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Randy pulled to the curb in front of the old house. The pristine white paint and hunter green shutters did nothing to quell the bile that clawed at her throat. The back of her neck grew sweaty, and her hands went clammy on the steering wheel. March or not, she boosted the air conditioning to high and pointed one of the vents toward her face. She needed her stomach to stop rolling. She needed her insides to stop shaking. She needed her brain to start functioning.
Mama’s house of horrors.
Randy took a deep breath and shifted her gaze to survey the empty street. She needed for the Property Solutions people to get here so she could get this over with and mark this chapter of her past done, once and for all.
The sound of an engine drew her eyes. A white pickup with the Property Solutions logo on the doors pulled into the driveway. Father, I need strength.
Randy swallowed and wrapped herself in all the courage she possessed. She hadn’t stepped a foot inside this house in twenty years. She pushed the car door open and forced her legs to move.
The door to the truck opened as well. The man who exited was medium height and sported a gray beard and a bald head. He had a pleasant face, and Randy put his age somewhere around sixty. He crossed to her, a clipboard tucked under one arm, his hand outstretched.
“Ms. Franklin?”
Randy nodded and clasped his hand.
“Cody Perry. It’s good to finally meet you in person.” He started up the sidewalk. “I hope you’ll be happy with what we’ve accomplished. It isn’t often...in fact, I can’t think of another instance...where all of the arrangements for this sort of renovation were made by phone.”
Randy watched him climb the three steps of the porch. She should be following him, but she couldn’t make her feet move. Goose bumps prickled her arms, and she rubbed them briskly before wrapping them around herself. Follow him. Her feet shuffled but remained on the curb.
Cody slipped the key in the lock. He turned and frowned at her. “You coming?”
She pulled a bracing breath deep into her lungs and found some forward motion. “Yes...sorry. I’m...daydreaming, I guess. I haven’t been here in twenty years.” If he found that odd, he let it go, turning back and pushing the front door open. Randy reached the porch a few seconds later.
“I’m almost tempted to tell you to close your eyes,” he said with a chuckle.
Gladly. The word danced on Randy’s lips, but she swallowed it back. He wouldn’t understand. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his hard work. The memories that haunted her had nothing to do with him.
He swept into the front room. She hesitated on the threshold, trying to convince herself that the first step would be the hardest, that everything would be fine once that first step was made.
It was a lie.
Randy took the step anyway.
“Close that door! I’m not paying to air condition the yard.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mother stood in front of her, one hand on her hip, the other swirling a clear liquid in a small glass. “Why are you late?”
Eight-year-old Randy held up the coffee can craft from that day’s vacation Bible school session. It was decorated with macaroni, spray- painted gold, and dusted with glitter. Some of the glitter was already littering the floor at her feet. “I made this for you. The teacher said it was the most prettiest of all. You can keep all kinds of stuff in it. I had to wait for it to finish drying.”
Her mother’s gaze went to the floor. She took a drink and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her worn yellow robe. “Look at this mess.” She crossed the room in quick strides and slapped the can from Randy’s hands. “I just cleaned that floor.”
Randy cringed as the can hit the wall, scattering macaroni and glitter everywhere.
“What did I ever do to deserve someone as worthless as you?”
“I’m—”
Her mom grabbed her ponytail and gave a hard yank. “Get your useless butt into the utility room, get the broom, and get this mess cleaned up!”
“Ms. Franklin?”
Randy shook herself and hoped the smile she gave Cody was convincing. She rested a hand on the door frame. “Sorry. Lots of memories.”
“This was your mother’s house?”
“Yes. She left it to me when she died a few years ago.”
“But you just said—”
Randy stopped him with a raised hand. “Mom moved out several years before she died.” She couldn’t bear the memories either. “Since then, I’ve been blessed to have good renters and property managers. There was no reason for me to make a personal visit.” She motioned and gathered her courage. “Lead on.”
She followed him through the house as he detailed renovations. She struggled to keep her expression neutral while she nodded and smiled in all the right places. She really didn’t care, would have signed the inspection sheet without the tour if she could have. A new ghost surfaced in each room. No renovation would exorcise them all.
“All the walls received a fresh coat of paint.” Cody tapped his foot on the living room floor. “The hardwood in here and in the hall was stripped and refinished.” He headed back to the bedrooms and pushed the door to the master bath open as he passed. “New fixtures in both restrooms.”
Randy glanced inside. “Very nice.” It really was, and she was being unfair. Cody and his crew had transformed the old place. And I paid them well. Surely her praise was secondary to their fee.
When she saw where he was headed next, a shiver started in the middle of her back and spread to her fingertips. Randy brushed passed him in an effort to distract his attention. “I don’t need to see the smaller areas, but I am eager to see what you did with the master bedroom.”
As she passed, he touched her arm and brought her to a stop. She turned to see his hand resting on a bedroom doorknob, a pleased-with-himself smile on his weathered face.
Please don’t open that door.
“You said you grew up here.”
She swallowed. “From the time I was born until I graduated high school.”
“I thought that’s what you said. If I were a betting man, I’d make you a wager.”
Randy looked from Cody to the door, willing it to remain closed. She struggled to breathe. “A wager?” she whispered.
He nodded, twisted the knob, and tossed the door open. “I’d bet this was your room.”
Randy swayed, stumbled into the far wall, and used the solid surface to hold herself upright. “No...”
Cody Perry turned at her muttered word. He grabbed her by the arm. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
One too many. “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “It must be the paint and varnish fumes. I need some air.”
“Of course.” He put a hand under her elbow and led her back to the porch. “We can do this in a few days. Give the fumes a chance to—”
“No!” Randy rubbed at her temples. “I mean...” She searched for a reasonable excuse. “I’m getting married in a few weeks, so my schedule won’t allow me to make the trip again.” She reached for the clipboard. “What I saw looks terrific. Where do you need me to sign?”
His frown deepened, but he retrieved the board, turned a few pages, and tapped a blank line. “Here.” He waited and then flipped two more sheets. “Here and here.”
Randy scribbled her name. “You’ll have this on the market by the end of the week?”
He nodded.
“Thank you.” She hurried to her car, climbed inside, started the engine, and never looked back.
She didn’t get far before she let the tears flow. She sucked in deep gulps of air, but the bands of panic that had wrapped around her chest refused to loosen. She turned a corner and saw the neighborhood park where she’d played as a kid. The place she’d escaped to when things were out of control at home. Randy’s gaze zeroed in on the swings.
She turned into the lot and jerked the car to a stop. The place was oddly deserted for a weeknight, but the chill air and approaching dusk probably explained that. Whatever the reason, Randy was grateful for the solitude as she rushed across the brittle winter grass, crossed a paved walking path that hadn’t existed twenty years ago, and settled into the sling seat. She gripped the thick chains in her hands, the cold metal worn smooth by dozens of years and thousands of hands, and kicked the thing into motion.
Randy closed her eyes and pumped her legs, sending the contraption higher with each repetition. This had been her only freedom as a child. The wind in her face, the giddy, almost out-of-control feeling of falling, the brief glimpse of the rest of the world over the tree tops when she could coax the thing high enough. Those stolen hints of someplace other than here had sparked fantasies for a much younger Randy. Kingdoms where life was fair, love flowed freely, and secrets she couldn’t share were banished. Her version of Oz with no ruby slippers to click to get back home. She’d take the purple ones, thank you very much. The ones that kept her in Oz, and kept all her memories of here locked up far, far away.
The panic receded as she flew back and forth like a runaway pendulum. The cold air stung, but Randy drew it deep into her lungs. When the last dregs of anxiety vanished, she closed her eyes, tucked her feet beneath the swing, and allowed the momentum to bleed away.
“Miranda Franklin, is that you?”
Her eye’s jerked open. The small woman standing on the path looked vaguely familiar, but the encroaching shadows hid her features. Randy searched her memory. Snatches of images flitted by before she managed to hold onto them.
“Mrs. Pugston?”
The old woman laughed as she nodded.
Pugsley, in the flesh. Randy planted her feet in the sand beneath the swing, jerking it to a complete halt. Emmaline Pugston, high school English teacher, nicknamed Pugsley by some cruel students due to her last name and the slightly jowly appearance of her face. She’d been ancient when Randy’d been in school, had to be eighty or better now. Randy smiled, able to get a better look as the lights along the path sprang to life. Beneath that homely exterior lay one of the kindest hearts she’d ever encountered.
Randy stepped from the swing and onto the path. She pulled the frail old body into a hug. “Of all the people I could have met from my past, I’m glad it was you.”
Mrs. Pugston returned the embrace before she pulled away. She kept her hands on Randy’s arms as she leaned back and studied her. “Were you always this tall?” Before Randy could answer, she straightened, put her arm through hers, and tugged her to a bench. “The dust of graduation barely settled before you left town. Come sit with me for a while and tell me about your life. Where do you live, what do you do, what adventure brings you home?”
Randy allowed herself to be led to the bench. The enthusiasm of her old teacher was contagious. If there was anything good in this day, this conversation would be it.
The older woman settled and pulled her jacket a little snugger. “Now, tell me where you took off to in such a hurry.”
Randy swallowed a chuckle. Mrs. Pugston had always been direct. “Do you remember Haley Martin?”
The old teacher stared into the distance for a few seconds. “She graduated a year ahead of you, if I recall.” She turned to Randy. “You were quite the loner back then, but if you had a best friend, it was Haley. She didn’t linger in town long after graduation either.”
“No, she always wanted bigger and better things.” Randy tilted her head. “It’s funny though. Her first stop after graduation was a place much smaller than this. She moved to Garfield.”
“Where?”
“Garfield, Oklahoma. There’s a Baptist university a couple hours south of here. Garfield is a few minutes south of that. She got her fill of dorm life her first year, so at the start of her sophomore year, she rented an apartment and invited me to come share it with her.” Randy’s shoulders lifted. “I’ve been there ever since.”
“Haley too?”
“Oh, heavens no. She met the love of her life in the middle of her junior year and followed him home to Seattle. They have a joint medical practice, three kids, and two dogs. The whole American dream.”
Mrs. Pugston straightened. “She lured you from your home and then abandoned you?”
Randy enjoyed a moment of amusement at the indignation and concern in the old woman’s voice. “Hardly abandoned.” She took a few minutes to detail her educational accomplishments and her rise in the world of small-town banking. “I’ve been very blessed. Escaping to Garfield was the best thing I ever did.” She clamped her lips shut. Escape? She rubbed her temples. “I mean...”
Her teacher patted her arm. “You said what you meant.”
“I just meant...”
“You don’t have to mince words with me. We all suspected something was wrong back then, but none of us could prove it. We did what we could for you. We watched, we prayed, we hoped you’d come to one of us at some point.”
“We?”
“A group of Christian teachers. We met for five minutes at the beginning of school every day. We spent a few moments praying for wisdom for ourselves and our students. You were such a bright and inquisitive young lady, but we feared your home life was...difficult.”
Suddenly the burden of secrecy was too much to bear. “Difficult? My mother—”
Mrs. Pugston raised a hand. “Miranda, before you make confession to me, may I ask you a question?”
She nodded.
“Is it safe to assume it might be another twenty years before you visit us again?”
Randy’s gaze swept the park, lingering on the stand of trees that blocked her view of the street she’d grown up on. “Or longer.”
“Exactly.” She studied Randy, nodding as if to a conversation Randy couldn’t hear. “Do you have friends in Garfield? People you can trust to pray with you and hold your secrets close?”
Randy returned the scrutiny. “Four of the best women in the world.”
“Have you shared your childhood with them?”
Randy chewed her lip. How could she? She wanted their love, not their pity.
When Randy remained silent, the old teacher continued. “I’m an old woman, sweetheart. If you share your pain with me, and leave...I can pray for you, but it’s too late for me to offer you anything more than that. I’ll listen, if that’s what you want, but I suggest you pray about this. And if you feel led, share your secrets with those women when the time is right. Let them give you the emotional support you’ve always needed.” She lifted Randy’s hand. She twisted it, letting the light bounce off the diamond on her finger. “And if you haven’t had that conversation with the gentleman responsible for this lovely ring, you need to do that before the wedding.”
Randy pulled her left hand back into her lap and covered it with her right. “That probably won’t be an issue.” Randy heard the regret in her voice. The older woman must have as well.
She tisked. “Do you love him?”
“Yes, but—”
“Miranda Franklin, you’ve never been a quitter. You just outlined a grueling education and work path. You didn’t let obstacles stand between you and what you wanted. Are you going to start now?”
Randy digested that. Was she letting the things her mother did to her dictate what she thought she could and couldn’t do as an adult? The thought both soured her stomach and sparked a seed of rebellion in her soul. She stiffened her back.
“Challenged you, did I?”
“Yes. You made me realize that I was about to give up the best thing in my life without a fight. You’re right. That’s not who I am.”
Mrs. Pugston laughed. “Then my job here is done. As good as it’s been to visit with you, I need to get home.”
“It’s dark now. May I drive you?”
“No, the path is well lit, and home is just a couple of blocks away. I need the exercise, and this is my alone time. Now that Edward and I are both retired, I’m surprised one of us hasn’t committed murder.” She stood, a wry grin on her face. “Of course, he’s the one set in his ways.”
Randy got to her feet and pulled the older woman into a farewell hug. “I’m so glad we got the chance to talk. I can’t believe we ran into each other.”
The old teacher laughed. “Oh, honey. Our lives are full of God-orchestrated moments. What we do with them is up to us.”
Randy let those words roll around in her head as the Camaro ate up the miles. Without conscious thought, they morphed into something more personal.
Up to us.
Up to me.
Randy swallowed and let that settle. Did she have a choice? She pressed her lips into a thin line and concentrated on the white stripes racing past her headlights as she navigated the two-lane state highways between Bartlesville and Tulsa. The trip would move faster once she hit the seventy-five-mile-per-hour speed limits of the Turner Turnpike. It was full dark now, and she needed coffee and dinner. There would be opportunities for those things this side of the toll road.
Randy pushed weariness aside and focused on the problem of her future. So what are my choices? She examined the worst-case scenario, since the best case needed no scrutiny. Short of praying that Celeste got a clue and grew a conscience in the next five weeks, she only had two options, and both made her shudder. Motherhood with Eli or life without him.
Randy blinked rapidly as tears clouded her view of the road. Her prayer filled the silence of the car. “Father, I don’t think I can live with either of those options. I came to You filled with brokenness and loss. Over the last twenty years, You replaced those things with strength and independence. I look back at what You’ve allowed me to accomplish, and I’m grateful, but this wasn’t part of the plan.”
Whose plan?
Those two words filled her heart and her head and shoved everything else to the side.
“Father?”
Whose plan? Proverbs 16:9.
The reference seemed familiar, but Randy couldn’t dredge up the words. She saw lights ahead and decided not to wait on the coffee. She pulled off the road at the next intersection, parked under the bright lights of the convenience store, and swiped her phone to life. A few taps in her Bible app had the verse staring up at her.
A man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps.
She read it three times, finally realizing that it had been a part of a recent devotion on goal setting. Randy shrank into her seat when she remembered the self-satisfied smile the verse had evoked, confident that she had her future mapped out with Eli’s companionship and God’s blessing.
“But—”
My plan.