2. Lucy #3
I sigh and focus on a point above his left shoulder. “Let’s just say I could have made a payment on a nice used car.”
Mom’s hand flies to her chest as she pulls in a gasp. “Henry, get the checkbook.”
Dad turns to walk to his office, but I grab his arm and pull him to a stop. “No, wait.”
He turns to me with his dark blue eyes full of concern and that primal need to take care of his family.
“I didn’t come here to ask for money. I can figure this out on my own. I need to figure this out on my own.”
If my parents know anything about me, it’s that I don’t ask for help.
I’ve always believed that anything worth doing is worth figuring out myself.
Asking for help feels too much like cheating—like having your mom make your science fair volcano for you instead of learning the paper mache process yourself.
This is my volcano to tackle.
“But Lucy,” Mom sets her hand on my arm, “This is a lot on you, sweetie. I know the preschool isn’t paying you enough to cover this and your other expenses.”
I sigh. “You’re right. It doesn’t pay enough, so I’m going to start looking for a new job. Something that pays better and, hopefully, has better benefits.”
My chest aches from admitting the plans I devised last night. I love my job at the preschool. I love the kids and the small private school setting. The parents have been so kind, and my coworkers and administration are a dream to work with.
But those things don’t pay for insulin, unfortunately.
“Oh, but you love your job.”
I nod, trying to keep tears from welling in my eyes as I think about leaving the preschool. “I do. But I have to take care of myself, and the preschool isn’t going to be enough to support me.”
Mom sighs and leans against the counter. “If only you had a husband with good insurance.”
My brows rise slowly as I process her words. “Excuse me?”
Mom shakes her head. “If you could find a man with good insurance, you could keep the job you love and still be able to take care of yourself. Or you could stay home and raise a family like you’ve always wanted.”
The thought settles in my mind, and I set a hand on my chest. My face feels hot as I silently admit how nice that would be. Nice, but completely absurd. “Marrying a man for insurance isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my life, but thanks.”
Mom tilts her head and gives me an impatient look. “You know that’s not what I meant. I was just saying it would have been nice if you were already married when this happened.”
I nod, pursing my lips. “Yes, well… I guess this is something the Lord wants me to handle alone.”
Dad sets a hand on my upper back, and I look up to meet his gaze. “You’re not alone, Lucy.”
I sigh and rest my head on Dad’s shoulder. “I know. I mean single.”
Dad runs his hand up and down my back soothingly as Mom spews reassurances and declarations that I’ll never feel alone in coping with my diagnosis.
I draw a deep breath, leaning into Dad’s quiet strength for comfort.
I tune out Mom’s antics while I ponder how much easier it would be to face this with a man by my side.
Not just any man, though—a man who is committed to me, who is a spiritual leader, who will help and support me while I do the same for him.
But God hasn’t led me to that perfect man yet, and I’m not willing to settle.
Hearing Mom mention ‘selling T-shirts’ snaps my attention back to the conversation.
I straighten up from Dad’s arms and hold out a hand toward Mom.
“Hold on. No one is selling anything. There won’t be any benefit softball tournaments, special church collections, or crowdfunding of any kind.
I don’t want all of Willow Bend to know about this. ”
Mom frowns. “Why not?”
I release a long breath. “Quite frankly, it’s not their business. But also, the thought of everyone knowing that there’s something wrong with me is… overwhelming. I don’t want this to be the first thing they see when they look at me.”
Mom sighs, her shoulders deflating. “I don’t think anyone would think differently of you for this, Lucy. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
I nod. “I know I haven’t. But living in Willow Bend is like living under a microscope. I’m doing well to keep my head above water through this without having to explain it to every person I meet in town. I want to keep it under wraps for now. At least until I have a better handle on things.”
Dad squeezes my shoulder. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what we’ll do. Won’t we, Joanne?”
I don’t miss the pointed look Dad gives Mom or the resigned tilt of her head. “Of course, honey. We won’t tell anyone.”
I raise my brows, waiting for more.
Mom purses her lips. “Or start any kind of fundraising efforts on your behalf.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
We’ll see how long that lasts. Based on my bill at the pharmacy last night, her desire to share every shred of news with her best friend—Nate’s mom—might last longer than my savings account.
Hopefully, I can find a new job quickly.
If not… Mom might get her fundraiser after all. And I might not have a choice.