Read Online Over Her Head by Shelley Bates - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelley Bates
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be Tuesday afternoon at four.
“Tanya has requested that Randi’s remains be cremated,” he explained, “so we’ll have a memorial service and celebration of
her life. We’ll hold it right here, after school, so her classmates can attend as well.”
When the service was over, people crowded around to offer condolences and help. Tanya looked a little like a drowning woman,
glancing right and left as if she were hoping that the sea would part and she could escape. Laurie made her way to her side
and made sure that people who were serious about their offers of help got their names on the roster for either food or time.
This was one of the reasons she loved Glendale Bible Fellowship—brotherly love translated itself into action here. Nobody
had to be asked first. No one who had a need ever went without, whether it was as practical as making supper for a bereaved
family, or as spiritual as praying for someone who was struggling.
Tanya gripped her arm. “Laurie, please, can we go?” Tears streaked her face, and fine hair that would have been curly if it
had been styled a little better was coming out of its knot.
“Of course, sweetie. I’m just going to finish up with these folks. Cammie, can you take Tanya home?”
The two women made their way to the door and escaped into the chilly morning. The weatherman had predicted snow by mid-afternoon,
and you could really feel it if you were standing near the door.
Thanks to the list and the schedule, someone would be with Tanya whenever she needed it—whether keeping her company during
her hours off, or pulling out a frozen dish and putting it in the oven, or picking up scrapbooking materials for Randi’s memory
book.
It turned out that Tanya was a lapsed scrapbooker, and creating the pages of the album on Monday turned out to be a kind of
therapy. Fortunately, Mary Lou and Debbie were scrapbookers, too, and by the time people had begun to gather for the service
on Tuesday, the album was finished and displayed on a miniature podium, where people could look through it before they entered
the sanctuary.
At the front, Randi’s ninth-grade picture had been enlarged and mounted, and stood on an easel between two elevated baskets
of roses and lilies. Three members of the high-school band played flute, piano, and clarinet onstage, and the melody of “Amazing
Love” floated through the sanctuary.
Anna’s phone rang just as Colin ushered them all up the aisle.
“Turn that off!” Laurie whispered. Anna knew better than that. The whole family automatically turned off their phones on the
way to church every Sunday. Today should have been no different.
Anna glanced at the text message and thumbed the little phone off, then dropped it in her denim messenger bag. As they sat
in their usual pew five rows back on the left side, Laurie heard sniffles and the stifled sound of weeping as the church filled.
Cale opened the service with a eulogy that was as short as Randi’s life had been. His text was 1 John 4:10: “Herein is love,
not that we loved God, but that he loved us . . .” Laurie glanced over at Tanya and hoped that she was able to take it in.
God’s love was active. And so was theirs, right there in the church. Tanya might not be able to see it now, but some day she
would, and the care all around her would comfort her.
Then, one by one, Randi’s classmates got up and walked to the podium. Kate Parsons moved with the confidence and assurance
of the social leader that Laurie wished Anna would be. Even after their uncomfortable conversation of the other night, she
still had hopes. People grew and changed—and a fourteen-year-old changed her mind a dozen times a day.
Kate’s father, Neil, was a lawyer, and as far as Laurie knew, his appearance in church today was a first. His wife, Noreen,
came once in a while, but she’d declined to join their study group even though they’d invited her more than once.
Tears rolled
“Tanya has requested that Randi’s remains be cremated,” he explained, “so we’ll have a memorial service and celebration of
her life. We’ll hold it right here, after school, so her classmates can attend as well.”
When the service was over, people crowded around to offer condolences and help. Tanya looked a little like a drowning woman,
glancing right and left as if she were hoping that the sea would part and she could escape. Laurie made her way to her side
and made sure that people who were serious about their offers of help got their names on the roster for either food or time.
This was one of the reasons she loved Glendale Bible Fellowship—brotherly love translated itself into action here. Nobody
had to be asked first. No one who had a need ever went without, whether it was as practical as making supper for a bereaved
family, or as spiritual as praying for someone who was struggling.
Tanya gripped her arm. “Laurie, please, can we go?” Tears streaked her face, and fine hair that would have been curly if it
had been styled a little better was coming out of its knot.
“Of course, sweetie. I’m just going to finish up with these folks. Cammie, can you take Tanya home?”
The two women made their way to the door and escaped into the chilly morning. The weatherman had predicted snow by mid-afternoon,
and you could really feel it if you were standing near the door.
Thanks to the list and the schedule, someone would be with Tanya whenever she needed it—whether keeping her company during
her hours off, or pulling out a frozen dish and putting it in the oven, or picking up scrapbooking materials for Randi’s memory
book.
It turned out that Tanya was a lapsed scrapbooker, and creating the pages of the album on Monday turned out to be a kind of
therapy. Fortunately, Mary Lou and Debbie were scrapbookers, too, and by the time people had begun to gather for the service
on Tuesday, the album was finished and displayed on a miniature podium, where people could look through it before they entered
the sanctuary.
At the front, Randi’s ninth-grade picture had been enlarged and mounted, and stood on an easel between two elevated baskets
of roses and lilies. Three members of the high-school band played flute, piano, and clarinet onstage, and the melody of “Amazing
Love” floated through the sanctuary.
Anna’s phone rang just as Colin ushered them all up the aisle.
“Turn that off!” Laurie whispered. Anna knew better than that. The whole family automatically turned off their phones on the
way to church every Sunday. Today should have been no different.
Anna glanced at the text message and thumbed the little phone off, then dropped it in her denim messenger bag. As they sat
in their usual pew five rows back on the left side, Laurie heard sniffles and the stifled sound of weeping as the church filled.
Cale opened the service with a eulogy that was as short as Randi’s life had been. His text was 1 John 4:10: “Herein is love,
not that we loved God, but that he loved us . . .” Laurie glanced over at Tanya and hoped that she was able to take it in.
God’s love was active. And so was theirs, right there in the church. Tanya might not be able to see it now, but some day she
would, and the care all around her would comfort her.
Then, one by one, Randi’s classmates got up and walked to the podium. Kate Parsons moved with the confidence and assurance
of the social leader that Laurie wished Anna would be. Even after their uncomfortable conversation of the other night, she
still had hopes. People grew and changed—and a fourteen-year-old changed her mind a dozen times a day.
Kate’s father, Neil, was a lawyer, and as far as Laurie knew, his appearance in church today was a first. His wife, Noreen,
came once in a while, but she’d declined to join their study group even though they’d invited her more than once.
Tears rolled
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