“Remind me how long you’ve had her?” Her eyes were compassionate as she watched me trying to balance Shayla and the before-lunch drink she had brought me.
“Six months,” I said to Bev, amazed at how permanent such a recent situation already felt.
She smiled and absentmindedly used her dishcloth to polish the silverware she was laying on the table. “What an amazing story you two share,” she said, her Southern accent melodious and sweet. “And what a miraculous thing that you’ve chosen this place to start your lives together.”
“Only because of you, Bev.”
“Are you kidding? When Gus asked me how I’d feel about watching Shayla while you’re teaching, it’s like God said, ‘There you go, Bev. There you go. You wanted to feel useful, and here’s your chance.’ I tell you, Shelby, the hardest part of this missionary thing is being away from my kids and my grandbaby. Shayla here, bless her little toes, is going to make it all a lot more bearable for me.”
“And for me. This single-mom routine is more complicated than I realized.”
“You’ll figure it out. There are tricks we moms develop that make life a lot easier.”
“Like always carrying a Disney Band-Aid in my purse?”
“And never mentioning what’s for dessert before she’s finished eating the rest of her meal. That’s another winner.” Bev shook her head in amazement. “A new mom—in a new country. There’s only so much ‘new’ a person can handle before it becomes a tad overwhelming.”
“I passed that point about six months ago.” I laughed. “And now I’m adding a new job and a new language to the mix. You think I might be overdoing it a bit?”
Bev chuckled. “And you haven’t seen the last of it. The students at this school are—how shall I put it?—unique.”
“I figured they would be, with missionary parents and international backgrounds.”
“Actually, in most ways, they’re not that different from American teens. They get in the same kind of trouble, believe me. But they’ve dealt with a lot heavier stuff than, say, a fifteen-year-old kid from North Dakota. So they develop some pretty interesting coping mechanisms. That’s where the unique part comes in. Old souls and quirky minds make for a great combo. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that uniqueness reached entirely new heights when they’re involved in a creative project.”
“Like acting in a play?”
“Exactly. So you, my dear, are in for a treat.”
“I’ve never directed a play before, Bev.”
“Gus hadn’t ever been a custodian before either, but he caught on pretty fast. Though I’m sure directing plays is a whole ’nother ball of wax.”
My worry was exacerbated by the fog of jet lag. “I don’t know, Bev. I’ve taught English for twelve years, so that part won’t be anything new, but . . . theater? I tried to tell them that I wasn’t qualified when they gave me my assignment, but no one seemed overly concerned about it.”
“Shelby, honey, a person learns two lessons mighty fast at Black Forest Academy. One, there’s no business like God’s business. And two, what you used to do, think, and be is entirely irrelevant to your presence in this place.” She snapped her dishcloth at me and flashed a conspiratorial smile. “But don’t tell anyone I warned you.”
3
I’D JUST WANTED to make my dad a drawing. That’s all. But my old eraser made red marks on my paper and smeared my pencil lines, so I went hunting for another one. I knew Dad had one somewhere in his desk, a white one that used to be square but looked rounder now that all the corners had been rubbed off. It was a good eraser. And it smelled—I don’t know—helpful, somehow.
So I went to his desk and looked in the drawers and behind the stacks of papers, even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to get into his things. I figured just this once would be okay because it was for him. Dad always watched John Wayne Westerns on TV, so I was drawing him a cowboy on a big black horse, with hills in the background and some Indians’ feathers poking out from behind them in red and green and yellow. It was everything he liked right there on one piece of paper, and I was pretty sure it would make him happy—like Tootsie Rolls made my brain grow a smiley face. On days when Trey stayed after school for soccer, I really needed my dad to be less mad.