by Nancy Moser
It didn’t seem right. If God wanted Sim to remain in her old life, then why had she and Claire been brought together in the first place? Why had Merry been brought into the mix to care for the girl? It didn’t seem logical. The aunt and uncle couldn’t have her. She’s mine.
She’s not yours, she’s Mine.
That was the bottom line. Either Claire believed God was in control or she didn’t. Either she trusted Him or she didn’t.
Either their yeses meant something…
Claire said a quick prayer but received no immediate insight. All they could do was wait for Him to show them the right way. His way.
Someone knocked on the door. Merry’s stomached clenched.
Sim ducked behind the love seat. “Don’t open it!”
“Don’t be silly.” Claire motioned for Sim to come out of her hiding place. She patted the love seat beside her. Sim fell onto the cushions like a rag doll.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” But Merry looked through the peephole just the same. It was Bailey. She opened the door.
He came inside. “Is the girl okay?”
Sim tucked her feet beneath her. “I’m fine. For now.”
Merry touched Bailey’s arm. “How about you? With all the excitement…your surgery. Shouldn’t you be at home?”
“I’m going. I just wanted to check on you.” He looked to Sim. “Your uncle’s not the kind to try to nab you, is he?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I could stay here. Sleep on the couch. Protect you.”
Merry smiled. “Where’s your shining armor?”
“It’s at the cleaners.” He took a deep breath. He was way too pale. “Sorry your dinner was scrapped.”
“We’ll do it another time,” Claire said.
Bailey pointed a finger at Sim. “Be brave, kid. Everything will turn out fine. I promise.”
Ten minutes later, Merry hung up the phone. This was not going to be easy.
Sim must have noticed the crease between her eyebrows. “Who was that?”
“Ken.”
“Who’s Ken?”
Merry hesitated. “He’s a police officer.”
“A cop?”
“Your uncle called him. Ken wants to hear our side.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He’s a good guy, Sim. He’s been concerned about you and has been very nice about letting you stay here without contacting anyone.”
Sim stomped away. “It’s a conspiracy.”
“It’s reality, Sim.”
“Then I’ll take fantasy.”
Merry sighed and flipped through the pages of the phone book, finding a number. She drilled it with a finger. “I’m calling your aunt and uncle at the motel.”
“No way.”
Merry put the receiver to her ear. “This isn’t a question of want, Sim. This is a question of right. Ken wants to meet tomorrow and agreed to do it over here instead of at the station. Your aunt and uncle need to be here. They have a right to be here.”
“To decide my fate?”
Merry dialed the number.
A noise woke her. Merry opened her eyes and waited to hear it again to prove to herself that it was real and not a part of a dream.
A soft shuffle. A muted bump. Someone is in the house! Sim’s uncle!
She threw off the covers and ran downstairs. The love seat in the living room was empty.
Claire appeared on the landing behind her. “Where is—?”
“Sim! Sim?”
A glass broke in the kitchen. They found Sim standing above the mess, fully dressed, her backpack over one shoulder.
Merry put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Getting a drink of water.”
Neither woman responded.
Sim let the backpack slip to the floor. “I was leaving.”
Claire pointed to a kitchen chair. “Sit.”
Sim walked around the broken glass, her shoes crunching small shards. She sat.
“You can’t run away again. Ever. You have to face this.”
The girl’s head shook back and forth. “I know how these things work, Claire. Relatives always get custody of the kids. Plus I’ll get in trouble for running way. Because of that, the authorities won’t listen to me. They’ll think I’m a delinquent. I’ve watched the news. These things never work out.”
“It sounds like your aunt and uncle want you back because they care about you,” Merry said.
Sim kept shaking her head. “Don’t I have a say in this?” Her voice was choked with tears. She put her head in her hands.
Merry witnessed a tear fall onto Sim’s knee and chastised herself for being surprised to see it. Why did Sim always seem older than her fourteen years? Merry wrapped her arms around the girl. Within a moment, she felt Claire’s hands on her back.
“Dear God—” Claire’s calm voice filled the kitchen—“take care of this child. You were the One who brought us together. And now…we want what’s best for her. Please control this situation and help us do the right thing. We’re saying yes to you. Whatever you want.” Claire’s voice changed. “Aren’t we saying yes?”
Merry sighed deeply. “Yes, I’m saying yes.”
“Sim?”
The girl hesitated. Then she nodded. Three for three.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken…
Twenty-four
I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul.
PSALM 31:7
BY EIGHT-FIFTEEN THE NEXT MORNING, they were ready for the meeting at Merry’s.
At least, Claire hoped they were ready.
Officer Kendell stood at the bottom of the stairs, his elbow resting on the baluster. The smell of cinnamon coffee cake filled the room. Claire set two chairs near the love seat.
Merry came in from the kitchen and handed Ken a cup of coffee. “I sent Sim to get ice. Quick. Let’s devise a plan. We’ve got to have a plan.” She looked to Ken. “Don’t we?”
“You can plan all you want, but…” He shrugged.
That said it all. This meeting was an act of futility.
Claire put a calming hand on Merry’s arm. “I think it’s imperative we react logically yet show compassion. No angry voices. No threats. We don’t want the aunt and uncle to think we’re the enemy. It’s important we handle this situation with dignity.”
“I vote for dignity.” Merry glanced at Ken. “We’ll never convince them that Sim belongs in Steadfast unless we can show them we are good people who’ll care for her and bring her up right.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Whoa!” Ken made a T with his hands. “Time out. Bring her up? Since when are you talking about a permanent situation?”
Yeah, since when, Merry?
“I don’t know. I just—”
“Temporarily taking care of a runaway is one thing, finding out the truth about her situation is a second thing, but having her stay. He shook his head. “There are courts to think about. Lawyers. Laws.”
Merry and Claire exchanged a glance. What was Merry talking about?
Merry’s hands flew up and down, back and forth. “But we can’t let Sim live in limbo any longer. If it turns out she shouldn’t be with her relatives, then someone has to take her. We need to make a commitment.” She turned to Claire. “Right?”
Claire swallowed hard.
Ken looked at Merry, then Claire. “You talking foster care here or adoption?”
“Hey, don’t look at me.” Claire held her hands up. “This is Merry’s ball game.”
Merry’s face sagged. “Claire! Don’t you want to take her? Keep her here?”
Claire moved to Merry’s side, lowering her voice. “Here is the key word. I’m not going to be here, Merry. I’m going home.”
“But…” Merry looked as if she’d been hit in the stomach.
Ken moved between them. “I know your heart is in the right place, Merry
. But you’re thinking short-term, while the girl needs a long-term answer. I advise you not to get her hopes up by letting her think she’s going to stay. I truly doubt the aunt and uncle will go down easy.”
Claire pressed a hand against her forehead to fend off a headache.
Merry adjusted the doily on the back of a wing chair. “I was hoping…maybe they want to give her up.”
“They were pretty adamant last night.”
Merry turned to Claire. “And rude. I don’t like the uncle at all.”
“He was just surprised,” Claire said. “It was a shock seeing his niece at the restaurant.”
Ken sipped his coffee. “So what exactly are you offering, Merry?”
Claire joined Ken in waiting for an answer.
“I’m…I’m offering her a home.” Merry suddenly sounded certain. “A loving home. That seems to be more than she has—”
They heard the kitchen door slam. Sim rushed in, carrying a bag of ice. “They’re here! They’re just driving up.” She dropped the ice on the floor and took a position behind a wing chair, as far away from the front door as possible. “I don’t want to do this. Let’s call it off.”
Claire patted her hand. “Calm down, kiddo. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
They heard car doors slam. Then footsteps on the front walk and the hollow sound of shoes against the wood porch. A knock. Merry tensed. It did not add to Claire’s confidence. “Dignity, people.”
Merry answered the door.
Claire thought Sim’s aunt looked like she was going to be sick. She kept her arm linked through her husband’s, as if it was his strength that was holding her up. His jaw muscles twitched.
“Welcome.” Claire was relieved that Merry sounded sincere. Come in.
The aunt sought out Sim and offered a smile, but Sim raised her chin.
Merry introduced Officer Kendell.
“And your names are?” Ken asked.
The aunt opened her mouth to answer Ken, but the uncle answered for both of them. “She’s Susan. And I’m Forbes. Forbes Kellogg.”
Merry nodded once. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“We’re not staying long.” They sat on the love seat. Merry sat on an added chair, while Claire took the wing chair with Sim at her back. Ken moved into the room but remained standing.
“Coffee, anyone?” Merry looked around the room. “And I have coffee cake.”
“I said we’re not staying long.”
So much for dignity.
Claire drew in a breath. Nerves ricocheted. Perhaps it was up to her to start? “When Sim appeared—”
Forbes laughed. “Appeared? You make it sound like she popped out of thin air.”
“Nearly so.” Claire actually managed a smile. “She came to town in the middle of the night and…” How should she word this? “And we found each other. It was not a coincidence.”
“God brought me here.”
The air quivered at Sim’s bold statement. Finally Forbes pointed at his niece. “Like I said last night, you’ve brainwashed her. She didn’t used to be a fanatic.”
“I’m not a fanatic now,” Sim said. “But Claire helped me see that God was in on this and—”
“Oh, please.” Forbes rolled his eyes. “Let’s not go overboard with the God business.”
Although this was not the direction Claire wanted to take, she couldn’t stop it now. “Why can’t Sim’s presence here be an example of God at work? Why are you so quick to dismiss it?”
“It was Sim’s decision to come here, not God’s.”
“How do you know?”
Forbes laughed. “So you think God made Sim run away to Steadfast?”
“Not at all. But I do think He offered her choices that fit into a larger plan, even if she didn’t realize it.”
He waved off Claire’s words. “You people are over the edge. A bunch of religious weirdos. A cult.”
Ken took a step forward. “Hold the insults, Mr. Kellogg. We’re here to discuss the matter, not make false accusations.”
“But they—”
“They are not in a cult. And I, most certainly, am not in a cult.” He leveled Forbes with a look. “Is that understood? Can we move on?
Forbes shrugged.
Merry sat forward. “Sim’s being here saved a life. If she hadn’t been in Steadfast, Bailey Manson—the owner of Bon Vivant—might have died of a heart attack. She found him. She saved him.”
Forbes snickered. “Coincidence.”
“It wasn’t any such thing!” Sim’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I woke up in the barn and just knew I had to go to Bailey’s. I found—”
“You were sleeping in a barn?”
Sim bit her lower lip. “They weren’t making me stay in a barn. I ran away and found one on the edge of town and—”
“You ran away?” Forbes cast a glare from Merry to Claire.
Ken’s eyebrows raised.
Sim’s gaze flitted across the room, looking for help, but there was no way to save her. “It wasn’t anything bad. I’d just run away from Bailey’s because he was mad I tattled on him, and Sanchez quit and…it was my choice. Bailey didn’t send me away.”
Forbes folded his arms across his chest. “Seems running away is getting to be a habit with you.”
Sim looked away, then gripped the back of Claire’s chair.
Forbes slapped his thighs. “Well, that certainly clinches it. You’re all irresponsible zealots who forced my niece to take refuge in a barn. And she proved she’s mentally disturbed by running away—again. She needs stability, that’s what she needs.” He turned to Ken. “Officer, certainly you see what a bunch of crazies these people are. There is no way any responsible person could consider letting Sim stay with any of them. They are decidedly unfit.”
Ken spoke up. “They are not—”
“They are not unfit.” Everyone looked at Susan, who up until now had not spoken.
Forbes stared at his wife as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Excuse me?”
Susan fingered the strap of her purse. “What they say…it makes sense.”
“It does not.”
“It does.” She looked around the room. “I’m not saying I approve of all that’s gone on, but I do want to make it clear that I…I believe what you believe. That God can guide us.” She looked at her lap and began creasing her skirt between thumb and forefinger. “I’ve let myself forget that. For too long.”
Forbes shook his head, clearly disgusted. “I am dumbfounded at how God got into this discussion. We’re talking about very practical matters here, not some spiritual double-talk.”
“I happen to think God is extremely practical,” Claire said.
Merry nodded. “Don’t be so close-minded, Mr. Kellogg.”
“I’m not.”
“I believe you are.”
He opened his mouth to speak but ended up snapping it shut. He looked at his watch.
“You have someplace to go?” Ken asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I only came to Steadfast to critique Bon Vivant, not to stay for days on end.”
“It’s only been one night, Mr. Kellogg. If getting Sim back is an inconvenience, these ladies would be happy to take her off your—”
“Cute.”
Susan put a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. She groaned.
Merry leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
“She’s fine.” Forbes ground out the words.
“Oh…I’m not.” Susan opened her eyes, and Claire saw that she was even paler than before. “Where’s the bathroom, please?”
Merry helped her out of the room.
“Now—” Forbes turned to Ken—“let’s get down to business. We all know there is no way Sim is going to stay—”
“I’m afraid you’re taking a lot for granted, Mr. Kellogg.”
Before Forbes could respond to Ken, Claire shook her head. “Aren’t you concerned about your wife?”
F
orbes hesitated. “She’ll be fine. It’s just the remnants from her motion sickness yesterday. It has nothing to do with—”
“But I think it does.” Claire shifted on the chair. “How you treat your wife is indicative of how you treat your niece.”
He glared at her. “She’s got an upset stomach. Keep it in perspective, lady.”
“Do you see what I mean?” Sim waved a hand at him. “He doesn’t care about anyone else. He only cares about himself—and my money.”
Forbes pointed a finger at her. “That money has been entrusted to us until you turn eighteen.”
“At the rate you’re spending it, there won’t be any left when I’m eighteen.”
“The things I purchased were for you too Sim. There was the big-screen TV so you would feel comfortable bringing your friends over—”
“Friends who won’t come over because you always yell at us. What about the car? Is that for me too?”
“Sure it is.”
“And the fertility treatments? How is that for me?”
The argument waged on, but to Claire the point was made. Although she’d believed the essence of Sim’s story about her aunt and uncle’s greed, she’d thought the girl’s complaints were exaggerated.
Now she knew better.
Merry tapped on the door to the bathroom. “Mrs. Kellogg? Are you all right?” The door opened and Susan emerged, dabbing a tissue to her mouth. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good.”
“Come sit down.”
Susan shook her head. “I have to get back to Forbes. He needs—” She was interrupted by the sound of his loud voice berating Sim.
Merry shook her head. “You certainly don’t need that. And frankly, I don’t either.” She helped Susan into a seat at the kitchen table, then went to get her a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took a sip. Merry didn’t know what to say except, “I want you to know that Claire and I care about Sim very much. Very much.”
“Sim’s only been here a short time. How can you care for her so deeply?”
Merry looked to the ceiling. “What can I say? It’s got to be a God-thing. What else can explain our affection for the girl, and her affection for us?” She arranged the salt and pepper shakers. “I guess I have an open place in my heart for a child.” She withdrew her hands. “I had a child once.”
