The Heart of Memory (11 page)

“Well, if spending time trying to help myself understand what I’m thinking and feeling and trying to get back to my life before all this happened constitutes being a junkie, then yes, I might.”

He gave her a look. “I was just playing, Van. I wasn’t being serious.”

She deflated a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling …” She shook her head and shrugged. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” She left the kitchen for the sofa and pulled the computer back onto her lap.

“Honey, I’m sorry.” Shaun followed her and sat beside her. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll get a chance to start writing. I really think it will help if you get back in the saddle. It’ll all come back to you. You’re wallowing a bit, I think, and it’s totally understandable; but maybe if you start focusing outward instead of inward you’ll start feeling better.”

She shut the laptop with more force than she intended. “Quit trying to diagnose me. You’re no psychologist, and you have no idea what it’s like to be me right now.” She pushed herself to her feet, shaking off Shaun’s attempt at helping her stand, and headed to her office with more speed than she’d managed since coming home.

She was dying to tell him what she was really thinking, to finally get it off her chest, but she couldn’t voice those thoughts aloud. How could a ministry president like herself admit how angry she was with God right now, how the very thought of his goodness and provision made her want to laugh? Especially when she didn’t understand it herself. Knowing a book was expected from her on the subject made her panicky; she fought that by simply not thinking about it and hoping she’d wake one of these mornings and find those feelings gone.

But so far the mornings only brought more anger and confusion.

J
ESSIE ZIPPED HER DUFFEL AND TEXTED ADAM.

Ready when u r.

Her stomach fluttered; she took another bite of the sandwich she’d brought back from the cafeteria at lunch and hoped it would give her insides something to do besides reflect her anxiety. This was a new experience, being nervous about going home.

Savannah’s transplant had happened three weeks ago, and Jessie hadn’t been back to visit since that night. She’d almost gone a number of times, but something always stopped her—a project she needed to work on, a meeting she couldn’t miss. Her own nerves. She knew she was being a terrible daughter by not going to visit her mother in the hospital, and now that Savannah was home the guilt was even worse. But Jessie’s remorse over their last conversation held her back.

She should have just kept her mouth shut. What had led her to believe it was wise to try changing the past by confronting a dying woman with her shortcomings? It had solved nothing, had led to no reconciliation, and had only added to the stress her mother was already dealing with as her body betrayed her. Jessie had planned on at least apologizing when she’d visited Savannah before moving to campus, but her mother had only lasted a few minutes before falling asleep, and Jessie had been so disturbed by Savannah’s deterioration that she’d left rather than wait for her to wake. And now she had to go back home and face her again, knowing she’d been selfish in the face of her mother’s decline.

Her phone buzzed.

Ready in 20 or so. Will txt u.

Her nose wrinkled as she looked for something to keep her occupied and her mind off the impending visit. Not enough time to start homework, and too much time to just sit around. She woke her computer instead and tapped in a URL.

Last week she’d stumbled across this website while doing research for her child development class. It was a forum for Christian moms, and while she was nowhere near motherhood, she’d found herself sucked into the message board and had gone so far as to apply for membership. An entire subforum was devoted to developing the parent-child relationship, and reading it was like applying antibiotic to a wound: painful, but healing.

Ever since her relationship with Adam had gotten serious, she’d had motherhood on the brain. Not because she was looking forward to it, but because it scared her. What if she passed on the brokenness of her own mother-daughter relationship to her children? What if she didn’t know how to be the kind of mom she’d always wanted Savannah to be, precisely because Savannah hadn’t been able to model it for her? The posts she read in the forums eased some of her fears, because so many of the other women were doing what she’d eventually have to do—working out from scratch what it meant to be the kind of mother they’d never had.

The forum also gave her something she rarely had: anonymity. All they knew was what she told them, and so far she hadn’t told them much. Her screen name — Mom-In-Training — gave nothing away, and instead of her own picture she posted an image of a sunflower on her profile. The best part was being able to post her frustrations about her relationship with her mom without worrying about how it affected Savannah’s reputation. She hadn’t gone into much detail, but what little she’d shared had been met with encouragement and messages of commiseration, and with the help of some other women who had weathered similar struggles she’d made a plan for this weekend.

Coming as close as she had to losing her mother had convinced her she needed to make things better between them—she just had to work a bit on how she went about it. Honesty was important, yes, but her own response and attitude was even more so. It was unrealistic to think that one vulnerable and emotionally open conversation on her part was going to make Savannah change her tune. She had to be consistent with her honesty but also grace-filled in her acceptance of her mother’s response; after all, Jessie knew what to expect from her mother. Rather than fighting against Savannah all the time, Jessie was going to try to model the kind of responses she hoped to get from Savannah and not let herself get worked up when her mother’s reaction wasn’t what she wanted.

It was an approach that looked good on paper. She just wasn’t sure how it would actually play out.

She posted to various threads on the message board until her phone buzzed again and

going 2 car now

showed up on the screen. She added a brief prayer request for her weekend to the prayer forum, then shut down the computer and grabbed her backpack and duffel.
Ready or not,
she prayed,
here we go …

J
ESSIE CAME IN JUST AS
Savannah was making herself a mid-morning snack after having spent the last two hours on the transplant forum. Her mind was still engaged in the conversations she’d read about the emotional component of organ transplants, and Jessie’s arrival disrupted her thoughts.

“Didn’t know you were coming home,” she said when Jessie appeared in the kitchen.

“It was a last-minute thing. Adam’s mom needed help with some stuff. That poor house of theirs is just falling apart; they seriously need to apply for that home makeover show.”

“Mmm.” Savannah spread strawberry jam on her toast. “So how are things?”

“They’re fine. How are you? Healing up okay?”

It was a topic she was getting tired of addressing with every person who saw her these days. “Yes, fine, thank you.”

Jessie began to fix herself some toast as well. “That’s good. I can’t imagine what it must be like. But, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that with me.”

Savannah was relieved by her daughter’s unexpected empathy. “Thank you.”

A cloud passed over Jessie’s face, but her voice was still light when she spoke. “So the freshman welcome dinner went off without a hitch. I told some of the girls about the doily story you’d told me; they all want to make next year’s dinner a throwback thing and cover everything with doilies. Isn’t that a riot?”

“Mmm.” Savannah eyed her computer as she bit into her toast. “Yes, funny.” She thought of something one of the other transplant recipients had written about, and she was struck with a sudden insight into the man’s struggle. She began to form her reply in her head as she blew over the top of her tea mug.

“… children’s home on Tuesday afternoons. It’s been such an incredible experience. I’ve only done it twice but I have a feeling this is really going to affect the way I go with my career.”

Career.
Savannah certainly wished these days that hers had gone in a different direction. “Well, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go the way you’re expecting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jessie’s tone snapped Savannah out of her own thoughts. “I — just that, your career—”

“Is this more about my major? I thought we were done with this conversation, Mom. I love the options I’ll have in education.”

Savannah set down her tea, bewildered by Jessie’s reaction. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry, sweetheart.”

“Gosh, could it be because you have once again shown that you have no respect at all for me and my choices? I could be the homecoming queen and valedictorian and you’d still think I’m inadequate.” Jessie popped the toast prematurely from the toaster and spread a sloppy layer of peanut butter over the still-soft bread. “I don’t know why I keep trying to show you how wrong you are. You never see what I’ve accomplished, only that it’s not what you’d choose to do. I’m really sorry I didn’t turn out to be a mini Savannah, but I am who God made me to be; and if it’s good enough for him it should be good enough for you.”

Savannah stared at Jessie, shocked. “Look, Jessica, I wasn’t trying to criticize with my comment. My mind was elsewhere—”

“Of course it was. It’s always been elsewhere. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with you where you were fully present. This wasn’t some momentary lapse of focus, Mom. This is an issue ten years in the making. You have no idea what it’s like to be Savannah Trover’s daughter—her
only
daughter — no, worse, her only child. Not only do I get to live with everyone’s expectations of what your daughter should be like, but I have to live with
your
expectations all concentrated on one person. I really wish you’d at least had another kid so I’d have someone to commiserate with.”

Savannah stared open-mouthed at her daughter. The comment hurt more than Jessie knew. “I’m serious, I’ve never meant to be hard on you. And any criticism I might have made was only to try to push you to consider other options instead of just blindly following what some guidance counselor made you think was your best bet. I never realized you were taking it
that
hard.”

Jessie sniffed and rolled her eyes as she pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. “Of course you didn’t. You never think about anyone else. You never notice anyone else’s feelings. You never consider how what you say might hurt someone. You’re totally self-centered, but you excuse it as ministry. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have time for you because I need to work on my book.’ ‘Gosh, I’d love to help you out, but I really need to devote my time to my ministry.’ One excuse after another. Thank God I had Dad.”

The words were a slap in the face. Savannah watched Jessie storm off to her room, heard the door slam shut, and wandered in a daze back to the couch to try to figure out what just happened. She’d been called focused, and driven, and passionate, but never self-centered. Surely this was just Jessie spouting Psychology 101 insights that were completely off-base.

But as the sting wore off, Savannah couldn’t help noticing how accurate Jessie’s accusations were. She’d considered her ministry to be A&A and
only
A&A. She’d considered herself … not
above
serving in other ways, but
excused
from it. Her ministry was writing books and speaking, not feeding the homeless or praying with the sick. Savannah ministered to the people who did those kinds of things, and when someone invited her into the trenches she’d politely decline.

And when it came to Jessie … well, she had never meant to come off the way she apparently had. Yes, she did have high expectations for her, but she’d never disapproved of what she was doing—she’d merely thought other avenues might yield more fruit for her.

Though by not explicitly approving her choices, wasn’t I disapproving of them?

Jessie was so smart, had so much potential, Savannah was afraid she’d end up unappreciated in some overcrowded school working for pittance. And, if she was brutally honest with herself, she had to admit she’d often hoped Jessie would want to join Savannah in her ministry to women, helping them to reach out and grab the life God had for them.

It had all been for Jessie, really. For Jessie and her generation and the generations after her. All she’d wanted was to make the Christian subculture a place where women’s contributions were just as valued as the men’s, where the jobs mothers did were held in the same esteem as the pastors and teachers of the church. She’d been trying to strengthen and empower Christian moms to see the worth in what they did—and in doing so, she had checked out of her own mothering role and left her daughter to fend for herself.