“How do You love everyone, Jesus?” she asked. “Give me a sign.”
When her cell phone rang, she let out a little scream.
“Hello?” she said, half expecting Jesus to be on the other end of the phone (hopefully with good news).
“Mary Katherine,” Mrs. Reese said. “Is there any chance you are available to babysit Christopher tonight?”
Mary Katherine weighed her options. Take care of nice Mrs. Reese’s son or listen to Mrs. Collins’ mother scream about how the “witch lady” is going to kill us all on Christmas Day.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Reese, but I’m signed up to volunteer at Shady Pines,” Mary Katherine said sadly.
“I can cover your shift. I need someone to come to my house right away. Please. You’d be a lifesaver.”
“Then, of course! I’d love to babysit your son!” Mary Katherine beamed.
She wrote down the address and hung up. She knew that Jesus would notice that she chose the old folks home first. The fact that Mrs. Reese needed her to watch her son was outside of her control. And Mrs. Reese knew what the old folks home needed more than she did. So, this was a win win. Mary Katherine was respecting her elders by babysitting instead of volunteering. And she would have hours of babysitting time to work on her Notre Dame application.
She took all this as a very good sign.
As she drove over to Mrs. Reese’s house, she quickly scanned the side of the road for deer. She felt like she had made a good decision to babysit. After all, Christopher was the missing little boy that she had saved, and Father Tom said that in some cultures, once you save a life, you are responsible for it. But still, she couldn’t be too careful.
“Jesus, if I made a mistake, make me hit a deer.”
When no deer came, Mary Katherine turned on the radio to enjoy the rest of the drive. She was planning on listening to Christian rock, but Doug had left the dial on 102.5 WDVE. The station was playing a song by The Doors that she was uncomfortable admitting she liked as much as she did.
This is the end, my only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
She arrived at the house before the song ended without seeing a single deer.
“He has a fever,” Mrs. Reese explained. “So, he’s not allowed out of bed. Understood?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Reese. I took first-aid courses at youth group, and I’m a trained lifeguard. He won’t leave the bed.”
“But Mom, it’s still daylight,” Christopher pleaded. “Can’t I go outside?”
With a cold “No” and a warm “I love you,” Christopher’s mother kissed her son and left his bedroom. Mary Katherine followed her down to the garage. Mrs. Reese went through her checklist of emergency contact numbers and instructions and rules.
“I just gave him some Tylenol. You can give him some Advil in two hours with his dinner. Hopefully, he’ll fall asleep, but if he doesn’t, his bedtime is eight thirty. Don’t let him work you a minute past nine,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Reese. I’m tough on bedtimes. I won’t let you down.”
After Christopher’s mother drove away, Mary Katherine went back inside the warm house. She walked through the kitchen and living room, trying to figure out the best place to work on her Notre Dame application. Once she settled on the kitchen table, she put down her books and went to the refrigerator.
As she grabbed the carton of milk, she thought about her Notre Dame essay. They wanted her to write about a hero, but she couldn’t figure out which one. Her mom and dad were too obvious. Political ones were too risky. It would be great to write about Jesus, but since Notre Dame was a Catholic school, she was worried that too many kids would pick Him. But if she didn’t pick Jesus, then who would she pick? Pope Francis? John Paul II?
The Virgin Mary.
The thought came to her from out of nowhere. Jesus’ mother. Of course. What an inspired choice. That would be perfect!
She finished pouring the milk and closed the carton. She looked at the picture of the missing girl, Emily Bertovich. Poor thing. She wondered if Emily Bertovich would ever be found. Would she ever apply to college? Who were Emily Bertovich’s babysitters?
That thought chilled her blood.
Mary Katherine stopped and looked around the house. Suddenly something felt wrong. It was too quiet. Too warm. Like something was in the house. The cuckoo clock clicked away the seconds on its