Phoebe and the Rock of Ages

by Becky Doughty

  “So.” It wasn’t a question, but a segue. Renata spoke quietly, a nursing mother unwilling to disturb the infant in her arms, but firm and demanding all the same. When Phoebe didn’t offer any response, Renata expounded. “I came to you because you wouldn’t come to me. Why?”

  Phoebe shot a sideways glance at her sister, her emotions at war. Her arms felt empty and her breasts ached, as though her own child had just been placed in another woman’s arms all over again. But this baby wasn’t hers and the woman was Renata, demanding and presumptuous as always.

  She shrugged, her defenses rising, because she was Phoebe, shocking and provocative as always. “I got stone cold drunk on Sunday, stayed that way through Monday, and slept it off Tuesday and Wednesday. I really wasn’t in any condition to drive.” She didn’t explain the last two days; she had no excuse to give.

  Renata’s expression didn’t change. Her eyebrow—not so perfectly shaped today—didn’t even arch. She didn’t say a word, didn’t react in any measurable way at all. In fact, if Phoebe didn’t know better, she’d think Renata hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  Finally, feeling a little ashamed over her childish—albeit truthful—response, she murmured, “Sorry I haven’t been by to visit.” She folded Charise’s sleeper into a neat square, and tucked the socks into each other just to keep her hands busy.

  “I’m not going to lie, Phoebe. I’ve been really worried. Everyone has been trying for days to reach you. In any other circumstance, I would just assume you’re pulling a Phoebe, but—” She broke off, her brow furrowed slightly. “I’ve wracked my brain, trying to figure out what I said or did to upset you or make you feel like I didn’t want you around.” Renata shifted in the seat, repositioning Charise so the arm of the chair supported her weight. “Phoebe, you were my hero, my rescuer. What would I have done without you?”

  “You didn’t do or say anything,” Phoebe murmured, not looking at her sister. She shook her head, wanting—and yet so afraid—to tell her everything that had surfaced in the last few days. Could she trust Renata with that kind of ammunition? “I guess I just pulled a really big Phoebe this time.”

  “Would you mind getting me a glass of water. I always forget to get it before I start, and nursing makes me so thirsty. I think it’s probably more a power of suggestion than that I’m actually thirsty, but the thought of her draining me of fluids gives me this intense urge to drink.” She rolled her eyes and added, “I’m a freak. I know.”

  Phoebe got up and fetched a water bottle from the fridge, but when she handed it to Renata, her sister wrapped her fingers around hers on the bottle and didn’t let go.

  “You gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to make you hold Charise again?” She smiled up at her. “Because everyone knows you can’t keep secrets when you’re looking into the eyes of a baby. She’s a little truth fairy—she’ll charm the truth right out of you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Phoebe didn’t really answer her, but Renata released her anyway. When she sat back down, though, she said, “I’ll talk when you give me back Charise.”

  “Fair enough. You have about ten or fifteen minutes to figure out what you want to tell me.” Renata closed her eyes, and for a moment, Phoebe wondered if she meant to take a ten- or fifteen-minute nap. But no. “And while we wait, I’ll talk.”

  “Fair enough,” Phoebe said, echoing her sister. Although she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear whatever Renata had to say.

  “I love you, Phoebe Josephine Gustafson. I’m sorry I haven’t been a good big sister to you. I haven’t been for a very long time, and I’ve been so blind to my failure there. I haven’t been a good sister to Juliette or Gia, either, but to you, I’ve been especially cruel. I don’t know when or why it started; I remember being upset at you even when you were tiny. Maybe because you made me a middle child? I don’t know. But then in high school? And that stupid Homecoming and Brad what’s-his-jerk-face? It was like I was just looking for something to pin all my pent-up anger on and you were always in the way of it. I’m so sorry, little sister.” She opened her eyes and rested her head against the seat back, peering at Phoebe through lowered lids. “I’ve been thinking about this for several months, now. When you and Juliette came up to the cabin and stayed with me, it was like something slid away from my eyes, and I saw what kind of person I’d become. What kind of person I’d been for so long. I didn’t really know how to be any different, but I really wanted to try.”

  Phoebe tucked her legs up under her. She hadn’t expected this when Renata said she would talk. She swallowed hard; she wasn’t going to cry.

  “But then John—well, John.” Renata sighed. Two tears ran from the corners of her eyes. “I miss him so badly,” she murmured, her voice catching just a little. “Tim and the boys do, too, and they’re all being so brave. But I was his wife, you know? He was my husband, the father of my children.” She lowered her gaze to Charise’s face and brushed the back of a knuckle along the curve of the baby’s cheek. “I love Tim so much, Phoebe. I do. But sometimes I’m scared I won’t ever be able to love him as much as I loved—still love—John, and it makes me feel like a failure, like I’m cheating Tim out of what he might find with someone else.”

  Phoebe’s heart fluttered in her chest as Renata spilled her secrets while peering down into the eyes of her baby girl. “He loves you so much, Ren. And I don’t think you should ever love him the same as you did John, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love him as much.”

  “I know. You’re right.” Renata smiled softly, like she was making peace with herself over her confession. “It always seemed to me that John was my soul mate, you know? Like we were predestined to be together. I knew it almost immediately. By the time our first date was over, I knew I would love him, if I didn’t already. I knew I wanted to love him that first night, that he was the kind of man I wanted to become one with. The kind of man who would stand by me no matter what. He was that transparent, even when I wasn’t, and I knew he was the man I wanted to marry.” She chuckled softly and Charise’s mouth popped off her breast in surprise; her little eyes widened and her arm flailed.

  “I know that’s hard to believe,” Renata said as she lifted Charise to her shoulder and thumped her gently on the back. “I mean, it’s not like you can disprove it, right? But it’s true. I’m a believer. Love at first sight happens.” A surprisingly loud belch escaped the baby and both women made appreciative and encouraging sounds. “At least it happened to me,” Renata added as she switched Charise to her other side.

  “It’s not hard to believe,” Phoebe contradicted. “I know it happens. When you handed me Charise, I thought my heart was going to burst with all the love that poured out of it for her. And isn’t that what happens for most parents when they’re handed their babies for the first time?” Phoebe would never forget the look on Theresa and Jeff’s faces when Lily was placed into their arms the first time. “Love at first sight, right?”

  Renata nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Who determines the time frame for qualifying love? I mean, if it can happen that way with a baby, why on earth wouldn’t we be capable of loving another adult at first sight?” Was she trying to convince Renata? Or herself? Her heart bumped against her ribcage.

  “Amen, sister,” Ren agreed whole-heartedly. “And that’s not only true about adults, you know. The boys are madly in love with Charise already. Even Judah. I’m still hesitant to turn my back on Charise with him in the room, but he doesn’t hug her around the neck anymore.” She grimaced and repositioned Charise. “But do you remember when Maman brought Gia home from the hospital? How we couldn’t get enough of her?”

  Oh yes, she remembered. Gia had come into the world with tiny red curls in a dandelion puff all over her head, no eyebrows, and lashes so pale they looked dipped in frost. “Love at first sight.”

  “Sisters. They’re the best. You three are the best sisters a sister could ask for, Phoebe.” She
’d segued smoothly back to the beginning of the conversation. “I’m so glad you were there for me last week. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. In fact, don’t tell Tim this, but I’m so glad you were with me in those earlier stages of labor. He still hasn’t recovered from seeing the birth. He keeps apologizing for the fact that I had to go through it instead of him.” She giggled softly. “He’s such a man’s man, you know? He can’t bear to see me in any kind of discomfort, and I can only imagine how hard it would have been for him to go through that.”

  Phoebe smiled at the thought of big and brawny Tim coming undone over Renata’s labor. He loved her sister to a fault, and although Phoebe had at one time thought it unfair for Renata to have found someone so soon after John’s death—someone who loved John almost as much as Renata did—she knew just by watching him that he’d carried a torch for her sister for a long time. The fact that Renata hadn’t known said a truckload about Tim’s honor. Phoebe was happy for them both, that Tim had been there for Ren, and the other way around, too.

  “But you surprised me, Phoebe,” Renata continued after a long pause.

  Phoebe straightened; a tiny red warning light flickered on in the back of her mind.

  “Do you watch birthing videos? I mean, you were right there with me the whole time. It was like you knew what to expect and you knew what to do to help me through each stage. You didn’t panic, you didn’t scramble, you didn’t even freak out when I sprayed your shoes with amniotic fluid.”

  “Gross.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose at the memory. She’d thrown the shoes away as soon as she got home. “And I did freak out, remember? I said a very bad word.”

  “Ah yes. I do remember. Fine, then. I take that last bit back.” Renata grinned at her and straightened in the chair, lifting Charise to her shoulder again to burp her. The baby’s eyes were half-closed and her mouth hung open, a pearly trickle of milk at each corner.

  “She looks half drunk,” Phoebe said with a sardonic grimace. “I should know. I looked like that earlier this week.”

  “You want to do this? Get a burp out of her while I put myself back together?” Renata held the baby out and Phoebe rose to get her. Renata didn’t let go, though. “Are you sure? Remember she’s the truth fairy.”

  Phoebe nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.” If Renata could open up to her so honestly after all that had been between them, why couldn’t she do the same? And if Renata hated her after she learned all that had happened, then at least Phoebe would know not to trust her sister ever again. But surely—surely!—the change in Ren was genuine. Surely she couldn’t still hold that terrible night—what Ren believed had happened that terrible night—against Phoebe after all this time.

  It didn’t take long for Charise to release a couple ridiculously cute belches and a rather dainty little toot, sounds that made Phoebe giggle. She turned on the couch so she leaned against the arm rest and brought her feet up onto the cushion so she could prop the baby against her upraised knees. That way, she could watch Charise sleep while she talked; she wouldn’t have to see Renata’s reaction at all.

  “I did know what to expect,” she began. “But I surprised myself, too. I didn’t think I’d remember after all these years, but it must be like riding a bicycle. You just remember.”

  The silence that followed that statement was thick enough to taste. Then suddenly, there was a flurry of movement and Renata was up out of her chair and sitting on the floor beside her before Phoebe realized what she was doing.

  “Phoebe.” Her voice held no judgment, no condemnation, only genuine concern. Renata didn’t touch Phoebe, not directly, but instead, placed a hand on Charise’s water-balloon belly and left it there, as though the little girl was the bridge that connected them. “Tell me.”

  And so she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  While they waited for Vic and Juliette to arrive, Gia and Ricky played Super Mario in the living room, and Trevor stood in his kitchen alone, hands planted on the counter as he watched mahogany liquid run through the drip coffee maker into the carafe. He breathed in, his nostrils flaring as the scent wafted through the air; it wasn’t nearly as aromatic and rich as Phoebe’s Italian Roast from her coffee press, but it made him long for her just the same. Would she even deign to drink his Yuban medium roast? He hoped he’d get a chance to find out.

  He was exhausted. Right now, he didn’t care what coffee he drank, as long as it had enough caffeine in it to get his blood pumping and his muscles moving. He’d been unable to sleep much of the night, so he’d prayed for Phoebe’s rest, for peace for her, and he asked God to reveal himself to her in ways she couldn’t deny were of him. “Not just once, God, but over and over again. Show her who you are. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  He also readily admitted that he had a vested interest in Phoebe learning to trust in God. He loved her—yes, loved her. It was as though the years of praying for her and getting to know her vicariously through her sisters had instilled a ready-made capacity in him to love her without reservation. And after last night, after walking through the shadowy valley with her, he knew he wanted to walk with her through every high and low in her life from that moment on. He’d marry her tomorrow if he could…but unless she chose to give her life to Christ, his hands were tied. He had seen the struggle of many marriages when spouses didn’t agree spiritually. When one served God and the other didn’t, it was like mixing oil and water. They could both share the same bucket, but they’d never truly be one, especially in the things that counted for eternity.

  He’d finally drifted off in the early predawn hours, but was awake again before eight o’clock, and after tossing and turning for a while longer, he gave up trying to go back to sleep and got up.

  He’d spent the morning working in his studio and praying for Phoebe. He hoped she’d call him today, hoped she hadn’t awakened this morning full of regrets over talking to him, spending the evening with him…kissing him.

  That kiss. He’d resisted kissing her all night, even during moments when it seemed she wanted him to move in closer, to put his mouth on hers. When she’d asked him to leave, his heart had plummeted to the toes of his shoes. But when she said it was because she couldn’t think straight when he touched her, that he made her head spin, he’d been so relieved, he’d given in to the desire. Gently, with great care and respect, but with as much emotion as he could pour into less than five seconds of mouth-to-mouth contact. He hoped she’d read the promise in that kiss, his commitment to be there for her, in whatever capacity he could, no matter what. He hoped she’d sensed the passion she stirred up in him, his longing for her. But more than that, he hoped she’d realized how much he hoped for her, believed in her, and wanted the best for her…which meant her saying yes to God.

  He snorted with derision and pushed away from the counter. “You’re such a hopeless romantic,” he muttered. “No one could possibly read all that into one small kiss.” He opened the fridge and took out the carton of half-and-half, knowing Ricky and Gia would require it for their coffees. “Shoulda kissed her for real,” he grumbled. “Full on, mouths open, hauled her up against you and kissed her like a hungry man. Then there’d be no guesswork involved.”

  “What was that, cuz?” Ricky called from the other room.

  “Nothing!” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken loud enough to be heard above the zippy electronic music of the game they played.

  Nope. He’d kissed her as sweetly as he could manage, and then, against the urgent wishes of his body and heart, he’d released her and had left her home just as she’d asked. And since then, he’d not stopped praying for her, just as he’d promised.

  He didn’t just pray for Phoebe though, but also for Lily, for her sisters, and for her grandparents. He knew this ordeal she’d suffered through and carried alone all these years would not be fully laid to rest until she shared her grief with the family she loved, the family who loved her.

  And he prayed for his part in her life,
no matter what it turned out to be.

  When Vic and Juliette finally arrived, they exchanged questioning glances with him, careful not to say anything in front of Ricky and Gia. He nodded as reassuringly as possible without saying anything back, but gestured that he’d talk to them later. Then he shooed everyone into the kitchen for coffee.

  They all followed Trevor into the small studio and stood close together against the back wall to listen. He’d explained his concept for the album to them all, but before he started the first song, he said, “I’ve chosen an album name. Full Disclosure.” He didn’t need to explain to them exactly how he’d come up with it, but the term spoke for itself regarding the tendency for people to hide behind illusions and disguises. For Christians, especially, to hide their brokenness behind their perfect facades.

  When the music finally ended, his eyes were on Juliette’s face. “I know some of it is still a little rough, but give me your thoughts. The most important thing is the message here. The instrumentation, of course, must be dead on, but as a backdrop for the lyrics. More so than usual. I want people—church people—to really hear it.”

  Gia was practically jumping up and down. She threw her arms around Ricky and declared, “Oh my gosh, it’s fantastic. Your cousin is brilliant, Z!”

  Ricky, clearly enjoying the girl’s embrace, grinned like a dog getting an itch scratched. He nodded in agreement, though, and had the decency to say, “Wow, Cuz. That’s pretty deep stuff. Favorite song? Rock of Ages. The base line is intense, and that alone would make it a hot number. But the lyrics? You make God sound epic.”

  Juliette’s expression, although bright-eyed with enjoyment, wasn’t the one he should have been watching. He saw Vic swipe a hand across his cheek, and then again, and Trevor turned toward his friend.

  To Trevor’s astonishment, there were tears trickling from the corners of the tall man’s eyes. Vic didn’t make a sound—in fact, he seemed to barely be breathing—but whatever was going on inside his head and heart was clearly deeply affecting him. In all the years they’d known each other, Trevor couldn’t ever remember Victor Jarrett shedding a single tear. The man was a rock. A pillar. Even a glacier at times.