Day by Day (31 page)

He pulled his head back to look her in the eye. “I know he doesn’t like football, but he said he liked the team colors.”

“Sea turtles are green, too,” she teased. “Remember? He told us how much he enjoyed going to the aquarium in Chicago. He likes all kinds of water animals—turtles, fish, dolphins, whales….”

Tyler sighed. “I think I see some weekend trips coming up. There’s a great aquarium in Baltimore Harbor. I think they run whale-watching cruises out of Cape May, but we’d probably be better off going to Florida to see the manatees. He’d love them.”

She giggled. “Wait. Wait. Wait! Maybe we should start a little closer to home. The Adventure Aquarium is fifteen minutes away from us. Barbara and John took the twins there recently.”

He grinned. “And the aquarium is almost walking
distance from Campbell’s Field, the minor league baseball stadium. What’s a little visit to the aquarium without a little baseball, too?” he teased. “If we go in the spring, we could ask Vincent to bring his sketch pad along. He could sketch at the aquarium first and then at the baseball stadium later. He might not be crazy about watching the game, but he won’t be able to resist the mascot—it’s a shark! Just you wait. Sooner or later, I’ll change that boy’s mind about sports.”

“Let’s get the room painted, the bunk beds in place, and see if Lily follows through with her first note to him before we get too optimistic and start planning trips,” she warned, but it was hard not to get excited. For the first time in months, the future held great promise for all of them. Even for Lily.

C
uriosity. Fear. Dread. And relief.

For Barbara, these emotions rose and swelled in succession from one heartbeat to the next, robbed her of sleep and drove her from her bed in the early hours before dawn on Sunday morning. She slipped into her robe and tiptoed out of her bedroom so she would not wake up her husband. After she stepped into the hallway, she leaned back against the door frame.

Her emotions changed so quickly and erratically, she did not know whether she should take something to ease her wicked tension headache, her acidic stomach, or both. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could take to mend her broken heart. The passage of time would help her to escape the darkness cast by despair and doubt, but only if she allowed the light of faith to shine upon the path she should follow and guide her steps along the way.

She slid her hand into the pocket of her robe and
wrapped her fingers around the source of her emotional and spiritual turmoil. Considering its importance, the folded envelope was not very thick. She was curious about the messages contained within the two letters inside the envelope, but she dreaded the prospect of reading them. She was afraid to read them. She had been afraid to read them from the moment John had brought them home with him on Friday night and handed them to her. She had steadfastly refused to read them with John that night. Or all day Saturday. Or Saturday night.

Tightening the belt on her robe, she glanced down the dimly lit hallway toward the bedroom where Jessie and Melanie were sleeping. In a few hours, the whole family would get up, have breakfast together and dress for Sunday services. Barbara trembled and bowed her head. How could she enter the Lord’s house and worship today when she did not have enough faith to trust He would give her the courage and the strength to open those letters and read them? What kind of hypocrite had she become, claiming to be a woman of faith, yet failing to act like one? What kind of role model would she be for the twins if she turned out to be nothing more than a Sunday Christian?

She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead to ease the pain tightening like a band of metal around her head and drew in a deep breath. Whether by impulse or inspiration, she tiptoed back into her bedroom and went directly to the closet. She pulled down the shawl she had stored away months ago and carried it with her downstairs to the living room. After turning on a light, she curled up on the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her before she tugged the shawl around her shoulders.

She toyed with the fringe of the shawl, letting the soft strands slip between her fingers. Each stitch had been knitted by her sisters-in-faith, with love, and the shawl itself offered comfort for Barbara’s spirit that went far deeper than the warmth of the wool. Wrapped in both faith and love, she took the envelope out of the pocket of her robe, removed the two letters and laid them on her lap. She placed the palm of each hand on top of a letter, closed her eyes and let her mind sort through the surprising events of the past week.

With a plea agreement now, there would be no trial. Her relief was real, and she was incredibly grateful for being spared the ordeal of spending days or weeks in court. She still did not know whether or not she agreed with the judge who had ordered both girls to remain within the jurisdiction of Family Court. She did agree that sealing all the proceedings related to the case, including the final sentences, was very wise.

She smiled. At first, confounded by the judge’s ruling, the media had collectively sulked for a few days, but was quickly galvanized by an even more tragic case. Two teenage girls had been charged with murdering their grandparents—a case that had already been ruled beyond the jurisdiction of Family Court and into proceedings that would be televised.

She glanced down at her lap and stared at the letters beneath her hands. If she did not read the letters, she herself would be trapped forever by the past where she would languish in grief. She would be unable to free herself to share in the promise of the future that beckoned in the beautiful, smiling faces of her granddaughters. Or the silent
pleas in her husband’s loving gaze that begged her to help him quench their thirst for vengeance and justice, once and for all, with the life-giving waters of acceptance and forgiveness.

Snuggling deeper within the folds of the shawl, she shivered. For months now, she had struggled with the idea that she would be able to make the journey toward acceptance and forgiveness at all. Now, however, she knew she must begin that journey by reading the letters from Julia and Augusta Radcliffe, the two girls who had accepted their responsibility for Steve’s death. Her faith alone must give her the courage to take the first step, and she bowed her head for a moment before holding the first letter to the light. She glanced immediately to the bottom of the single-page letter, saw Julia’s signature and realized the letter was from the younger sister whose actions had led her older sister down the same path to tragedy. Tears welled as she read the brief, but poignant message:

Weeping silent tears, Barbara pressed the letter to her heart. It would have been easy to dismiss the young girl’s letter as nothing more than a message designed to ease her own conscience or to meet one of the terms of her plea agreement. But there was something about the letter that tugged at the cords of Barbara’s heart and drowned out the echoes of doubt and suspicion. Perhaps it was the girl’s reluctance to believe she could be forgiven, not by Barbara or John or even the twins, that rang true. Or was it her reliance on hope and her plea for prayer?

Barbara wiped away her tears with each of her shoulders. She kept Julia’s letter pressed to her heart and moved Augusta’s letter into the light. The salutation was the same. The signature was just as clear, but the tone of her message, if not the message itself, gave Barbara a glimpse into the distinct differences between the two sisters:

More tears. They flowed silently again down Barbara’s cheeks, but they were tears she shed for Augusta, too. Where Julia had found hope and the promise of redemption in her faith, Augusta had found only despair and rejection, reflecting the dual struggle of faith Barbara had experienced all these long months. For the first time since Steve’s death, she finally realized that finding and practicing true faith was a process. Faith was not an instant cure for despair or a guarantee of hope, but the essence of faith nevertheless held the promise of redemption and eternal life, even for the sinners who had committed the most grievous offenses against the laws of man and the Word of God.

If ever Barbara had known that before, she embraced the very nature of faith she had rediscovered now in the letters she had just read. Instead of turmoil, she found peace.
Instead of despair, she found hope. Instead of fear, she found courage.

Her headache was gone.

Her stomach had settled.

And the ache in her heart had eased.

She smoothed each letter before carefully refolding it and sliding it back into the envelope and placing it in her pocket again. After she turned out the light, she tightened the shawl around her shoulders, steepled her hands within the folds of the shawl and closed her eyes. She had been wordless before God for months now, unable to recall the simplest of prayers, but the greatest of all prayers came easily to her now. Slowly, she recited the prayer God Himself had given to all of His followers and paused from time to time to silently add prayers of her own.

“‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name….’”
You alone are the light of the world. Guide us all with the light of Your love.

“‘Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven….’”
I trust Your wisdom and Your will above mine, Father. Help me and my family. Help Julia and Augusta and their family to submit to Your will freely, with joy, as we rebuild our lives with faith in You.

“‘Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors….’”
We cannot come to You with our hearts tainted with ill will toward others. Forgive me for doubting You and questioning You. Forgive me for not being able to forgive Julia and Augusta until…until now, and lead them back to You, the source of all forgiveness and love.

“‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from
evil….’”
I know we will face many trials in the days ahead, but I know You will be with us. When we are weak, be our strength. When we are sorrowful, be our joy. When we are filled with doubt and fear, fill us with the sureness of Your love and the promise of life everlasting.

“‘For Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen,’” she whispered and lost herself in thoughts not of herself or her loved ones, but of the two girls who had written the letters and the parents who had lost not one child, but two.

Barbara had breakfast on the table when John and the twins came downstairs at seven-thirty. “You’re all up early,” she teased.

“We smelled breakfast, didn’t we, girls?”

Jessie was the first to plop into her seat. “I love bacon!”

Melanie sat down next to her sister, but her gaze was locked on the stack of waffles Barbara had put on the table.

“Are they your waffles, Grammy?”

“Yes, they are. I made them from scratch because I know how much you both like them,” she replied and filled each of their glasses with orange juice.

John pulled out his chair at the head of the table. “This is a feast. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Sunday. We’re going to Sunday School today, right, Pappy?” Jessie asked.

Barbara sat down across from the girls. “That’s right. We’re all going to church.” After John led them in prayer, she fixed the girls’ plates and passed one to each of them. “I thought maybe we could do something special together this afternoon. How about it, Pappy?”

“The movies! Let’s go to the movies!” Jessie cried before he could answer.

Melanie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to go to the movies. I want to go ice-skating.”

Barbara laughed. “It’s cold outside, but the lake in the park isn’t frozen solid enough for skating, and going to the movies won’t work, either, because there isn’t anything playing that I want you to see. Besides, Pappy and I have to talk it over first, remember?”

“That’s right,” he added and looked at her askance. “Are you sure you’re up to going out today?”

She fixed a waffle with butter and syrup for herself and smiled. “Absolutely. I even have a few ideas. We’ll talk about them after breakfast.”

As soon as the girls finished and were excused from the table, they raced upstairs to brush their teeth and pick out dresses to wear to Sunday school.

Now that she and John were alone, he spoke openly. “I guess you still haven’t read the letters.”

“I read them a few hours ago,” she contradicted. “I probably should have read them when you did, but I—I just wasn’t ready.”

He patted her hand. “Did they really make a difference?” he asked.

When she looked at him oddly, he smiled. “The letters. Did reading the letters really make a difference?”

“They did. After I read them, I couldn’t stop thinking about those two girls and their parents, and I kept comparing their lives and their futures to ours and to Jessie’s and Melanie’s. That family has lost so much.”

He let out a long sigh, his gaze etched with sorrow that
was all too familiar. “I’m going to miss Steve forever, but I can’t dwell on why he died or how those girls should be punished. Not anymore.”

She turned her hand over and laced her fingers with his. “Me, either.”

“Were you—did you want to write back to Julia and Augusta? Carl said he’d get the letters to them through their lawyer.”

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to do that quite yet, but maybe in a few months…”

He nodded, lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “Let’s talk about this afternoon before the girls tumble back downstairs with ideas of their own.”

“Follow me.” She tugged on his hand and led him into the dining room where she had spread out all the maps and brochures that had been stored away for so long. “Well? What do you think?” she asked in a voice filled with hope.