Patty hugged me. “That’s all right. Don’t fight it, just cry.”
“Sorry,” I said, when I could talk again. I glanced at Patty. Tears glinted in her eyes as well.
“How come you’re crying?”
Patty shook her head. “I couldn’t help it. If you ever want to talk or anything, just call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
She gave me another hug, and this time I hugged her back. It felt good.
“Come on, I’ll help you get this stuff to the door,” she said.
Heather trailed me to the back closet. “Hey, Tess. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean it. Can you forgive me?”
I kept my face turned away as I zipped up my coat.
“I-I have some things I can’t stand to eat either,” she faltered. “Like dill pickles. So I’m sorry for picking on you for yours.”
I looked at her then. Her face was earnest and sad.
“So can we still be friends?”
“Okay.” I managed a smile. Then, on impulse, I reached out and gave her a hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“Me too,” Heather said. “But I’m really glad you could come.”
Outside, a horn honked. Did Mom expect me to be standing there ready to run out the door the instant she drove in?
Patty grabbed one of my bags, and together we walked out to the car. Mom limped around to open the trunk.
“Thanks a million,” she said to Patty. “Sorry we’ve been such a bother to you guys.”
“It’s okay,” Patty said. “Take care now.”
Then Mom slammed the trunk, and Patty turned back to the house. We drove home in silence.
28
The kitchen was a mess, with muddy boot prints on the linoleum and last week’s dirty dishes still scattered on the counter. A heap of laundry lay on the table. But it wasn’t until I stepped around the corner into the living room that I understood Mom’s urgent need for help.
Mud had been tracked onto the carpet and the couch, then left to dry. Food wrappers and crumbs littered the floor. A pair of filthy blue jeans was thrown across the arm of the chair. Beer cans were scattered everywhere. But strangest of all, a piece of paneling had been ripped from the wall behind the TV, exposing chipped plaster in hideous shades of green and olive.
“Pretty bad, huh?” Mom came to stand beside me. “Looks like Walter stayed a night or two. I just found it this morning.”
“This morning? But he’s . . . I thought you said…”
“I haven’t been here,” she said. “I’ve been staying in town with Steve and Wendy all week.”
“Oh.”
“I paid the phone bill and most of the back rent on Thursday. We should have phone service again soon.”
So that was why the phone didn’t work. Things would go more smoothly if only Mom would tell me things like that. I cast a glance down the hall toward my bedroom. The door hung partly open. “So . . . did he actually break into my room or what?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. I wasn’t in no shape to stop him. I wish I could’ve called the cops right then.”
“I thought of it, but I didn’t have a phone.”
“Of course. What I’d like to know, though, is why you didn’t call them when you got to Erickson’s.”
I stared at her. “You . . . you wanted me to?”
“Well of course! What the hell did you think was going on back here?” Then her voice softened. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hard week. Why don’t you put your stuff in your room, and then you can help me clean up this mess.”
I was surprised at the fear that gripped me as I started down the hall toward my bedroom. As I drew nearer and observed the multiple dents in the door and the wall, the fear intensified. Maybe Walter was still inside, hiding behind the door or in the closet with that iron fry pan.
Silly thought. I reached out and with one quick motion shoved the door wide. Floor boards creaked as I stepped into the room. Someone had closed the window, but the ruined screen was just as I had left it, the jagged corners protruding outward like rusty metal wings. A piece of red fuzz from my sweatshirt clung to the bent wires. I turned away. Maybe later I could cut the screen out. I did not want to remember that night!
After checking the closet to reassure myself that Walter couldn’t possibly be there, I carried in my bags of clothes and dumped them at the foot of the bed. On my way out, I tried to close the door, but the frame was too splintered to hold the latch. I gave up and returned to the living room, where Mom set me to sponging mud off the carpet with a rag and a bucket.
Cleaning the mess up took several hours, and then we had to rearrange furniture to make the walkways wide enough for a wheelchair. Sometime around two, we finished and ate a quick lunch.
“I sure appreciate your help,” Mom said, as she ladled hot tomato soup into two bowls. “All I have to do now is take care of him. That’s gonna be interesting.”
“Can’t he do anything for himself?”
“Not much.” Mom crumbled a handful of crackers into her soup. “The broken leg would limit him enough, but he had to smash his arm too. So he can’t use crutches, and he’s not going to be lifting himself into or out of his wheelchair or the car or anything else without help. He can feed himself, but beyond that he’s practically an invalid. And a very angry one at that.”
“He’s mad about the accident?”
“Oh yeah. It’s all my fault, he says.”
“Huh?”
“Sure. I called the cops on him, supposedly, which got him upset, which led to us having a fight, which led to him getting really jazzed up on whatever all he takes, which led to him swerving over the center line in broad daylight and hitting a dump truck. You get the idea.”
I groaned. “Maybe you should put him in one of those drug rehab places, like the doctor said.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. He denies everything, even when the doctor’s standing right there with the test results.”
“Oh wow.” I finished off the crackers, then ran my finger along the bottom of the empty wrapper, collecting the loose salt and crumbs.
Mom rose and began to stack the dirty dishes. “Say, I was gonna ask you. Do you have any idea where he keeps that gun of his?”
“Which one?”
She stared at me. “What do you mean, which one?”
“He’s got several of them.”
Mom’s frown deepened. “Great. How long has that been going on?”
“I don’t know. Couple months, anyway.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. “Well, go see if you can find me one of them.”
“What are you gonna do, terrorize him?”
“Of course not.” She dumped the dishes into the sink and turned on the water. “But I might need it to chase away those so-called friends of his.”
I snickered. “Yeah, when they drive in you can just stick the barrel out the kitchen window and shoot ’em.”
“I’m serious. I do not want any of them in here. Go see if you can find me something.”
“Okay.” I pulled on a jacket and stepped out the kitchen door. The bright sunshine had melted some of the snow, exposing patches of ice in the driveway. I steadied myself on the car as I crossed to Walter’s shop.
The pungent odors of varnish and paint thinner met me as I unlocked the door. I flicked the lights on and glanced around the room. Mom was right; nothing significant had been done in here for several months. Directly in front of me stood a desk Walter had started last summer, still unfinished. On top of it was an open can of varnish, its contents hard and cracked. Nearby, almost buried under a heap of dusty newspapers, stood an antique china cupboard Walter had picked up at an auction at least a year ago. On the bench lay a pile of rough planks t
hat might have been destined for Mr. Vick’s bookshelf. Stacked on them were three new cases of beer. No wonder Walter couldn’t get anything done.
I shoved an overflowing trash can out of the way and ran my hand along the high shelf above the window where he used to keep his rifle. Dust showered down upon me, but otherwise the shelf was empty. This was going to be harder than I had expected.
Starting near the door, I searched every drawer and shelf and piece of machinery in the room. Last of all, I pulled myself up onto the bench and checked the cobwebby space between the top of the highest shelf and the ceiling. My fingers brushed something smooth and cold – the barrel of his old .22 rifle. I grinned in triumph as I lifted it down. Mom would never have found it up there.
As I crossed the shop with the rifle, an odd gap in the stack of folded rags on the utility shelf caught my eye. I reached in and withdrew a black .45 pistol about eight inches long. A strange mixture of terror and fascination gripped me as I stared at it. This was the gun Walter had threatened me with. I was sure of it.
Maybe one of these days it’ll be my turn. I pointed the gun toward the door and tried to aim it one-handed, but I couldn’t hold it steady. She’s some heavy. But hey, maybe it doesn’t matter how well I can aim. I grinned, picturing the fear in Walter’s eyes if he saw me wielding this thing. I’d have to pay close attention to where Mom put it.
Carrying a gun in each hand, I returned to the house. Mom met me at the door. “Wow, you are well armed. Keep them pointed down, Tessa.”
“Oh, yeah.” I quickly tipped the rifle down. “I guess they’re probably loaded.”
Mom took the pistol first and examined it. “Nice gun. Yep, she’s loaded. I think I’ll just take that out.”
Watching her remove the bullets, I realized how stupid I’d been to point the gun toward the house. Suppose it had gone off?
The rifle seemed to be empty. Mom dusted it off and laid it on the table next to the pistol. “I’ll find a good place to hide these. Say, one more thing. You don’t still have the keys to that old house, do you?”
“Not anymore. He made me give them back.”
“I thought so. I’ve been looking everywhere, but I can’t find them. They’re probably with him. Which reminds me, I need to go get him. Want to come?”
“No thanks. Maybe you can conspire to crash into something on the way home.”
“Tessa!”
My face burned. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Listen, I know he’s been a real jerk. But we’re not gonna take him out, okay?”
“How about accidentally?” I tried to hide my smirk.
“Absolutely not.” Mom slid the rifle onto the top of the refrigerator and then stood back critically.
I had to laugh. “That’s kind of noticeable.”
“I’d say.” She took it down and tried it on the shelf in the coat closet, with much better results. Then she slipped the pistol into her purse and prepared to leave.
“Don’t you need some kind of permit to carry a concealed weapon?” I had to give her that jab.
“To tell the truth, I don’t remember.” She pulled on her gloves and picked up the purse. “See you later.”
29
Left alone, I retreated to my bedroom, where I flopped down on the bed and tried not to think what it was going to be like having Walter around twenty-four hours a day. I closed my eyes, and I was back at Heather’s house, watching Tom wrestle a huge Christmas tree into the house. Patty was laughing as she playfully scolded him for selecting a tree that would “never in a hundred years” fit in their tiny living room. Heather was plugging in strings of colored lights while I swatted at Sadie for barking at them. Then all four of us were decorating, Tom giving advice from the couch while the rest of us hung the ornaments to the joyous accompaniment of “Silver Bells” and other Christmas songs on Patty’s CD.
But the music faded, and suddenly I was back in my own dreary bedroom, staring up at the huge crack in the ceiling. A terrible ache filled my heart. I had to go back. I had to see Patty and Heather and Sadie again. I longed to walk into the warm kitchen and breathe the spicy aroma of the gingerbread Patty had baked. I yearned to feel Sadie’s rough fur under my hand, hear Patty picking her guitar, and snuggle under a blanket with Heather as we watched a movie together.
The ache grew so intense I could not bear it. I groaned and clutched my pillow to my chest in an effort to ease the pain, but it didn’t help. Something inside of me desperately needed Patty. I felt like I couldn’t survive without her. Yet, I would have to.
There’s God, I thought. Patty says he loves me and cares about me just like she does. But I can’t see him! How can he possibly hold my hand or tuck me into bed or give me a hug?
Tears ran down my face. That’s what I need, God! Not some person way off up in the sky that I can’t see or feel. Please, I wanna go back and stay with Patty. If you’ll do that, then I’ll believe you love me.
I was so sincere I almost believed something would happen. But I waited in vain. No voice spoke from heaven. The disconnected phone didn’t ring with Patty on the other end. Mom didn’t come back and say she’d decided to let me stay with Ericksons again. The silence was deafening. Even God didn’t care.
“Okay. Screw it,” I muttered. “You’re not going back, Tess. As selfish and mean as you are, nobody could love you anyway. Get used to it!”
I thought this would end the pain, but it grew worse. Sobbing, I cursed myself for having ever gone to Patty’s in the first place. All that talk about love seemed a cruel joke now. There was no love for me. I might as well swallow the pain and learn to live with it, as I had done for most of my life.
The trouble was, I couldn’t get my thoughts to cooperate. Things Patty had said about God and his love for me kept swirling around in my head. Things I wished I could believe. God loves you, Tessa. You’re very special to him.
But the words grated on my bleeding heart. “No! No one loves me! No one!” I screamed.
Try as I did, I couldn’t drown out Patty’s gentle voice. God loves you. That’s why we love you. You’ve just got to open your heart . . . God loves you, Tessa!
I couldn’t hide from it. Deep inside, something told me Patty was right.
Okay, fine. So maybe God does love me. But what’s this thing about opening my heart? How am I supposed to do that? It all seemed too vague and difficult.
My thoughts kept returning to the time Patty had spent with me that morning. Something had happened inside of me – something good. All I had done was let go. I had let myself trust her. By letting go and trusting her, I realized, I had opened my heart to her love. Maybe I could do the same with God.
My voice was so thick I could hardly speak. “God,” I whispered, “I’m gonna trust what Patty told me about you. She says you care, and that you love me just like she does.”
I felt an inexplicable warmth come over me, as if the sun were shining on me. In that instant, I knew beyond a doubt that God really did love me. I could sense his arms around me, holding me close. Overwhelmed, I began to cry. God, I really do believe you love me! I don’t understand it, but I do.
Time passed. I heard Mom come home with Walter, then Walter out in the living room complaining about something, but I was in another world. Evening came on, and with it the amber glow of a sunset. I moved to the window to catch the fiery rays on my face.
God’s love is something like this, I thought, warm, magical, special. Only it doesn’t fade. I watched the sun dip beneath the horizon in a splash of coral and magenta. Little purple clouds floated just above, their edges taking on hues of brilliant pink, then fading to steel blue. I stayed at the window a long time, letting the darkness envelop me and the silence seep into my soul.
30
Walter’s first day at home passed uneventfully. Mom had se
ttled him in the easy chair in front of the TV, and except when she forgot to dispense his pain medication, he was quiet. He paid me no attention. I had the feeling he was embarrassed and would rather I wasn’t around. I couldn’t blame him. He looked pathetic, with numerous scrapes and bruises on his face and a wide bandage across his forehead. Another much thicker bandage covered his left arm from the elbow to the wrist. A third encased his right leg and foot.
I was glad when Monday came and I could return to school. Heather met me coming in and gave me a big hug. “How’s it going?”
“Okay, I guess. Better than I expected.” Then, feeling a bit silly, I told her about believing God loved me.
Heather’s face lit up. “Tess, that’s great! Do you have a Bible?”
“A Bible?” I frowned. “Why do I need that?”
She laughed. “It’s God’s book. You can learn more about him by reading it. If you want, tomorrow I’ll bring you a New Testament.”
“Okay, but I’m not any good at keeping rules.”
“Keeping rules?”
“Yeah. You know, the ten commandments, stuff like that.”
“Well, it’s not about keeping rules, it’s…” Heather paused. “When you saw how much God loved you the other night, did it make you act any different?”
“Sure. I was happy. I didn’t even mind washing the dishes for once.”
Heather grinned and nodded. “See, that’s what being a Christian is all about. It’s not following a bunch of rules; it’s just living out of that love.” She gave my arm a quick squeeze. “We can talk more later. Just stick with what you’ve got, okay?”
I nodded. I knew I’d never give up what I had experienced. It was too precious.
But as the days went by, my happiness over God’s love faded. Heather gave me a Bible, and we talked every day, but I was afraid to tell her of the change. I knew she’d be disappointed in me.
The weekend came again, and with it, a shift in Walter’s disposition. Sullen and silent most of the time, he’d go into a rage if Mom didn’t do what he wanted. He’d slam his fist on the end table, yell, and curse her. Mom would yell right back, adding an insult or two for good measure. Thus a disagreement over something as trivial as a TV show would escalate until I felt like screaming. Even when things simmered down, the atmosphere remained tense. I couldn’t relax enough to even read a novel.
Tessa (From Fear to Faith) Page 15