Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

  Kevin leaned back in the chair, his feet kicked up on the questioning table. He looked to Marco. Marco looked stressed. Marco leaned against the table, obviously wondering what had gone so terribly wrong. It was the same look that Marco always had when Kevin saw him.

  A box of donuts sat before them—a gift from the officers for the kids. Sugar. Just what they needed. At least Krispy Kremes didn’t have any red food dye. He’d heard that was really bad on kids.

  “I’m calling my lawyer,” Kevin mumbled to the officer who waited with them.

  “Have a donut.” Bailey stretched a half-eaten one out to him.

  Kevin leaned forward and took a bite.

  He couldn’t wait to see Allyson’s face. He couldn’t wait until Sean explained what had happened tonight. Beck getting stuck. The bird—the dead bird. The car chase.

  The kids had quite an adventure, that was certain. They’d probably be scarred for life.

  Kevin let a smile lift his lips. The best part was, he had nothing to do with it. He hadn’t lost Beck. He hadn’t killed the bird. He hadn’t even been driving the van.

  He’d even fixed the radio.

  Yes, as much as Allyson would hate it, he was the hero tonight.

  And that just made everything a whole lot better.

  Kevin took another bite of the donut that Bailey held out and grinned even wider.

  Being a real hero was better than a triple kill.

  ***

  An officer slowly approached the see-through door of their jail cell, and Sondra perked up. They’d been sitting motionless for the last ten minutes, and Sondra felt as if all the energy had been sapped from her. It most likely had.

  Now there was hope.

  The officer stood before the glass-fronted door. “You ladies, front and center.”

  Without a sound they rose and walked to the door.

  “Hello ladies. I’m Sergeant Murphy. We’ve been filling out a lot of paperwork trying to figure out this mess. But for now . . . stay calm. Can you do that for me?”

  Sondra looked to the other two women. Both Izzy and Bridget looked to her. She’d seen that look a hundred times, no make that a thousand. They needed her to be the strong one. To be the example.

  “I’m—I’m calm.” The sergeant breathed in a slow breath. He clutched a powered donut in his hand, as if clinging to a lifeline. “I feel very calm. Can we all stay calm?”

  Sondra nodded and the other two followed suit.

  “Good then.” He looked to Sondra and then took a bite from his donut. “You have a visitor.”

  He took one step back, and motioned to someone with one finger. Within a second a blur moved forward. The blur was Zoe, rushing into the place where he’d just stood.

  Zoe pressed her hands, her face, to the glass. “Mom!” she cried out.

  Zoe’s warm breath fogged on the glass of the jail cell door. It reminded Sondra of when Zoe was five and she used to fog up the windows in the back seat of the car of cold winter days and then draw on it. Where had time gone? Where did that little girl go?

  Sondra rushed forward. She placed her hands on the glass so her hands matched up with her daughters. “Zoe! Why are you in jail?”

  Zoe’s head jerked back slightly and she shook her head. Her eyes widened even more. “I’m not in jail. You are!”

  Sondra’s mouth dropped open, and she realized Zoe was right. Zoe was on the outside of the jail cell, and she was on the inside . . . how had this happened?

  “I’ve been in the back filling out a missing person’s report,” Zoe said. “But you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive!” Tears came to her eyes. “I . . . I called the restaurant and they said your car had been stolen. And I called dad—he’s with Sean—and he said you were in trouble and . . . I got so freaked out that I drove over here in his car, which was . . . AWESOME.” Zoe’s face transfixed to one of pure pleasure, and then realizing her mistake it turned sorrowful again. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So you . . . didn’t go out with Steve?” Sondra’s words were clearer, and her mind was too. It was starting to make sense now. She’d been worried—freaked out—about Zoe for no reason.

  “What? Him? No! Ew.” Zoe’s face scrunched up as if she’d just stepped in dog poop. “He’s a total player. You were right. I looked on Facebook. I’m his #3.”

  “Ahh.” Sondra released a happy, contented breath. “Ahh, Zoe.” “Go ahead and say it.” The emotion came back to her daughter’s face, only this time it was a mix of worry and resolve. “You were right, I know. I’m a pastor’s daughter. I should be perfect.” “No, Zoe.” The words shot from Sondra’s lips. “That’s not it at all. I love you, and I am proud of you.” Warmth filled her chest as she said those words, and Sondra realized how very true they were.

  Why had she been so hard on her daughter? Why had she worked so hard to tame her and control her? Teenage Zoe was not teenage Sondra. Zoe loved God. Zoe had standards. Yes, she needed advice, but as Sondra was discovering, Zoe knew how to discover truth—the truth about people and God’s truth—on her own. And isn’t that what any mother wanted for a daughter? Someone who could stand on her own two feet and who could make a wise choice when push came to shove, not because someone directed her, but because of the wisdom she’d stored up deep inside?

  “I just . . . don’t want you to go through the pain of making the same mistakes . . . that I did,” Sondra confessed. “I was wild, Zoe.” Her tone grew serious. “I was a wild child, and there’s something you should know about me.”

  Sondra placed her hands behind her back, and tugged at her white blouse, pulling it out from her skirt. Then she turned with her back to her daughter. “I have a tattoo.”

  Emotion caught in her throat like a T-bone steak, and she couldn’t swallow it away. She lifted up her blouse a little higher, making sure that Zoe could get a full view.

  Sondra pinched her lips together. She blinked her eyes slowly, trying to hold back her tears. Sondra held her breath, waiting for Zoe’s response.

  She couldn’t see the horror on her daughter’s face, but she could imagine it. She saw Izzy’s reaction though. Her eyes were wide, so wide they nearly filled her large glasses. And Izzy’s mouth was open so big that Bones could drive into it and park his chopper inside. Even Bridget seemed surprised, and she turned and looked at Izzy.

  Sondra wasn’t surprised by their reaction. They’d seen the worst of her tonight, and she didn’t know if they’d ever look at her the same. But in a strange way it was also freeing. Burdens were heavy and hard to carry around. Her heart had been carrying this one around for a very long time, and just knowing that this was no longer a secret made her feel lighter, as if it was only her shoes that held her to the ground.

  Finally Zoe spoke. “Is—is that a . . . face?” Her voice seemed both shocked and horrified.

  “It’s Donny Osmond,” Sondra blurted out, and then she held back a sniffle. “Mad crush. I was gonna have it removed but . . .” She shrugged. “It’s kinda starting to look like your dad.”

  “Ick . . .” Zoe spat the word. “I’m never getting a tattoo!” “Thank You, Jesus,” Sondra muttered to herself. She lifted her eyes heavenward and then added, “Thank you, Donny.”

  Sondra turned around and looked at her daughter, realizing her daughter knew her secret too, and still loved her. Sharing her past hadn’t pulled them apart, rather it had brought them together. Sondra vowed then that she’d stop all her hiding. She’d stopping keeping everyone at bay with fears they wouldn’t like who she really was, or they judge her.

  And she’d start right away . . . well, right after she got out of this jail cell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Allyson stared up at the ceiling of the police station waiting room, wondering what to do now. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was nothing she could do. Bridget was right. Sondra was right. She’d done too much already. There was no way to fix this—to redeem it. So with slumped shoulders she he
aded over toward Bones.

  Allyson slowly sank down into the metal chair beside him. She set her small purse next to her in the empty seat.

  “All my friends are in jail, Bones.”

  “I know how that feels,” he said.

  Allyson fixed her eyes on the wall straight in front of her. “I’m a failure. I have failed again. It’s all I do.”

  Bones said nothing. He gave no answer. Instead, he just halfturned to listen and to take it all in.

  “I had a plan.” She splayed her fingers for emphasis and pressed her lips together. “I was going to help myself, and help my friends unplug and have fun,” Allyson confessed. “And then Bridget . . . happened, and I thought I could fix that too.”

  A disheartened laugh split from her lips. “Instead . . . I can’t.”

  She held her words in, trying to find the right ones. She turned away from him, hoping he didn’t notice the tears pooling in her eyes. “I can’t get in front of it. No matter how much I try.” She sucked in a long breath and then released it. “No matter how much I give, I just . . . I’m not enough.”

  Finally Bones turned to her. She expected a lecture, or a really good pep talk, but instead only two words slipped out.

  “For who?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Not enough for who?”

  “I mean, Sean. My kids.” Her eyelids fluttered. “My mother. God. Everybody . . . I don’t know.”

  “You?” Bones’s voice was gentle.

  She finally turned to him, fixing her eyes on his.

  “You’re not enough for you?'’”

  She understood and nodded, letting his words sink in. Yes, that was exactly right. All her life she thought she knew what type of wife she’d be, what type of mom she’d be, but she’d fallen so painfully short. A heaviness overwhelmed her, and she felt the size of an ant. Her expectations were like big shoes stomping around her, squishing her again and again and again.

  Bones sucked in a deep breath, and then he released it slowly. He laced his fingers together and then set them on his lap. “I was raised in church,” he finally said.

  Allyson raised her eyebrows and then lowered them, trying not to be surprised.

  “This might come as a surprise, but I’ve since . . . drifted from the faith.” He made a swooshing motion with his hand, as if being washed away by a wave.

  “Ah . . .” She nodded, again looking at him, fixing her eyes on his. “Shocker.”

  He tilted his head back slightly, as if looking for the right words. Or maybe trying to be brave enough to speak them.

  “My mama worked three jobs. Never met my daddy. I had to get up early and walk to school but I’d wait up for her coming home from the diner. I’d wait up every night.”

  Memories flickered in his eyes, and from what Allyson could tell they were sweet ones.

  “’Cause she’d come home and she’d put me to bed and tell me something. She’d tell me the same thing every night. ‘He loves you, Charles. No matter who you are, what you do, how far you run. Jesus will always be lovin’ you with His arms open wide. Just for bein’ you.’ Then I’d smile and go off to sleep.”

  Tears came then, and she couldn’t stop them. Allyson thought of her own sweet boys. She didn’t work three jobs, and she was with them all day, but did she take enough time to tell them that? Did she remind them about Jesus’ love? Or did she spend so much time on all the good things that she did for them that she forgot to point out all the best things?

  Bones sucked in a deep breath and she turned to him. He was blurry through her tears. His face looked softer too. Talking about his mama he’d lost his hard edge.

  “You know, I saw something on Pinterest the other day,” Bones said.

  Had she heard him right? Ally’s eyes grew wide.

  “It was an eagle just caring for its young.”

  Her lower lip quivered, and she knew where he was going with this. Or at least she thought she did, because that same image had drawn her—drawn Sondra—too.

  “It’s a beautiful thing to watch one of God’s creations just doing what it was made to do,” Bones continued, waving his hand. “Just being an eagle, and that’s enough.”

  He turned to her. “Ya’ll spend so much time beating yourselves up, it must be exhausting.”

  Her hand covered her mouth, and she tried to hold in her emotion.

  “Lemme tell you something, girl. I doubt the Good Lord made a mistake giving your kiddos the mama He did. So just be . . . you. He’ll take care of the rest.”

  If Allyson hadn’t seen those words coming out of Bones’s mouth she wouldn’t have believed them. She’d expect something like that from Pastor Ray, but hearing it from Bones tugged at her heart even more. He was an unlikely prophet, sent to speak to her at an unlikely time. Only God could do something like that.

  Allyson wiped away a tear, sniffling as she did. “That was really. . . profound, Bones.”

  “What? What’d I say? What did I say? Was it good?” He straightened in his seat.

  A giggle erupted then, breaking free the dam of emotion welling up in her. She laughed and then wiped away a tear.

  “Pinterest? Really?”

  Bones laughed along with her. “Yeah, I don’t go on Pinterest much anymore.” He sighed and shook his head. “Everybody’s tats are better than mine.”

  She laughed harder and doing so caused a soothing balm to flow over her soul.

  It wasn’t just Bone’s humor that made the laughter come. There was something else inside. A splash of joy.

  Were they true, Bone’s words? Was she enough? Had God made her enough just as she was? Was she enough just in being who she was . . . no matter how well she performed?

  Allyson had never expected such wisdom from this old hardened biker, but she’d take it. She could also see something in his eyes too: Hope. It was as if words had stirred a memory, and that memory had stirred a longing for something lost. Something he could regain . . .

  Allyson hoped she wasn’t reading something into his gaze that wasn’t there. Could this moment, this shared wisdom, be as much for Bones as it was for her?

  An officer approached, and Allyson quickly wiped her tears away.

  “Ma’am, can you come with me?” he asked. And so she did. Allyson rose and walked with a lightness to her step. She knew she’d walk away from this night being different than she’d gone into it . . . and one of the main reasons was unexpected. It was because of Bones, and his willingness to tell her what he saw. To hold up a mirror and let her gaze at her reflection. And as Allyson did, she realized that things—many things—were different than how she’d been looking at them. Mainly her life. Mostly herself.

  ***

  Allyson hurried over to the jail cell door. Izzy stood in the window of the door, looking forlorn. Lost. Like the time when she was ten and her little puppy had run away from home. Izzy’s puppy never had come back, but thankfully tonight things had been cleared up.

  The officer opened the door. “Another visitor,” he said with a stern voice . . . yet even as he said those words Allyson noted a twinkle in his eyes.

  Allyson stepped forward into Izzy’s view.

  Izzy stepped out into the hall. “Ally, get me out of here!”

  Allyson nodded. “Yes, I just cleared up the misunderstanding with the van. Just saw Marco and all our kids.”

  “Your kids too?” Izzy’s jaw dropped.

  “Yep. Don’t ask. Everyone is fine.” Allyson handed her a small, clear plastic bag. “And here’s your stuff.”

  Relief flooded Izzy’s face. “Where—where are they?”

  “They’re waiting in an interrogation room,” Allyson explained.

  Izzy flipped her head around and glared at the officer. “Interrogation room?”

  The police captain lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “Only because the kids wouldn’t stop playing with the finger print equipment!

  Allyson put her hand on Izzy’s shoulder, regainin
g her attention, and then she extended her van keys to her. “So can you take my van and watch my kids for a couple of hours?”

  “Sure . . . why?” Izzy leaned in closer.

  Allyson glanced into the jail cell. She focused on Bridget who is still sitting there. Bridget’s head was lowered and her hands were folded. Her forehead is resting on her hands, and she looked as if she’d lost everything. Allyson knew that feeling wouldn’t go away until Bridget held little Phoenix in her arms again.

  Izzy nodded to Bridget, understanding.

  “Follow me,” the officer said to Izzy. She obediently followed.

  Ally hurried into the cell. She paused. Bridget didn’t even look up, and Allyson’s heart went out to her.

  The young woman had faced so much in her growing-up years. She was the youngest, the baby, and had always tried to act more mature than she was. She’d tried to find love, and she’d found heartbreak instead. She’d tried to do her best to care for her son while going to school and working, and now this . . .

  Allyson sat down next to her.

  “Hey, Bridg.”

  Bridget didn’t look her in the eye. Instead, she fiddled with her watch. “I bet you think I’m an awful person, right? Worst mother ever.” She picked up her plaid shirt and turned in over in her hands.

  Mindless movement, Allyson supposed, to get Bridget’s mind off the burdens of her heart.

  Allyson gritted her teeth. “I know how that feels.” Did all mothers feel like this? Feel like they were the only ones who didn’t have their act together. She was starting to think so.

  “But you have it all figured out, right?” Bridget’s tone was solemn.

  Allyson pressed her back harder against the concrete wall. She shook her head and blinked her eyes, unable to hold back her humored smile. “Not even one little bit.”

  She glanced over at Bridget and saw that the tough girl, the rude girl, the bossy girl personas that she’d always tried to portray was gone. One could only wear those masks for so long.

  There always came a time—no matter how one tried—when one felt too helpless, too weak to keep them up. Bridget had come to this place. Tears rimmed her eyes, and her lower lip trembled.