I let Denny break the news to Delores—then I got on the phone and called everybody on the Yada Yada list to pray for the safety of Delores’s and Ricardo’s families.When the kids came downstairs, they said Stu had just left, so I had to call and leave a message on her voice mail at home.
Home. That would soon be our address after this weekend.
“Denny,” I murmured, when we finally got to bed and the house was settling into a creaky silence. “How bad was the earthquake?” I snuggled under his arm and laid my head on his chest. I could hear the slow beating of his heart.
“Mm . . . they’re saying it registered 7.6 . . . a lot of damage.” I could tell he was drifting off. “Don’t know how many fatalities yet . . .”
A low moan from the wind chased down the alley outside our bedroom window. It’d been getting colder each day. Real winter now—except no snow to speak of.
A soft rumble beside me told me Denny was out. Gone.
I slid out of his embrace but lay awake for a while, worried about Delores . . . worried about Florida . . . and Carla . . . and Carl . . . and Chris. . . . I realized I’d practically committed myself to this quinceañera thing for Amanda . . . and Stu was moving in on Saturday—really, truly moving into my house! Well, upstairs, but still . . .
I could feel my own heartbeat pick up a little. If I wasn’t careful, I could work myself into a stew and lose half a night’s sleep. Or I could pray. Pray instead of worry—well, that was sure enough biblical! I was tired of my “Be with Delores, bless Florida, take care of Carla” prayers, though. Maybe I could pray some Scripture, like Nony did so often.
I clicked on my bedside light with one eye on Denny . . . he didn’t move. I found my Bible and was going to hunt for the “Be anxious for nothing” passage in the New Testament; instead, my Bible fell open to where I’d been reading in Isaiah.
“Fear not . . .”
Okay, why not? Quietly, so as not to wake Denny, I began to apply the verse in a low whisper: “You say not to fear, God, because You have redeemed me! You have called me by my name—Jodi, ‘God is gracious’—because I am Yours.”
“Delores—she’s Mine too . . . and Florida and Carl . . . and Stu. I am redeeming them; I’ve called them by name; they are Mine.”
Whoa! I wasn’t sure if the verse scrambled right there on the page or if I was hearing a Voice in my head.Yet my prayer felt electric. That’s why I didn’t have to fear! All the people I cared about—and, um, even the ones I didn’t care about so much—were known by name to God. Even . . . even Hakim, and his mother, Geraldine.
“Okay, God, You know all the people I’m worried about tonight—especially Delores, who doesn’t know what has happened to her family in Mexico. But”—I tried praying the second verse—“You promised that when the waters are deep and scary, You will be with us; even when it feels like the rivers are at flood stage, You said they won’t overflow or overwhelm us.Well, the waters are pretty deep and scary for Delores right now, but I’m holding on to Your promise that she won’t drown, because You are the Lord our God! You are—”
“Jodi?” Denny raised up on one elbow. “What’s going on? Are you all right?” He was looking at me with sleep-startled eyes. The echo of my own voice told me I definitely had not been whispering.
“Oh. Sorry.” I shushed down to a whisper. “Didn’t mean to get so loud.” I shut the Bible and turned off the light, scooting down beneath the wedding-ring quilt. “I was just praying.”
I smiled into the dark.
WE HEARD ON THE news that twenty-nine people died in the Colima earthquake. Delores finally got word through the Red Cross that none of her family members were among them, even though phone lines were down and she hadn’t been able to contact them personally.
Amanda, however, was morose at Saturday break-fast as we got ready to help with Stu’s move. “I’m glad Delores’s family is okay, but somebody’s family isn’t.” She nibbled at her toast. “Wonder if the house we built with Habitat for Humanity last summer suffered any damage. Wish our youth group could go back to Mexico right now and help with cleanup or whatever. I mean, we oughta do something besides just pray.”
Hm. She sounded just like me when my father used to say, “Let’s pray about it.”
“Maybe there is something we can do. We’ll ask Delores. Hurry with your breakfast—Dad’s already warming up the car.”
Stu had not only recruited the kids to help with her move, but Denny and me too. Though how much good I was going to be with my still-weak left leg was a good guess—and I didn’t look forward to looking like a wimp. Maybe I’d just be straight with Stu and offer to tape boxes or something.
Saturday morning traffic was light, so we drove down Lake Shore Drive to the city center, then headed out the Eisenhower Expressway toward Oak Park, the first suburb west of Chicago. Ice was starting to form along the lakeshore, and the miniharbors were empty of the sail-boats and cabin cruisers that lined the drive during the summer.We made good time, but it still took us the best part of an hour to get to Stu’s house. Funny, I thought as we drove up a quiet street and parked in front of a gray, two-story stucco. I’ve never been to Stu’s house before, and now she’s moving out.
A U-Haul truck was parked in front of the stucco, and to my surprise Carl Hickman was standing at the back beside a big chest of drawers, scratching his head as if wondering how to get the thing into the truck. “Hey, Carl, let me help you with that,” said Denny, grabbing one side of the dresser. “Josh, give us a hand.”
“Huh. Could use more muscle,” Carl huffed. “That girl got herself some heavy stuff up in that crib!”
Amanda and I followed the open door up the front stairs to a second floor apartment. We met Cedric and Chris coming down, each carrying a box. “Set those on the curb!” Stu’s voice yelled after them. “We gotta get the furniture in the truck first when the Baxters get—oh, there you are!”
Stu glanced at her watch. She’d said ten o’clock, and it was only five after. I refused to feel guilty. “Yep.Where do you want us to start? Hey, Florida. Didn’t know you guys were coming—we could’ve picked you up.”
Florida poked her head out from behind a cupboard, her head wrapped in a red bandana. “Yeah? Five of us plus y’all in that minivan?” She lowered her voice. “But, girl, you can take me home. That wind nearly killed me today waitin’ for the el.”
The men came upstairs just then, and Stu put them to work taking down the bigger pieces of furniture—couch, queen bed set, dining room table, chairs. I told her I couldn’t do the stairs—not carrying heavy stuff—so she put me to work cleaning out the refrigerator and packing the perishables. Carla was jumping on the bare bed mattress until Amanda took her by the hand to help scrub the bathroom.
“Eew. Nasty.” Carla wrinkled her button nose.
“Not Stu’s bathroom.” Amanda grinned. “She hasn’t got big brothers to mess it up. C’mon.”
To tell the truth, it was fun working together with Florida and Stu and the kids. And I was glad that Denny and Carl were getting a chance to work together—though I had to admit I was still surprised that Florida got him out of the house. I said so to her when no one else was around.
“Girl, you and me both. But Stu asked him herself—wasn’t me. And it was Carl who kicked the boys out of bed this mornin’ and got ’em on the el. ’Course they fussed they heads off, an’ he got in they faces and said, ‘This lady got your sister back; now she askin’ us for a little help, and we gonna give it to her.”
A few other friends of Stu’s came by, and somehow we got her entire apartment packed into that truck by noon. Denny and Carl drove the U-Haul by a different route since trucks weren’t allowed on Lake Shore Drive, and the rest of us sorted ourselves between Stu’s two-door Celica and our minivan. I expected Stu to be the first to arrive, but the boys crammed into her sporty car must’ve convinced her to stop for food, because when they finally did arrive, they were carrying two buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, biscuits, several sides, and a couple of liters of soda.
And then everything had to come back out of the truck and up the stairs to the second floor. “Girl, didn’t it occur to you to find a first-floor apartment?” Florida grumbled.
I stifled a snort. At least she said it, not me.
Stu just laughed. “Next month, Flo. And I’ll be sure to let you know.”
STU RETURNED THE RENTAL truck, letting Josh follow along behind in the Celica so she’d have a ride back. Josh was in seventh heaven driving that thing—but if I was a nail-biter, they’d be down to the quick. Arrgh! No way did I want to have to pay for a fender-bender on Stu’s car.
Calm down, Jodi. No sense borrowing trouble.
Denny took the Hickmans home while I peeled potatoes and fried some bacon for a big pot of corn chowder. I was glad enough to invite Stu for supper—the neighborly thing to do since her kitchen wasn’t set up yet—but I did wonder how often she’d expect to eat with us. Living so close with another Yada Yada sister might be a bit tricky.
Yada—“to know and be known intimately.” I stirred the soup pot thoughtfully. That’s what the Hebrew word meant when it was used in the Scriptures. Seemed like a good name for us when we were only talking about meeting every other week. But how intimately do I really want to “know and be known” by Leslie Stuart?
I dumped two cans of creamed corn into the soup, still musing. There was also the other meaning: Yadah, spelled with an H—“to give praise to God.” Huh. I was still working on that one too—giving God praise, especially when I didn’t feel all that holy and thankful.
“Which I guess is the point, Wonka,” I said to my four-footed audience, who was patiently hoping I’d drop some bacon bits on the floor. “Let’s get down!” I turned the kitchen radio to 1390 AM, Chicago’s gospel station—Florida’s favorite—and turned it up loud.
Denny got home before Josh and Stu did, lifting the lid to the soup pot and all but drooling into it. “I think it’s going to snow,” he said, spooning some soup into a mug and leaning back against the counter.
I turned down the radio. “Well, at least Stu had decent weather for her move.” My antennae told me that Denny wanted to talk—but I didn’t think it was about the weather.
He finished the soup appetizer and set the mug down, still leaning against the counter. “Carl Hickman surprised me today.”
“Uh-huh. Me too. Last Saturday he was acting like a jerk.Today he’s all hard work. Go figure.” I sliced some French bread, and got out the butter and garlic.
“Yeah. Thought about it all the way home. And I realized something . . .”
I checked to see if the oven had reached 400 degrees yet, then wrapped the garlic bread in aluminum foil for its trip into the oven. “Realized . . . ?”
“He said Stu called him, said she needed help moving. Funny thing, I probably wouldn’t think to ask Carl Hickman if I needed help. Too busy trying to think of ways to help him. But I should have known . . .” Denny’s brow furrowed.
I stood there with the oven door open, the heat making a clean getaway. “Known what?”
“Guys don’t want to be helped. They want to be needed.”