Tessa (From Fear to Faith) (19 page)

39

L
ife settled into a routine over the next few weeks. Mom took a job with a cleaning company, working afternoons five days a week. Sometimes she worked until six o’clock or later. When I got home from school, there’d be a casserole in the refrigerator with a note directing me to put it in the oven for a certain length of time. I’d follow the instructions, and by the time Mom came home, I’d have the food hot and the table set. Often I had part of my homework done as well. It would have been an ideal setup, except that Mom usually returned in a foul mood.

“I go out and work all day, and what do you do? Sit there,” she’d fume at Walter. “And then I come home and you expect me to do your laundry and make you supper and take care of you. I don’t know why I put up with you all these years.”

“When I can work again, I sure will,” he’d say. “But it’d be stupid for me to even try right now.”

“Yeah, I bet you will.” And then she’d remind him of the unfinished furniture in his shop, the customers he’d cheated, the mounting medical bills, his newest court summons, and a dozen other embarrassing things. Before long, Walter would start yelling back. I spent many evenings in my bedroom with the door closed, just to maintain my sanity.

Despite the unpleasant arguing, though, I thought Walter was doing well. Every day he pestered me to read to him from the Bible, and when I returned from church on Sundays, he begged me to reconstruct the sermon for him. A couple nights a week, Tom came over to visit and pray with him.

Walter’s mobility also continued to improve. After two full months of confinement, he had been outfitted with a set of crutches. It was clumsy, but by using a strap to fasten his newly healed left arm to a crutch, he could hobble around the house.

Then one afternoon in mid-February, I came home to what smelled like a brewery. Walter was sprawled on the couch in a half stupor, with at least a dozen beer cans scattered around him. From the looks of the carpet, some of them hadn’t been completely empty when he discarded them.

I tiptoed past the mess to my bedroom, sick with disappointment. Was this how things were going to end? What about the announcement he’d made Christmas Day that he didn’t need to drink anymore? Or was that no longer in effect now that he had access to alcohol? Next he’d probably go back to the farmhouse and start cooking meth again.

Mom was equally put out by his behavior. “Some Christian you are!” she scoffed. “I knew that religious kick you got off on wouldn’t last. Too bad Tom isn’t here to see you like this.”

Walter mumbled something about still being a Christian, which only made her laugh.

“Yeah, right. A Christian drunk, that’s a new one. Maybe you should start a church. It would be popular.”

After that incident, Walter became depressed for days. He stopped asking me to read to him, and even Tom’s visits failed to cheer him. Although I did not find him that drunk again, the regular trickle of crushed beer cans in the kitchen garbage told the tale of how he spent his afternoons. I mentioned it to Tom as we were driving to church the next Sunday.

“Yeah, I know he’s been drinking,” Tom agreed. “God doesn’t hold it against him, but all the same it’s not good. He has some tough issues he needs to deal with. But as long as he thinks he can cover them up, he’s not going to face them, and things won’t get better.”

“He won’t go back and be like he used to, will he?” I hated to even ask the question.

“We’re praying he doesn’t. But God won’t force his life on us. We have to want it and work with him to receive it. Sometimes that process is scary and painful.”

At church that day, the pastor preached on forgiveness. I tried my best to pay attention. But instead, I found myself pondering a single verse he had read at the beginning.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

As I read the passage over and over in my Bible, I began to grasp a fantastic truth.

I know God forgave me, but I didn’t know he’d cleaned all the sin and badness off of me. But that’s what it says here! According to God, I am not a thief. I’m not a criminal. I’m as good as anybody here!

I lifted my head and gazed about me with a sense of wonder. My eye settled on Pat, and for a moment I felt the old familiar chill. But I shoved it off.
I’m not a criminal. I have nothing to be ashamed of anymore. I’m never ever gonna be arrested again!

Joy began to fill me. I knew it was all true. But there was still one step I needed to take. With a mixture of eagerness and anxiety, I awaited the end of the service.

As the final notes of the closing song died away, I leaned over and whispered to Patty. “I’m ready to meet Pat.”

She smiled and put an arm around my shoulders. “Well, come on then.”

I tried to squash the butterflies in my stomach as we crossed the room. Pat was chatting with an older lady, but she paused and greeted us. I managed a nervous smile. To my relief, Pat paid me no further attention, but instead asked Patty what she’d put in the macaroni salad she’d brought to potluck the previous week.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” Patty whispered to me, as we stepped back into the line of people leaving the sanctuary.

I shook my head. I felt as light as a swallow. Smiling at people was easy now.

Mom was not at home when Tom and Patty dropped me off some time later. I found Walter in the easy chair with his leg propped up, eating a peanut butter sandwich.

“Your mom said to tell you she’ll be back in a little bit,” he said. “She made you a sandwich. It’s out there on the cupboard, I think. So tell me, what did you learn today?”

“Something you might not like.” I rubbed my damp palms down my jeans. Talking with Walter made me nervous.

“What was that?”

“Well, I learned I don’t have to be afraid of Pat anymore.”

“Who’s Pat?”

“That lady cop. You’ve met her.”

“Oh, yeah.” He frowned, but he didn’t look angry. “How’d you get that idea?”

“I was reading these verses.” I opened my Bible to chapter one of First John and read him the key verses from the sermon that morning.

“If we say that we have fellowship with Him, and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.”

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

“Let me see that,” Walter said.

I crossed the room and held the Bible in front of him, pointing out the verses. He took the book and stared hard at them, but after a few moments he shook his head in frustration. “Read it again.”

Standing beside him, I read the entire short chapter aloud.

“Keep going,” he urged me when I reached the end. He drank in every word of the next chapter. “That’s good,” he said then.

I reached for the Bible, but he held onto it. “Leave it here. Just warn me if you see Julie drive in.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

He waved me away. “I just wanna try something.”

As I sat at the table eating my lunch a few minutes later, I heard him trying to sound out words in a halting monotone. “If . . . we say . . . that . . . we have . . . we have…”

A fist slammed on the end table. “God, you aren’t helping!”

I choked on my milk. Did Walter really think God would teach him how to read? It was a good idea, though. Based on what I’d overheard, God was the only one with enough patience to do it.

Despite his initial failure, Walter persisted in trying to read. He had plenty of time to practice in the long afternoons while Mom was at work. Every day I’d come home from school to find my Bible in his lap or lying on the end table next to his chair. Though I resented him taking my Bible without asking, at least I didn’t have to read to him anymore. I had never enjoyed that. Simply knowing Walter had changed wasn’t enough to ease the discomfort I felt in his presence.

One evening I overheard Walter demonstrate his reading skills to Tom. He stumbled over a few of the longer words, but otherwise he did well. I was amazed how fast he’d learned.

“That’s great. I had no idea you couldn’t read,” Tom exclaimed.

“Well, I can now. Tess probably wants her Bible back, but I don’t wanna give it up. It gives me something to do.”

Tom laughed. “With all that hard work, I dare say you’ve earned a Bible of your own. I’m going right home to get you one.”

“No, no. You don’t have to do that. I’ll buy one for myself.”

But Tom was already on his way. “I’ll be back in five minutes with your Bible.”

Mom, who always holed up in her bedroom during Tom’s visits, heard the excitement and went to see what was happening. “It sounds like you’re having a party out here. Where’s Tom?”

“He’ll be right back. He’s getting me a Bible.”

“A Bible? Whatever for? You can’t read.”

“You might be surprised what I can do.”

Mom came back down the hallway, grumbling aloud about the crazy things men will do if left to themselves. I had to laugh.

Later that same week, the doctor removed the cast from Walter’s leg and gave him the good news that he could walk with just a cane. Walter began helping out with simple household tasks, such as vacuuming the floor, and one afternoon he limped out to his shop and gathered up a huge bag of trash. But something still seemed to be weighing on his mind.

40

O
ne Friday evening, Mom was extra late. She had left no instructions regarding supper, so Walter concluded it was up to him to make something. I stayed at the table finishing my homework while he hobbled around the kitchen. By the time Mom walked in, he had a bowl of scrambled eggs cooling on the counter while canned peas simmered in the open fry pan.

Mom hurried to the stove without even taking her coat off. “Don’t tell me you’re cooking again,” she scolded. “You trying to ruin my good fry pan? This is no way to heat vegetables! Can’t you wait til I get home?”

“I didn’t burn anything,” Walter defended himself. “And I’m sure your fry pan is just fine.”

Mom tossed her coat and purse onto a chair. “Tess, set the table.” She drained the peas, then tried to pick the soggy bits of egg out of them. “I swear I’ve never seen the likes. Why not just fry the egg and peas together?” She continued to mutter as she examined the bowl of cold eggs. “Tess, put some bread on. If Walter’s eggs are as bad as they look, we’re gonna need it.”

Walter retreated to the living room, where he hunched on the end of the couch. I felt sorry for him. Hardly a day passed that Mom didn’t find a way to put him down. Even when he did something nice for her, she reacted with criticism. Lately, however, Walter had been taking it quietly.

“So how was work today?” Walter ventured, as we sat down to supper.

Mom glared at him. “Terrible. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve quit that stupid job a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, more of the usual. Kathy’s got the flu, or so she says, so she’s been off since Wednesday. That leaves me and Denise to do all the cleaning, and she’s a pretty shoddy worker. Managed to break one of the lady’s porcelain dolls, and then she’s got the nerve to turn around and tell the boss I did it.”

Mom thumped her empty glass down on the table. “She seems to think just because she’s worked there a couple years and I’m new, she can shove all her mistakes off on me. I won’t take it.”

“Won’t the company pay for the doll?” he asked.

“Yeah, but if this keeps happening, I’ll lose my job. And it’s gonna be fun trying to get another one.” She took a piece of bread. “Tess, didn’t you put the butter on?”

“Oops.” I jumped to get the butter.

“Guess what,” Walter said. “I got the first coat of varnish put on that desk in my shop today.”

Mom shrugged. “Well, good. I suppose next you’re gonna call up your old customers and tell them you’ve got their work done.”

“I haven’t thought about that end of it yet. I just think I ought to finish the stuff.”

“That would be remarkable in itself,” Mom agreed.

Later that evening, after the dishes were done, I was sitting on the kitchen counter paging through a seed catalog when Walter hobbled out for a drink of water.

“You gonna order something?” he asked.

I looked up in surprise. “No. I’m just looking.”

“There’s a whole garden out there that’s gonna need planting,” he said. “We might as well grow something good in it for a change. If you want to, that is.”

“I-I haven’t thought about it,” I stammered.

Walter set down his glass. “You should. I dare say you’d grow a lot nicer things than I did. If you want, we can order some seeds.”

I stared down at the page, unsure what to say. Walter was the one who knew how to grow things. Would I have to work with him? If so, I wasn’t interested. I’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

“Aww, come on,” he coaxed. “You’re gonna need something to do this summer.”

“Mom says we don’t have any extra money,” I stalled.

“Oh, I think I can get her to agree. Especially since it’ll save on the grocery bill. How’d you like to grow some green beans?”

“Is it hard?”

“Nope. Only trick is to pick them every other day, no matter what. That way they’re always tender. Let me see what kinds they’ve got in that catalog.”

I handed it over. “How do you know so much about growing vegetables?”

“We grew them when I was a kid.”

The comment piqued my curiosity. “I never heard you say anything about when you were a kid.”

Walter thumbed through the catalog until he found the right page. “There’s a lot of trouble back there, Tess,” he said. “My father was a lot like I used to be. We got along like a couple of pit bulls.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah. There were four of us boys,” he continued. “I was the oldest. I left the day I turned sixteen and never went back.”

Walter’s finger settled on a picture in the catalog. “Blue Lake. That’s the best kind. The plants don’t fall over, and they make a lot of beans. You want to mark it?”

I pulled a highlighter from the desk drawer and circled the name. Walter turned the page and began to study the sweet corn section.

“Say, Dad…”

“Yeah?”

I hesitated, my courage running out like water from a sieve. I wasn’t sure it was okay to ask this question. But it might be my only chance.

“I’ve always kind of wondered . . . what happened to my sisters? Mom won’t tell me anything, except how old they are.”

Walter’s face tightened and he shook his head. After a moment of hesitation, he laid down the catalog and reached for his wallet. He slipped out a color photograph of Mom sitting in the grass with two smiling little girls perched on her knees. “That’s Sarah, and Megan,” he said, pointing them out. “They’re about seven and five here.”

I took the old photo and studied it. Both girls looked so innocent and happy. Sarah had light blond curls tied up with a pink ribbon, while Megan’s hair was dark and straight like mine. How would they look now, I wondered?

I didn’t press my luck by asking further questions. But the mystery continued to haunt me. Why did I not remember them? What really had happened to them?

Mom hedged a bit about the seed order, but to my surprise, she gave in and signed a check for me. I sat at the table and filled out the order form. Then I paged through the catalog some more, looking at the pictures of sunflowers and snapdragons and dreaming about the flower garden I hoped to have someday. Walter’s deep voice drifted in from the living room.

“You know, Julie, if I had any money, I’d take you to see a movie one of these nights.”

“What makes you think I’d go?”

“I just hoped you’d want to.”

“I don’t.” Mom’s reply was blunt. “I mean, you’ve got yourself quite a reputation. I really don’t want to be seen with you.”

“We could go after dark.”

“Yeah, fine idea. I think I’ll use my money to buy groceries and pay the rent.”

Walter didn’t answer. I knew this wasn’t the first time he’d suggested the two of them do something together.
Why does he keep asking
, I wondered,
when she always snubs him? It’s like he’s trying to court her, but this time she doesn’t want him.

The thought intrigued me. I tried to picture Mom the way she must have been years ago when they were dating. Did she blush when Walter first asked her out? Did she giggle at his lame jokes? Did she tear up when she said her vows on her wedding day?

It was hard to imagine, but sometime in the past, Mom must have been more tender and trusting. She must have donned pretty dresses and tied ribbons in her hair. Sometime before the disappointments of life made her harsh and defensive, she must have been worth pursuing. At least, Walter had thought so. Now he seemed determined to win her affections again. Unfortunately, Mom was having none of it.