Sienna’s bright, small gamine face appeared in her mind, complete with the dancing eyes upturned saucily on the sides. The small pink mouth was almost always stretched into a smile or chattering about something or other, and the teen’s diminutive hands were always gesturing or moving about as well. Tamara could not help but smile as she thought of her then—Sienna, a small whirlwind of motion, a compact cyclone packed with energy!
“Oh, Sienna, it is true that sometimes you say the wrong thing at the wrong time!” she whispered. And attitude? Sienna Larson had enough attitude for five or six people, Tamara thought wryly. Though she would never admit it to the girl, the truth was, Tamara rather admired her spunky nature—the teen spoke her mind, and no one would ever steamroll Sienna!
Even if Sienna was totally out of bounds with her attitude and conversation at times, there was no denying that she was always animated and full of life. She simply lit up the room with her presence. No, she could not imagine this world without Sienna Larson. In fact, she really could not imagine her own life without the girl now, and surprisingly, she didn’t even want to.
Tamara recalled the inexplicable beauty of Sienna’s singing that day when she’d accepted the Lord into her life. Unexpectedly, the girl’s voice had drawn her in, and Tamara was no longer aware of where she was, and was unconcerned about everyone else in the room. All she heard that morning was the sweetness in Sienna’s tone, and the lovely lyrics of song the girl sang, and it was that sweet purity that had drawn her to God. Yes, one thing was true: Sienna’s voice was surely a powerful gift, and the world deserved to hear it.
Sienna Larson and Yvette—sisters, she thought again in amazement. I should have seen the similarities. I suppose I was totally blinded by the difference in the girls’ coloring, and the dissimilarity of their demeanors, but then again, I guess it was just not what I was looking for at all. All this time, my interest was in locating Yvette’s family, and it never occurred to me that Sienna could be part of that.
Old thoughts replayed themselves in her head, and Tamara began to have a familiar discussion with herself. It was the system, she thought disdainfully, the screwed-up system that caused all of this, really. What kind of system took children from their homes, causing them to lose their identity in the process? How could these children ever feel whole when they didn’t know who they were, where they came from, and who they were even related to?
“What a mess!” she said angrily. Her voice was so loud that the flight attendant, who was without much to do on the almost empty flight, came running over to see if she needed something again.
“I’m sorry for the noise . . . I don’t want anything,” Tamara said quietly when she saw the woman standing there.
She watched the flight attendant walk away, and once she was gone, Tamara closed her eyes again, and tears squeezed out from under her lashes. This changed a lot, she thought, but then she realized that actually it did not, because in reality everything had already changed well before she knew that Maurice was Sienna’s father. Unexpectedly, she had become quite attached to Sienna. Though she’d been uncomfortable at times with the entire process, in retrospect she really was quite pleased with many of the changes that had occurred in her life in the past months since the teen had come to live with her.
While she was lost in her thoughts the time flew by, and now the plane was making its slow descent onto the runway. Tamara sighed, and after a moment she wiped her eyes once more and found her cell phone inside her bag.
“Mrs. Jackson?” Tamara asked once she heard the woman’s voice at the end of the line. Absentmindedly she played with one of the small CZ earrings that Sienna had given her for Christmas.
“Yes, this is she. Tamara? Is that you?”
Tamara started to speak rapidly, her adrenaline suddenly running high and her thoughts still awhirl: “Yes, Mrs. Jackson, it’s me. I am on my way home now. Instead of staying the extra day, I took an earlier flight out. Something happened while I was there. Something quite unexpected happened. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I will say that I’ve inadvertently found Sienna’s father.”
There was long, almost eerie silence at the end of the line.
Suddenly concerned, Tamara asked falteringly, “M-Mrs. J-Jackson, are you still there?”
Mrs. Jackson sighed loudly before answering in a voice that seemed vague and distant, “I’m here, baby girl . . . I’ve got something to tell you, though. I didn’t want to call you while you were out there, but I am glad that you are on the way home. Sienna is gone, Tamara. She ran away last night, and we haven’t heard one word from her.”
In disbelief, Tamara asked, “Sienna? Gone?”
Sighing again, Mrs. Jackson replied, “Yes, baby girl, she’s gone. Don’t you worry, though. These kids do this sometimes, and they usually come right on back in a day or two.”
Tamara’s heart sank, and fear clenched her chest as she remembered the ugly words she’d yelled at the girl so unfeelingly during the big argument they’d had days ago.
“Tamara? Don’t you worry now . . . just come on home.”
“Okay,” she replied. Unable to say more, Tamara hung up the telephone and held it in her lap. Tears began to overflow from her eyes and run slowly down her face, and she no longer tried to hide them.
Tamara knew she was hurting the girl when she said the callous words the other day, and yet she’d never apologized. And the worst part of it was that she really hadn’t meant most of what she’d said. She’d just figured that she would have time to make it all right, and now it seemed that she did not.
Barely able to contain herself, Tamara sobbed, “Oh, Sienna, not now . . . Why did you have to leave now? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
47.
Finally Free
The girl had carefully chosen her clothes that morning. Once dressed, she’d stood in front of the mirror, rehearsing her speech time and time again for the judge, trying to make sure she would be totally prepared for this morning. Yet now that she was here in the courtroom, all the well-practiced words seemed to have slipped from her mind, and all she could do was nervously smooth her plain black pants down over her legs.
“Don’t worry,” said Marsha comfortingly as she gazed into the girl’s worried face. The African-American woman was her court-appointed advocate, and she’d stood, staunchly supportive, by her side each time the girl had to go before the judge. “Everything is going to be all right. In fact, I really think today you are finally going to get your wish.”
“I hope so,” the girl replied, but she was too afraid to believe it might happen. This was her third trip in front of this judge in the past two years. Each previous time she’d been hopeful, only to leave the courtroom disappointed and vowing to try again as soon as she could.
Much to her surprise, Safe Haven Home had proved to be a decent place to live. In fact, she’d only run away one time during the couple of years that she’d lived there. After Judge Rosenberger told her that she’d never become emancipated if she didn’t stay put, the girl had done so.
Nothing bad happened to her there. Her friend James Jordan made sure of that. Although she’d not trusted him at all on that first day she’d met him, the stocky, light-complexioned boy had designated himself her protector, and he’d kept her safe for the entire time she was there. If she got to leave today, she would miss him as much as she could miss anybody. He was really the first and only friend she’d really ever had.
“She just called you,” said Marsha softly as she put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle push.
The girl rose and walked nervously up to the podium, where she stood in front of the judge.
Judge Rosenberger smiled at her and said, “Well, young lady, I see we meet again. I must say, I admire your determination. Emancipation must be something you really want for yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered without looking up at the Judge.
The woman put her reading glasses on her
face and began to peruse the file in front of her. “Let’s see . . . this is good; you have completed some schooling now. You’ve gotten your GED now, and you are enrolled in some college classes for the fall.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered again, in a low voice.
“This is good, too . . . It says here that you have also been working. It seems that you have a job after school, and these letters of recommendation from your employer speak highly of you.”
The girl kept her eyes down and said nothing.
Judge Rosenberger removed her glasses and said in an almost stern tone, “Young lady, look up at me. If you are going to face the world on your own, you must learn to look it in the eye and face it squarely right now!”
Slowly the girl raised her head, bringing her dark eyes up to meet the judge’s blue ones.
The judge closed the folder in front of her, looked Yvette deeply in the eye, and in a quiet, even tone said, “Young lady, I think that it is clear that you have the intellect, the drive, and most importantly, the spirit required to live as an emancipated minor. There is no reason to stop this process—you are within months of your seventeenth birthday, and Marsha has agreed to be your state-appointed guardian till then.”
The girl looked at the woman disbelievingly. Can it be? she thought. Can it be that I’m really going to get what I want this time? Uncertainty was written on her face when she turned to give Marsha a furtive glance, but after one look at the woman’s wide smile, her heart leapt happily.
“Take these papers to the young lady,” the judge said to the bailiff standing by her desk.
The man took the papers from the judge, walked over to the podium where the girl stood, and laid the legal-size documents in front of her.
By then, though, the girl’s emotions were overflowing, and so were her eyes. Unable to see very well, she struggled to read the words on the paper as she wiped away the tears that would not stop falling.
Touched by the girl’s obvious joy, the judge said in a quiet voice, “I will tell you the thrust of what it says.
“As of today, February 14, 1988, the court finds Tanisha Yvette Bailey to be an emancipated minor.”
The girl gazed happily at the judge through her tears.
“Ms. Bailey, what that means is that you may live wherever you like, with or without whomever you like, and it’s all legal.”
“I’m free,” said the girl as she grinned at Marsha and began to cry in earnest. Half-sobbing, half-laughing, she repeated the words as if she could not believe it. “I’m finally, finally free.”
48.
Meltdown
Tamara walked slowly into Hope Temple, feeling heavy, weighed down with guilt and worry about the still-missing Sienna. The teen had been gone now for three whole days, and Tamara’s optimism that she would return was fading. Instead of working these past two days, she’d walked up and down the city streets throughout the day and driven through those same streets late into the night, searching for Sienna. Sabrina and Terry helped her by calling all her friends from school, but it was spring break and there were no sightings of her by anyone from school.
Isaiah Perry called each night and repeatedly offered his assistance in helping her look for Sienna. Tamara felt far too ashamed to accept his help, though, knowing that it was her cruel and hurtful words that made the girl leave in the first place. In fact, Tamara’s guilt was so deep that the friendship that was blossoming between her and Isaiah seemed lost, and the small inroads he’d made with her were closed again, leaving her as standoffish and reticent as when they’d first met.
Her distant stance perplexed him, and each time that his efforts failed to draw her out of her shell, he would say resignedly, “Know that you and Sienna are in my prayers, Tamara.”
Each time, Tamara could hear the sadness and confusion in his voice, yet she was wallowing too deeply in her own misery about her part in the girl’s disappearance to explain. So she simply would thank him for his call and hang up the telephone quietly, feeling more alone and sadder than before.
Even once she’d joined Hope Temple, a part of her had remained convinced that she attended services mainly to satisfy Sienna. But strangely, since the day that Mrs. Jackson told her the teen was missing, she’d begun to long for the comfort she remembered feeling inside the church’s walls.
As if being drawn by an unseen force, Tamara’s feet moved steadily toward the pew that she and Sienna had shared the first time they came to church together. As she made her way there, someone tapped her shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry, Sister Britton, Sienna’s gonna be all right. We’re all praying here . . . We love her, too, you know.” Tamara nodded dumbly, twisting her lips up in a semblance of a smile at the face that she couldn’t seem to recognize right then.
Once seated in the pew, she took out her Bible and began to turn the pages absentmindedly while struggling to gather her thoughts together.
“Sienna?”
Tamara glanced up into the worried face of Isaiah Perry. “How are you?” he asked, and concern was evident on his handsome face.
“I’m fine,” she replied quietly.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“Yes,” she replied, but he could see that Tamara’s usual generous smile was spare, and her eyes dim and lacking their normal glow.
“Tamara . . . ?”
She looked up at him again.
“Anytime you need me . . . anytime, okay?”
Tamara heard his words but was not able to respond, feeling oddly displaced at that moment, as though her body were wrapped in cotton, making everything seem softly distorted and unreal. With effort she forced herself to nod her head quickly and then turned her gaze down toward the Bible again, until she sensed intuitively that he was no longer standing there.
Tentatively Tamara raised her head. Looking around, she seemed to see people looking her way curiously, and she imagined they knew about the wicked words she’d uttered and about the guilt she bore for Sienna’s disappearance. As she touched the small earrings that Sienna had given her, Tamara thought how all along everyone gave her more credit than she deserved regarding the teen. In her heart Tamara knew that she had not let Sienna move into her home because she cared, or even because she was such a warm and giving person; the truth was that she’d opened her home to Sienna because she was a wimp.
When Joan Erickson had cornered her that day in her office and asked her to take the girl in, Tamara had been too much of a wimp to say no. Each time someone had paid tribute to her about Sienna, she’d felt like an impostor, because she was. If she’d had any backbone, she would not even have accepted the award so generously presented to her by Denise Jackson from the Foster Parents Association that night. Yes, she knew the truth, which was that Tamara Britton knew nothing about love or caring or concern, because her motives had been self-serving all along.
Sister Walker took the microphone then. The finely boned brown-skinned wife of the pastor said in an ebullient voice, “Welcome, everyone, this morning! Let’s just give some praise to the Lord, because He woke us up this morning and He started us on our way and the Lord is blessing us right now!”
Tamara was not feeling blessed at all, but obediently she looked up into the woman’s smiling face.
The woman continued, “Many times in our lives we find ourselves in situations that are unfair. Life is sometimes difficult, and we find ourselves without anyone to talk to about what we are going through. But know that you are never alone! God loves you, and He is always there with you!”
“Amen,” said several members of the congregation.
“The times when life is tough are those important times of growth for us, when God is getting us ready for something greater He has in store for us one day. Our hardships today will certainly be our testimony tomorrow, and these difficulties will serve to make us more confident in our faith once we realize that He’s been with us all the time. Truly, truly, truly, I say to all of you today, just lik
e it says in the Word of God, Romans eight, verse twenty-eight, ‘Be encouraged, church, persevere through your hardships, because all things work together for the good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.’”
The musicians began to play, and as the choir sang the introduction, the woman began to hum along, and then she sang,
“When difficulty finds its way into our life,
We struggle to find a reason,
But, remember, our Lord always has a plan,
And these hardships will only last but a season.
Everything is for the good,
Yes, everything is for the good!
All things work together for the good,
For those who love the Lord . . .”
Tamara stood unconsciously rocking from side to side, while listening to the words that seemed to permeate her entire body. All things work for the good for those who love the Lord, she thought to herself.
When the selection was finished, the words of the song continued to run through her mind while she sat there fighting her anxieties. Inwardly she was in a state of flux, and it took all she had to keep herself seated and remain outwardly calm.
Still lost in thought, she put her offering into the tray when it passed by, and then stood as the choir began to sing its main selection, a popular song about praising God through the good and bad that life brings. She’d bought this CD by Shekinah Glory Ministry because it was one of the first songs she’d heard Sienna sing and because it was a favorite of the girl’s and the congregation’s. Today as they sang, some of them held their hands up to Jesus, and she wondered just how they could praise Him even in the midst of their difficulties. Tamara watched them, wanting desperately to understand how going through bad times could make a person better, and moreover, desiring to understand how to love and trust God regardless of what she was going through.
In the days since Sienna left, Tamara had come to realize that the teen had been a catalyst for change in her life. Just like a lightning rod, Sienna had pulled all sorts of new energy from Tamara. Not only that, Sienna also touched her in a way that Tamara had never known before, and now that she was gone Tamara missed her terribly. Her home and her life, which had seemed so complete before Sienna came, seemed empty and barren without her.
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