When Darkness Comes

by W. Franklin Lattimore

  She knew that when Brent was finished putting on his uniform he would come down the stairs and make for the kitchen thinking that he would have his always-uneventful cup of coffee. That routine was about to be disrupted, and she already knew that he wasn’t going to like it.

  Tara had decided that it would have proven difficult to present herself as serious while dressed in the pink shorts and tank top that she had worn to sleep, so she waited until Brent entered the shower and then she rolled out of bed, quickly putting on a pair of black jeans and a deep-red, button-up long-sleeve shirt.

  She was going to make an impression before he had a chance to say a word. And her clothing choice was going to help her say, “See me. Notice me. I am your beautiful and not-at-all-happy wife. I have something to say.” Of course, now that she had time to reflect, maybe all it was going to say was “Desperate and needy.”

  It didn’t matter, though. She knew that she just needed to catch him off balance so that she would have time to insert some words of reason before being dismissed as unimportant in the midst of his internal, self-hatred dialogue. He had left her little choice, really. She wasn’t about to let him sink deeper into his mire of guilt-induced anger.

  The man simply didn’t get it. The attack was not his fault, and his inability to do anything during the attack wasn’t his fault, either. He had done nothing wrong.

  Nothing wrong until now.

  His silence during the course of the past two days, and this third, would soon turn into an unannounced, abrupt word of rebuff against her or another angry lash-out against the kids in much the same that had occurred Sunday following church.

  After he had been home from work for little more than an hour the previous day, all three of the kids knew that dad was off limits. And that was just unacceptable.

  Tara had talked to all three of them before they went to bed, assuring them that everything was going to get back to normal. She prayed with each of them individually in his and her own room. The two youngest prayed emotional prayers for their father, while Jenna prayed to really get to the core of the issue.

  Jenna’s intense prayer developed a resolve within Tara to deal with the issue as soon as possible. Maybe it was a Holy-Spirit-developed resolve that burned within her.

  She heard Brent’s heavy footfall as he walked down the stairs. She straightened herself and crossed her arms, deciding to remain against the counter.

  She was nervous.

  This is not right! I should never be nervous about talking with my husband!

  Something like righteous anger rose up within her. “Be angry without sinning.” How appropriate that Scripture verse seemed to be for this moment.

  Brent rounded the corner to her right, fully dressed in his uniform, and entered the kitchen. Upon seeing her, he pulled up short. His mouth dropped open a little bit, as a look of confusion crossed his face. He looked her up and down.

  “Good morning, Honey,” said Tara, taking the initiative.

  He found his voice. “Am I missing something?”

  “That, husband, is the million-dollar question. Isn’t it?”

  Brent walked closer, navigating himself half-way around the island, and then stopped. He placed his right hand on the faux-granite countertop of the island, obviously waiting for what was next.

  Tara dropped her arms to her sides and tried to appear relaxed. She brought herself full upright and walked up to him. She placed her left hand on his right and felt its warmth. He began to withdraw it, but she pressed down to prevent him. She delicately placed her right palm on the center of Brent’s chest, careful not to cause any pain.

  She looked him in the eyes and softly said, “I love you, Brent Lawton.”

  Brent tensed. She could feel it through his hand, and she could see it in his face. His heart started to beat faster under her right hand. He seemed to struggle for a moment, but finally allowed words to escape his mouth. “I know you do.”

  “You know you’re everything to me, don’t you? You were my reward for turning to God twenty-four years ago, and you are still my reward today.”

  She could see the muscles in Brent’s jaw tense. He wasn’t comfortable with what she was saying. She sighed. Good, we’re getting to the heart of this.

  “You are my lover, the leader of my home, and my protector.”

  Brent pulled his hand out from under hers. He stared at her for a brief moment, then said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t protect you.” He stepped to Tara’s right, intending to walk past, but she took an angled step back and to her right to prevent him.

  With a voice of soft intensity she said, “You have never failed me, Brenton Nathaniel Lawton. You have never failed anyone in this house. Don’t you ever believe that about yourself.”

  He stepped to her left, and she tried to counter his progress again. But this time he reached for her shoulders and held her in place, making his way around her to the coffee maker.

  Tara turned to face his back. He opened a cupboard and she could tell that he winced in pain as he reached for an insulated coffee mug and sat it down. He pulled the sugar bowl on the countertop toward him, grabbed a spoon from the drawer to his right, and scooped three tablespoons of sugar into his cup. After filling the mug with coffee and placing a cap on it, he turned to venture the other way around the island.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” directed Tara. She made her way around the opposite end of the island to intercept him before he could head for the front door. She managed to get right into his path before he sidestepped around her and began walking through the living room.

  “Brent, stop!” She managed to keep the words quiet enough to hopefully not wake the kids.

  He did stop, but he didn’t turn around. He was five feet from the door.

  “Talk to me about this, okay? Don’t shut me out anymore.” The words she spoke swung open a floodgate in her soul. “You want to protect me? Protect me here and now! Make me feel safe here and now!” She couldn’t manage any more words. She brought her right hand up to her mouth and began to sob.

  “I love you, Tara.” The words sounded contrived, even callous.

  Without delaying further, Brent walked out the door.

  Brent stepped out of his house and onto the decoratively-curved sidewalk and made his way to the driveway. The front end of his Dodge Charger police cruiser seemed to impersonate the fierceness that coursed through him at that moment.

  Opening the car door and seating himself within the vehicle, he looked up at the front door of the house, half expecting to see Tara standing there. She wasn’t.

  He closed the door, gingerly pulled the seatbelt over himself and secured it, then started the engine and shifted into reverse.

  Reaching the street, he put the car in drive and chirped the tires as he drove away.

  Why did she have to do that?

  TARA STOOD FACING the door, doing what little she could to stop the hurt that wracked her system. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, her only comfort in this painful moment.

  She walked to the couch and collapsed into a sitting position on the soft cushions. Her emotion was threatening her rationality, and she desperately wanted to retreat within herself; into a place where she could be insulated from any further suffering.

  “Don’t, do that, Child.”

  Tara’s heart quickened and she sat straight up, her anguish all but forgotten. Her breathing was heavy, but she tuned her hearing into the silence around her, even cocking her head as if to pick up a sound more clearly.

  She knew that voice.

  She had heard that voice. She hadn’t imagined it.

  She slowed her breathing and listened.

  Silence.

  “Lord?” she whispered.

  Footsteps above her told her that Jenna was now up and about. A slight disappointment struck at her heart. She looked at the clock on the fireplace mantle. 5:35 a.m. She would be meeting her bus in just under an hour.

  Tara
collected herself and stood up. She went to one of the couch’s end tables and grabbed two tissues, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

  Walking to a mirror that was on the wall, left of the fireplace, she looked at her face. Her eyes were a little red and so was her nose.

  Great. I’m going to have to explain.

  She walked into the kitchen. Since she was up, she would make the best of the situation and prepare Jenna some eggs and bacon. It would be a nice little surprise for her and allow Tara to focus on something other than Brent for the time being.

  She grabbed a skillet and frying pan, put them on top of the stove, and turned up a small flame below both. She went to the refrigerator, grabbed butter, the carton of eggs, and the small portion of remaining bacon.

  After just a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the smell of a country breakfast that was actually starting to cause Tara’s stomach to growl. She heard feet lumbering down the stairs.

  “Mom?”

  Tara could hear the surprise in her voice. She was able to put on a genuine smile before looking over from the stove to face her.

  “Good morning, my lovely daughter.”

  “Umm… You never cook breakfast on weekdays.”

  “Oh, but I do. I just wait until I’m able to enjoy breakfast all by myself.”

  “Nice,” responded Jenna, with something that sounded like amused disdain. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

  Tara had her clothing choice to thank for making her next sentence appear valid. “I’ve got something to do this morning, so I thought I would take the opportunity to make the three of you breakfast. I’ll head out after Amy catches her bus.”

  “Errands?” asked Jenna with raised eyebrows.

  Tara couldn’t help but appreciate the humor. She laughed. “No. No errands. I’m going to have breakfast with Jenni Sagan.” Where did that come from?

  “Pastor’s wife? Why?”

  “You’re too nosy.”

  “It’s what I’m good at,” she said with a wry grin. “Because of Dad?”

  “Because of Dad.”

  Jenni, I hope you’re available to make a non-liar out of me!

  8:31 A.M.

  “HELLO?” ANSWERED A friendly female voice on the other end of the line.

  “Jenni? This is Tara Lawton.”

  “Good morning, Tara. How are you?”

  “I suppose I could give you the obligatory ‘I’m good,’ but I’d be lying. And I’m trying to cut back on that.”

  “I’m thinking about giving that up, too. As soon as I get the Lord’s approval.”

  Tara laughed. This woman always had a fun quip.

  “So, you’re not having a good morning, huh? I’m sorry, honey. Is there anything keeping you at home this morning?”

  “Already have my car keys in the ignition, your home address programmed into my GPS, and my driving goggles on,” Tara quipped back.

  This got Jenni laughing. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to reprogram the GPS. I’m at the church with Jonathan this morning.”

  “See you in fifteen minutes?”

  “I’ll be here,” Jenni said with a smile in her voice.

  It was about ten minutes before nine when Tara pulled into the church parking lot. Except for about eight cars, the expansive lot was empty.

  She parked her car and walked into the building. Sarah, the church receptionist looked up and smiled. “Hi, Tara. Jenni asked me to let you know that she’s in Pastor’s office.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tara navigated three hallways before getting to the senior staff wing. The ministry was growing to the point of having to bring on a pastor who would be responsible for the in-home ‘L.I.F.E. Groups’ ministry. Brent and she had periodically attended a group that met not far from their home, but they hadn’t been to it in probably more than three months. They had allowed life to get in the way.

  Life. A little irony there.

  She found Pastor Jonathan’s office and saw them both sitting on a small love seat. They didn’t see her approach, so she gave a soft rap on the door frame.

  “Ah, Tara!” said the pastor as he stood up.

  Jenni got up and walked straight over to her and gave her a tight hug. She had put on just a little bit of weight since they had met back in 1987. She was tall and still very pretty. Her near-dark hair was showing signs of gray at the roots, but she didn’t look like she was in her early fifties.

  “It’s so good to have some one-on-one time with you, Tara! It’s been forever.” She pulled back and looked into Tara’s eyes. “Unless you need some two-on-one time first.” Jenni looked back at her husband who walked up.

  Tara looked at both of them with sad eyes.

  “Come in, Tara,” insisted the pastor. “Have a seat with us.”

  She walked in and the pastor closed the door, offering the privacy she might need to expose her heart.

  Tara sat down on the love seat that Pastor Jonathan offered and Jenni followed suit. Pastor pulled a chair from in front of his desk, sat and leaned forward toward the two women.

  “What is it, honey?” asked Jenni.

  Tara hesitated, not sure where to begin.

  FORTY MINUTES LATER, Tara wrapped up her tale of the Lawton family’s foray into darkness.

  Jonathan and Jenni looked at one another for a moment. Then the pastor pursed his lips before expressing what was foremost on his mind.

  “Brent and I had an understanding. We would keep each other informed about anything pertinent that we discovered in the community. He didn’t say a word to me on Sunday.”

  “He’s eaten up with guilt for having been what he thinks was the weak link on Friday night. I don’t see his male pride get in the way of common sense too often, but when it does… well… you’re seeing it.”

  “Would he mind me calling?”

  “Of course, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I think that he’d rather talk about this with someone that he didn’t feel he’d disappointed.”

  “He’ll know you put me up to it,” the pastor indicated.

  “So?”

  The man chuckled. “Then I’ll give him a call this afternoon.” He looked to be considering something. “You know, I may not have to let the cat out of the bag after all—the cat being you, of course,” he said with a smile. “It’s about time I asked him again if he’s come across anything suspicious. I’ll be able to gauge him by his answer.”

  Jenni spoke up. “Jonathan, you’re being a little bit manipulative. Don’t you think?”

  “Indeed, I am. But I’m also being wise like a serpent and harmless like a dove.” He looked at Tara. “That’s Matthew 10:16,” he said with a wink.

  The call came as he was heading home from work. He looked at his cell phone and thought he should recognize the number. But he couldn’t quite place it. He accepted it.

  “Sergeant Lawton.”

  “Brent. Pastor Jonathan.”

  “Hello, Pastor. What can I do for you?” Brent asked matter-of-factly.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Brent wanted to say yes, but shunned the temptation. “Not at all. Just heading home from work.”

  “Good. Can you swing by the church? I know it’s a few minutes out of your way, but I’d be grateful. I’d like to get a status update on our community situation. Plus I’ve got some additional questions.”

  Now Brent wished he had lied. “Sure, Pastor. Be there in ten minutes.”

  Brent did an illegal U-turn at the next available intersection; one of the perks of getting to drive a squad car, he often mused. Ten minutes later he was walking through the halls of Restoration Community Church. He’d been a part of this church for—he did a quick mental calculation—twenty-seven years. Hard to believe, he thought. Then he thought about how old he was when he’d gotten saved. I’ve been a Christian longer than I haven’t been one. Time sure flies when… He stifled the rest of the thought.

  Reaching the pastor’s of
fice he knocked on the partly-opened door.

  “Come on in, Brent.”

  Brent pushed the door open the remainder of the way and saw the pastor take off a pair of reading glasses and set them on his desk. He got up and met Brent half way.

  “Good to see you. How’re things?”

  The question seemed suspicious, but Brent downplayed it as a normal ice breaker.

  “Not too bad. It’s Millsville, after all. How bad could it be?”

  Pastor Jonathan just smiled in response.

  “How about we have a seat?”

  The pastor pulled a chair back a couple feet from the front of his desk, then walked around to his own.

  Brent accepted the invitation and sat down, crossing his right leg over his left.

  “It’s been better than a week since we had the pleasure of time with you and Tara. That prior Thursday, if you’ll recall, we had some spiritual commotion amongst our intercessors. Well, it happened again this past Thursday. Frankly, people are getting worried. They’re convinced something’s about to happen.”

  Brent nodded, but didn’t say anything. I don’t want to get into this, God. Not exactly a prayer, more of an insistence that God comply.

  He didn’t.

  “What’s the news from the streets? Any new details you can share to shed light on all of this?”

  Great.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. There has been a lot of headway made when it comes to information. Suffice it to say, the intercessors are right to feel the way they do. A week ago, Monday, Tara and Jenna came across some interesting tattoos in Pittston…”

  Brent brought the pastor up to speed with everything that had happened. Almost everything. The man didn’t need to know about the strain all of this was having on his relationship with Tara … and the kids.

  “You’ve had information for eight days, Brent? This church, and other churches in the community could have been praying about this for eight days!”