Thief!

“Mom, I’m home!” Claire yelled as she ran into the house and threw her book satchel onto the sofa. The door banged shut behind her. Claire stood listening. It was too quiet. She hurried into the kitchen where her mother always had something laid out for her snack. Nothing. Maybe Mom had to work overtime, she thought. But there was no note either. Mom always left a note when the hospital called her in to work overtime.
Puzzled at the change in routine, Claire began rummaging through the refrigerator looking for something to eat. There’s not much here, she thought. The phone rang just as she pulled out milk and a carrot. “Claire, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got home.” Mom’s voice sounded excited. “There’s chocolate cake in the pantry, but don’t eat much. Your father and I are taking you out to eat tonight. We have a big surprise.”
A big surprise? Claire’s antennae had picked up excitement, but something else, too, in Mom’s voice. Nervousness? Mom was never nervous. She was a pediatric nurse. She couldn’t be nervous. What then? Now Claire felt herself getting both nervous and excited. She skipped the cake and drank a glass of milk slowly, trying to remember if she had heard her parents say anything that would give her a clue. Nothing came to mind. She would just have to wait to learn the surprise.
An hour later the three of them walked into the Rendezvous*, Claire’s favorite place to eat. She looked around at the large room filled with tables covered in red-checkered oilcloth. Waiters in white shirts and black bow ties moved among the diners. The air was filled with rich, smoky, spicy smells that always made Claire’s mouth water.
Claire looked from one parent to the other. Something was definitely up. She saw it in the way they looked at each other and didn’t look at her. She was not yet included in their secret.
No one said anything while the waiter took their orders—barbecued pork ribs with the famous Rendezvous dry rub seasoning. While they were waiting to be served, Claire could stand the suspense no longer. “Mom, are you going to have a baby?” Claire blurted out.
Mom looked startled. “A baby? No! Why do you ask that?”
“What’s the big surprise then?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other. “Do we tell her now?” Dad asked. Mom nodded. Claire sat forward in her chair, blue eyes shining and mouth forming an expectant half smile. Dad’s surprises were always such—well, surprises, and fun.
Dad cleared his throat and began, “Sometime ago, Claire, when you were in the first grade, the missions board asked us to consider going to Kenya* as medical missionaries. We thought about it and attended several training sessions, but you were so young, we decided not to go. Then a few days ago, I received an emergency call—a plea really. Cholera* has reached epidemic proportions in that area. The hospital in Kenya is understaffed and cannot meet the needs of so many sick people. Unless outside help reaches them immediately, many will die simply for lack of medical aid. Your mom and I have been in meetings with the mission’s board all day.”
Dad stopped and took a deep breath. A look of uneasiness replaced Claire’s smile as she sat back in her chair. Dad continued, “Claire, honey, we’ve decided to go to Kenya after all, as soon as I can turn my medical practice over to my partners.”
Claire was stunned. She could not speak for a moment. Finally, she wailed, “But, Da-ad, I can’t leave my friends. We’re going to high school together next year.” Several diners seated nearby turned to look in her direction. Claire sat still, letting the full implications of Dad’s surprise sink in.
Nothing more was said while the smiling waiter arranged their food on the table. “Nothing can be so bad that our good barbecue can’t make it better.” The waiter directed his comments and a big smile to Claire. She gave him a pathetic little smile and nodded in polite agreement.
After the waiter left them, Claire asked quietly, “When do we leave?”
Mom reached over and put her hand over Claire’s. “We can’t take you, Claire. It’s too dangerous. You’re going to live with Grandma next year.”
“You mean Grandma knew about this, and I didn’t?” Claire’s voice was rising again.
“Yes, we decided to make all the arrangements to be sure we could work it out before we told you. I know you’re disappointed, Claire,” Dad said, “but life often changes directions for us. I grew up in your Grandma’s house, and I loved it. I predict that you will, too, and that you will make new friends you will love as much as the old ones.”
Claire decided Dad was being pragmatic*. That was a new word she had just learned, but she was having none of it. “Easy for you to say. You’ll be off living your life, and I’ll be miserable.”