Page 41 of In This Moment
Reagan felt the weariness in her shoulders. Luke had come home late again last night. Two nights this week already and it was only Thursday. The kids were at school and she had set aside the next hour to work on Luke’s party. Ashley had already confirmed that Landon was fine with hosting the party at their house.
But all Reagan wanted to do was drive down to Luke’s office and tell him the truth: Things were getting out of hand again. Luke meant nothing by it. He loved the kids and her. The problem wasn’t the job. It was his way of thinking.
Like he’d lose the important cases unless he worked around the clock.
She felt sure God wouldn’t want Luke to strive like that. If Luke would put his family first, God would make up the lost hours on his cases. Reagan sighed. Yes, a trip to the office wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Yet even as she toyed with the possibility, a different thought hit her.
The photo booth.
Brooke had brought the idea up a few days ago when Elaine, Brooke, Kari and Ashley got on the phone with her and dreamed a little. “What if we get one of those photo booths for the party? They send someone to run the machine and handle the photo strips. They bring silly hats and props.”
All of them had loved the idea, so Reagan had made a few phone calls.
Now it was settled. The photo booth could be delivered to Landon and Ashley’s house Sunday after church and they would position it just off the entryway. Reagan could hardly wait to share the news with the others. She got everyone onto a group call, and the conversation quickly shifted to the possibility of an ice cream sundae bar and what type of dinner food they should have.
At the end of the hour, when Reagan hung up, she felt happier than she had in days. And suddenly it hit her. The sad feeling about Luke’s excessive work was gone. And of course! This was just what she was supposed to do. Believe that changes in Luke would come from God, and stick to doing what she could do.
Love Luke with all her heart.
•••
WENDELL HAD NEVERdisobeyed authority in all his life.
Until now.
He took the call from the president of the Indianapolis Public Schools board on Monday—days after the story about Wendell and Hamilton High had sufficiently blown up. Thanks to the media, Wendell already knew this call was coming.
James Black, president of the school board, had always been a friend, someone Wendell had shared a meal with on a number of occasions. When things were falling apart at Hamilton, Mr. Black had assured Wendell that the trouble wasn’t his fault.
“Kids these days have a mind of their own. Too many video games, too many absent parents.” The words Mr. Black had spoken to Wendell at the end of their worst school year stayed with Wendell still. “You have to figure some kids are going to fail. Period. That’s just the way it is.” The man had shrugged. “No one expected you to turn your school around. If you can, well then, I applaud you.”
The cheering indeed came when James Black and the others at the school district saw the changes at Hamilton High.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” Mr. Black phoned him halfway through the last school year. He had chuckled. “You’re making us all look good.”
Wendell had wondered then why Mr. Black never asked exactly what Wendell was doing to make such amazing improvements. He knew the statistics, but not the details about why things were changing for the better. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to know. Whatever the reason, the applause had ended as soon as the school board realized what had caused the improvements.
“You should’ve known better, Wendell.” Mr. Black sounded beyond disappointed. “Talk of God does not belong in a public school. Period.” Then the man went on to tell Wendell he needed to disband the Bible study club immediately. “If I hear wind of you attending those meetings... in fact, if the meetings are allowed to continue, you will be fired.” He paused, condemnation heavy in his voice. “You’ve been warned, Wendell.”
So this was the mandate the reporters had asked about. Wendell wasn’t surprised, really. He’d figured it was coming sooner or later.
Wendell ached for someone to share this with. He would talk to God. He prayed without ceasing these days. But if he wanted to talk to someone who could look into his eyes and take hold of his hand, there was only one person outside of his family who would meet that need.
Alicia Harris.
He and Alicia had connected recently, but not nearly often enough. She probably understood the depth of his situation, the gravity of all that was at stake. Wendell prayed that his troubles hadn’t rekindled her panic attacks.
He missed Alicia like never before.
Not only that, but he was out of answers when it came to the Raise the Bar club. Good thing he had Luke Baxter. The lawyer would know what to do. Their first meeting was set for one o’clock that afternoon.
The morning flew by and at just before one, Wendell took a spot in the lobby of Luke’s office. The building was on the right side of Indianapolis, five stories high, ornate brick and beautiful white pillars and molding. Wendell hadn’t seen something this nice since the time he took a group of teens to Washington, D.C.
“Wendell Quinn? Luke Baxter.” The man smiled at him. A smile that did nothing to hide the seriousness of the matter at hand.
Wendell stood and shook Luke’s hand. “A hundred lawyers must work here.”
