Chapter 15

Grounded

Grounded. Not a word familiar to homeschoolers.

Sarah hadn't had a clue what it meant when Father had pronounced the sentence. Mother, however, had explained it the next day: she would be doing nothing but school and housework for the next week (Sunday excluded). As she couldn't appeal, Sarah decided to be stoic and look on the bright side-- she'd get a lot of schoolwork done, maybe even get ahead.

So Monday morning found Sarah stretched out on her bed, starting on what looked to be a very difficult math problem. Sam tiptoed past outside.

Sarah glared at the open door, then gave up and laughed. Now that Sam knew she was in trouble, he would probably ignore her presence until next week, thinking that would help. Sweet, silly Sam. She turned back to the problem.

"Sarah? Come up, it's time for breakfast." Sarah slammed the math book shut with fervor and leapt from the bed.

"Coming!"

When she reached the table Sam had already finished his first bowl of cereal and started in on a second. Sure enough, he studiously ignored her presence, except when she asked him for the milk.

"So, Sarah, how's it going?" asked Mother.

Sarah shrugged in response. "I started with Saxon."

"Good. You're a little bit behind in Saxon, remember. Juice?"

"Yes, thanks. Yes ma'am, I know I'm behind-- but I'll be able to catch up this week."

"Mmm, yes." Mother seemed ready to say something else, but decided not to and instead changed the subject. "You two want to go to Books-A-Million this evening?" Sarah immediately began feeling sorry for herself, but perked up when Mother added, "I'll give you a break, Sarah, if you keep to your work all day otherwise and you agree to come to the next place we'll be going."

"Where's that?" piped up Sam. Then, suspiciously, "Are you trying to bribe us?"

Mother smiled, somewhat sadly. "I guess I am, in a way. Actually, Sarah, it's about the church secretary."

"Who?"

"The secretary, Sam. She takes care of- took care of the bulletins for Sunday mornings, the prayer sheet for Wednesday nights, and many other things besides," their mother answered.

"I didn't even know we had a secretary, I thought one of the deacons did it."

"Yes, well, we do, or we did. She didn't interact very much; strictly business. I met her once, and she seemed nice enough: just very shy. Anyway, she was in a car accident this afternoon, and the pastor is going to go by and see her. He mentioned to your father that it would be good if all the elders did, too, and that includes their families, or at least their wives. So I think we should stop by. Just because she may not be an actual member of the church doesn't mean we shouldn't visit."

"Sure," answered Sarah, nodding. "You don't need to bribe us to do a nice thing." Mother raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"I notice Sam is not being so generous," she teased, turning to him.

Sam stood silent, an expression of solemn thought upon his face. Then, "Yes, I think it's a good idea," he pronounced. Mother grinned, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad we got your permission, Your Honor."

"All right, all right, finish your breakfast, you two. And Sam, remember to start by practicing your piano-- lessons are this afternoon, and if you give a repeat of last week..." She let the threat dangle, and Sam nodded obediently.

--

That afternoon, piano lessons and Books-A-Million behind, it was time to pay up and go see the secretary.

"What's her name, Mommy?" asked Sam, as they drove down the road.

"Hmm," she replied, thinking. "I'm not sure, but I believe her last name was Harker. I have is the room number, but we can get her name from the hospital."

"What's her first name?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it will matter anyway. She's in a bad enough condition that it's doubtful she'll be able to receive visitors personally, and certainly won't be able to talk."

"Then why are we going?" exclaimed Sarah, popping her head up from the back seat. "If she can't receive visitors?"

"Because it's a good thing to do."

"It seems kinda like pearls before swine," Sarah objected. "I mean, she won't even know we're there, much less be encouraged!"

"Well, you agreed to go, so we're going," Mother replied firmly. "Just wait, and you'll see. We won't waste our visit."

Indeed not. On their way in, they passed none other than Al-- or Legolas, as Sarah still preferred to call him (Al did SO not fit him!). She goggled, then ducked behind Mother as he passed; he was speed-walking while conversing in low, hurried tones with another one of the clique, a woman complete with the incredible looks and hat. Sarah tried to hear what they were saying without leaning out to listen, but failed entirely: they were so indistinct they sounded like gibberish.

Oh, she wanted to follow him, talk to him again-- but he was walking far too fast, and Mother would be sure to notice if she tried to linger-

"Sarah!" That sharp tone could only mean one thing. Sarah sighed and caught up with Mother and Sam, leaving Legolas and the woman to disappear into the night. "Don't go staring at handsome young men. Anyone would think you hadn't had any bad experiences with strangers." Sam's eyes got big, and Sarah guessed he'd only just remembered.

"Yes ma'am," Sarah mumbled. "Sorry."

Mother regarded her for a long moment, then finally sighed. "Well, he was quite handsome."

"Mommy!" exclaimed Sam, giggling.

"What?"

"Daddy!" he answered, then put a hand over his mouth to try to stop the laughter.

"All I did was state a fact. There is nothing Daddy has to do with that young man being handsome. And if you think just because I'm married means I've turned blind, you've got another think coming, young man. I can see YOU quite well."

Sarah followed them, Sam still trying to stop laughing, and wished desperately they had been coming out and not going in when Legolas had passed. She pulled herself back to the real world when Mother reached the front desk.

"Hello, we've come to call on the patient in room 115."

The receptionist tapped a few languid fingers on the keyboard, peered at the monitor, then replied, "Oh, Ms. Harper. Yeah, she's not in very good condition, so you probably can't see her." She returned to whatever she had been doing, then looked up to find Mother still there. "Oh, you wanna try to see her anyway?"

"Yes," Mother answered testily. "That is why we are here, you know."

"Well, I'll check." The receptionist began poking feebly through the mess on her desk for her phone. After a minute of this, Mother pursed her lips, reached over the counter and stabbed the 'Page' button on the base; an alarm went off from a drawer, and the receptionist pulled it out without a 'thanks.'

Beep- beep- beep- beep. "Hello? Yeah, this is Meredith. Yeah, there's this lady who wants to see Ms. Harper, in- Yeah, that one, in Room 115. I told her- Oh, OK. Yeah. OK. Thanks." She switched off the phone and turned back to Mother. "So, Ms. Harper has been moved. She's not there anymore."

Mother raised an eyebrow. "And where has she been moved to?"

The receptionist shrugged. "I don't know. Go see, there's probably some people in her room that can help you. That way." She waved a hand vaguely behind her, which was solid wall.

"Left or right?"

"Le- right." Mother sighed and walked right until she had read two of the room numbers. Finding them descending from 100, she spun around and headed to the left. "Oops," put in the receptionist, in a last gasp of politeness. Sarah followed, grabbing Sam on the way-- he'd gone into daydream land again.

"My goodness, what kind of hiring personnel do they have here?" Mother was snarling, more to herself than to her children. "I could get better service from a dog. At least a dog would know its way around..."

Sarah snickered. In the room, they predictably found no-one but the laundry lady, who couldn't tell them anything. Mother growled a mild imprecation against the receptionist and headed out, down the hall.

Half an hour later they were on the fourth floor, and Mother had moved to not-so-mild imprecations, when they finally tracked down someone who gave them a more definite answer. "Ms. Harper has been moved out of this hospital, but by another hospital's personnel. They couldn't tell us where exactly they were moving her to, since they didn't know yet, but she was in a worse state than we had thought-- they had to move her very quickly. If she's in too bad a condition for St. Patrick's to handle, you might try at the Charlotte Regional."

"Thank you, sir. Come along, then." On the elevator, heading back to ground floor, Sam dared to pose the question.

"Will we go to Charlotte Regional tonight?"

Mother sighed. "No, we won't. Not tonight. I'll call Pastor Maples, and he can find his way around the hospitals far better than us. He'll track her down."

The elevator doors dinged open, and they exited to find:

"Daddy!" "Dad!"

"Hey, Sarah! Sam!" Father had just come in and grinned widely. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Mommy planned it, didn't she?" Sam replied, grinning back.

"She did indeed," she answered, smiling. "We were going to go get something to eat. You were supposed to get here a little earlier, weren't you?"

"Well," Father replied, the grin rapidly thinning, "work. I'll tell you about it in the car. But first, you tell me about Ms. Harper. How is she?" Mother's eyes flashed. "Ah..."

"Yes. 'Ah.'" She launched into the story of their search, which lasted all the way back to the car. Father had parked right next to them.

"All right, who's riding with me?" Both Sarah and Sam volunteered happily, and Mother made the obligatory complaint. Sam immediately switched and joined her, leaving Sarah to ride with Father. Before they entered the vehicles, though, they needed to decide something.

"Oh, where are we going, Debbie?"

"Well, Fuddruckers is nearby..." Sam made a noise of disgust, and Sarah shushed him. "All right, not Fuddruckers, then."

Sarah groaned. "Just because he whines about it-"

"Sam's a quarter of the family," Mother answered firmly.

"It's three to one," Sarah responded just as firmly. "He always gets to dictate where we go!"

"Well, Sarah, where do you want to go?" asked Father. "Or are you just reacting against him because you don't like him expressing his opinion?" Sarah mumbled something, and a few suggestions later, they finally decided. Everyone was equally disappointed with the choice, but at least it was equal.

Sarah drifted out of the conversation at the dinner table. She was thinking about Legolas now, although she knew it would only get her in trouble if she tried to meet him again; she could analyze the feelings she had, she knew they were nothing but a silly crush, but she could not overcome them. She realized she didn't really want to; they were very interesting, and she thought Legolas was probably very nice, if only she could get to know him. She spent the remainder of the night inventing wild plans to get another meeting with him...