Lead Me Home (3 page)

“Why would you want to spend your days in a classroom with a bunch of high schoolers?”

Randy’s response that evening to Shiloh’s announcement that she’d been offered a temporary teaching position was unsettling.

“You don’t need to work,” he continued. “You’re busy enough around the house, and what will the folks at St. Stephens think? That they’re not paying me enough to support us, or that you’re not happy at home?”

This was a first. When had he cared so much about what other people thought?

“Now you’re sounding like you-know-who.” Shiloh criss-crossed from the oven to the kitchen island to wrap up dinner preparations. “We’re not in Atchity, and this is not my daddy’s church. Many pastors’ wives work; why would that cause raised eyebrows? Plus, it’s temporary. I’d have to go back to school and get my bachelor’s degree to turn it into a full-fledged career. But I think it’s a great opportunity, and it will give me something to do during the day while you and the boys are away.”

“Don’t you have your hands full now, though?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Shiloh thought about the laundry and other chores she had completed today before her Monday student, Naima, arrived for her flute lesson. She placed a plate of baked chicken, rice, green beans, and baked sweet potato in front of Randy, who was sitting at the kitchen table, then proceeded to prepare her own.

“Boys! I’m not calling you again. If you’re going to eat dinner, you’d better come down before your dad says grace. Otherwise, you can stay where you are for the rest of the night!”

She heard feet shuffling and the sounds of boys making pit stops in the bathroom to wash their hands. While she and Randy waited for them, she resumed her response.

“I do stay busy here, but the boys are growing older. They can help more around the house for a couple of months, and besides, it will be good for them. Any girl they marry these days is going to want their help with cooking, cleaning, and caring for the kids.”

Randy took a sip of soda and peered at her. “So glad you aren’t one of the ‘girls these days,’ babe. You take good care of me.”

So could a maid.

That sarcastic reply didn’t slip past Shiloh’s lips, but she gifted Randy with a smirk. Truthfully, she loved taking care of him and their family, but she didn’t like feeling as if that was all that gave her value.

Randy shrugged and grabbed a roll from the bread basket in front of him. The boys filed in, fixed their plates, and sat in their usual spots—the two oldest boys across from each other and the two youngest facing each other, with Randy and Shiloh at each end of the table. Randy blessed the food, and they dug in like they hadn’t eaten for days.

“If ya’ll are so hungry, what took you so long to come?” Shiloh sighed. She knew she’d never figure them out. They ate in silence, until Lem launched into another update on his recent visit to Alabama, where he’d stayed with Shiloh’s parents for two weeks. Since returning home, he’d been keeping the family abreast of the latest news with friends he met during a summer science camp for high school students hosted by Alabama University, including frequent announcements about a young lady named Lia.

“She’s thinking about becoming a civil engineer, instead of studying electrical engineering,” Lem said. “Either way, she’s going to do well.”

Shiloh gave Randy a knowing glance, but spoke to Lem. “What colleges is she considering?”

“Alabama U, Spelman, Vanderbilt, Emory, Howard, Georgia Tech …”

“You sure do seem to know a lot about her plans, son,” Randy said and grinned.

Lem blushed and lowered his eyes. His close-cropped haircut framed his face nicely, and with that chiseled chocolate jaw and super-bright smile, he was the spitting image of his dad. Sometimes when Shiloh looked at him, she remembered Randy at that age, just as eager and optimistic as Lem was now.

“Careful, son,” Randy continued. “She’s all the way in Alabama and you’re here. How’s that going to work?”

Shiloh took a bite and watched Lem’s face contort as he sought to articulate his perspective. It was clear he’d thought it through.

“There’s Instagram, ooVoo, texting. It’s not that hard to stay in touch these days, Dad. Besides, we’re just friends, okay?”

Randy and Shiloh traded smiles, before returning their attention to their meals. After cleaning his plate, Randy sat back with a satisfied smile and raised the topic that had never left Shiloh’s mind.

“Let’s ask the troop here what they think about your going to work.”

“What was that?” Raphael’s twelve-year-old voice still hadn’t changed, and the squeakiness of it was sweet music to Shiloh’s ears. He was as cute as a button, but she knew she couldn’t tell him that. At least not before bedtime, when she had him alone and they could review the highs and lows of his day and share other things on their minds.

“What do you guys think about your mom working for a while? At a high school in Milwaukee?”

Eight eyes grew saucer-sized.

“Really?” David asked. “Doing what?”

“Teaching music,” Shiloh said. “The band director at Sherman Park High, near downtown, is out for a while caring for her sick mother, and they need a temporary replacement, through the end of October.”

“You’ll be teaching high school students?” Lem said. “I don’t know, Mom. Some of those kids can be rough on substitute teachers. It ain’t pretty.”

Shiloh shook her head and gave him an amused smile. “It ain’t ‘pretty’ how ya’ll try to be rough on me, either. I’m flattered that you’re worried about me, but I think I can handle it. The question is, can you guys handle stuff around here while I’m doing this? You’ll have to pitch in with dinner, laundry, and other chores more than usual.”

Her two middle sons, Omari and Raphael, frowned.

“We have to do girl stuff?” Omari groaned.

Shiloh restrained herself from glaring at him. She had created some monsters. She glanced at Randy, who strategically avoided eye contact by reaching for the plate of fresh-baked cookies in the center of the table. No—she corrected herself—
they
had created some monsters.

“Let’s just say you’ll have a chance to practice some skills you need anyway, to take care of yourself once you go off to college,” Shiloh said. “And for your information, none of the things I mentioned counts as ‘girl stuff.’ They are life skills.” She waited several seconds for that truth to resonate. “I’ll take your silence as evidence that you’ll fully support me and will be on board with helping out more. Thank you!”

The boys opened their mouths to protest but fell silent when Randy raised his palm. “Let’s chill, guys.” Randy looked down the long table and locked eyes with Shiloh. “I can tell this means a lot to you. It will inconvenience the family for a while, because we are used to you doing everything, taking care of the house and us. But if this is something you feel strongly about, we are going to support you.”

Shiloh blew him a kiss. “Thank you, babe.”

“Now, we don’t want fast food meals for dinner every night just ‘cause you’re working.” Randy winked at her. “But if you want to give this teaching thing a try, go for it.”

Shiloh rubbed her palms together and looked around the table. “Chick-fil-A, here we come!” she said and laughed, before softening her expression. “Seriously, though, we’ll get through this fine. Lots of families have two working parents. I’m excited!”

“What happens if you get into the classroom and hate it? Is there an out clause?” Randy asked. “Or will you be forced to stay the entire term, even if it isn’t working out?”

Why is he thinking it won’t work out?
Shiloh felt irritation creeping up her spine, even though she knew he didn’t mean any harm. She responded with a shrug. “Dr. Carter and I didn’t get that far. I’ll ask him about that, and also ask him to email the contract so you and I can go over it together.”

Shiloh sat back and smiled. Maybe it was premature, since she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, as Randy was wisely pointing out, but for the first time in a long time, she was enthusiastic about something more than her cherished roles of wife and mom. This was for her, and it felt good.

Shiloh held her cell phone at arm’s length and glared at it.
Should have known better.

Still elated after the call from Dr. Carter two days ago, and their first formal meeting this afternoon, she had taken a few minutes before Wednesday night Bible study to check in with Mama. Now she was kicking herself. What made her think Mama would be imressed by her opportunity to teach? Mama was the perfect Southern Baptist minister’s wife for her generation; she had never done anything that would take her away from Daddy and the church. Why had Shiloh thought she’d celebrate her plans to manage her First Lady role differently?

Mama was in the middle of a lecture about the proper care and nurturing of preacher husbands and their families, and refused to be interrupted. In a single breath, she had imagined Shiloh’s four sons in delinquency, Randy with another woman—or two—and Shiloh homeless and forced to work to survive. Shiloh shook her head. This was the twenty-first century—most women she knew were working to survive, making her role as a stay-at-home pastor’s wife somewhat of a luxury these days, not the other way around. When Shiloh no longer heard the shrill tone coming from the receiver, she brought it to her ear again, just in time to hear Mama’s question, “Do you understand what I’m saying, Shiloh? This is important.”

“Mama, it’s an eight-week substitute teaching gig, not a tour of duty in Afghanistan—really. Everyone will be fine. The boys are sixteen, fourteen, twelve, and nine. No one is in diapers and all of them
can read. They’re capable of helping prepare meals, wash clothes, and whatever else needs to be done if I’m tied up. They need to begin learning how to fend for themselves.

“Plus,” Shiloh continued, “I’ll be working school hours and should be home by three each afternoon, if not earlier, on some days. That’s plenty of time to oversee homework, cook dinner, and get the younger boys to football practice when Randy and Lem can’t help out. This is a new generation—women work. You know that; two of your daughters go to a job every day.”

“Uh-huh,” Mama said.

Shiloh pictured her on the other end of the phone, scowling or pursing her lips.

“Those other two girls of mine don’t have kids. And they aren’t married to a prominent minister. Your role calls for different choices, Shiloh. You can’t do like everybody else. You have to be Randy’s biggest supporter and his always-available helpmate. That’s the only way your daddy and I have made it all these years. I’ve put his needs before my own.”

And he put the church’s needs above yours and his daughters.

That silent retort bubbled forth before Shiloh could staunch it. And Mama wasn’t quite right; Dayna actually was a mother now, given that her stepsons’ biological mother was deceased.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Shiloh?”

“What did you want to do—what were your goals—before you married Daddy? Didn’t you dream of doing something special, something just for you?”

Mama didn’t respond for so long that Shiloh thought the call had dropped. “Hello?”

“Well, what kind of question is that? My life is the life I’m living—loving your daddy, loving you girls … taking care of God’s
business. That’s what is important. Are you getting your priorities mixed up?”

Shiloh didn’t have a ready response. Was Mama right? Was she so busy trying to be like her sisters that she was about to mess up a good thing? Shiloh glanced at the clock and was startled by how late it was. She leapt from her comfortable position on the sofa.

“Gotta run, Mama! I’ve got to get to Bible study—the ladies will be waiting on me. Thanks for sharing your perspective. Pray with me that all will go well, and that none of the terrible things you’re worried about will happen.”

Shiloh didn’t want to end the call before Mama said goodbye, but the clock was ticking.
Father, please don’t let her launch into another mini-sermon.

“Tell my grandsons I said hello, okay? It was such a joy to have Lem here this summer. I hope next summer the other boys will come, too.”

Shiloh smiled. It had been good for Lem to have his grandparents all to himself those two weeks in July. He’d come back talking about them as if they were real people, people he had an interest in spending time with, rather than doing so out of obligation.

“We’ll have to arrange that, Mama,” Shiloh said. “I’ve gotta run now. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Shiloh. You take to heart what I said. Don’t go getting all distracted. That’s what cost Dayna her first husband. You keep your eyes on your family—all the rest will come and go.”

Is that what Mama really thought? Dayna’s first husband, Brent, had cheated on her because Dayna had a life beyond their marriage, and a career? Really?

Shiloh shook her head. “Bye, Mama; I’ll call you later in the week.”

“Shiloh … God be with you, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.”

Mama sounded sad, but Shiloh decided not to fret. She placed
the cordless phone on its base, then grabbed her empty glass from the tray on the ottoman and headed for the kitchen. Thankfully, she was already dressed appropriately. The black slacks and sleeveless teal blouse she’d worn to her afternoon meeting with Dr. Carter to formalize their agreement were perfect. In fact, she might be considered overdressed to the ladies who showed up in jeans and shorts tonight. She’d run a comb through her hair and dab on some lipstick during the fifteen-minute drive to Brown Deer, the nearby suburb that served as home to St. Stephens Baptist and the majority of its parishioners.

“Lem! I’m going to Bible study,” Shiloh called on her way out. “Get David from football practice in half an hour, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Despite her determination to disregard her mother’s perspective, Mama’s words hovered over Shiloh like a cloud during the drive to church. She turned off the radio and traveled in silence, playing over and over in her mind the various pitfalls Mama had presented. By the time she pulled into the church parking lot, Shiloh had gone from second-guessing her decision to substitute teach, to trying to figure out how to tell Dr. Carter now wasn’t a good time.

Marlene Givens turned into the parking lot just as Shiloh was locking the van. Shiloh stood by the vehicle and waited for Marlene to park so they could walk in together.

“Well, good evening, First Lady!”

Marlene, who was at least two decades older than Shiloh and recovering from knee replacement surgery, toddled over and kissed Shiloh on the cheek. She was one of the members who had genuinely embraced the Griffin family, and Shiloh loved her exuberant spirit, her energy, and her kind heart.

“I was all prepared to come tipping in this evening and explain to you why I’m late, and it looks like we’ll be explaining together!”

Marlene laughed, but Shiloh blushed. She should have been there to open the meeting with prayer and get things started, but because of that lengthy lecture from Mama, she was ten minutes late. The ladies would be murmuring about this for sure. Hopefully they had started with refreshments, instead of waiting until the end of the meeting.

“I don’t have a good excuse,” Shiloh said and shook her head. “Pray for me, okay? How’s that knee?”

“Better every day, praise the Lord! You know I’m picking at you. No one’s on time all the time. Life happens, right? Let’s get in here and see what we need to do.” She peered at Shiloh while they walked toward the church. “Everything alright? You seem distracted.”

Shiloh hesitated. Pastor’s wife rule No. 1 was to never tell a member of the congregation your personal business. Whatever you said about yourself also went for your husband, and no matter how accurate the story started out, by the time it reached the hundredth member of the congregation, or wound its way through a community’s rumor mill, it had been altered a hundred times. Shiloh had honored this unspoken rule since marrying Randy, but this evening, she was desperate for a second opinion. Mama had shaken her confidence.

“I’m fine, just considering whether to take on a long-term substitute teaching job.”

“Oh?”

“Yes—Sherman Park High School in the city needs a temporary music teacher for eight weeks, and I’ve been asked to fill in. I’m just not sure how it will work with the family’s schedule, and I need to let the school know ASAP what I’m going to do.”

Marlene held open the side door of the church so Shiloh could enter. “I understand,” Marlene said. “I’m sure God will lead you to the right decision. Just ask yourself how the opportunity came to you in the first place. If it was something you sought out, then maybe you
do need to reflect and see if your priorities are in the right place. If it was something that just came your way, then that may be a sign that this was meant for you.”

Shiloh squeezed her hand and nodded. “Thanks for that wisdom, Sister Marlene. Let’s get inside.”

They walked at a comfortable pace toward the church’s educational wing and heard voices as they drew closer. Shiloh entered the Bible study classroom first, expecting to find the women socializing while they waited for her. Instead, they were seated with their Bibles open, reading along in unison with Jade, who sat near the center of the circle, guiding them through a passage in Romans.

Shiloh wanted to shake herself. Surely she was imagining things. Not because the Bible study was moving forward without her; that was resourceful. But being led by Jade?
The
Jade, whose interests leaned more toward Michael Kors and Ralph Lauren than Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? Clearly, there was a first time for everything.