Broken Identity (5 page)

“It’s good to see
you
happy and full of life,” Kara said, taking his hands in hers. “Your life will be full again, but don’t expect to keep him over there all the time. I want to see him often too, you know.”

“You got it, Sergeant,” Andrew said, saluting her.

“Oh, stop it,” Kara said, waving him on. “Now, really, tell me about your trip. What did he say?”

“Ronnie’s a great kid, considering all he’s been through.” Andrew jingled his keys around in his pocket, trying to think of what to say next. “Just pray for me as I go up to Kevin’s, will you? I don’t want this to turn into a fight.”

“Do you think they’ll give you Ronnie’s things?” Kara said. “Willingly, I mean?”

“I’d think so, but maybe that’s just my wishful thinking breaking through again. After all, they don’t have any use for them anymore, and Kevin sure isn’t the sentimental type who’d keep things just for memory’s sake.” He looked at the ceiling and sighed forcefully. “I dread even going up there, but I have to keep reminding myself that this is for Ronnie’s good, not mine.”

“When do you expect to be back?”

“I’m guessing seven o’clock. Will you be OK for that long?”

Kara rolled her eyes at him. “Andrew, your eyes deceive you. With every day that goes by, I grow younger inside. Don’t worry about us.” She paused and listened to the sounds of wheels rattling against furniture and Ronnie making rumbling engine noises. “See? He already sounds like he’s having a good time.”

Andrew decided to leave the conversation at that and took hold of the doorknob. “I noticed your mailbox when I turned into the driveway. The mystery mailbox-smashers are still at it, I see.”

Kara just shook her head. “It happened again last night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“It was past midnight, and by that time, even I was too tired to care. Nicole’s husband heard them when they smashed my mailbox, though, and ran outside just in time with a flashlight to get a glimpse of their license plate. He gave it to the police this morning.”

“Man, I’d give anything to have that guy’s eyesight when I turn his age,” Andrew said, amazed that a 70-year-old man still had such incredible vision. “What are you going to do about your mailbox until the police catch the culprits?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started worrying about that. Maybe you could get me a new one for my birthday next month,” Kara said, smiling.

“A mailbox isn’t exactly a birthday gift, Mom. I’ll pick up one on my way back.” He winked at her and added, “I’ll see if I can find a thick, metal one. Make ’em think twice before they come back to this house again.” Then he turned serious and cracked the door open, sending a burst of cool air inside. He rubbed his arms and stared in the distance at the red clouds hovering over the sunset. Something inside him clawed at his heart, something much colder than the evening air. Fear? Possibly. But more than anything else, it was that wrenching feeling of stepping out into the unknown. “I guess I’ll be on my way then,” he said, barely moving his lips. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Be careful, Andrew.”

Drake Pearson became so engrossed in his mother’s journal that he frequently had to remind himself to breathe. As if through a hazy dream, he felt he was seeing her again for the first time in years—her feelings, her joys…her love for him. So she really did love him before she left. That brought peace to his heart. He wanted to believe that she had always loved him and that it had pained her to leave him, for whatever reason that might have been.

Drake took in every word she had written down, sometimes reading a sentence two or three times because this was the only opening he had left to her past. She had begun the journal a few months after she and Ben had gotten married, and had continued writing throughout her pregnancy and through Drake’s early years as a toddler, which was where Drake was reading now.

I took Drake with me to the grocery store the other day, which he seemed to enjoy very much. Other than wanting to put everything on the shelf into our buggy, he was very helpful and often stretched his little arms up to push the buggy around for me. He’s so sweet at this age. Sometimes I wish he would stay like this forever, but I’m looking forward to the years ahead I’ll spend with him.

Drake wiped his eyes and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, wishing he were hearing his mom tell him this in person rather than reading on paper what took place so long ago. He turned the page and continued reading.

At the checkout, there was a stack of free booklets, so I picked one up and stuck it in my purse to read later. I love to read, but because Ben and I don’t make much money, I’ve never been able to actually buy books. As soon as I got home, I opened the booklet and began reading. It was about a man named Jesus and how He came to love people, even enough to allow Himself to be crucified for them. It said something about God sending His Son to die so that we could live forever with Him one day. I don’t know when it happened, but I soon realized that I was crying because there were tearstains covering the small pages I was reading. The next thing I knew, I was on my knees saying something about how sorry I was for my sins. Drake must have heard me, because he walked in and asked why I was crying. I knew I should have felt embarrassed at this strange, sudden emotion welling up inside me, but all I could think about was that someone out there loved me enough to die for me. I read more until I reached the end of the booklet. It said that if I wanted to know more about Jesus, I could find it all and more in the Bible. I went straight to the trunk at the end of my bed and found a Bible a friend had given me at a Bible camp I had attended as a little girl. It was a children’s version, but the message inside was for children and adults alike. I found the verse I had read—John 3:16—and continued reading until my eyes were so blurred with tears that I couldn’t read anymore.

Drake tore his eyes away from the pages to stare out the foggy window in front of him.
Mom read the Bible? I never knew that about her. Then again, I guess I never knew much about anything in her life until now.

He glanced back down and turned the page, noticing from the date that the next entry in her diary had been written three days later.

For the last three days, Ben has been irate. I told him I had asked Jesus into my heart and explained to him everything the book had explained to me; but his response was very, very different from mine. He doesn’t want anything to do with Christianity or the Bible, and his attitude toward me has been nothing but anger and resentment. I keep trying to tell him about Jesus and His sacrifice for us on the cross because we’re sinners, but he refuses to listen. I’ve tried praying for him, but sometimes words are hard to find when you’re praying for someone you love who you know despises everything you believe in. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get through to him or not, but I do know one thing—I will continue to try to help him understand, and when Drake is old enough, I will do the same for him because I love him.

Drake slid his mom’s neon green bookmark between the pages and placed the journal under his mattress. He had anticipated ahead of time that he would get a few shockers by reading his mom’s journal, but nothing could have prepared him for this. His mom, a Christian? They weren’t church people. No one in his family had ever fallen for the redemption bait. His mom was already a good person and had never lied or stolen, so why did she of all people need God? Maybe that was where she went, going off to join a church somewhere and enlighten the rest of the world about this Jesus guy. But what about him, her own son? Why would she have left him behind?

I’m not gonna hold it against her. I can’t. Whatever she did, she would have only done it to help us.
His mom may have become a Christian, but she was no lunatic. She wouldn’t have abandoned him without a reason. Drake only wished he knew what that reason was.

Andrew finished what was left of the lukewarm cappuccino froth clinging to the bottom of his cup as he pulled into his brother’s driveway. After resisting the urge to toss the cup into Kevin’s front yard, he closed his eyes and silently prayed to God once more for peace. He didn’t want to do this, wasn’t looking forward to it, and frankly, didn’t mind if he and Kevin
did
get into a fighting match because, in a way, he wanted to give Kevin a couple of bruises himself and have a good excuse for doing it.

Andrew relaxed in his seat. So much anger inside.
God, I’m sorry for feeling this way, but it’s hard not to remember what he did to that kid. When I think of that monster shoving Ronnie against a wall or gripping his arms so he can…
He cut his words short as a tremble coursed through his body. Who was he trying to kid? He wanted nothing to do with his brother, let alone talk to him. Then again, he couldn’t simply go barging into Kevin’s house without saying a word and start loading his car with Ronnie’s toys either.
Just help me handle this like You would, Jesus. I don’t want to cause more trouble than what’s already been started.

Aware that he was being watched through one of the bay windows, Andrew maintained his firm posture and stepped out of the car. He walked promptly up the front porch and knocked forcefully on the solid oak door—his way of announcing that Kevin’s shallow attempts to scare him weren’t working.

After making Andrew wait several minutes, Kevin finally came and unbolted the door.

Andrew nodded to his brother without blinking. “Suppose you know why I’m here.”

Kevin said something under his breath and seemed to breathe down Andrew’s neck as he walked inside. “Get what you came for and get out,” he warned.

Your thoughts are the same as mine. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to, believe me.
Andrew turned around halfway in the living room and said, “Where’s Ronnie’s bedroom?” It had been so long since he had been allowed in this house that he honestly couldn’t remember.

“You mean where
was
it?” Kevin said gruffly. “End of the hall.”

“Thank you.” Andrew stepped around Kevin and found Ronnie’s old bedroom. An undersized toy box in the corner of the room, a simple nightstand and dresser, a few strewn items on the floor, and a couple of glued puzzles hidden underneath his slim twin bed were all Ronnie had to call his own. Andrew searched the room for the toys he had bought Ronnie for his birthday and Christmas, but they were nowhere in sight.
Kevin probably sold them and pocketed the money. What a jerk.

Andrew had estimated a few hours work to get everything cleared out, but now he questioned if it would even take him half that long. He started first with the toy box, dumping most of its contents into a sleeping bag he found stuffed high in the closet. It took two trips to get all the toys out using the sleeping bag method, and he started next with the clothes. Every time he walked out to his car carrying an armload of Ronnie’s things, Kevin was standing at the end of the hall with hateful eyes, watching him.

Drake stopped reading only to sneak into the kitchen and grab a quick snack. Still so many questions and not enough answers. At least, not any satisfying ones. With every assumption he had made about how his mom might have left, a loophole always left him craving more answers. Then again, maybe he was searching for something that didn’t even exist. Could it be that he was trying to make logical excuses for his mom’s disappearance when the fact was none remained but the obvious?
So she just left, is that it? Just packed up her things and walked away from me forever?