I fought to keep my thoughts off Christmas, which was now only a week away. Mom never discussed money with me, but I knew our finances were tight. I dreaded what she’d say if I mentioned Christmas. “I’m sorry, Tess. We can’t afford it.”
But my heart ached. Every time I turned on the radio, they were playing their stupid songs about how bright and jolly everything was. Even the commercials reflected the so-called holiday spirit. At mealtimes, the trashy magazines scattered on the table taunted me with glittering headlines such as “Celebrity Tips for Surviving the Holidays in Style” or “151 Fabulous Gift Ideas.” I felt like ripping them to shreds. All they did was remind me of what I couldn’t have.
Early Monday morning, I awoke to yet another fight. I pushed my head under the pillow in an attempt to muffle the harsh voices, but they kept getting louder. Then something heavy crashed against the wall.
“I said give it to me!” Walter screamed.
Fear tightened my chest. I shoved the pillow aside and propped myself up on my elbows, listening.
“Julie, please.” Walter’s voice was softer now, a thin cover for his obvious exasperation. “You gotta give me something. This stupid leg is killing me!”
“I don’t care!” Mom shot back. “You heard what the doctor said. No drinks til you’re better.”
Walter slammed his fist down. “To hell with the doctor! Where’s my pills? Some nurse you are, forgetting my pills.”
“I didn’t forget. The bottle ran out.”
“Well, get a refill! And hurry up. I should’ve had them an hour ago.”
“I can’t do that. There’s no refills on this.”
Walter cursed. “What! You’re lying. Now get going, or I’ll find a way to make you.”
“Forget it. There’s no druggist in town gonna fill this. See here? No refills. Even you should be able to read that!”
For a second there was dead silence. Then Walter let loose a torrent of angry, abusive language. “What you trying to pull on me? This is impossible. The doc said–”
“That more drugs is the last thing you need,” Mom cut in. “I talked to him myself.”
“You sneaking–” Walter stopped. His voice took on a tone of defeat. “Julie, look. Just get me a refill, okay? Tell the doc I need it.”
“Not a chance, big guy. You can just do without. It’ll be good for you.”
“Good for me!” he exploded, crashing his fist down again. “How would you like to have all these broken bones and then have some jerk tell you it’s good for you!”
“Well, nobody gave me any painkillers after you busted that chair on my leg and slugged me in the face. Nobody gave Tess any painkillers after you mostly beat her to death. Nobody–”
“Stop it!” he roared.
I groaned as I dragged myself from the warm bed. Mom had better be joking about not getting him a refill. Listening to this for the next couple of weeks would drive me insane.
By the time I ventured out of my room, the fighting had subsided. I could hear Mom in the kitchen buttering toast. As I hurried past, Walter called to me.
“Tess, get me the phone. I’ve got to call my doctor. I think I’m infected or something.”
He sounded desperate – pleading, almost. I stopped in surprise.
Walter gestured with his good hand. “C’mon, kid. What you waitin’ for? Get me the phone.”
I probably would have obeyed if Mom hadn’t yelled from the kitchen just then. “Don’t you dare, Walter. You’ve cost me enough already.”
The only answer was a fist slammed on the table and a muttered curse.
In the kitchen, Mom handed me a bowl of warm applesauce and a piece of toast. “I hate to say it, but I can’t leave with him like this. And the bus already went past, so I’m afraid…”
“Maybe Patty can take me to school,” I said. Anything to avoid having to stay home.
“Good idea. Why don’t you call her.”
Patty said she’d be more than happy to drive me to school. I waited for her with a mixture of anticipation and dread. I hated to let her know how bad things were.
“So you got your phone fixed,” she greeted me, as I settled into the front seat of her car.
“Yeah.”
“Heather tells me you’re doing well.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
She turned to look at me. “So, how’s it really going?” she asked.
Tears pricked my eyes. “It’s a mess. Mom and Walter…” I shook my head in frustration. “They fight about everything! I think they’d kill each other if they could.”
“Oh honey, I’m sorry.”
“And now he’s dragging me into it too,” I went on. “It’s crazy. I think Mom’s being extra nasty to him because he’s hurt and can’t do anything about it.”
Patty reached to adjust the heat. “What do you think about that?”
“Well, I guess I don’t blame her. I mean, he deserves it. But for some stupid reason, I feel a bit bad for him too.”
“Heather tells me you were able to believe God loves you.”
“Yeah, I did, but now I’m not sure.” I twisted my hands in my lap.
“God does love you, Tessa. It’s the truth, and the truth is true whether you feel sure about it or not. When God’s love gets inside of you, one of the things that happens is you start to love other people. The compassion you feel for Walter isn’t stupid. It’s how God feels toward him.”
I turned to stare at her. “You mean to tell me God cares about him? How could he?”
Patty slowed the car as we approached the bridge into Northford. “Suppose you had known Walter when he was a baby. Would you have hated him then?”
“Of course not. He wasn’t bad then.”
Patty continued. “But since then, he’s grown into a very bad man. We don’t see how to separate the badness from the man, but God does. He hates the badness, but he loves the man.”
“But what good does it do for God to love him, when he’s so evil?” I protested.
“Remember when I told you about Jesus dying on the cross?”
“Yeah, sort of.” I recalled hearing something about it during one of her bedtime talks.
“Well, when Jesus died, he took on all of our evilness and got rid of it. That’s why he forgives us. When we accept him – his love, his forgiveness – into our lives, spiritually we get born again. It’s like starting your life all over. Your old, bad life is all gone, and in its place you have a new life that Jesus gives you.”
The things she was saying felt strangely familiar. “So, maybe that’s what happened to me when I believed Jesus loved me,” I mused aloud.
Patty pulled over and parked in front of the school. “If you accepted his love, then you accepted him. God is love.”
A tingle of excitement ran through me. “You mean . . . I’m a Christian?”
Suddenly we were both laughing. Patty reached over and gave me a hug. “You’re a Christian, you’re born again, whatever you want to call it. Yes.”
“Cool! Wait til I tell Heather.”
I felt like telling the whole world as I skipped up the sidewalk. I’m a Christian. I really and truly belong to God! Never in my life had I felt so much joy. Why would anyone not want to belong to God?
31
Wednesday was the first day of Christmas vacation. I would have liked to sleep in, but it was impossible with the arguing that commenced about six thirty. I felt like screaming at both my parents. Just give it a rest! Why’d you bother getting together in the first place if you hate each other so much?
In disgust, I pulled on my clothes and strode out to the kitchen for an early breakfast, ignoring the yelling and banging coming from Walter’s corner of the living room.
Mom was at the tab
le, spooning up a bowl of cornflakes. She was also ignoring the noise, or pretending to. Before I sat down, I reached over and flipped the radio on. While I didn’t care for the mix of commercials, news tidbits, and jokes that comprised the morning show, it did help drown out the racket Walter was making.
Toward the end of breakfast, Walter’s temper cooled off. He inched his wheelchair across the living room until he could see us sitting at the table. “Hey. Give me some food.”
Mom went to the counter to refill her coffee mug. “No way. You’re on your own. You don’t want my help, remember?”
Walter cursed. “Do what I say. Get me some food.”
“Listen to you begging. Come on, Walter, if you’re really such a big tough guy, get it yourself. Quit sitting there like a helpless invalid.”
“I said, get me some food!” Walter’s voice shook with fury. “Don’t make me have to do something to you.”
“Yeah? Like what? You can’t even–”
“Shut up, woman!” He bit out the words through clenched teeth.
Mom thumped her mug of coffee down hard, slopping some of the liquid. “Fine! But just so you know, you’re getting nothing til you apologize to me!”
“I said shut up!” Walter hissed.
Something in me snapped. Standing up, I grabbed the radio and dashed it to the floor. A piece of plastic broke off and skidded under the refrigerator. From the speakers came a loud crackle, then silence. I ran out of the room.
“Tessa! Get back here! What’s the matter with you?” Mom’s voice carried down the hall after me.
What’s the matter? Man, if she doesn’t know by now, she’s crazy. I slammed my door, shoving a book against it to make it stay shut, and threw myself onto the bed. I felt bad about wrecking the radio, but what was I supposed to do?
In the kitchen, I heard talking, then arguing. Were Mom and Walter at it again? I shoved a CD into my player and cranked up the volume until the window rattled. How I would survive eleven more days confined to this loony bin I had no clue. Maybe I should just check out. I still had the marijuana joints Lorraine had given me, hidden in my top dresser drawer. But since there were only two, I would wait until I really needed them.
My parents eventually reached some kind of truce, and things quieted down. Around noon, Mom stopped by my bedroom to tell me she needed to run over to the farm market and get some potatoes.
“I’m counting on you to keep an eye on Walter,” she said. “He’s in his wheelchair and he’s trying to move around a bit, but I don’t trust him. I set up some ironing in the kitchen, and I want you to stay out there and work on it. I shouldn’t be long. Keep him away from the phone, and do not give him any alcohol or medications. Understand?”
I nodded.
“I’m gonna try to sneak out of here. Hopefully he won’t know I’ve left.”
But Walter was more perceptive than she’d judged him to be. As I walked to the kitchen a few minutes later, he called to me. “Hey Tess, where’s your mom?”
I kept walking. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t try that on me. I know she’s gone. Listen. I want you to do a job for me tonight. We could sure use the money.”
My heart rate doubled and my hands started to shake. I leaned on the kitchen counter. What could I say? If only Mom were home!
“Did you hear me, Tess?”
“I-I don’t think I can do it,” I stammered.
“Aww, sure you can. You’re good at it. Heck, you’re even better than me. Never told you that, did I? But you gotta stay in practice, or you’ll get rusty.”
I didn’t answer. I had no intention of doing the job, but I was scared what he might do if I said no. Grabbing the iron, I tackled the pile of shirts. If I put him off long enough, Mom would come back, and that would be the end of it.
In the next room, Walter groaned and muttered as he strained to move his chair. After a short time, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Desperation lined his face.
“Tessa, please. Just this once? We really need the money. The rent’s so far behind, we could get kicked out any day. And there’s nothing to eat except that stupid canned soup. Do you wanna starve?”
I hesitated. He was right about the money. Mom had cut the grocery list down to the bare necessities, and then some.
“Your mom doesn’t ever have to know. She’ll be so busy with me she won’t even notice you left. Please, Tess, say you’ll do it.” Walter shifted in his chair, grimacing at the pain.
I stood silent. How could I say no with him sitting right there? Especially when he was being so polite. Maybe it would be okay. It would be scary, yes, but I could handle it. And it would help out a lot.
I nodded. “I suppose.”
Walter’s face broke into a sort of grin. “Thanks. You’re a good partner. I knew I could count on you.”
A lump filled my throat. Never in my life had Walter spoken that respectfully to me. In fact, I wasn’t sure anyone had.
“Hand me the phone, and I’ll set things up,” he said.
“Set things up?” I felt a stab of apprehension.
“That’s where the money is, kid. Don’t worry, I do this all the time. Hand me the phone.”
So, contrary to Mom’s specific orders, I got him the phone. What else could I do? Then, like a good partner, I positioned myself at the kitchen window so I could warn him if she drove in. But I could not push away the nagging thought that I was turning into a criminal, just as Mom had predicted.
32
By the time Mom returned from the farm market with her potatoes, Walter had made half a dozen phone calls and changed my job description considerably. Not only was I supposed to return to the farmhouse the next night to finish the job – a necessity he had failed to mention in the beginning – but after that, I was expected to drive out to the dog park at the far end of town and deliver the finished product to two of his buyers. Of course, I had to bring some home for him too. I couldn’t help but notice the gleam in his eyes when he said that.
I swallowed my disgust and promised I would. I had expected as much. But that part about selling it had me scared. I knew the sort of characters Walter dealt with. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap or even murder me, if it suited their interests. Having a gun in my pocket that I didn’t really know how to use wouldn’t make things any safer. But Walter assured me everything would go fine. I hoped he was right.
Mom did question why I hadn’t finished the ironing. I told her I had a headache, an explanation she seemed to accept. It also doubled as an excuse to stay out of sight the rest of the afternoon. I knew Mom too well to take her intuitive powers lightly. But supper came and went with no sign of suspicions on her part.
Late that evening, while Mom was helping Walter in the bathroom, I slipped the ring of keys he’d given me into my pocket, pulled the biggest kitchen knife from the drawer, and stole out the back door. Walter had instructed me to take the pistol, but I didn’t know where Mom had put it. The knife would have to do for tonight.
Trembling with excitement and fear, I got into the car and softly closed the door. I turned the key, holding my breath as the engine started. Was the car always this noisy? I shifted into reverse and backed down the driveway, leaving the headlights off. I didn’t want to think what would happen if Mom caught me.
As I swung the car onto the road, I glanced back at the house. No lights had come on. Everything was quiet. A sudden thrill ran through me. I finally did it! I ran off with Mom’s car, and it wasn’t even that hard. I groped in the dark for the headlight switch, then hit the gas and tried to remember the things Walter had taught me about driving. Look ahead on the curves, don’t hug the center line, and don’t poke along, they’ll think you’re drunk.
I tried my best. But I hadn’t driven for some time; and at forty-fi
ve miles an hour, with a light wind drifting loose snow across the blacktop, it took a great deal of concentration just to stay on the road. Passing the tavern at the corner of Kruger and East Bluff Road, I glimpsed a sheriff car parked at the edge of the lot. My stomach knotted. Just what I don’t need. Suppose he recognizes the car and follows me?
I forced the thought away. No doubt he was watching for drunks. But as the road narrowed and began to wind back along the ridge, I realized I had a lot more on my mind than the fear of being stopped. Deep inside, I knew I was doing wrong. I also knew God wasn’t happy about it. I dreaded what might happen if I continued on. Would he punish me? What if he let the place blow up with me in it?
As I rounded the final bend and steered the car into the narrow, snowy field lane, I broke out in a cold sweat. I hadn’t been this nervous since the night Walter drove me back into the forest to punish me for running away. But I couldn’t let fear stop me. Walter had already set things up. I had promised, and everyone was counting on me. I had to go through with this thing.
Or did I? Uncertain now, I shifted the car into park and switched off the lights. “God, I need help. I don’t know what to do. Walter’s gonna kill me if I don’t go through with this.”
I waited, but there was no answer. The car engine vibrated beneath me. I might as well drive on to the farmhouse, I thought. If I sit here too long, I’m gonna totally freak.
But I decided to hold out a bit longer.
“I don’t wanna be a criminal, God. You know that. But I feel like I gotta do this, and in some ways, I guess I want to do it too. I want Walter to think I’m good at something.”
Tessa (From Fear to Faith) Page 16