a bicycle, and he spent his life making sure we had a bike. But we always knew to be grateful for it. We spent a lot of our childhood trying to make Dad happy and being the best kids we could be. . .to the point that now I try to save the world while Lana tries to save herself.” She lifted the glass and took another drink. “We’re a little goofy, I suppose.”

  “Not goofy. Just unique. But I understand a little better why Lana is who she is.”

  “She doesn’t talk much about herself,” Barb said. “Just let her be in charge, and she’s happy. It’ll get done fast but in her own way.”

  Mark had seen that demonstrated, but he had to admit that often Lana’s way was a good way. He drained the glass and rose. “I’d better get back. Your sister’s organizing my kitchen.”

  “Then you’ve got it made. She’ll put everything on the shelf in alphabetical order. You won’t have to guess where to find a thing.”

  Mark chuckled and gathered his belongings. Thanking Barb for the tea, he headed for his car. So many things made sense now. Lana had good parents, but her well-meaning father expected appreciation. And how does a kid show gratitude? By behaving and being as perfect as possible.

  But Barb’s words awakened another thought. He also had a problem with trying to direct the world. His father had tried to guide him when he was younger, and he’d fought back. Now he found himself acting like his father—trying to save the world with his will.

  Mark closed his eyes as his words drifted up to heaven. Father, help Lana and me both learn that we cannot save ourselves or anyone. It’s only through Your precious gift that we’re saved—through Your Son, Jesus. Help us to live that, Lord. . .and soon.

  When he opened his eyes, he turned the key in the ignition and grinned. He’d just given God a real challenge.

  Five

  On Wednesday, the last day before vacation, Lana slid a graded exam onto the corrected pile and grabbed another. She didn’t have to use the answer key anymore. After thirty exams, she knew the answers by heart. Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked toward the doorway.

  “Come in, Don. Have a seat.”

  Don Fabrizio stepped through the doorway and ambled across the floor. He eased his long legs beneath a front desk and wove his fingers together.

  She rose from her desk and stood in front of him. “I’m sorry I had to throw you out of the exam Monday, Don, but you know you were cheating. I saw you. I don’t understand why you did that.”

  He shrugged and stared down at his fingers clutched together on the desk. “So what do you want?”

  “I want to know why you cheated. You’re not a bad student. In fact, your grades are pretty good. So what’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t study. I couldn’t remember all that stuff.”

  “Why didn’t you study?” Lana asked, watching his nervous behavior.

  He responded with another shrug, his focus never leaving the desktop.

  “I shouldn’t give you another chance, but I’m willing if you are,” she said, amazed at her decision.

  With her offer, his head lifted, and his gaze sought hers. “What do you mean?”

  “Another chance,” she repeated. “I’ll give you a different exam. I always prepare more than one version since I have three classes that are the same.”

  “You mean. . .you’ll let me. . .” He paused as if disbelieving.

  “Yes,” she said. “You might not do well, but you know I’ll have to mark your final grade down horribly if you don’t take it at all.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice distant and sad. “And I’d never hear the end of it.”

  Alerted b
y his words, Lana searched the boy’s face for a hint of his trouble. If he could only talk and tell her what was wrong, he might have some relief from his problem. Her thought stopped her cold. Once again, she saw her own behavior in the teen. How many times had she avoided telling others the things that troubled her. She knew it would seem so unimportant to anyone else, and the telling made her feel vulnerable. Better to keep her thoughts inside and deal with them privately.

  “I don’t like to talk about my problems either,” Lana confessed.

  Again, Don lifted his face to hers, his gaze seeming to beg to believe she understood.

  “Look, Don,” she said, sliding into the desk beside him. “Here’s the deal. You tell me why you didn’t study, and I’ll give you another exam. Fair?”

  His face drained of color, and she sensed he was about to rise from the chair and leave. She watched his arms brace against the desk and his foot shift to stand.

  Instead, he caved back against the desk and shook his head. “It’s too difficult to talk about my family. And nothing I say will change anything.”

  Lana heard her own thoughts coming from the boy, and sadness rolled through her. She’d spent a lot of time letting her past—a good past really—get in the way of a full life. At least she’d maintained a sense of humor. Quick wit. That’s one thing she loved about Mark. The phrase sizzled through her. Loved about Mark. Had she really meant what she said?

  She drew her attention back to Don, his face strained by unhappiness. “No, you can’t change your family, but you can change yourself and how you react to the family. That’s all I can offer you.”

  “What do you mean change myself?” He released a bitter sigh. “It’s my dad who drinks and acts crazy when he gets home at one in the morning. He wakes everyone up, kicking the furniture or else yelling so loud even God couldn’t sleep.”

  God? Was Don a believer? She struggled to decide where to go with the discussion. She couldn’t just tell him to give the problem over to God. She knew how she’d struggled with that and failed. He needed more, but he needed the Lord too.

  “The other night,” Don continued, “he came in early. . .but stupid drunk as usual. I was trying to study, and he kept poking at me and grabbing my study notes. If anyone had seen him besides my family, I’d have died. He acted like a nutcase. I wanted to scream at him or blast him one, but he’s my dad.”

  Don lifted his face to Lana, and she saw the teen’s longing to love his father unconditionally. Hope filled his face, and it tugged at Lana’s heartstrings.

  “I’m sure that was terrible,” was all she could find to say. She’d never known a life like that.

  “The worst thing was. . .he t–tore up my study notes.” He choked on the words.

  “Tore them? Why?” She struggled to keep her face from showing emotion.

  “For fun.”

  His answer settled in her stomach like a mountain. How could she respond to this hurting young man? “You had a bad time, Don. Do you have friends you can study with next time? Go to their house. . .or even the library?”

  “I don’t have many friends. Who wants to invite someone over to see their dad acting like that? And I can’t hang out at the guys’ homes without having them over. I just gave up.”

  She grasped at his earlier reference. “Do you believe in God?” Her silent prayer soared to heaven, asking for wisdom.

  He nodded. “My mom taught us about the Bible. She used to read us stories about Jesus, but we don’t go to church much.”

  “I have a friend who. . .he’s the youth director of First Church of Holly. Do you know where that is?”

  He nodded. “It’s not too far from my house.”

  She felt God’s prodding. “Here’s an idea. First Church has a nice youth group. They go bowling and. . .all kinds of things.” Her mind went blank, and she tried to imagine what else they did. “They don’t meet at private houses usually because they have the church. Some of the kids who are members there you might know from Holly High. Why not come to church some Sunday and check it out? You can see what the youth group is doing.”

  He listened to her without making his escape, and she prayed he’d accept her invitation.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I hate going places alone.”

  “Well, bring along a friend. And remember that you’re not really alone, Don.” Mark’s words soared into her mind. “Jesus is always walking along with you, and God is on your side.” She filled with relief, thanking God for Mark’s words. “And you know me too. I realize I’m old, but I’m still your ‘old’ friend.”

  He laughed for the first time. “Thanks, Miss West. I’ll think about it.”

  She gathered her wits and returned to the reason he’d come. “Okay, you kept your part of the deal. So if you want to take a look at this exam, maybe you’ll do better than you think.”

  He nodded and settled into the seat, leaning forward to pull the stub of a pencil from his back pocket.

  Lana selected a blank exam from her packet and slid it in front of him. “Take your time. There’s nothing tricky. The test is asking you to think more than repeat dates and events. Just use your common sense. . .and a little bit of what you learned in class.”

  He smiled again and bent his head over the test.

  Lana returned to correcting papers and averaging grades. She’d already cleaned her room, stripped the bulletin boards, and stored away her teaching materials. At three o’clock she would be a free woman. . .as long as her grade books and sheets were turned in. She could pick up her paycheck and go home.

  Home. She had the whole summer to do the projects she’d thought about. Shame filled her. All she had on her mind to worry about had been summer projects. Don had too many worries for a teenager. She lifted her head and eyed him. She thought she’d led a difficult life. She’d lived in bliss compared to this young man.

  Again Mark came to mind. Now that he’d moved, she wondered how often she would see him. Maybe it had worked out for the best. His life seemed so devoted compared to hers—giving his time and his talents to make others happy.

  She glanced at her wristwatch. Nearly three. Anxious to turn in her grades and leave, she glanced at Don. To her pleasant surprise, he shuffled his test papers in order and rose. “Thanks, Miss West. I know I didn’t get an A, but I don’t think I failed it either.”

  “That’s great, Don. Have a nice summer, and remember what I said. If you have a chance, drop by the church. I’m sure you won’t be sorry.”

  He nodded, slid the exam onto her desk, and went through the door. She stared at the vacated space for a moment, praying that God would move the boy to come to the church. With a sigh, she pulled his paper in front of her and began to correct his exam.

  When she finished, she tallied his grade and averaged the results. Don had been correct. He hadn’t failed, and he’d gotten a C minus. Not great but better than a zero. She piled her grade book, report sheets, and exams into a neat pile to turn into the office.

  As she rose, a familiar figure appeared at her doorway. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see Mark.

  “Looking for a pretty teacher with freckles. Know anyone like that?”

  She laughed, and the sensation felt wonderful. She’d been tense, listening to Don’s story and reliving her own pitiful drama. She thanked God he’d tuned her thoughts back to reality. Her hang-ups were of her own making. Now, the challenge was to dump them.

  “Don’t know a soul like that,” she said, stepping toward Mark. “So tell me. Why are you here. . .really?”

  “I thought you’d enjoy a friendly face.” He stepped into the room and sat on the edge of a student desk, looking around the room. “So this is where you pour knowledge into youthful minds.”

  “I try,” she said.

  “And today’s your last day until fall?”

  She lifted her pack of papers and grades. “Right here. I turn this in, and it’s sweet freedom.”

  “You looked
a little thoughtful when I watched you from the door,” he said, his sensitive face acknowledging his suspicion.

  “I had to deal with a problem today. It made me think.” She told him briefly about Don’s situation, but not her revelation. She’d hang on to that in private and see what she could do about the problems alone.

  Mark stepped to her side and ran his fingers along the tense cords in her neck. “That was a great suggestion. I’m glad you invited him to come to church. . .especially when he lives so near.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll come, but I tried.” She touched Mark’s arm. “You know what was strange? Something you said awhile back came to me out of the sky. The words were perfect. It was almost as if—”

  “As if God put them in your head?” He smiled at her and drew the palm of his hand down her back.

  She nodded, awed at the realization. “Now that we’re being truthful,” she said, sending him a knowing look, “tell me the real reason you came.” He had something on his mind. She knew it in the pit of her empty stomach. “I’m waiting,” she said, trying to sound blithe.

  “I have a youth outing tomorrow morning, and my female chaperone broke her arm.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “And who was this female chaperone?”

  “Teri Dolan’s mother. She tripped over the dog and fell on her right arm.”

  “And she can’t chaperone with only one arm?”

  He shook his head. “Not this activity. I need someone to volunteer.”

  The words, “Not this activity,” made her nervous. “I’ll pray that you find someone,” Lana said with wide-eyed innocence.

  He chuckled and touched her skin, letting his finger trail along her arm. “I always appreciate prayer, but today, I’d really appreciate a volunteer too.”

  “Would you like me to ask Barb?”

  His eyes narrowed to a toying scowl, and he didn’t respond.

  “Oh, I see, you want me to volunteer.” She quieted her heart, fighting the desire to yield to his charm. “I empathize, but my vacation starts tomorrow. During the school year, I’m knee-deep in teenagers. I couldn’t bear to spend one more minute with. . .”