Summer Shadows

by Gayle Roper

  “Because I found you?”

  She felt herself flush again. She stared at her lap, nodding. “When I got to the house after work, I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, so I came over here and sat in your chair. Not to hide, you know. Just to give myself more time. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I don’t. In fact, you can sit in my chair anytime you want, even when I’m in it.”

  “Right.” Abby noticed his shoulder was now pressed against hers. Who had done the leaning into the other, he or she?

  “I mean it,” Marsh said, swinging his free hand out with a flourish. “My chair is your chair.”

  “Well, su casa seems to be mi casa for the time being, so I guess that follows. Still, thanks for the generous offer.”

  He nodded. “Now finish your story.”

  Abby took a deep breath. “When Mom came downstairs, I panicked and hid behind the bin. I thought you weren’t home. Your car’s gone.”

  “It’s at the shop. I get it back tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “So I’m caught red-handed.”

  He grinned at her. “That you are.”

  The sliding door opened and Rick stepped out. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his jaw had the baby-soft look of the newly shaved. He blinked down at them as he stepped over their feet.

  “May I remind you two that we do have chairs.” He pointed to them.

  “In a minute,” Marsh said. “The floor’s a lot more comfortable than you’d think.”

  Rick looked skeptical. “If you say so. I shouldn’t be too late. Celia has to work tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have a car,” Abby said.

  “Sure I do.” He pointed across the street, and Abby saw his car parked just around the corner. “I parked over there so I wouldn’t get blocked in when you came home.” With a flick of his hand he was gone. “Enjoy eating alone,” drifted back on the breeze.

  “But I’m not eating alone.” Marsh grinned at Abby as he rose and held out his hand. “Am I?”

  Thirty-two

  HANNAH MACDONALD stood on the porch staring at nothing long after Abby and Marsh went inside.

  God, I don’t know what to do!

  She had gotten such a shock seeing Abby’s car in the drive but no Abby. Immediately she’d imagined the worst. Abby had fallen somewhere. She was lying in pain. She’d already been taken to the hospital, unconscious so no one knew to tell Hannah.

  Then Marsh walked out, and she went to his deck to check. Again no Abby, at least not that she was supposed to know about.

  But she saw that wisp of skirt trailing on the floor, a skirt that she herself had bought for her daughter. She also saw Marsh kick it aside, and she heard him cover for Abby.

  “Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. MacDonald. She’ll come home when she’s ready.”

  It made her furious that he presumed to understand Abby so well. Who did he think he was? She was the one who knew Abby better than anyone on earth, she who had given the girl life and then nursed her back to life. She had earned her bone-deep knowledge about her daughter with tears and prayers and a will that refused to let Abby yield to her grief and pain.

  How dare he challenge her! How dare Abby hide!

  When Hannah rushed up the steps, fury like a red haze peppered with zigzags of heat lightning clouded her vision. She marched to the screen door, opened it, closed it, but didn’t go through it. Instead, she tiptoed to the rail to listen. She had to know what they were plotting now.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she was so furious. Well, yes, she could. She’d been furious at the driver of the car who was stupid enough to cause the accident. Not for one minute did she think he intended to hurt her family, but he did. Because he was stupid!

  She’d been angry with God too, furious that He would require all of them to go through such an ordeal. He’d let her down. How, she wondered for several months and sometimes even to this day, could she ever trust Him again? He’d taken her precious grand-baby, her wonderful son-in-law, and He’d left a maimed Abby.

  She didn’t talk to anyone about how she felt for a long time. She kept the lid clamped tight on the rolling boil of her rage, and only in the dark of midnight would she let loose the scalding emotions. She’d lie in bed railing at God in the nocturnal silence, telling Him exactly what she thought of Him while in the daylight she pleaded with proper circumspection for Him to heal Abby, to restore her to what she had once been.

  This spiritual schizophrenia might have kept on indefinitely if Len hadn’t confronted her.

  “He’s God, Hannah. You’ve got to let Him be God.”

  “But it’s not fair!” she cried as tears streamed down her face. “It’s not fair! I loved them.”

  He gathered her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “So did He; so does He.”

  She frowned at him, her body rigid. “Simplistic, Len. Not fair.”

  “Sweetheart, where’d you ever get the idea that life should be fair? Games are supposed to be fair, not life. You either believe God is God—omniscient, omnipresent, loving, holy, and in total control—or all you’ve got is a flawed Superman who can’t control anything or anyone. But know this: If you decide He is God, you’ve got to give up being mad at Him.”

  She’d been livid at Len for two days after that lecture, not speaking to him, barely looking at him. He was right, she knew it, a fact that made her fury burn all the brighter until it threatened to consume her.

  Then Abby had a minor relapse. Of course Len was out of town on business again, just as he’d been the day of the accident. She was once more alone to face this latest tragedy. She sat in the waiting room, her heart gripped by her anger, the corrosive fury burning away her normal control.

  When the doctors came looking for her to tell her it was just a matter of adjusting Abby’s medication, Hannah didn’t give them a chance to explain. She attacked, accusing them of everything from stupidity to willful malpractice. She ranted and raged, pacing, screaming, throwing her hands into the air. The doctors stood, faces impassive, looking over her head at some distant point like they were bored. Bored! The flames of her ire flashed through the room, using their passivity like oxygen to fuel her.

  But even anger with a head of steam like hers eventually burned itself out.

  “Are you finished, Mrs. MacDonald?” one of the doctors asked when she paused for a breath.

  “Because if you aren’t or even if you are, I’d suggest an immediate visit to a psychiatrist,” said the other. “Immediate.”

  They turned and walked away.

  Hannah became aware that everyone in the waiting room as well as several people in the hall were staring at her, mouths agape. She felt their condemnation, their icy disdain. She heard her own voice in memory, all the terrible words she had hurled. She turned hot, then cold all over.

  She literally ran to the hospital chapel. There she fell to her knees, confessing the great sin of her anger against God and against everyone else for making her suffer. Her! Not Abby. Her!

  She never thought she’d feel such anger again. Tonight was putting her to the test. Deceived by her own daughter! And that—that man. She heard them talking down there, softly, intimately. Then that Rick character came out, driving off into the night, and Abby went inside with Marsh.

  Hannah shivered. Oh, God!

  The phone rang. For a minute she thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she thought it might be Len. She hurried inside.

  “Mom, it’s me,” Abby said.

  Hannah said nothing.

  “Mom, are you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Good.” There was a silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

  Did she actually think a weak apology like that would undo the hurt she’d inflicted?

  “I’m at Marsh’s. He’s giving me dinner. Then I’ll be up for a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes?”

  Abby cleared her throat. “Yes, then he and I are going for a walk
on the beach.”

  Hannah closed her eyes against the pain. She was to get a few minutes. Marsh was to get dinner and a walk on the beach. Her anger blazed afresh.

  “I love you, Mom,” Abby whispered. The line went dead.

  Hannah stood clutching the buzzing phone for some time. “I love you, Mom.” She closed her eyes. I love you, too, Abby. That’s why I want to save you.

  Hannah went to the kitchen and looked at the rosemary baked chicken, the potato wedges coated with Parmesan cheese, the green beans with almonds and Italian dressing. She shook her head. Not tonight. She was too upset to eat. She set about storing everything away. When she was finished, she went out onto the deck and sat.

  She had been sitting for about thirty minutes when she heard Abby on the steps. She listened, but she couldn’t detect a second set of footfalls. At least Marsh wasn’t with her.

  Abby walked over, taking the chair next to Hannah. Her skirt foamed about her legs. “He fed me Lean Cuisine. Your reputation is safe.”

  Hannah looked at Abby with sorrow. “You’ve changed.”

  “Yes. I’m glad you see it.”

  “You’re glad?” Hannah stared. “I’m not complimenting you, Abby. I think the changes are wrong, detrimental to you as a Christian and a woman.”

  “I know you do.” Abby began to rub her lower back. “What changes do you see, and why are they wrong?”

  Just remember you asked me. “You have become rebellious. You have developed a spirit that pits itself against your father and me. You only pay attention to Marsh who’s so bad for you.”

  Abby’s chin went up when Hannah mentioned Marsh. However, to Hannah’s surprise she didn’t respond to the comments about him.

  Abby began to pleat her skirt, not looking at Hannah. “Why do you think I ‘pit’ myself against you and Dad?”

  “Because you have developed a rebellious spirit.”

  Abby shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Why have I become rebellious at this late date in my life? Why don’t I take your advice? Why don’t I agree with you about what’s best for me?”

  “Marsh.” One word said it all.

  “No, Mom. It’s not Marsh.” Abby stopped playing with her skirt and leaned forward to give Hannah her full attention. “I was already rebelling before I even met him. What did you think this move to Seaside was?”

  Hannah frowned. A mistake. “You know what I thought and think. It’s a huge mistake, taking you away from your support system and all who love you. You’re not strong enough to handle the physical ramifications of being on your own, let alone the emotional ones.”

  Abby studied Hannah thoughtfully. “Is it that you don’t think I’m strong enough, or you don’t want me to be strong enough?”

  Hannah was appalled. “What a terrible thing to suggest. Of course I want you to become stronger and stronger.”

  “Do you? Or do you want me to remain dependent, sweet Abby, the obedient daughter?”

  Hannah stared at Abby as if she’d never seen her before. “I have always wanted the very best for you, Abby. Always.”

  Abby nodded. “I know you have. The problem is that it’s according to your definition of best, not mine.”

  Hannah bristled, the too-familiar anger beating a steady tattoo in her blood. “Since you were a baby, I have prayed over you and for you. I have taught you and watched you. Do you think I don’t know you? That I can’t see what’s best for you?”

  “Yes, that’s what I think.”

  It took a minute for Hannah to find her voice. “Abby, how dare you!”

  Abby continued, her voice controlled. “I think you believe you know me and my heart, but I know you don’t. Maybe you did before the accident. I don’t know. But I know you don’t know me now. You haven’t allowed for how the accident has changed me for the better. You look at the transformations just as rebelliousness or a temporary madness. Maybe they even represent a threat.”

  Hannah blocked the hurt, holding out her hands, imploring Abby to listen, to agree. “You have always been such a loving, compliant child, such a delight. You still are at heart. You’re just off track at the moment.”

  “No, Mom. It’s much more than that. I am permanently, positively changed. I am still loving, but I am no longer a compliant child.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. I will never be who I used to be. If I met Sam for the first time now, I would not fall in love with him.”

  Hannah felt her mouth drop open. “How can you say such a thing?”

  “Sam was a controlling man, Mom. As long as I agreed with him, he was warm and kind and loving. When I disagreed, he was cold, withdrawn.”

  “No, not Sam.”

  “Oh, yes. We were already having issues, especially over my going back to school.”

  “He wanted you to be his wife and Maddie’s mother.”

  “Couldn’t I have gone to school and still loved them, still cared for them? Did one have to preclude the other?”

  “Abby, Sam knew what was best—”

  “Sam was not omniscient. He didn’t always know what was best. But that’s not what we need to talk about. That part of my life is over. Sam is with the Lord. We would have stayed married, I’m sure. I would have felt stifled, I would have felt unfulfilled, but life would have gone on. However, the accident happened, and the whole world changed. The problem is that you haven’t realized that.”

  “How dare you say that to me.” Hannah’s voice trembled with emotion. “How dare you! Who do you think sat by you, praying and crying and hurting so badly that I thought I couldn’t breathe? Who stood at the graveside of beautiful, precious Maddie, weeping as they lowered that little coffin? Who stood in the receiving line at the memorial service for Sam and held his mother’s hand while you lay in ICU suspended between life and death?”

  “I’m not denying your sorrow or your pain, but you’re speaking of circumstances, Mom. Circumstances. Incidents that happened. I’m speaking of heart and soul. I am different inside, very different from the woman who existed before that intersection. I am still a caring woman. I know that because I still love you and Dad. But I have learned to have steel in my spine. I had to if I were to recover both physically and emotionally.”

  “Abby, don’t do this. Don’t make me look the heavy while you’re right about everything.”

  “I’m not saying I’m right about everything. I’m saying that I will never again be who I was. Never. I can’t go back to being that dutiful daughter. I don’t want to. Where I might have readily accepted your suggestions before, I can’t and won’t now. Where I might have automatically gone along with your wishes before, I can’t and won’t now. In short, I am learning to think for myself, albeit a bit late.”

  “You’re disobeying Scripture, you know. Children, obey your parents. Honor your father and your mother.”

  “I’m not a child, Mom. I’m an adult answerable to God, not you.”

  “Abby!” Though Abby’s voice was not angry, her words ripped Hannah’s heart like a mighty wrenching would cleave a piece of material in two.

  “My heart’s desire is to honor you,” Abby continued. “I acknowledge that if I don’t do so, I am disobeying God’s injunction. I love you, even though I’m sure you doubt it at the moment. All I’m asking is that you let me be an adult who makes my own choices. Meet me on a level playing field. Let me disagree with you without assuming it means bad things. Let me live my life as I think God wants me to without assuming you have to play Holy Spirit and interpret His leading for me. If I fall into sin, confront me, but if the best for me is just a matter of differing opinions, let me make my own decisions, even if I fall on my face.”

  Hannah opened her mouth to respond, but Abby leaned over, putting a finger across her lips. “No more right now, Mom. I have to go. Marsh is waiting. Just think about what I’ve said. Pray about it. That’s all I ask for the moment.”

  And she was gone, hurrying down the steps to Marsh, leaving her mother alone.
A phone rang again. Hannah realized it was her cell phone ringing. Len. Oh, how she needed him. She hurried inside, grabbed the phone from her purse, and sank onto the sofa.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “How’s it going? Any better than yesterday?”

  “Worse.” She told Len about Abby’s hiding, about Marsh’s protecting her, about Abby’s cruel words. Her voice caught on tears several times.

  “Ah, Han, I’m sorry you’re there to go through this alone.”

  She sniffed. “Thanks.” Just hearing his words of empathy made her feel better.

  “But she’s got a point, you know.”

  Hannah stiffened. “Not you too!” She was unwilling to admit any such thing.

  “Han.” Len’s voice was strong and certain. “We made a mistake. You should not have stayed. That’s her house, not ours. We were incredibly insensitive.”

  “I just don’t like him!” It all came down to Marsh; it was all his fault.

  “I find it interesting that he wouldn’t give her away. I think that’s a good sign.”

  “What are you saying? His helping her lie is good?”

  “Han, I’ve done a lot of thinking and a lot of praying while I’ve been home alone.” He paused for a minute. “Do you remember how your mother felt about me?”

  Hannah made a face. He was going to use their personal history as an argument for Marsh and Abby. But their story was different. Len was different.

  “Do you?”

  “Of course. She didn’t like you.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. She despised me.”

  “You weren’t what she’d imagined for me.”

  “Why did you stand up to her on my behalf?”

  “Because I loved you. Because I knew you were right for me. Because the Lord gave me peace about you.”

  “Was there any concrete reason for her to dislike me?”

  “Of course not. You were a man of godly character. You had a good job. You were kind. She had just closed her mind to the possibility of you because she didn’t like the way you wore your hair. Too long and unkempt. Long hair meant hippie, communes, godless.”

  “Have we closed our minds to Marsh for reasons just as foolish?”