Hidden Blessings

by Kim Cash Tate

  Derek stepped back, looking like the other attorneys in his blue power suit. “I heard you two were here and, uh . . . I wanted to ask how Kendra’s doing.”

  Trey looked annoyed. “Have you called to ask her yourself?”

  “I’m . . . almost positive she doesn’t want to speak to me.”

  “Even so, the attempt might’ve shown you cared, at least a little.”

  “Trey, I know I’m not your favorite person,” Derek said. “I understand that. I’m just genuinely wondering . . . How’s Kendra doing? How are the chemo sessions going?”

  “Lance can answer that,” Trey said, motioning to him. “He’s with her more than anyone.”

  Derek looked at Lance, brow raised a little.

  “Honestly,” Lance said, “I don’t know what you want to hear. It’s a hard road. But you already anticipated that, right?”

  Derek’s gaze fell off.

  “If you want me to help you feel better by saying she’s doing great, I can’t do that.” Lance was focused on him. “What I can tell you is she’s surrounded by people who love her, and her faith is strong.”

  Derek gave a bare nod. “That’s . . . that’s good.”

  Jennifer breezed in. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to hunt one down in the mailroom.”

  “No problem,” Lance said, taking the box. “Thank you. We’ll get it packed quickly.”

  When Lance glanced back, Derek was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO ASK ABOUT ME.”

  Kendra tossed her phone down. She’d spoken to Jennifer, who’d told her about Derek, which prompted a call to Trey—who said he hadn’t planned to tell her about the convo with her ex, but reluctantly did.

  Whatever sluggishness she’d been feeling had been overridden. She sat up on the lower-level sofa, mentally stoking it.

  “I mean seriously, the audacity,” she said again, looking at Molly.

  Brooklyn looked up from the movie she was watching, brow furrowed. “What’s audastity?”

  “Audacity.” Kendra kissed her forehead. “It means someone has a lot of nerve.”

  “Darla already said it.” Molly sat lotus style on the floor, shaking her head. “Schmuck.”

  “Why pretend you care? You obviously don’t care.” Kendra spoke to the air, turning now to Molly. “He only went up to my office because others asked about me, and he would’ve looked like a schmuck if he didn’t. Well, guess what? Now he’s a double schmuck.” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh!”

  Molly cracked up.

  “What?” Kendra said.

  “That face you just made,” Molly said. “You need to capture that on camera. It can be your God’s goodness photo of the day.”

  Kendra had to laugh. “Right. Caption: He gives muscles with which to contort the face into maniacal expressions.”

  Molly’s eyes lit. “I dare you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Double dare.”

  Kendra moved faster than she should have and groaned when she got stabbed by a shooting pain.

  “I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I shouldn’t have goaded you to get up, especially for something dumb like a schmuck photo.”

  “I need it,” Kendra said. “Instead of lying down focused on what hurts, I can do something fun and silly.”

  She moved to get up again, waiting for Molly’s help this time, and was glad her camera and tripod were already downstairs. She set up the tripod in the backyard for good lighting and positioned the camera.

  Molly watched. “What are you gonna do, run it through your mind again and get mad all over?”

  Kendra stood a little ways from the camera. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

  “Okay, cool, I’ll help,” Molly said. She paused, clearing her throat. “Can you believe Derek’s audacity? I mean, the nerve of him stopping by to ask, ‘Hey, how’s Kendra?’ after he dumped you the week before your wedding. Who does that?”

  “Exactly!” Kendra said. “Who does that? Who has that much nerve? Every time I think about it, it’s just—ugh!”

  Kendra clicked, several times, making even more faces at the camera.

  They moved back inside and uploaded the shots on the computer. When the thumbnails of Kendra’s face appeared on-screen, they couldn’t stop laughing.

  Brooklyn paused the movie and ran over to see. “Look at your face,” she said, joining the laughter. “Can I make some silly faces for the camera too?”

  “You sure can, as soon as I’m done with this.”

  Brooklyn ran back, and Kendra and Molly continued surveying the choices.

  “Make that one bigger,” Molly said, pointing.

  Kendra brought the thumbnail to life on-screen. She’d never noticed the cleft between her brows when she frowned, or the way one eye narrowed more than the other.

  “You know,” Kendra said, “jokes aside, it is kind of amazing that God made our faces to move and stretch and dimple like this. It could’ve been a flat, immovable surface.”

  Molly made a face herself, stretching it long, which made her laugh. “That’s true. We can do all sorts of things with our faces.”

  Kendra brought up her blog and uploaded the picture with a slight change of caption: Today’s goodness: When news that provokes bitterness turns into laughter at funny faces.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  KENDRA COULDN’T STOP SHAKING IN THE CHEMO CHAIR.

  Lance reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a blanket. “Ken, let’s put this around you.”

  “Thanks, I’m okay.” She tried to smile reassurance. “I’ve already got on a hoodie, hat, and thick socks.”

  He rubbed her IV-free arm. “But you’re shaking.”

  The complications this morning had unnerved her. A new tech—new to Kendra, anyway—drew her blood and used a bruised vein from last time, which hurt. Then in the chemo ward, she did get her favorite nurse, but the nurse somehow missed her vein and blew another one, which really hurt. But her mind was mostly burdened by what happened in between.

  “I’m a little depressed about my white cell count,” she said. “I almost couldn’t get chemo today because it was so low.”

  “But from what the doctor said, that’ll be helped by the shot you’ll get later.”

  “In the stomach. Yay.”

  “I know, Ken.” Lance held her hand. “We’ll keep counting down. This is your fourth session; only two more to go.”

  “Then surgery for the mastectomy, then weeks of radiation, then more chemo. It’s so much.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to whine. It doesn’t help.”

  “It’s a lot, Ken. No doubt about that. Whenever you need to vent, let it out.”

  She stared at the medicine going through the vein, into her blood. “I’m looking forward to my appointment with Dr. Contee end of next week,” she said. “She’ll be assessing the treatment regimen, how it’s impacting everything.” She thought about it. “Maybe that’s why I’m nervous. What if there’s no improvement?”

  “We’re not going there, Ken. You can’t add speculation to the mix. You’ll go crazy.”

  Kendra thought about it anyway. She’d thought about it for some time.

  She turned to Lance. “So what do you think about Darla coming to Bible study?”

  “From one speculation to the next, huh?” Lance asked. “You’re asking because of last night?”

  “I just thought it was strange to see Darla and Ellen talking outside.”

  Lance shrugged. “Why strange? They’re neighbors.”

  “I don’t know . . . I was surprised Darla showed up to Bible study to begin with. I hope she’s not there to spy for Ellen.”

  “Spy?” Lance said. “Kendra, come on.”

  “I don’t mean a planned covert operation,” Kendra said. “I mean she may be checking us out, reporting back. I’m just not totally comfortable with her being there. Plus, she made a comment last night about how unforgiv
ing people can be.”

  “Could it be your own conscience that’s bothering you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Brooklyn there all the time and Ellen dropping off and picking up, you can’t help but think about what happened between her and your dad. It’ll eat you up if you hang on to it, Ken. Maybe it’s time to forgive.”

  “Then what? Ellen and I can be friends? It would feel like betrayal to my mom.”

  “Nobody said you have to be friends,” Lance said. “Forgiveness is about your heart.”

  Kendra was silent for a while. “Why is all this coming up right now? Brooklyn and Ellen in the picture, Dad coming to the States . . .”

  “Answer’s pretty simple to me,” Lance said. “Your sickness.”

  She looked at him, questioning.

  “Trey was motivated to find Brooklyn partly because you made him think about life and how short it is for all of us.” Lance spoke softly, mindful of others in the room. “And I could almost guarantee your dad was motivated to come because of you.”

  “How would he know about my sickness?”

  “How wouldn’t he know, the way word travels?” He squeezed her hand. “Your dad loves you. Surely you don’t doubt that.”

  Kendra allowed herself to ponder that.

  “And remember,” Lance said, “you and Trey aren’t the only ones affected by all of this. Brooklyn might be the one most affected. She’s not growing up with her daddy.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  KENDRA COULDN’T GET LANCE’S WORDS OFF HER MIND. SHE knew Brooklyn’s situation, but somehow it broke her heart to hear it that way—“She’s not growing up with her daddy.” Lance had been right. That sweet girl was the most affected. Kendra and Trey had had the benefit of their dad’s presence. He’d cultivated a close relationship and set the bar high as to what it meant to be a father. That’s why they’d been so disappointed in him, because their expectations of him were high. At this rate, Brooklyn would have no expectations of him at all.

  Throughout the night, as Kendra wakened with her usual discomfort and pain, she thought of Brooklyn. She prayed for Brooklyn. And by morning she couldn’t shake what she needed to do. Trey and Molly had early-morning classes, so she showered and dressed without questions. And she left a note for Lance.

  At nine in the morning she was knocking on Ellen’s door. The lock turned, and Kendra took a breath.

  “Kendra.” Ellen wore comfortable slacks and a top. She looked past Kendra to see who was with her. “How did you get here?”

  “I drove,” Kendra said.

  “Well, please, come in and sit down.”

  Ellen led Kendra to a sofa in the living room, gesturing for her to sit. Ellen took the chair.

  “What can I do for you?” Ellen asked.

  “You’re one who gets to the point,” Kendra said, “and I appreciate that. Do you mind if I do the same?”

  “I’d prefer it.”

  “You told me there are two sides to every story,” Kendra said. “Actually, in this case, there are three. I’m wondering if I could hear your side.”

  Surprise showed in Ellen’s eyes. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable,” she said. “It’s between you and your dad.”

  “To an extent.” Kendra had addressed the same within herself. “If this were an affair only, I wouldn’t be here. But with Brooklyn . . . I just want to understand why she doesn’t have a relationship with her dad.”

  “Again, your dad is best suited to tell you that,” Ellen said. “I don’t know the answer myself.”

  Kendra sighed within. She’d felt so sure that this was what God wanted her to do. But she couldn’t make the woman talk to her. And Ellen had a point. Her dad was best suited to address issues between—

  Her thoughts shifted. What about between Kendra and Ellen? Wasn’t there an issue with them?

  “You said it was no secret that I didn’t like you,” Kendra said, “which was true. In my mind, you were the worst of the worst, coming between my parents, having his baby . . .”

  Ellen stared head-on.

  Kendra was grappling for the right words. “So maybe . . . maybe it would help me to hear your side of the story, to see you as human. If that makes sense.” She sighed, moving to get up. “This was a dumb idea. I’m not sure what I’m even saying. I’m sorry I wasted your time . . .”

  “Kendra, wait.” Ellen leaned forward slightly. “In a weird way, I understand where you’re coming from. And even weirder, I kind of want you to see me as human, as maybe . . . not so evil, if that’s possible. But I do want to be careful not to tread on areas that are uniquely between you and your dad.”

  Kendra settled back a little, prompted by minor pain spasms.

  “What can I get you?” Ellen asked.

  “Water would be great, thank you.”

  Ellen got water for both of them, returned to her seat, and hesitated only briefly before she began.

  “I’m not sure where to start . . .” Ellen paused. “I don’t want any of this to sound self-serving. I want to say off the bat that I was wrong to get involved with a married man.”

  Kendra held the bottle, listening.

  “I started my career at the University of Kentucky, and Marlon recruited me to come here twelve years ago. I was familiar with his research in sociology, of course, and had met him at conferences.” Ellen spoke as if presenting a paper at a conference. “I was in my early thirties—about your age—not yet tenured, and knew I could learn a lot from him. We ended up working on research projects, coauthoring papers, and traveling.”

  Kendra’s mind put an emphasis on traveling.

  “We became friends. And on one trip in particular, he drank a little too much and—”

  “Dad was drinking?”

  “I knew it was out of character,” Ellen said. “And when I asked if he was all right, he began to . . .” Her lips pressed together. “I’m moving from my territory to his. I won’t continue with that part.”

  “It’s no big mystery,” Kendra said. “He was drinking too much and made moves on you.”

  “Not true. At that point, nothing would happen between us for another year.”

  “I’m confused,” Kendra said.

  “Suffice to say,” Ellen said, “that over the course of that next year, we became close friends. Mostly him sharing, me listening.” She paused, took a breath. “I won’t get into hows or whys, but the affair began. It only lasted a few months. Marlon loved his wife—that much was obvious throughout.”

  Kendra wasn’t sure how much more she could bear.

  “So. Affair was over by mutual agreement. We would both move on, no problem.”

  “And then you found out you were pregnant.”

  Ellen nodded. “And then, again by mutual agreement, I would have an abortion.”

  Kendra’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “My dad would’ve never suggested an abortion.”

  “All I will say, Kendra, is you don’t know what people will do when their backs are against the wall.”

  Brooklyn almost wasn’t here. Kendra thought she might be physically sick. “You didn’t do it, obviously.”

  “I couldn’t,” Ellen said. “I just couldn’t. But I told Marlon that since it was my choice to have her, he could choose whether to be involved in her life.” She sat forward. “And I said, ‘If you choose to be involved in her life, you have to stay involved. You can’t float in and float out.’ ” She shook her head in disgust. “Which is exactly what he did—floated in for a few years, then floated out.”

  “But why?” Kendra said. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. It’s not like my dad.”

  “The dad you know is part of a nuclear family,” Ellen said. “He woke up in your house, ate dinner at your house, mowed the lawn. That’s not Brooklyn’s dad. Her dad stole an hour here or there to see her. He was her father in secret. If you think about it that way, it’ll make more sense.”

  “But it doesn’t,” Kendra said. �
�Why did he stop stealing hours here and there? Why did he float out?”

  “When your mom got sick,” Ellen said, “he started coming less and less. I understood. Your mom needed him. But I think it was more than that.” She stopped. “I’ll leave that to him.”

  Kendra asked the question she’d always wanted to ask. “Why did you come to my house—when you knew my mom was sick—and drop the bombshell about you and Dad and Brooklyn?”

  Ellen looked away for several seconds. “That was difficult for me, believe it or not.” She paused again. “Marlon hadn’t seen or spoken to Brooklyn in months. It was as if he had cut her off, not financially but in every other way. And . . .”

  It was the first break in Ellen’s story, the first time she’d shown emotion.

  “. . . the day I came, it had been ten nights straight of Brooklyn crying, asking what she did wrong to make her daddy not love her anymore.”

  Kendra imagined what that must’ve been like. No little girl should have to hurt like that.

  “I went to talk to Marlon,” Ellen continued, “since he wouldn’t take my calls. But when your mom answered, things were said that shouldn’t have been said. I regret that day immensely.”

  “But it had to come out.” Kendra had never thought of it like that. “I hate that my mom found out the way she did and when she did. But the fact is, Brooklyn existed. What if she was still hidden in the shadows? What if I didn’t know her?”

  “It’s quite unexpected, the bond that’s developed between you all,” Ellen said. “You know I had my reservations at first about her spending time there, but know that I trust you completely with Brooklyn.”

  The pain began to shoot more intensely. “I’d better make my way back home while I can.”

  Ellen helped her up and walked her to the door.

  “You didn’t have to invite me in, and you didn’t have to tell me your part of the story. Thank you.” Kendra turned to her before she opened the door. “You’re human to me now.”

  Ellen gave a tight nod. “That means a great deal.”

  “And I should tell you so you can be prepared,” Kendra said, “since Brooklyn is at the house all the time, and there’s no way to really avoid it . . . It could actually get sticky, I guess.”