God Bless the Broken Road

by Jennifer Dornbush

  “Oh, Darren. I’m so sorry.” Cleansing tears flow.

  “What can I do? I’m worried I’ve lost them. Please. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Patti hangs her head. No more words come.

  The sun’s rays fall over her body, melting the chill and spreading warmth to her core. It’s the nicest, most peaceful feeling she’s been granted in a while.

  She stays kneeling bedside her son’s grave for a long, long time.

  chapter fifty-two

  The Hunting Cabin

  THE MUD-BROWN HUNTING cabin, with its peeling paint and sloping roof, is a great big disappointment and a great big relief all wrapped up together. Amber pulls her van into the dirt drive. The grass is withered in patches and struggling to survive everywhere else. Straggly remains of bushes line the front of the shack. Scraps of garbage have blown into the crevices of the cheerless landscape, and the windows are blocked out with some sort of black material draped on the inside. Amber struggles to take in the enormity of her downfall.

  “Are we gonna get out?” Bree asks from the passenger seat, the wilted Matt cupped safely on her lap.

  “Yeah, honey. And . . . um, welcome to our new home.”

  Bree doesn’t say anything as she unclicks her seat belt, scrutinizing the new dwelling with her little brown eyes.

  “Do you think there are any kids to play with around here?” Bree scans the sparse lakeside neighborhood, where most of the homes look unoccupied. Probably seasonal rentals.

  “Yeah. Probably.” Amber hadn’t even thought about the neighborhood friends Bree is leaving behind.

  She makes herself exit the van and unloads the last few boxes onto the drive. Bree steps out, balancing her mustard plant in one hand. Amber is not blind to the healthy skepticism growing on Bree’s face as she scans the cabin.

  “Joe says he put our boxes in the living room. Shall we take a look inside?”

  “I think it’s haunted!” Amber follows Bree’s eyes, glued to a wispy curtain flapping in the breeze through a screenless back window.

  Amber smiles. “No. It’s not. I bet Joe left a window open to air the place out for us.”

  Bree shakes her head. She isn’t buying it.

  An SUV pulls in, and Karena and Bridgette emerge with cleaning supplies and fresh energy.

  “Hey, you two,” says Karena. “Thought you might need a hand.”

  Bree rushes over and gives them both a hug. Amber strings along behind her, glad for their perfect timing. “Hey, ladies. This is a surprise.”

  “Many hands, light work. More girl time,” Bridgette adds.

  “You guys, really? You’ve done enough already,” says Amber.

  “You’re gonna need all the help you can get. I stopped by yesterday, and I don’t think Great-Uncle Charlie ever put a mop to this place.”

  “Ugh. That bad, huh?” Amber says.

  “Hey, a little elbow grease, and this will feel like home before dinner,” says Bridgette.

  “I really think it’s haunted in there,” Bree insists as a tiny gray patch of fur scuttles along the side of the house.

  “There’re mice!” Amber shrieks.

  Bridgette jumps back into Karena’s arms.

  “Okay, okay—now I’m really glad you’re here!” says Amber.

  Karena produces a package of three mousetraps. “Uncle Charlie already warned me. You ready to go in?” she asks. “I promise it’s not haunted. But I can show you a few places I used to use as hiding spots when I was a kid!”

  Bree grips Karena’s hand. Amber grips Bree’s hand. And Bridgette takes Amber’s hand. The three of them nod, and Karena leads them into the compact hunting shack decorated in “early attic” and a thick layer of dust. After walking through three cobwebs and finding a dead mouse in the sink, Amber retreats to the living room. “Let’s get those traps set up. Now,” begs Amber with a wilting look.

  “I know it’s a bit of an adjustment, Amber, but this can be a good home. You just need to have a little faith to see it,” says Karena.

  “I know. I’m trying.” There is a bright side to this. There is. There is. I know there is.

  “Maybe a coat of paint will help,” Bridgette says. “And the price is great. Think how much you can save.”

  Amber desperately wants to believe this is better. But she can’t help comparing the downgrade to what she just came from.

  “Mom, there’s a bucket of dirty water in the tub with some green stuff floating in it,” says Bree, wrinkling her nose as she comes from the back of the cabin, where the bathroom is located.

  “Oh, disgusting,” Karena and Bridgette chime in tandem.

  “We’ll take care of it, honey,” says Amber. “Why don’t you unpack your clothes into the dresser for me?”

  “Okay. And where can I put Matt?” Bree says, Matt still cradled in her hands.

  “I’m not sure Matt is gonna need—”

  “The bedroom window gets the most light,” Karena offers.

  “Can I put him on the windowsill, Mom?”

  Amber shrugs. “I guess so.”

  After she leaves, Amber turns to Bridgette and Karena. “That plant isn’t going to grow. It’s nearly dead.”

  “Maybe. But I love that Bree has the faith to believe it will,” says Bridgette.

  “Childlike faith. The most precious gift of God,” adds Karena wistfully.

  “I could use a little of that right now.”

  “Oh, I know it’s still there, Amber,” says Bridgette. “Buried but fighting, just like that little sprout in Bree’s pot.”

  “Give it time. Whether you believe it or not, God’s got you in the palm of His hand at this very moment—dust, mice, dirty buckets, and all.”

  “With a beautiful plan for the rest of your life,” adds Bridgette, not dropping her usual air of hopefulness. She knows Bridgette means well. But at the moment, it’s just totally annoying.

  “All I feel is defeated . . . and grimy. Let’s degrunge this place,” Amber says, heading to the bathroom. “Starting with the shower.” She looks inside the tub and her stomach turns. “Ladies. This is the last straw!”

  Karena and Bridgette rush to her side. The bucket of floating algae stares back at them.

  “What was Uncle Charlie thinking?” Karena asks.

  Amber tips her gaze toward the ceiling. “That’s what.” She points at a sagging spot in the ceiling where water has leaked through for who knows how long.

  “I’ll let Uncle Charlie know he’s gonna be getting a repair bill soon,” says Karena, clicking her tongue.

  “Let’s hoist this outta here and then give this bathroom a scrub down,” says Bridgette. “Girls, hands on the handle. We got this!”

  Three hands latch on to the bucket’s metal handle. “One, two, three!” says Karena. And they lift the five-gallon bucket of filth over the edge of the tub and waddle out of the bathroom, through the house, and into the yard, where the bucket’s contents get dumped near a tree.

  Amber sees a hose connected to a faucet on the side of the cabin. “I think I’ll rinse it out and use it for something. It’s still a good bucket.”

  “Amber, that bucket is a nice metaphor for your life,” says Karena.

  “You’ve completely lost me.”

  “That dirty bucket of water is like all the stuff you’ve been holding on to. Anger. Fear. Sorrow.”

  “It’s called grieving, Karena.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with grief. But when it starts to clog up your life like that bucket of algae, that’s when you need to clean it out. How much of your grief have you shared with God?”

  Amber doesn’t answer.

  Karena points to a clean bucket overflowing with water. “Give Him every nasty, despairing feeling that you have, and He will refresh your life with new springs of water,” says Karena in that singsongy church voice she uses when she gets preachy.

  Amber does an inward eye roll. Here she goes again.

  “Doesn’t t
hat sound good?” Karena brings them all in for a hug. “We can do it right now with a prayer.”

  Bridgette and Karena bow their heads. Amber loosens herself from the huddle.

  “I’m gonna rinse that bucket now,” she says, heading to the spigot on the side of the house. One look at the rusty knob gives her pause. She attempts to turn it on, but it won’t give an inch. She keeps wrestling with it, wrenching her wrist with the torque.

  Does everything in her life have to be jammed up?

  She kicks at the spigot, cracking the knob at the base. Water fire-hoses her. An instant soaking.

  Friendly laughter breaks out from across the yard as Bridgette and Karena dash to her side.

  “You feeling refreshed yet?” Karena says.

  Amber shakes off like a dog, spraying them both.

  * * *

  AMBER TUCKS BREE’S sleeping body under the covers and slips into her half of the queen bed they now share. She lies back, window cracked open to let in the spring breeze. She listens to the sounds outside of the cabin. More nature. More darkness. More stillness. A thousand times quieter than their house in town.

  The black drapes covering the windows have been torn down and her sheer curtains make shallow breaths in and out of the window frame. The mingled smells of disinfectant, lemon, vinegar, and wood soap have overpowered the musty, mildewy odors that were trapped in the cabin. She and Bridgette put a temporary patch on the shower ceiling. And now Amber’s skin feels refreshed and silky after a long shower in the spick-and-span white ceramic tub.

  Today they made a good start on the cleaning. But it’s only the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more to do. The graying walls of the bedroom beg for a fresh coat of paint. And she’ll want to install some shelves in the closet. The old shag carpet on the bedroom floor still carries a faint odor of kitty urine and mildew. When Amber peeled back a corner of the carpet, she found gorgeous oak floors hiding underneath. Perhaps she can convince Great-Uncle Charlie to rip out the carpet and let her refinish the wood, the way she and Darren did in the upstairs bedrooms of their house. Her old house. Former home. Former life.

  She reaches for the night-light, her gaze landing on her Bible that she knows Karena placed there—Hint! Hint!—when she was unpacking the bedroom. It doesn’t bring feelings of anger or disgust. In fact, Amber finds some comfort seeing it there.

  She leans over and takes the Bible, cracking it open to reveal the still-sealed letter from Darren tucked in the middle. Her eyes land on his familiar handwriting, yet it feels oddly distant having this piece of Darren in a space he’s never occupied. These were Darren’s last words to her. She considers opening it but, like so many times before, can’t bring herself to do it; questions paralyze her. What if there is nothing special in here at all? What if it’s just a record of events on the field? But what if it is of lasting importance? What if it could change her world? What if she’s withholding something Bree needs to know? Or what if the words are so powerful they slice open her wounds all over again? Would she ever recover?

  No. Not today. She can’t hear Darren’s last words today.

  Amber tucks the letter back into the Bible and lays her head on the pillow.

  Her body is exhausted from the hard day’s toil, but her restless mind spins with one disturbing thought. How are she and Bree ever going to be able to crawl out of this hole she put them in? She doesn’t mean to be ungrateful. There’s a roof over their heads. Food in the fridge. But if God has a beautiful plan for them, why do things look so dingy and helpless? And why can’t she get out of this funk?

  Amber thinks of that filthy bucket and its soupy, moldy contents. She feels the weight of her own inner sludge. She fears that if she pours it all out, she’ll just be empty. Clear to the endless bottom. The transparency is frightening.

  The wind picks up and blows the wispy curtain across Matt’s pot. Amber realizes that Bree has balanced him crookedly across the window ledge, an accident waiting to happen. And she can’t bear the thought of cleaning up one more thing in this place tonight. Amber slips out of bed and stabilizes the pot inside the ledge. She sees that some of the dirt has been knocked to one side. Amber pats it evenly around the green nub.

  There. That’s better. Wait. How crazy is this? Here she is, up at midnight, fussing over this silly wilted sprout that she doesn’t believe has a chance.

  But why else would she be doing this unless she thought it might actually . . .

  Childlike faith.

  Maybe it is still there. Sunk somewhere at the bottom of that gloppy bucket.

  Maybe Karena was right. It can’t surface because of all the sludge.

  chapter fifty-three

  I Said No!

  BREE ISN’T IN her classroom after school. And she isn’t in the gym or the playground. The teacher hasn’t seen her leave, but her coat and bag are not in her storage cube. Amber is on the verge of panic as she dials Patti. Is this one of the days Patti picks her up? With all the moving and her fight with Patti, Amber isn’t sure if their old arrangement is even still in effect. She hasn’t communicated with her since auction day.

  “Patti. It’s Amber. Is Bree with you?”

  Patti says no and asks why.

  “Because she isn’t at school. And she should be.”

  Patti reminds Amber that it’s Wednesday. Kart club day.

  “Of course,” says Amber nonchalantly. “I’ve been so busy I forgot what day it is. Thanks for your help.” She quickly hangs up in a panic, cutting Patti short.

  Kart club! That kid better be there. And if she is, boy, is she in trouble!

  During the two-minute drive from school to Joe’s Auto, Amber gives herself a small moment to play out what is about to happen at Joe’s. She is furious that Bree has disobeyed her. She doesn’t want to overreact. But here she is again, faced with the discipline dilemma. If she grounds Bree, what privileges could she possibly take away from her? She doesn’t have a TV or Internet at the cabin. And the only other things that are important to Bree are David, Matt, and church. Positive things don’t deserve negative consequences. Why can’t she just listen?

  Pulling into Joe’s, Amber decides to think about it later. Now, she has to extract Bree without making a huge scene, and— if possible—avoid Cody. She swings her van into an open parking space and looks over to see Cody’s Firebird, inflaming her annoyance. She gets out and slams the door.

  Amber pounds into Joe’s, stone-faced and exhausted, and is met by a bustle of kids and karts. The smell of the sawdust and paint overwhelm her as she searches the area for her daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, Amber sees Cody’s lean, muscular figure zigzagging through the maze of materials toward her.

  Before she can dodge him, Cody meets her at the door with a smile. “Hey, Amber. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

  “Where’s Bree?” Amber says curtly.

  “By her kart. Over there. Outside. She’s giving it a test-drive.”

  Amber’s gaze stretches out over the parking lot to where Bree’s pink go-kart weaves around an oval track made from old tires. She’s wearing her pink helmet and is intensely focused on her driving as she glances back, trying to get David off her bumper.

  It will be punishment enough to drag Bree from this.

  “The kart looks great, doesn’t it? She did such a good job,” says Cody proudly.

  Amber ignores Cody, her eyes on Bree as she heads outside toward the track.

  “Amber. Wait!” says Cody, going after her.

  Bree’s kart pops around the corner, and she sees her mother standing in the middle of the track. Her eyes go wide, and she immediately knows she’s in trouble. Her foot comes off the gas as she swerves to the left and coasts to a stop a few feet beyond Amber.

  “Bree. Come on. We’re going.”

  “I don’t wanna go,” she calls from her kart, not looking back.

  At that moment, David’s kart rounds the corner and he nearly runs Amber over. Amber leaps out of th
e way as David slams on the brakes, skidding to a stop next to Bree.

  “Amber. Please. Get off the track!” Cody insists as he blows his whistle and the other riders pull to the side.

  Bree doesn’t budge.

  From the sidelines Amber hollers, “You’re done with this. Let’s go, young lady!”

  This hits Cody like a ton of bricks. “You’re pulling her from the club?”

  “I pulled her from the club a couple of weeks ago. But she came here anyway. Without my knowing it. She’s probably been coming all along.”

  Cody nods slightly. It’s true.

  “That’s not fair,” David whines from his kart. Amber shoots him a look, and he bows his head into his chest, afraid to say another peep.

  “Amber, wait a minute . . .” starts Cody, moving toward her across the track. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, or I would’ve told you.”

  “This is not your concern. Bree, get your things.”

  “No!” Bree grips the wheel tighter with both hands.

  Amber marches back out onto the track to Bree’s kart. She grabs her by both arms and yanks her hands off the wheel. “Get in the car! Now!”

  “Mom! No!”

  Amber lifts Bree out of the kart and stands her on the track. “I went to school looking for you. You outright disobeyed me.”

  “I don’t see why . . .” Bree quickly shuts up under Amber’s seething expression.

  “Hey, Amber. Everything okay here?” Joe’s voice from the garage suddenly makes Amber realize that she is creating the exact chaos she’d hoped to avoid. She glances around. Joe’s gentle eyes scrutinize her as he methodically wipes his hands on a grease cloth. “Something I can do to help?”

  “No, Joe. We’re just leaving,” Amber says as she takes Bree by the arm and marches her to the van. Bree’s face turns red as she holds back her tears.

  Amber opens the door, and Bree jumps into the van. Cody dashes around to Amber’s side.

  “Amber, please. She’s just a kid. She loves it here. And we love having her here.”