October Snow (26 page)

Surprised, Max mumbled, “You have?”

“No functioning mother throws her child under the bus just for funsies. I’m actually pretty sure she was a battered woman, to tell you the truth.”

“Yeah…Well, she had a situation there.” In reality, Max had few memories of her mother, except that she was never there for her. Most of her childhood memories had to do with her father. And church, and Bible verses. Glancing outside, she said, “Doesn’t look like rain yet. Grab a jacket and we’ll finish our coffee on the deck.”

After they settled in at the patio table, Max said, “My dad was quite the little dictator.”

Jo seemed to be waiting for her to continue, so she took a deep breath and went on. “Mom and I couldn’t do much of anything without his supervision…And then, of course, his merciful forgiveness when we messed up–which, according to him, we did incessantly.” The breeze intensified, and she drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. “One of my enduring memories of him is a really strange one.”

“What is it?”

“My mom was vacuuming the living room. Dad came in and started telling her she wasn’t doing it right.”

“Oh. Please to explain, how did she screw up the vacuuming?”

“He wanted her to leave perfectly parallel–what would you call them, lines? You know, the grooves a sweeper leaves behind?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “And here, I thought I’d heard it all.”

“She didn’t obey, not immediately. And he started screaming at her about her contentious nature, and how it would be better to live in the corner of the roof than with her.”

“Ah. That’s Proverbs, right?”

Max nodded. “I think…Chapter twenty-one.”

“Ooh, you’re good.”

“Yeah, well he drilled that stuff into us.”

“I’ve rarely heard any Christians talk about the
guy’s
obligations in a marriage.”

“Me neither.”

Jo thought of the photo Max kept on her desk, back in her apartment: a picture of her with her parents, standing at the grill at a church picnic. Pastor Allen, holding a spatula and beaming, looked every bit the happy family man; Catharine gazed at him adoringly. Maxine, looking off into the distance, seemed removed from the moment. “Why do you keep that picture of the three of you around? The one taken at the barbeque?”

“It reminds me where I was. And that I may not be my parents’ idea of a good Christian, but that doesn’t mean I’m not God’s idea of one. In spite of all my flaws, at least I’m not a liar.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“You know,” Jo reached for another cigarette, handing the pack to Max, “there was this fight I had, years ago, with an assistant pastor at a church I used to go to. He was the interim pastor after the main guy left.” She shook her head sadly. “Pastor Seth, he was okay. I loved that man. He was the only churchy-type Christian who ever thought I was worth anything. We used to have these hour-long debates on free will, and sanctification, and on and on…” She smiled wistfully.

“But you digress.”

“But I digress. Anyway, the interim guy–Tony, I think? Hard to remember…Yeah, Tony Toddson. He came right out and said that with my rebellious spirit, and my refusal to be led, that I wasn’t a very good Christian.”

“Oh, really? Sounds like my dad. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Hey, you know the Pharisees thought that Jesus Christ wasn’t a very good Jew, either.’” She looked slightly embarrassed as Max burst into laughter. “I know I crossed a line there, but geez–the guy was just so
rigid
, like any new idea, any movement beyond the walls of the church was somehow a show of rebellion.”

“What did you do that was so awful?”

“Pastor Seth, before he left, was endorsing my plan to have a domestic violence ministry at the church. The elders voted it down.”

“Surprised?”

“Truly. Had to go lay down after that one.” Jo gave her a sarcastic look. “Uh, no, not exactly. Then, a few months later, I suggested that the men of the church go have a talk with the husband of a member. He was one of the elders, too. His wife came to me, asked for my help after he broke her arm.”

“Did she try the courts?”

“Eventually, but not at first.”

“And what happened with the guys at the church?”

“They said they wouldn’t interfere, that we are all given trials in life, and that her mission was to be Christlike. I should help her learn to be submissive, like Sarah.”

“Ow.”

“And they said, ‘Besides, according to Matthew Eighteen, he needs to be confronted by one member first–and that would be
you
, Josie.’ They thought I’d be too intimidated to go talk to the guy. Probably because
they
were.”

“Did you go confront him then?”

“I already had.”

Max lifted her mug to salute her. “Bet they were glad to know that.”

“Yeah. Her husband stood in my kitchen screaming at me, with the kids right there. I told
him
to get out or I’d have him arrested, and the elders told
me
to pray on it.”

“Holy crap.”

“That pretty much defines it, Bim. Absolutely.”

Max burst into laughter. “No pun intended.”

Jo sat grinning at her. After a few moments, she said, “Talk about a black comedy.”

Max composed herself, wiping at her eyes. “I keep thinking about…What’s it called? ‘The Law of Unintended Consequences’. Seems to fit, but I’m not sure how.”

“Let me know if you figure it out. So where are your folks now?”

“Last I knew, still in the house I grew up in. Elmira, New York. Dad retired about ten years ago, I think.”

“How did we hang out for this long, and know so little about each other?”

“I was just thinking the same thing. I think people tend to bond in strange ways, under the kind of pressure we were under at work.”

“Yeah. Know what? Elmira is less than an hour from my hometown.”

“Where are you from?”

“Wellsboro, Pennsylvania.”

“That little town just over the border? Down Route Fifteen?”

“Yup. Tioga County.”

She whistled softly. “Beautiful place. I’ve been there. And to Potter County, too.”

“God’s Country.”

“Sure is. Ever go to Cherry Springs?”

Jo smiled, remembering. “My mom and dad had a camp we shared with another family, right off of a little dirt road on the way to Lyman Run Lake. Ewing Trail. Oh, gosh…” Her voice trailed off. “The entrance was lined with wild blackberry bushes. I spent most of my summers there, about ten minutes from Cherry Springs State Park.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah, I was. It was like growing up in Eden. The natural beauty of it, and the good, decent people…” She chuckled, but there was no amusement behind it. “The real world was quite the shock.”

Max thought that was likely the deepest insight she’d ever gotten into her friend.

“People call so many places ‘God’s Country.’” Jo’s smile was distant, with a longing that made Max ache for her. “They have no idea what that is, if they haven’t seen that area. Ever go see the unpolluted starlight at the Springs?”

“No. Never got to do that.”

“Do it someday. If you lay on your back and stare at the stars, they seem to come closer and closer the longer you lay there. No light pollution, so there are nights you can almost
read
by the moon and the stars.” She stretched, rolling her shoulders. “I haven’t been home in…Geez…over twenty-five years?”

Max watched her, thinking she sounded like a very old woman, reminiscing with the disappointment of a lifetime of promises not kept. “So, plan a trip home.”

Jo was staring into the distance. “I may. I do get tired of being here.” She nodded absently, as though she was talking to herself, or to someone who wasn’t there. “That idea that you can’t go home again–I never bought that.”

“That would make for another good discussion.”

Daisy wandered onto the deck, nosing Jo’s leg. “What say you, Daize? Wanna go home?”

.

chapter 12

T
YLER DELANEY WASN’T
too upset that the Yankees beat his beloved Red Sox. His mom and dad were taking him to a grownup restaurant for their post-game dinner, and they had said they needed to tell him something important. Good news, they said, but he already knew what it was.

Watching them hold hands and laugh together, and cheer for the Sox and boo the umpire together, and Dad’s arm around Mom, and feeling Mom’s hand on his shoulder–the world made sense to him now. As the hostess led them to their table, Tyler noticed the ring that sparkled on his mother’s left hand.

His dad held the chair for her, and then pushed Tyler’s chair closer to the table for him. “Dad?” Tyler asked, unfolding his napkin and arranging it carefully on his lap. He wanted very much to be on “BB” tonight, Dad’s code for “Best Behavior”.

Dave looked up from the wine list he was studying. “Yup?”

“I like the ring you got Mom.”

His parents smiled at each other. Sam ran her hand through Tyler’s thick hair, and the boy took her hand to study the ring. “It matches the necklace we got her.”

“That’s right,” Dave said. Their waitress appeared at their table, and Dave ordered champagne, and then a cola for Tyler. He noticed Sam staring at him as the waitress moved away. “I’m sorry, babe–did you want a different champagne?”

“No, it’s not that…It’s just…It’s so expensive.”

He took her hand. “It’s a big night.”

“Mom,” Tyler sighed impatiently, “let Dad treat you good.”

Her eyes were on Dave’s as she said, “You mean, let Dad treat me
well
.”

“Huh?” Realizing his mistake, he nodded quickly. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. He likes doing stuff for you. You should let him treat you
well
.”

She smiled softly at his earnestness, so much like his father. “You’re right, sweetie.” She looked back at Dave. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Tyler’s stomach was starting to hurt, as he wondered if making mistakes would ruin things for his parents. He noticed how straight his dad sat in his chair, and quickly sat up as high as he could.

After a few minutes of small talk, mostly about the Red Sox and their destiny to win the Series, the waitress was back with the champagne. “You don’t need to present it,” Dave said. “I’ll take care of it.” He looked at Sam. “Want to order? I think we have a tired boy here.”

“Good idea.”

When the waitress was gone, Dave tended deftly to the champagne, filling Sam’s flute to the top. She winked at him as they raised their glasses, hoping that a few sips of champagne wouldn’t hurt the baby.

“To you,” Dave said softly.

“To us,” Sam answered.

As he watched them, Tyler was becoming more distressed. “Dad?”

“Yeah, son?”

“I don’t know if…” He sighed heavily. “Do I lift
my
glass,
too
?” His voice was rising, tensing with emotion.

Dave and Sam glanced at each other, then at Tyler, concerned.

“Hey, Ty-guy, what’s up? You okay?” Dave put his hand on the back of the boy’s neck.

He swallowed hard, nodding, terrified that he would cry and embarrass them; but the harder he tried, and the more his parents spoke to him, so softly and lovingly, the harder it became to control the emotions that were pushing their way out of him.

After a few moments, the little boy couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears began to flow, with a desperate quiet that broke his parents’ hearts.

“Oh no…Ty,” Sam murmured as she crouched beside him; Dave came to the other side of the boy’s chair, dabbing at his face with a napkin as he sat with his head down, his shoulders trembling.

“Baby…” Sam gathered him into her arms, and he sobbed silently against her shoulder.

Dave waved away the manager, hovering a few feet away with a questioning look on his face. “What’s going on, Ty?”

He shook his head.

“C’mon, son, tell us. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” He turned to look at his father with eyes so mournful, Dave thought he might cry himself. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. It is. Just tell us why you’re crying.”

He curled up tight against Sam then, and she looked helplessly over his head at Dave.

Dave rubbed his back brusquely, giving her a confident nod. “Mom’s going to go visit her friends for a while, Ty, and then she’s coming home. With us.”

Tyler buried himself deeper in her arms, closing his eyes, chewing on his fist–the toddler habit he had returned to after his mother had moved out.

“For good,” Sam murmured in his ear.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to make you leave again.”

Her eyes grew wide as the full realization struck her: Tyler was walking some kind of an emotional tightrope to try to keep them together–and that meant that Dave needed to know about the baby, and he needed to know as soon as possible.

“Tyler,” she took his chin, tilting his face up to hers, “look at me.” He tried to avoid her eyes, “No, look at me.” He met her gaze then, with eyes so lost and sad that she felt a flash of hatred for Jack and her mother.

No. I did this to him
. The thought went through her like a lightning strike. She wanted to kick herself that it had taken her thirty-eight years to finally grow up–and that she had, again, regressed into her childhood habit of keeping secrets and hoping everything would just work out. It was the way she had conducted her entire life, and she was disgusted with herself that she would risk her son–
and
his father–yet again, by running from the truth.