29

The sound of ocean waves grew louder and louder in Sabrina’s room, until it seemed as though the churning water would soon overtake her. She finally managed to roll over and hit the Snooze button, thus quieting her nature sounds alarm clock, and pulled her pillow over her head. Her joints all ached this morning, every single one of them. This was going to be one of those mornings that took a while before the stiffness eased up. She knew that she needed to get up and get going, but she was just so tired.

She hobbled down the hall, hoping a warm shower would help loosen things up a little. As she took deep breaths of the steam and let the hot water flow around her, she waited for relief, but it was slow in coming. Ten minutes later, she managed to get some shampoo into her hair and rinse it out. Conditioner would not be an option today. Apparently today’s look would involve a frizzy ponytail.

She pulled on her yellow ducky bathrobe and walked over to the sink to wash her face and at least try to make herself presentable. Her nose looked worse. Much worse. In spite of the fact that the school doctor had put her on an oral antibiotic last week. Maybe she should see her again. Great. Just great. Frizzy hair and a bright red nose—not the way she wanted to start the week.

Right after breakfast she’d return Candace Davenport’s call about that internship. She would . . . accept the position . . . right? Not that the offer was 100 percent firm yet. But if it did turn into a firm offer, it would be a dream come true. A long shot that had been realized.

Out of the blue, Rita Leyva’s words from their last conversation returned to her and she suddenly felt awash in confusion. Was Bridges the right choice for her? Her mother would likely think so. Her father most certainly would not. She took a deep breath. In this particular case, he’d be right. She’d be crazy not to take the opportunity at Grace Rose. She could do something like Bridges work later on, after she’d established herself. Right now, she should do what she did well and do it as well as possible.

A brief flash ran through her mind of her younger self. She’d designed an ad campaign for Dad’s company as part of a school project. His face had beamed. “This is amazing. We pay professional firms for plans that aren’t as good as this. You should major in public relations.”

“Dad, you know I’m going to be a missionary.”

“Honey, no one majors in being a missionary. Besides, most of that life is getting the word out about your work to the right people. You’ve got a true natural gift for that. It’s definitely what you should do.”

It was one of the few things that Sabrina could ever remember doing without her father making suggestions for improvement. She’d decided on her college major that very day.

That’s the only thing that has stayed the same from my former life.

For some reason, in spite of the fact that she didn’t want to do it, in spite of the fact that she had no time for this, she opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her old journal. She flipped it open, a little further than the last time.

Oct. 21—Every time things go wrong or get hard, the children of Israel keep repeating that they were better off in Egypt, sometimes they even start appointing leaders to take them back. To slavery! Why would anyone want to go back to slavery?

It couldn’t have been that they were well treated, because God said their cries came up before Him and that’s why He was freeing them. Why was it, then, that they would want to return?

I think maybe it’s because it was familiar. They knew what to expect and what was expected of them. Now, when things kept happening that they didn’t anticipate, they quickly lost sight of the goal and turned back toward what they could understand. Walking forward in faith, into the unknown, had proven too scary.

I hope that if my course should someday look less certain than it does now, my faith will not be proven to be so easily swayed and my heart so easily turned toward the comfort of the familiar.

Sabrina slammed the book shut, a tear splashing against the cover. What did she know? It was easy to think this way when you’re seventeen and your life is going according to your master game plan.

She tossed the book on her bed and walked out of the room. As she started down the stairs, the warm, greasy smell of bacon lofted up to greet her. And pancakes, too, if she didn’t miss her guess.

Inside the kitchen, she found Nana busy at work over the stove. She didn’t turn, but in her typical all-knowing way, she said, “Good morning, Sabrina. Would you be a dear and pour the milk? Cakes will be up in just a minute.”

“Nana, you know you’re not supposed to do this kind of thing. That was part of the agreement when I moved in here, that you wouldn’t put yourself out trying to do stuff for me all the time.”

“I think you and I both know that I do not do anything for you ‘all the time.’ But I know this weekend was hard on you and I know Mondays are busy days for you. If a grandmother can’t do something a little extra special every now and then for her granddaughter, then something’s just not right with this world.”

“You are the best.” Sabrina poured them both a glass of milk and carried them over to the table.

“You seem like you’re hobbling this morning. You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little extra stiff. Probably because I slept funny or something.”

Nana set a plate of pancakes and another plate of bacon on the already set table. “I wish I could take your pain away from you, Sabrina. I’d take it on myself in a heartbeat if the good Lord would give it to me instead of you.”

Sabrina reached out and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I know you would.” It was true. Nana would do anything for her and Sabrina knew it.

A short time later, Sabrina stood in her room, punching numbers on her cell phone, her hands suddenly clammy. She listened to two rings on the other end.

“Grace Rose Public Relations, this is Naomi. How may I assist you today?”

“Hello, Naomi. My name is Sabrina Rice, and I am returning a call to Candace Davenport.”

“Yes. She is expecting your call. One moment, please.” The line clicked and some soothing orchestra music filled Sabrina’s ear for about three beats.

“Sabrina, so glad to hear back from you. I’m assuming you got my message on Friday?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I missed your calls. I was in class and then at work.”

“Now, that’s what I like to hear. Someone who doesn’t talk on her cell phone while at work. Yet another reason I am certain we made the right decision. I’ve got to tell you, Sabrina, I had to fight for you, so I need you to make me look good.”

“Fight for me?”

“Yes. When we were narrowing it down to the final candidates, there was the feeling among some of the decision makers that although you are obviously a self-motivated person, you might not have enough killer instinct to be truly successful in our highly competitive field.”

“Really?” A shiver ran through Sabrina, cold and prickly. “So . . . you convinced them otherwise?”

“Yes, I did, and I believe you’ll make me proud. You’ll be receiving a packet of paper work in the mail in the next week or so. Make sure you get it all filled out and returned as soon as possible. We can’t finalize everything until all the paper work is turned in and slots assigned. I think I mentioned earlier there is a slight chance of another round of interviews, but I don’t expect that to be the case this year, since we are firm on this year’s choices. I’m looking forward to our future partnership. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.” Sabrina hung up the phone with a few more misgivings than she’d had before, but realized that she’d just affirmed her plan to take the offer. A decision that she wasn’t certain she had intended to make.