Rachelle couldn’t go home.
She picked up Gabe’s message around ten p.m., asking if she could somehow make it home in time to see him off to Uganda.
“If I’ve pushed you away, I’ll do better,” he said. “Call me, Rachelle.”
If anything, the voice mail message made her angry. When she had settled Yasmin into bed and checked on Indigo, she went into the kitchen and called him back. He answered promptly, but she didn’t allow him to speak.
“Gabe, I got your message, but I can’t come home. Aunt Irene dislocated her hip in a car accident today and I need to be here for the family. She’s having surgery tomorrow.”
She didn’t tell him that Aunt Irene had been charged with drunk driving or that the accident had left a young boy with a broken leg and arm.
Gabe tried to interject, but she didn’t let him.
“Have a safe trip to Uganda. Don’t forget to call Tate and Taryn and leave them a message at Mom’s and Dad’s, if you haven’t already talked to them. And about your desire to work things out . . . we’ll see, Gabe.”
Rachelle sighed and felt the wave rushing toward her again. Where was all of this resentment coming from?
“I can’t believe you aren’t going to be here for me,” Gabe said.
Rachelle frowned. “You sound like a little boy, pouting over a missing toy. I’m not there to occupy you, the kids aren’t home, and even Helen isn’t around. You don’t have anybody to cater to you at the moment, so you’re feeling neglected. Well, too bad. Call me when you get back from Uganda and let’s see how sincere you are then.
“In the meantime? Can you please ask Lyle and Chrissa to pray for Aunt Irene and for Jillian?” Rachelle asked. “I know they won’t just give lip service; they’ll actually follow through. Have a good night, Gabe. Be safe.”
“Good night, Rachelle. I’ll see you when I get back. Take care of yourself and . . . ,” Gabe sounded contrite, “come home?”
She hung up without responding. This attitude would earn her an ugly nickname in some circles, but right now she could care less.
Gabe was finally paying her some attention, and for the first time she could recall, she didn’t want to be bothered.
Rachelle rose from the table and filled the kettle on the stovetop with fresh water. Some people couldn’t live without their coffee; tea was her thing. She always had at least two cups in the morning and two before going to bed.
It had been an emotional day, and she wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Hopefully she could make some progress on her Top Ten List, or at least move past number one.
Why is this bothering me so much?
She asked herself that question for the hundredth time as she poured honey into her tea and stirred it with a teaspoon. Was it because Jillian had made the request and she wanted to honor it?
She thought so at first, but in just the past few days, she realized that answer might be too simple.
Jillian had merely opened her eyes to all that she was missing, despite the trappings of wealth and privilege. If she could focus enough to decide what mattered most, maybe she would be able to stop floating through life at everyone else’s whim.
The baby steps she had taken so far felt good, but what use was it to push the envelope if she had no road map? Every day she was better appreciating the fragility of life; she didn’t feel invincible anymore.
If she didn’t do something about it soon, the things she might someday desire would have passed her by.