Free Faith Wish by James Bennett

possible.”
    She left the counseling center about twenty minutes before the fourth-hour passing bell would sound. She could spend the time in the library before she headed for lunch. Her stomach was roiling; she felt she’d crossed the threshold to join the Body of Christ earlier, then the contract, which was absolutely mortifying. When she got to the library door again, she whispered last night’s passage: “‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’”
    She could get through this because she wasn’t alone. The light of God’s Kingdom would illuminate the darkness and the shadows. It would be in His time, though, not hers.

June 2
    She was sick again, for the second day in a row.
    By 6:30 A . M . she had thrown up in the toilet a third time. The only breakfast she’d eaten, the glazed donut, was floating in the bowl along with the gross scent of barf. Her mouth was disgusting with the rancid aftertaste. The nausea made her miserable, but at least there was privacy, because she had the upstairs bathroom all to herself.
    She stood up to examine her waxen face in the medicine cabinet mirror. For the third time this morning, she brushed her teeth, and rinsed with Scope. Hidden behind the mouthwash bottle was an EPT home pregnancy test, which she hadn’t found the nerve to try yet. She was still woozy, and her head ached, but at least the nausea was past.
    Anne-Marie knew she was pregnant. She had no doubts at all. For the past three weeks, each time she got up in the morning, she was woozy and nauseous. Sometimes for an hour or two, sometimes longer. It would be ironic to become pregnant by her one intimate encounter with Brother Jackson, when she’d had unprotected sex with Richard Bone more times than she would want to admit. But that was all too long ago; she’d had several normal period cycles since she’d let herself be seduced by him. As soon as she washed her face, she went downstairs. Her mother was in the master bedroom, applying makeup.
    Looking out through the window, Anne-Marie could see the hired hands making preparations for her sister Eleanor’s royal reception. It would be a big surprise to Eleanor, but not to Anne-Marie; she was long accustomed to her big sister’s position in the limelight.
    Eleanor would be surprised and embarrassed by the crowded party on the lawn, the photographers from the West Suburban Times , and the choice buffet provided by Van Meter Catering. There was even a string quartet unloading instruments from their van.
    By the time the limo which brought Eleanor from O’Hare Airport glided to its stop in front of their home, Anne-Marie was quarreling with her mother. The quarrel was not intense, because the shouting matches were a thing of the past, now that Anne-Marie had found the Lord. Before, she had always been in the prison of her own selfish willfulness.
    Watching the limo from the window, and the flock of people who greeted it, Anne-Marie was reminded of the parable of the Prodigal Son. But even the Prodigal Son wouldn’t get a reception like this. My father wouldn’t think the Prodigal Son deserved anything other than a good whipping and maybe thirty hours of community service .
    She knew the time was short. “If I miss this class Monday,” she told her mother, “I can make it up the next day. Lots of people do that.”
    â€œMaybe that’s a part of their contract, then,” her mother replied.
    â€œIt’s got nothing to do with a contract,” Anne-Marie explained. “It’s just a procedure for making up missed classes. Not everybody in summer school is on a contract, Mother.”
    â€œBut you are, though, remember?”
    â€œNot officially, though. There’s no contract in writing yet.”
    â€œDon’t sound like an attorney, okay?”
    â€œI live with an attorney, remember? I’m just saying we don’t have anything official yet from the