But even as I said it, I realized the foolishness of supposing I could earn Walter’s respect. It had never worked before.
I continued. “God, I’d get out of this if I could. But I can’t. Walter will throw a fit and do something really mean to me.”
The answer this time was clear. No matter what Walter does, I’ll be with you. It’s going to be okay. Suddenly, I could sense God’s arms around me. He really was here, talking to me! The fear drained away, and I realized I didn’t have to do what Walter said. I was free to make my own decision.
I backed the car onto the road and pointed it toward home. Facing Walter would be difficult, but at least I knew God would be with me.
The car clock read ten minutes past midnight when I pulled into the driveway. I parked in the usual spot, sent up a final prayer, and stole into the dark house.
Walter didn’t stir as I tiptoed past him to my room. I closed my door, pulled off my wet shoes, and collapsed on the bed. I couldn’t believe how exhausted I felt. But there was a sense of relief as well. I was glad I’d made the right decision.
Five minutes later, there came a sharp knock on my door. I bolted upright, nearly falling off the bed in fright. “What? Who’s there?”
“I want to talk to you,” said Mom.
Lightning struck my soul. She knows. I grabbed my pajama top and yanked it on over my sweatshirt in a frantic attempt to disguise the fact I was still dressed. Mom pushed the door and flipped on the lights. For a long moment, she stood there with folded arms and scrutinized me. I hung my head, my confidence melting like snow in a July sun.
“Where were you?”
From her tone of voice, I knew it was no use trying to lie my way out of this one.
“I . . . well, it was Walter’s idea,” I faltered. “I don’t know what got into me. I…”
“Go on,” she said. “You what?”
I wished I could drop out of sight. How would I explain this?
“I-I was on my way to do a job. Walter told me to. But I got so scared I had to turn around. I didn’t even get there.”
The fury on Mom’s face changed to scorn. “Tessa, I honestly don’t know what to do with you anymore. You’re just like your father. I know a lie when I hear one.”
“You gotta believe me,” I pleaded. “I turned around because I knew God didn’t like what I was doing. He helped me decide to turn around. I’m never going back there again, I promise.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that before too. If you mean it, you can start by giving me that key.”
“It’s Walter’s. He’ll be mad if I don’t give it back.”
Mom held out her hand. I gave her the keys, and she pocketed them. But she wasn’t done with me.
“You should know I was on my way over to Ericksons’ to hitch a ride out there and stop you.”
Another bolt of lightning struck me. “What?”
“You really don’t get it, do you.” She gripped me by the shoulders and shook me. “Listen,” she hissed, her breath hot on my face. “I’d rather end up in prison than see you go anywhere near that cursed stuff. Do you understand?” She shook me again, harder.
“Yeah. I-I won’t do it again.” Her uncharacteristic severity frightened me.
“I hope not.” She gave me a final shake, then left, bumping the door shut behind her.
I cast myself onto the bed and buried my head under the blankets. You’re no Christian. You’re nothing but a miserable, worthless failure. No wonder Mom doesn’t believe you. Why should she?
That night I cried myself to sleep.
33
I awoke feeling lower than I’d ever felt in my life. I knew it was wrong to go along with Walter, I mourned. But for some reason, I didn’t care. Why couldn’t I have been born into a family like Heather’s? Here I don’t stand a chance.
I wondered what Patty would think if she knew what I’d done last night. Would she still hug me and say how much God loved me? Did God still love me? Or did he only love people like Patty and Heather who had it all together?
Dragging myself out of bed, I crossed to the window and pulled up the shade. Outside it was snowing, the fine-textured, heavy kind of snow that meant it wasn’t planning to stop. Maybe later I could shovel the driveway. It would give me an excuse to get out of the house.
Walter didn’t look up as I walked past on my way to breakfast. But when Mom slipped down to the basement a few minutes later to wash a load of towels, he called me.
“Say, Tessa. Would you do something for me?”
I swallowed my mouthful of cereal and growled, “Why should I?”
“Hey, don’t get all mad on me,” he said in an injured tone. “You’re the one who broke your promise.”
I didn’t try to answer that.
“Look, I know it was a big order. I guess I was asking too much of you. If you just get me a beer, we’ll call it even, okay? We’ll forget it happened.”
I was disgusted with him. Was he so desperate for a drink that he’d resort to pleading like a child?
“Walter, you need Jesus, not a can of beer.”
He tried to laugh. “That’s so cute, Tess. Now be a sport and get me that beer. Please.”
“Ask Mom.” I lifted my cereal bowl to my mouth to drink the rest of the milk.
Walter slammed his fist on the end table so hard I jumped. Milk dribbled down the front of my sweatshirt.
“Who’s in charge here, anyway?” he yelled. “You’re not gonna get away with treating me like this. I’ll see to that!”
I shoved back my chair. “You know what? You’re not in charge.” I grabbed my dishes and carried them over to the sink. I was shaking, but inside I felt good. For the first time ever, I had stood up to him. I didn’t care that he was calling me every dirty name he could invent.
The snow let up mid-afternoon. I put on my coat and boots and went outside to shovel. As I worked, scooping and throwing in rhythm, I began to relax for the first time in days. Except for a family of crows in the pine tree and the occasional car on the road, the world around me was silent and incredibly beautiful. If only I didn’t have to go back inside when I was done.
I stopped to rest before tackling the last ten feet of the driveway. Here the snow lay deeper and heavier because of the plows. As I stood leaning on my shovel, a red SUV slowed and then stopped in front of the driveway. Tom rolled down the window. “Hey, you need some help?”
“Sure.”
“Got an extra shovel?”
“Yeah, up at the house. I’ll get it.”
By the time I returned with the second shovel, Tom had cut a path through to the road. “You start on this side, and I’ll work in from the road,” he said.
In about fifteen minutes, the shoveling was done.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Not a problem. I can use the exercise. So, how’s Walter doing?”
“He’s horrible.”
Tom laughed at my matter-of-fact tone. “Okay. How’s Tessa doing putting up with him?”
“I wish I didn’t have to be here.”
“I see.” His face grew serious. “You’re welcome to come over, you know, if your mom is okay with it. Maybe you could even go to the Christmas Eve service with us tomorrow night.”
I shook my head. “I’d be crazy to even ask. She doesn’t trust me out of her sight.”
“Do you have a radio?”
“Sure, why?”
“Because there’s this program I think you’d like. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on a scrap of paper, then handed it to me. “It’ll be on in about ten minutes. Check it out.”
I promised I would, even though I knew I wouldn’t. If I could judge from the week I’d spent at their
house, Tom’s music tastes were outdated by at least fifty years.
Back in my bedroom, though, curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the crumpled paper from my pocket. “Set Free, 92.5 FM,” I read. “Weekdays at 4:30. Oh, what the heck. I can always turn it off.”
I set the radio on my bed, adjusted the antenna, and tuned in. After a brief commercial, the program announcer came on.
“How do you do, friends? Few people set out to ruin their life on purpose. Often it happens through a series of small and seemingly unimportant decisions, decisions that once made are difficult to reverse. The man in our story learned this the hard way. He thought he was stuck with the mess he’d created, until the day the grace of God set him free.”
Intrigued, I turned up the volume and listened as the dramatized story unfolded – the story of a young man who, although raised in a Christian family, turned his back on God at the age of sixteen and began using alcohol and heroin to cope with his heartache over his father’s death. After two failed marriages, three treatment programs, and innumerable stints in jail, he concluded suicide was the only way out of his terrible addiction.
That night, as he was on his way to jump off a bridge and end his life, he stumbled into a rescue mission and heard about Jesus. He got down on his knees in front of everyone and gave his life to God. From that night on, he was a changed man. He reconnected with his family, attended a Bible college, and dedicated the rest of his life to helping other men like himself.
When the story ended, I sat deep in thought. Although my circumstances differed, I could relate to the story. I too felt stuck in a situation from which there was no escape. Time and again I had tried to escape, only to find I couldn’t. I had even wondered whether suicide might be an answer. The main difference was that, for the man in the story, things had straightened out when he became a Christian. For me, they hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.
***
Supper that evening consisted of cabbage and potatoes boiled with ham to make a chunky soup. I didn’t like it, but at least it was warm and nourishing. Clearly we were not about to starve, regardless of what Walter said.
After the meal, Mom went to help Walter into his wheelchair. I was clearing the table when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being opened. I assumed Mom was doing it, until I heard her agonized yell. “Hey! You can’t come in here!”
A commotion followed. Hurrying around the corner, I saw a large bearded man in a dark jacket and orange stocking cap. I recognized him as one of the guys Walter hung out with at the tavern. He pushed his way past Mom and plopped down on the couch beside Walter’s chair.
“Hey buddy, how’s it going?” he said.
“What are you doing in my living room?” Mom demanded, her hands on her hips.
Walter waved his hand as if to dismiss her, but the stranger flashed her a smile. “Hey, little lady, get me a beer. We’re gonna be a while.”
“Make that two,” Walter said.
Mom’s face turned a deep scarlet. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again. She wheeled and headed for the kitchen, leaving both men hooting.
“Good girl,” Walter yelled after her. “That’s the way you do it!”
Mom marched straight to the corner cupboard, pulled the pistol from underneath a stack of tablecloths, and began to load it.
Fear clawed at my heart. “Mom, don’t!” I grabbed her sleeve. “What’re you doing!”
She gave me a shove. “Get outta here.”
I watched in horror as she finished loading the pistol and pulled back the slide. How could I just stand here, when she was going to kill somebody?
I grabbed at the gun. She yanked it away from me, then swung hard, slamming me over the head with it. I cried out and staggered backwards against the pantry door, my hands pressed to a rapidly forming lump on the side of my head. There wasn’t any blood, at least not yet, but it hurt like she’d cracked my skull. I slipped down the front of the pantry to the floor, still cradling my head.
Through the blur of pain, I heard Mom walk into the living room. “You! Get out of here!” she ordered.
“Hey! What’re you doing with my gun?” Walter demanded.
The man tried to laugh her off. “Ah, lady, you wouldn’t shoot a nice guy like me, now would you?”
“I certainly will. Get out – now!”
“Hey, stop pointing that gun at people. Somebody might get hurt.”
“Get moving. You have fifteen seconds. Fourteen . . . thirteen…”
“Stop it!” Walter screamed. “Charlie, wait…”
Charlie didn’t wait. I heard scuffling noises, then the screen door banged.
“Don’t you ever come back!” Mom yelled after him.
“You rat!” Walter’s voice was strangled with fury. “I’m gonna kill you!”
“That’ll be hard to do, being as I’m the one with the gun.”
“How dare you touch my gun! You just wait til–”
Mom interrupted him. “Don’t you ever let me find that door unlocked again.”
There was still no blood coming from my wounded head. I rose and stumbled to my room, where I curled up on the bed in the dark and fumed at Mom.
She had no cause to hit me like that! I was trying to keep her from killing the guy. What was I supposed to do? The pain in my heart kept getting worse. I wanted to scream and beat my fists on the mattress, but my head hurt too much. Mom, I hate you, I thought. Then aloud, I repeated it. “I hate you!” Deep sobs shook me. Wasn’t there anyone I could trust not to hurt me?
“Please, God,” I sobbed. “I’ve had it. I can’t stand this anymore. Please let me go back to Heather’s!”
It must have been two hours later when I heard a soft knock at my door. I had stopped crying, and the pain in my head and heart had numbed to a dull, hopeless ache.
The knock came again. “Can I come in?” Mom asked, nudging the door open. Yellow light spilled into my room from the hallway. Mom stood near the partly open door, toying with her hair.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. You were afraid I was gonna shoot somebody, and I guess I can’t blame you. Are you okay?” She moved closer to the bed.
I didn’t reply. Why did she always ask that dumb question? Of course I wasn’t okay.
Mom sat down on the edge of the bed. “Tessa, I’m so sorry. Nobody should have to live in a family like this.”
“Can’t I go back to Heather’s? Please?”
“Oh Tess, I wish you could. But I need you here. There’s no way I can watch Walter by myself. He’s getting worse by the day.”
“Why do you even bother with him? He’ll probably pay you back with a gun in your face the day he’s well.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Tess. Somebody’s got to look after him. He’s in a lot of pain. I’m sure he’ll settle down once he feels better.”
“Yeah right.” I turned away. How could she be so blind?
Mom stood up. “So are you gonna be okay? Do you need anything?”
“Just leave me alone.”
“How about some aspirins for your head?”
“I can get ’em myself.”
“Okay. Well, goodnight.” She left the room.
Moving slowly so as not to worsen my headache, I reached down and pulled a half-empty bottle of Nyquil from under the bed. I took a good swig and lay back on the pillow. Gingerly I ran a hand over the painful lump on the side of my head. At least it wasn’t getting bigger. I hoped that was a good sign.
34
When I awoke in the morning, my headache was almost gone. To my relief, the lump on my head seemed smaller as well. Although Mom didn’t ask how I felt, I could tell she was relieved to see me up and walking around. She even made me pancakes and scrambled eggs
for breakfast.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, as I sat down and forked two pancakes onto my plate.
“It’s Christmas Eve, silly.” Mom passed me a bottle of syrup. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t paid much attention. What’s the point, if you’re not gonna celebrate anyway?”
“Who said we’re not gonna celebrate Christmas?”
I laid down my fork and looked at her. “Really, Mom. I’m not a little kid. You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me.”
“Okay, then I won’t. I made the pancakes because we’re out of bread. I really need to run into town and get some, but I don’t trust either of you enough to leave.”
“Great. I guess we’ll starve then.” I slathered the hot pancakes with butter, then added just enough syrup to make them sweet but not soggy.
“Actually, I’ve half a mind to ask Ericksons to stop over for an hour and keep an eye on you guys.”
“Mom, seriously. I’ll behave, okay? How many times do I have to tell you that?”
She raised her eyebrows and continued eating. I knew she had good reason for not trusting me, but still, it stung. Too bad Walter hadn’t overheard the proposal. He’d make a proper fuss about it. But he was sitting in the easy chair with his leg propped up, picking at his food while he watched the morning news.
Finishing off my pancakes, I retreated to my bedroom. I couldn’t stop Mom from calling Tom and Patty, but I could hide out in here the whole time and pretend I wasn’t home. I was way too old to have the neighbors coming over to look after me.
I should’ve known Mom would spoil my plans. She stopped by my room a short time later to tell me the dishes needed washing.
“That’s not my problem,” I retorted.
“Now, Tessa.”
“Okay! Just give me a minute.”
I had barely started the dishes when the red SUV pulled in. Glancing around for Mom, my eye fell on the pistol lying next to the microwave. What would Tom and Patty think? I quickly shoved it into the corner and tossed a dish towel over it.
Tessa (From Fear to Faith) Page 17