A Family For Jana. Eileen Berger

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СКАЧАТЬ ran a bit late, so by the time she got to the lounge in Sanderson Dorm where the noon meeting was held the circle of seats was nearly full. These get-togethers were always informal. Today, like most others, the two choruses they sang were unaccompanied, yet harmonized.

      Jana had been in the junior high and senior high choruses back home and had been chosen to sing solos several times—but she mustn’t think about such enjoyable things now. That was a different place and a different time; she and her parents had been on reasonably good terms then.

      Before she got pregnant. Before she had to leave home. Before her comfortable world had fallen apart.

      Todd asked one of the freshmen to read a chosen scripture, and a senior led in prayer. He then went directly into his fifteen-minute meditation on reaching out to others, to being a friend under all situations. He seemed to glance toward Jana more than she wished, but she considered the talk good, especially for a first one. She commended him on this before hurrying home.

      Gram had brought Michael home from the hospital in mid-morning, and he was already taking his afternoon nap by the time Jana got there. Although Gram reported that he seemed to be doing all right, Jana tiptoed in to gently place her hand against his forehead and on his chest to verify that his temperature and breathing were normal.

      Downstairs, she took over her shift as baby-sitter. In addition to the four children who were usually here, Gram’s great-granddaughter, Katherine, had been brought by her father, Keith.

      Ricki had left for her part-time job after explaining that her daughter, Debbie, seemed more fussy than usual. “She’s not running an elevated temp or anything, and Gram and I don’t think she’s coming down with anything. She insisted she wasn’t sleepy, but you know what an agreeable doll she usually is. I put her to bed anyway and hope for your sake, as well as hers, that she’s in a better mood when she gets up.”

      Gram was spending time at the library with her literacy volunteer work. She’d not done this for the last several years, but with everyone pulling together so well, she’d decided to get back to the work she so loved.

      Jana opened her books on the kitchen table, realizing chances were good that at least one of the five children would soon be waking. Then she went upstairs to the room she shared with her son, opened the desk drawer as silently as possible and removed several boxes to take downstairs.

      She didn’t find what she wanted in the assortment of greetings, but among her note cards was a black-and-white sketch of a steam engine pulling a coal car and an assortment of others, including passenger, box, container, flatbed and animal—and there was also, of course, a caboose.

      A smile was on her face while writing the thank-you note to Ray, and she’d still heard no sounds from upstairs by the time the envelope was sealed, stamped and carried to the front porch. Today’s mail had not yet been delivered, so Jana clipped her envelope to the wall-mounted mailbox for pickup.

      She disciplined herself to write a brief letter to her parents, as she’d promised herself to do each week, even though she had heard nothing from them for all these years. She always had her return address on the envelope, and none had been returned so, still hoping they were being read, she continued to write, each missive accompanied by a prayer for reconciliation.

      Both Mother and Dad had told her that if she didn’t care enough for them to do as they commanded, to have that abortion, they would no longer consider her to be their daughter. However, she’d continued to inform them of most things, especially of Michael’s birth, of her graduation from high school and of being almost finished with her third year of college.

      She’d sent photocopies of report cards, but those consistently above 3.5 grade point averages got no more acknowledgment than had the announcement of the birth of their only grandchild. Nevertheless, she wrote a few lines about Michael’s recent hospitalization and his being home again.

      Her studying wasn’t completed, but at least she’d made a good start on the second subject before going upstairs to bring down the first two children. Everything was left on the table in case she might have a few more minutes this afternoon, although that was unlikely. Whatever was undone by then would be tackled again after the little girls went home and Michael was put to bed for the night—if she could stay awake and alert enough to do so.

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