Showers in Season (3 page)

The secondhand car that Harry had insisted on buying for Sylvia in León, Nicaragua, was a 1975 Fiat Berlina that sounded like a lawn mower and drove in fits and starts. The morning they had bought it, the back window had fallen out and shattered on the backseat. They had not been able to get the glass to replace it, so they had taped plastic across the hole with duct tape to keep out the rain.

She wished it wasn’t the rainy season in Nicaragua. If it weren’t, she might not have had so much trouble getting around. Her windshield wipers didn’t work, and despite all the duct tape, there was a leak somewhere that caused a puddle to form in the backseat every time she took the car out in the rain.

She found the university, which was her main landmark in her directions to the restaurant, since the Nicaraguans weren’t big on addresses. The restaurant where she was meeting another American missionary couple was a half block north. She found it with little trouble, located a place to park the car, and got out.

A child about the age of Joseph Dodd, her little nine-year-old neighbor back home, approached the car, soaking wet from the rain and carrying a dead chicken. In Spanish, he asked her if she wanted to buy it, but she shook her head and thanked him. She wished she spoke more Spanish. She missed talking to children, hearing their funny little thoughts, laughing at their antics. The children here were no different than they were in Tennessee. Except they were much more conscious about money, because they had to help their families make a living.

The child spouted out some more Spanish, then in broken English, asked, “Watch your car?”

She had been through this every time she had parked the car, so she knew what he wanted. “
Si
,” she said. “You watch my car.” Clutching the dead chicken, which she knew he would sell before she returned, the child leaned possessively against her car.

It was a ritual that had taken some getting used to. She had learned the hard way to allow someone to “watch her car,” when her side mirror and all four hubcaps had been stolen off the car the first time she’d parked it. She learned quickly that, if someone offered to car sit, you had to let them, or they would rob you blind. Then when you returned, you had to pay them something before getting in. Sometimes the person watching the car when she returned wasn’t the same person she’d started with. But she had to pay them nonetheless.

She hurried up to the La Cueva del León and saw that the young couple was already there waiting. She rushed in, and the Andersons got to their feet. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. “I still get so lost here. And my windshield wipers don’t work.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Julie Anderson said as they sat back down. She was a slight woman with short blonde hair and big brown eyes. Her husband, Jeb, was about five-eight and round, but had a jolly face that was always lit up in a smile. Sylvia had heard that children loved him.

She ordered
puntas de filete a la jalapena
, then settled back, trying to get comfortable with the couple she had been praying for. They had come here strictly on faith with hardly any support at
all, and seemed to lack any clear direction for their ministry. Yet they had resisted joining with her and Harry, as if they were certain that God wanted them working elsewhere in the city.

“I’m sorry Harry couldn’t be here. He’s so busy with the clinic. You wouldn’t believe the number of people he sees each day. I’ve been staying real busy myself, just checking up on his sickest patients. You know, if you wanted to come help out, there’s tremendous ministry opportunity. We need more people to visit the patients at home, to make sure they’re taking their medicine and doing all right. It really builds trust. We’ve seen dozens of people come to Christ already. And Pastor Jim is doing a great job with them.”

Julie looked at her husband, then Jeb leaned on the table. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “We feel like we’ve gotten our marching orders from God. We have a plan now.”

Sylvia had visited with them a couple of other times and had been amazed at the number of things they had tried in their missionary work. Their work seemed to be constantly unsuccessful, yet they didn’t lose heart. She had encouraged them to develop a ministry plan, since they seemed to be going in too many directions. “Great,” she said. “What is it?”

“We’re going to start a school,” Julie said.

“A school?”

“Yes, a Christian school,” Jeb said. “We’re both teachers, and we know other Christian teachers in the States who are trying to raise their support right now so they can come join us.”

“We figured it was a great way to reach the little ones,” Julie said, “and then possibly reach their families through them. And we were wondering if you would be interested in teaching there with us.”

Sylvia’s eyes widened. “But I can hardly even speak Spanish. I couldn’t communicate with them. And I don’t have a teaching degree.”

“You don’t have to have one,” Julie said. “And the kids need to learn English. You could teach them that.”

“Think about it, Sylvia,” Jeb said. “While you’re teaching them English, you can also teach them the Bible. And we know how you love kids…”

She had to admit that she liked the idea. Even while she had urged Julie and Jeb to get a plan, she’d found herself lacking one. Harry’s mission was clear. Hers had been a little hazier, especially since she was still learning the language.

“Well, where do you plan to have this school?”

“Here in León. We found an old building over near San Felipe Church. It used to be a warehouse of some kind, but we were able to buy it with the money our church sent us. We’ve finished cleaning it out, and we’re about to start painting the classrooms. There won’t be many at first, but we figure we’ll grow.”

“Well, it sounds wonderful. But didn’t your church send you that money to live on?”

“They wanted us to use it for God’s work,” Julie said. “God will meet our needs, but we felt very clearly that the Lord wanted us to use it for the school.”

Sylvia had her own thoughts on the difference between walking in faith and demanding miracles. She had learned the hard way that God could not be manipulated.

Julie leaned forward, locking eyes with Sylvia. “Do you think Dr. Harry would let us promote the school through his clinic? We need to be able to talk to the families, convince them that this would be good for their children…”

“Well, I don’t know. Harry doesn’t like to bombard his patients with too much at once. His main goal is to meet their physical needs, so that they can hear the gospel. If they’re getting too many messages at the same time, it might make it harder for them to listen to his message about Jesus.”

“But we’re all in this together for the same purpose,” Jeb said. “Whether we get them to your little church or to our little school, Jesus is lifted up.”

Sylvia tried to banish her negative thoughts. These two needed encouragement, but she wasn’t sure she had any to offer. “How many students do you have signed up so far?”

Jeb and Julie exchanged looks again. “Well…none.”

“None at all?”

“Well, no. But we have faith that God is working in this. We know he told us to do this. The building practically fell into our hands, and we’ve had supplies like paint and the tools we’ve needed fall into our laps. Our church back home is collecting textbooks already…”

“But you don’t have one child yet? And you’ve spent all this money on this building?”

“We’re calling it The Ark,” Jeb said. “We’re building this school on faith. We’re being obedient, even if it looks crazy. We
know
God is in this, Sylvia.”

Sylvia tried not to dash their hopes with her practical wisdom. She loved seeing faith like theirs, but part of her couldn’t help worrying that their dreams would be destroyed in the next few months. Things worked very slowly around here, and they could pour all of their time, money, and energy into something that was doomed to failure. If God had really told them to do this, that was one thing, but she feared it was one of those times when a missionary, so desperate to see God’s results in their lives, heard his own voice and attributed it to God. They would need students, teachers, materials, lesson plans…Too many things would have to come together to make this work.

Still, she promised she would talk to Harry and see what they could do.

As she headed back out into the warm rain, she looked up at the hills surrounding León, lined with houses with red-tiled roofs. She missed the different kind of hills surrounding her home in Breezewood. She missed the ease of life and the things she could take for granted. She missed feeling purpose and certainty in her life, as she had as a young mother with children at home. She feared she might never know that kind of purpose again.

She wondered if Brenda and Cathy and Tory were all right. She could sure use one of their round-porch discussions right now. It would be heaven to sit on her porch with her neighbors,
sipping sweet tea and talking about their children and their husbands and their churches. She longed for Brenda’s vibrant optimism, for Cathy’s sharp wit, for Tory’s honest faith.

Oh, how she missed them.

She couldn’t wait to get home and send them an e-mail, just to touch base. Maybe her latest stories would remind them how blessed they were.

The pregnancy test couldn’t be used until the next morning, so Tory hid it under her pillow and decided not to tell Barry until she was sure. But as Tory cooked supper and Barry helped Brittany with her homework, Spencer broadcast her secret. “Mommy’s been perjecting all over the place,” he said. “At Joseph’s house, at Britty’s school…”

“Perjecting?” Barry asked, mildly amused. “What do you mean, perjecting?”

“You know. Gettin’ sick. Perjectine barfing.”

“Projectile?” Barry asked, shooting Tory a look. “Tory, are you okay?”

She drew in a deep breath and looked wearily at her son. “Spencer, where do you get these words? He must have used six synonyms for vomiting today.”

“He gets it from Nickelodeon,” Brittany said.

Barry nodded agreement. “It’s one of their favorite subjects.”

“I told you we needed to get rid of television.”

“So is it true?” Barry asked. “Have you been sick?”

She shrugged. “Must be a stomach virus. I don’t know.”

“I thought you looked a little pale.” He got up and came to the stove. “Here, let me finish cooking. You don’t need to be standing over this if you’re sick.”

“Yeah, I’m probably spreading germs, anyway,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was rooting for germs, when she spent so much time blasting Lysol on anything that could breed them.

He kissed her cheek. “Go sit down.”

“I’m fine,” she said as she headed out of the room. “Really. By tomorrow, I’ll be as good as new.” But even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t true.

Later that night, Barry read the kids a chapter of
Charlotte’s Web
, while Tory cleaned the kitchen until it shined. She worried as she worked. When she was finished, she went to tuck them in, and wondered what it would be like to have a third little one demanding a glass of water, another kiss good night, a better hug, and a night-light that didn’t cast shadows.

When she finally made it back to her bedroom, Barry was changing into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Okay, right now,” she said. “It just hits me, all of a sudden.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Just today. I’ve been kind of queasy for a few days,” she said, downplaying it as much as she could. “It always passed.”

She tried to keep her eyes averted, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her to face him. Sliding his arms around her, he looked down at her with amused eyes. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

She couldn’t help grinning back. If she said yes, Barry wouldn’t see it as a tragedy. “The thought has occurred to me.”

He kept grinning down at her, as if trying to decide if she was serious. “Are you late?”

“Maybe a little.”

His grin faded. “How late? One week? Two?”

She swallowed hard. “About…urn…nine weeks, as far as I can tell.”

He dropped his arms and stepped back. “Nine weeks? Tory!”

“I know,” she said, clutching her head. “It’s so stupid not to realize I’d already missed one. My last period should have been around the time Joseph was so sick. I must have been so distracted that I didn’t realize I was late. And I’ve been really busy with the kids and the writing. I just didn’t realize—”

“Okay.” He grabbed his keys off of the dresser. “That’s it. I’m going to buy a pregnancy test. How late is Walmart open?”

“No need, Barry,” she said, stopping him. “I beat you to it.” She went around the bed and got the box out from under her pillow.

The reality of it seemed to knock the wind out of him. He sank down on the bed, looking a little shell-shocked. “You really think you could be, don’t you?”

“What if I am?” she asked him. “This will be the first one we didn’t plan for. Can we still be happy about it?”

He seemed to think that over, and slowly a smile returned to his face. “Of course we can. I’m just so…stunned. You never mentioned that you were late, or that you felt bad…But yes, we can be happy about it.
Of course
we can be happy about it.” He laughed then, a sound that filled her with relief. He reached out to pull her onto his lap. “We can be very happy about it.”

“But I’ll turn into a cow again, and I’ll waddle like a duck…”

He stroked her hair behind her ear. “Tory, both times, you were the best-looking pregnant woman I’d ever seen. You
never
waddled like a duck. You gained all of twenty pounds on each baby, and lost it in the first six months. The doctor was yelling at
me
for not making you eat more.”

“I would have gained more if I hadn’t had such bad morning sickness.” She sighed. “Barry, I don’t know if I’m ready to go through all that again. And my writing is going so well. How will I ever write if there’s a new baby to take care of?”

“You can make time if you really want to.”

“That’s the thing,” she said. “If I have a new baby, I won’t really
want
to write. It takes so much energy to take care of a baby.” Her face flushed pink at the thought, and she gave in to
a smile. “A baby…” she said with awe. “Barry, another little baby.” Her smile faded again, and she closed her eyes. “Oh, no. A baby.”

“Tory, stop worrying. It’s out of your control. Either you are, or you aren’t. If we have another baby, it’s because God wants us to. End of story.”

She couldn’t help laughing softly. “You’re right. And if I am, I’m sure I’ll be happy.”

He chuckled against her ear. “Happy? You’ll be thrilled. You’ll probably cry if the test is negative.”

She knew that was true. There was some part of her that hoped it was positive. “What about you? How will you feel?”

“I’ll feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” he said. “A new baby. It’s about the best thing I can think of.”

“Even if we don’t have an extra bedroom? Even if we don’t have time?”

“We’ll build on. And since when did anyone really have time for a baby? Once it comes, you laugh that you ever thought it was something you had to fit in. It just takes over.”

“But Spencer and Britty have already taken over.”

“So we’ll have three little tyrants, instead of two. We’ll love it.”

Still grinning, she opened the box of the pregnancy test and read the instructions. “It says that we can do the test the first thing in the morning. The results will be ready in ten minutes.”

“So just get some rest and don’t worry about it until morning.”

But Tory knew that she would worry all night. This wasn’t the kind of thing she could shift to the back of her mind. If that test was positive, their lives would never be the same.