Monica wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared after the dark haired young woman who had just bumped into her. Something about her was familiar. She almost looked like, but no, it couldn’t have been her. Sarah would be long gone by now, probably living in luxury with her Dad somewhere on the west coast. Well, good riddance to her, Monica thought. That child had been nothing but trouble anyway.
The last time she’d seen her daughter was at least four years ago. If it had really been Sarah at all. Monica was trying to control her shakes while sitting slumped down in a car across from the Junior High. She had been waiting for the latest man in her life to bring her a fix, and checking the rear view mirror, sure that her ex-husband was watching from somewhere close by. The drugs caused paranoia, and Monica had been using so often that her highs and reality sometimes overlapped.
A girl that looked like Sarah had walked right past Monica’s window and then into the school yard. She had turned for a moment to look back at Monica, then continued on into the building. The girl had chestnut hair like Sarah’s, and she was the right age. She looked clean and well fed, but it couldn’t have been Sarah. Where would she have stayed? Surely someone would have called the cops and turned Monica in for neglect.
Monica looked one more time at the ad posted in the window of the café. It was announcing a tent revival hosted by
He was a wild partier, but there was no stopping their attraction. Some invisible force had drawn them together. He was the quarterback of the football team, she the head cheerleader. It almost seemed expected they would hook up. And when they did, she could feel the electricity between them.
They had married during her junior year, despite the protesting of her parents. She should have known then that they wouldn’t last. Brad had graduated the year prior, and wanted to take his dream job across the country on the west coast. It would mean Monica couldn’t finish her degree, but that didn’t seem to faze him.
He said she could find a college there and pick up where she left off after they were settled. She’d said no and put her foot down. She wasn’t moving away from
Two months after their argument, Monica found out she was pregnant. She ended up having to drop out of school anyway. The pregnancy was not an easy one, and it was clear Brad resented it. He would’ve moved them if Monica hadn’t been so sick. After the third straight month of vomiting ten of every twenty four hours, Monica decided she’d had enough, and ended the pregnancy. Planned Parenthood had been more than happy to help her, and to keep things anonymous.
Brad seemed relieved, though he would never admit it. Monica felt worse after the abortion than when she’d been vomiting almost constantly. It was just one more thing to drive a wedge between her and her parents. They had begged her afterwards to come home and live with them, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction that they had been right. Her pride had her gripped too tightly in its fist.
The next few years of their marriage were spent basically ignoring one another except to fulfill their marital duties. They both had needs after all, even if the most important ones weren’t being met. They weren’t in love anymore. Monica hadn’t felt the electricity and excitement of their early days together in years.
But she was pregnant again. She was determined to have the baby no matter how Brad reacted. The second pregnancy was considerably easier than the first, and Monica chose to believe that meant the first pregnancy wasn’t supposed to have been. That there had been something wrong with that first baby and she would’ve lost it anyway. That’s how she’d comforted herself. The truth was she’d never know what would have been.
At the ultrasound when they’d found out it was a girl, Monica had been so happy. Brad even seemed excited. They had looked through baby name books together, and he had even helped pick out the things for the nursery. Monica thought things were really turning around. But after the baby had come Monica had fallen into a depression.
She couldn’t look at this baby without thinking of their other baby that would have been five by then. Brad had dealt with her the best he could, but he had become more and more distant. Monica knew the abortion had been a sin. She couldn’t get past that fact, and her own shame, to even think of crying out to God. He must have been as disgusted with her as her parents. She chose to ignore the longing in her heart for a relationship with Him or them.
By the time Sarah was a year old, Monica found out that Brad had been seeing a woman from work. He came home one night faced with her hurt and accusations. He hadn’t even tried to lie about it. He’d just confessed, packed his things, told her it was over, and left. She hadn’t seen him since, didn’t even know where he lived.
It was another blow to her conscience. She just wasn’t good enough. And now Sarah was left without a father. Her depression deepened. Monica was so needy, and had wanted a man in her life so badly that she was willing to go anywhere to find one. She often left Sarah with different neighbors on weekend nights so she could check out the local bar scene.
One night when Sarah was five, Monica had been introduced to a man named Joe. They had developed a friendship that eventually led to an introduction to cocaine. Then had followed this nightmare she now called her life. She knew she needed help. People just didn’t understand the happiness that came with every hit. When she was high she could pretend she and Brad were still together, that Sarah had never left, that she was a good Mother. But the drugs always wore off, leaving Monica longing for more, but unable to get it.
Monica memorized the details of the poster. As she looked at it, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window. She looked awful, messed up. She was too thin, and hadn’t taken care of herself. Her whole life was one lousy mistake after another. But maybe the people at that church would help her. She decided she’d go to one of the meetings, if she could stay sober for that long.
***********************
Sarah was breathing hard when she finally made it to the library. She ran straight into the office and shut the door. Mrs. Lepley was already returning books to their homes from the carts where they sat after being checked in. She noticed Sarah was late, but said nothing. It had only happened once before on Sarah’s seventeenth birthday, when she had run extra miles after practice and lost track of the time. Mrs. Lepley thought Sarah’s running that day had more to do with another birthday passed alone than with Sarah’s need of exercise. Mrs. Lepley knew Sarah must have a good reason for her breathlessness today as well.
Sarah leaned against the back of the office door with her eyes closed, and sucked in air. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. How could her Mother still affect her like this after all these years? Just the sight of her made Sarah’s brain freeze. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Why did she let this affect her so? How she wished she were already away at college! Then she wouldn’t have to worry about unexpectedly seeing her Mother again.
Sarah rubbed her hands down her face, as if by doing so she could remove the encounter with her Mother from her mind. She moved to a chair at the table in the center of the room, sank down into it, and let her head fall over the back of it. She crossed her arms in front of her and took in a deep breath. As she let it out, she tried to compose herself enough to get to work. What she really wanted to do was huddle up in her room downstairs and not come out until her birthday. What freedom that day would bring!
Mrs. Lepley had let herself quietly into the office, and seated herself across from Sarah. She sighed quietly to let Sarah know she was there, but not loud enough to startle her. She hoped Sarah would talk to her and let her know what was wrong. Mrs. Lepley had a feeling it had something to do with her Mother. But then again, when wouldn’t it? Sarah’s life had surely been full of disappointment, and Mrs. Lepley had prayed time and again that she would come to know God’s unconditional love through His Son Jesus.
Sarah didn’t open her eyes, but she knew Mrs. Lepley had come in the room. “Sorry I’m late. I just had something I needed to deal with.” She opened her eyes and looked at Mrs. Lepley. “But I’m alright now.” She smiled, and scooted the chair back so she could go to work.
“Sit down for a minute will you Sarah?” Mrs. Lepley motioned for her to stay, and Sarah knew there was no getting around it. “I want you to know that you can talk to me. That I will try my best to understand and help you if you need it. I pray every day for you Sarah. Do you want to talk about what’s got you so upset? Your hands are shaking.”
Sarah looked down. She had been unconsciously rubbing the forefinger of her left hand with those of her right. Her hands were indeed visibly shaking. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and tried to decide how much she should say. Maybe Mrs. Lepley could help if her Mother tried to find her and take her home.
Maybe she would understand and give her permission to stay in the basement, with a key and everything so she wouldn’t have to go sneaking around. Telling someone else may help ease the guilt she carried for abandoning her Mother. What could it hurt? The worst that could happen is that she would be sent home, and then when she was eighteen she could leave again.
“Well, I hardly know where to begin.” Sarah started without looking up. She continued to stare at her fingers, rubbing the thumb of one hand, then the other across the tops of her knuckles. “I guess it should start with the day I ran away.”
Sarah dared look up. If the news surprised Mrs. Lepley, she didn’t let on with her body language or breathing. There was no sharp intake of breath, or visible stiffening of her body. Maybe she had already suspected?
Mrs. Lepley took the opportunity to interrupt. “Hmm. Maybe you better not say anything more. You know what I found the other day when I was cleaning out the old storage room in the basement?” She looked directly at Sarah’s face. “It seems someone has moved in down there. Now, it must be someone very particular because the bed was made, their things were in order, and nothing belonging to the library had been damaged. Actually it was all organized and in better condition than I expected!”
Mrs. Lepley held up a hand to silence Sarah. “No. I don’t want to hear a word of it. Let me finish.” Her eyes turned soft, but determined to be heard. “Now, if I found out for certain there was an underage person living down there, I would be compelled by the law, and my conscience, to report that. However, if the person living downstairs remains a mystery to me, and continues to be a good and quiet tenant, then I believe I may just have to go on ignoring them.
“I think God would want me to be charitable, and do right by that person in need. So, let’s suppose that person wanted to continue living down there, but they were tired of climbing in through the man-hole. I bet this key would be a helpful blessing to them. Maybe you could take it downstairs for me and leave it on the little table next to the bed with a note that explains to use it in the side entrance in the alley?”
Mrs. Lepley patted Sarah’s hands, winked at her, and walked toward the door. Before opening it she turned around and said “Remember, I don’t need to know who’s living down there, but if you do and you know they need something, you be sure to tell me right away, alright?” Then she walked out and went back to work.
Sarah could hardly believe the conversation that had taken place. She crossed her arms on the table, laid her head on them and wept in relief. Mrs. Lepley certainly was a good friend, and one who could be trusted. Maybe her God was really looking out for Sarah after all.
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