Tessa (From Fear to Faith)

by Melissa Wiltrout

  The following pages held more pictures of Walter – driving a tractor, bottle-feeding a calf, stacking hay bales, roasting hotdogs over an open campfire, lying barefoot and shirtless in the grass by a muddy stream.

  I was halfway through the album before I found the first picture of Mom. She was sitting cross-legged on a shabby, mustard-colored couch, playing a small guitar. I marveled how young and pretty she looked.

  “This would be shortly after we were married,” Mom said. “Walter took that picture on the sly.”

  The remainder of the album contained a series of posed shots of the two of them together, several pictures of white ducks on a pond, and a final shot of Walter lying on his back underneath his car. The hood was propped open with a piece of wood, and all that could be seen of Walter were his dirt-caked boots.

  “Don’t you have any wedding pictures?” I asked.

  “We didn’t have a wedding,” Mom said, reaching for the album. “Neither of us had any money to speak of. We drove to town one day and got married, and that was about it. Anyway, like I said, I did play guitar. I wasn’t half bad, either.”

  “Do you think you could still play?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been like twenty years.”

  Then she changed the subject. “Say, I wanted to ask you. One of the ladies I work with has a cat she’s been trying to find a home for. You’re not still interested in a pet, are you?”

  Excitement bubbled up in me as I realized what she was saying. “You mean we could get her?”

  “If you want. But you’d have to take complete charge of her.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. How soon can we get her?”

  Mom laughed at my eagerness. “Maybe Saturday. We’ll need to pick up a few things first. I’ll talk to Kathy tomorrow.”

  That night I could hardly sleep for excitement. A cat! And it was going to be mine! I would have been content to settle for something small – like a hamster or even a turtle. But this was more than I had dared to hope for.

  “Thank you, God,” I whispered into my pillow. “I don’t know what you did to make this happen, but it’s totally awesome.”

  After our shopping trip that Saturday, we drove over to Kathy’s home to pick up the cat. A short, dark-haired lady answered our knock and took us behind the house to the enclosed porch. As she opened the screen door, a sleek black cat with a white face and bib jumped from a wicker chair and greeted us with a series of loud meows. I scratched her head, and she curled around my legs, purring.

  “She likes me,” I breathed. “What’s her name?”

  “I call her Nikki, but you can rename her if you like,” the lady said. She lifted the cat and gave her an affectionate kiss. Then she handed her to me. “Well, she’s all yours. Take good care of her.”

  “Thanks. I will.” I felt overwhelmed. This was the best gift I’d ever had. I hooked a finger under her red collar to prevent a possible escape as we walked to the car, but Nikki seemed content in my arms.

  Back home, I set up her cat box at the bottom of the basement stairs and her food dishes in the kitchen next to the pantry. Nikki wandered from room to room, meowing and rubbing against the furniture as she investigated every inch of her new home. At last she sprawled out on the living room carpet for a nap, her black coat gleaming in the sunlight. I stretched out beside her.

  “I think she’s happy,” Mom commented, glancing up from where she sat reading a magazine.

  “Oh yeah,” I agreed. “She thinks she owns the place. Don’t you, Nikki?” I scratched her chin with one finger, and she rolled over and batted at my hand, purring loudly.

  “I was wondering though, what made you change your mind?” I asked Mom.

  “Change my mind?”

  “Yeah. About me having a pet.”

  “Oh, that.” Mom thought a bit. “Lots of things, I guess. We had a dog once, way back, but it didn’t get along with Walter. He got rid of it.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it was for the best. He was getting aggressive. But I’ve always wanted a cat. I figure it’s the best way to deal with the mice in the basement.”

  “Or in my room?” I added.

  She laughed. “You two are gonna make a great pair.” Reaching for her camera, she snapped a picture of me and Nikki lying on the carpet.

  50

  I returned to school in September feeling like a different person. Had it been only a year since I’d run away and sustained myself by stealing from the grocery store? Much as I wanted to forget those dark days, I knew I never would. Nevertheless, seeing how far God had brought me filled me with thankfulness.

  It felt good to see my friends. Janet smothered me in a bear hug and asked how my summer had been. Sandy wanted to know how my garden was doing. Even Lois begged to see a picture of Nikki, though she laughed at me when I said she’d have to wait until the pictures were developed.

  Lorraine, however, made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. When we met in the hall that first day, she scowled and turned her back. I shrugged and continued walking. If she didn’t want to be friends, that was fine with me. She was kind of strange anyway.

  But try as I did, I couldn’t blot Lorraine out of my mind. She still had her little gang of followers and acted tougher than ever. But the veneer was wearing thin. She looked sick. Even when she was with her friends, I could see the loneliness in her eyes. Was there nothing I could do? I admired the way Heather had reached out to me, even though I was often rude to her. Maybe someday, I’d have a chance to do the same for Lorraine.

  Or maybe not. Two weeks into the school year, Lorraine was caught selling drugs on school property. She was arrested, along with Brittney and another student. I had to admit I was relieved.

  At lunch the next day, I noticed Crystal sitting alone at the table Lorraine and Brittney had always claimed. I walked over to her.

  “Hey,” I said. “Want to come sit with me and Janet?”

  She glanced at me, then looked down again and shook her head.

  “Okay then. Well, I just wanted to let you know you’re welcome to.”

  Feeling awkward now, I returned to my own table. “She won’t even talk to me,” I complained to Janet.

  “That’s okay,” Janet said. “Are you trying to change her, or be her friend?”

  The question made me think. “Be her friend, I guess.”

  “Then I’d say you did just fine.”

  It took a week of invitations before Crystal came to sit with us. She didn’t say much the first day, but I trusted she would open up more in time.

  I returned home that afternoon feeling particularly good about myself. Stepping off the bus, I got the mail and started up the driveway. The September sun still shone warm on my back, although storm clouds loomed in the western sky and golden leaves drifted from the big silver maple with every whisper of the breeze. I paused under the tree and gazed upward through the branches, feasting my eyes on the color. All too soon, winter would come and lock us into seven months of cold and dreariness. Mom wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her camera for just a few pictures.

  I pulled a key from my pocket and let myself in the back door. Nikki jumped from a chair and greeted me with loud meows. I stroked her as I flipped through the mail.

  “What’s this?” I wondered aloud, picking a card-sized blue envelope from the pile. My heart stopped when I saw the return address.

  Sarah Miner, Springfield, Missouri. It was addressed to Mom.

  I pressed the envelope to the window, but all I could determine was that it contained a card and a letter. Disappointed, I dropped it back into the pile. Mom would be furious if I opened it. But my mind raced in curious speculation. Why would my sister write to Mom after all these years? Did she perhaps want to visit? The poss
ibility both excited and scared me. What would it be like to meet her? Would she be friendly to me? Or would she act snobbish and grown up?

  The hour until Mom came home felt like an eternity. I had plenty of homework to do, but instead I went back outside and used up the film in Mom’s camera taking colored leaf shots. I even walked a few hundred feet up the road to capture a particularly colorful hill. If that really was a storm in the west, it might be my last chance. Meanwhile Nikki sniffed the bushes around the shop, hunting crickets and mice before sprawling out on the step for a sunbath.

  As the hands on my watch crept toward six o’clock, I called Nikki inside, fed her, and settled at the table with my schoolbooks.

  Mom drove in a few minutes after six. She greeted me, then washed her hands and set to work making supper. Unaware of the blue envelope hidden beneath the bills and catalogs, she sliced an onion and fried it with hamburger, then added spaghetti sauce and a can of green beans. By the time she finished and reached for the pile of mail, I was ready to burst.

  Her face paled when she saw the blue envelope. In one quick motion, she tucked it in her back pocket. Then she spread out the grocery flyer from Allen’s and began marking the coupons she wanted.

  “Is that from one of my sisters?” I couldn’t hold back the question.

  “I don’t know anyone else with that name.” Mom’s answer was matter of fact, but I detected a catch in her voice.

  “Could I read it, do you think?”

  Mom tried to laugh. “Before I do?”

  “Well no, but…”

  “Look. Whatever’s in there is none of your business.”

  I felt as if she’d slapped me. “But Mom, she’s my sister! How can you say it’s not my business!”

  “Because that’s the way it is.” Mom folded the Allen’s flyer and shoved it on top of the refrigerator, then strode down the hall to her bedroom and shut the door.

  I tried once more during supper. “Can’t you at least tell me what the letter says? Please?”

  “No! And if you don’t quit bugging me about it, you’re gonna be sorry!”

  It was a sharp disappointment. Why hadn’t I gone ahead and read Sarah’s letter while I had the chance? Now I might never know what it said, much less solve the mystery of what had happened to my sisters.

  ***

  Mom seemed quieter than usual in the weeks that followed. She made supper, vacuumed the crumbs off the floor, and did the laundry, but she no longer laughed at Nikki’s foolish antics or invited me to watch movies with her on Saturday nights. Instead, after the kitchen was cleaned up in the evening, she’d slip off to her bedroom. There she’d remain for hours, with the door closed and only a dim light burning.

  I thought she was ill. But one night on my way to bed, I heard muffled sobs behind the closed door. Mom rarely cried, except after one of Walter’s beatings. I listened a moment, then crept off to bed with tears in my own eyes. Maybe Mom wasn’t as tough as she wanted me to think. Maybe she carried hurts I knew nothing about. Was she lonely? Did she wish she had a friend, or even someone to talk to? I wanted to comfort her, but I did not know how.

  Nikki jumped up and nuzzled my face, then curled up against my chest with a purr. I stroked her silky fur and prayed for Mom until I fell asleep.

  The next day was a Sunday. As usual, I left for church before Mom got up. When I returned, I found her sitting in Walter’s easy chair, smoking and watching television. She glanced up when I walked in.

  “How was church?” she asked.

  “It was good. I like it a lot now that I know most of the songs.”

  Mom clicked the TV off. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Remember that letter?”

  I nodded. How could I forget it?

  “Well…” Mom pushed her hair back out of her eyes. “I think it’s time I told you a few things. About your sisters, and how things were before you were born.” She hesitated, and I could see her hands were trembling. “It’s not a pretty story. But I need to tell you. And Ericksons.”

  “Ericksons? Why?”

  She stood up. “Because I’m sick of how they treat me. Are they at home now?”

  “Yeah, they should be.”

  “Then let’s go.” She went to the back closet and put on her coat, then shouldered her purse. “Come on.”

  Puzzled, I grabbed my coat and followed her to the car.

  51

  The ride to the neighbors’ was short. “What a surprise,” Patty greeted me, as she opened the door. “And Julie, we haven’t seen you for a long time. Come in.”

  Tom sat on the couch in his church clothes, playing catch with Sadie. Seeing me, the dog bounded over and began licking my hands. I laughed and gave her a good scratch on the shoulders.

  Mom settled into Tom’s armchair. “I need to talk to you guys.” She glanced at Tom. “You know Walter’s story.”

  “A good piece of it,” he agreed.

  “Well, you know what they say. You gotta hear both sides to get the truth. I’m sick of you guys treating me like a crook, based on some half-baked story Walter told. I’d like to give you my side of things.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but go ahead,” Tom said.

  Patty sat down next to Tom. I settled into the other armchair and pulled my legs up.

  “This might surprise you, but I grew up in a religious, church-going family,” Mom began. “My parents were respectable people who didn’t drink or smoke or even swear. I had two older brothers and a sister five years younger than me who was slightly retarded. I was a pretty good kid. I went to church every week, learned verses for Sunday school, and even sang in the children’s choir. But when I got older, things changed.

  “I was fifteen when I started drinking with a couple of friends. I never drank a lot, and at first my parents didn’t know. But one night, the party got out of hand. The cops busted us, and Dad had to come get me. After that, I had to stay home in the evening. It was probably a good thing, though I didn’t see it that way. It just made me mad.

  “I didn’t get along at all with my mom. She was always busy with my sister and never had time for me. One day we were having this big fight, and I yelled that God didn’t exist. She totally flipped. When Dad heard about it, he claimed it was blasphemy and gave me a whipping. I tried to be more careful after that, but nothing changed. I fought constantly with both of them. My dad said if I kept on like I was, I’d go to hell. That scared me, until I decided it wasn’t true. I decided nothing they’d told me was true.

  “I was seventeen when I met the boy who worked on the neighbor’s farm. The two of us hit it off right from the start. I’d sneak out at night and even Sunday mornings to see him. We’d go sit by the creek, or tramp through the hayfields together in the moonlight.” She smiled, remembering.

  “He was bold and daring and fun to be with. I knew right away I wanted to marry him. One day he showed up in his rusty beater of a car, looking for me. He was a bit of a character even back then, with his long hair and all. Mom was furious. She said if I went and married somebody like that, I was going to hell for sure.

  “I was so sick of them trying to scare me into being good that I said some pretty mean things to her. She started crying. When Dad came home, he said he’d whip me, so I slipped out and ran to Walter. He promised to protect me if my dad showed up. We sat up in the haymow for hours, talking and smoking cigarettes. I sneaked home about three in the morning, and I never did get a whipping.

  “We eloped a short time later. I had just turned eighteen. Walter was nineteen. For a while, we lived in a trailer on the farm. Later we moved to town, and he got a job driving a truck. By then we had two little girls. Walter was gone a lot with his job, and he started to change. He was drinking a lot more, and who knows what else he was into. He was always
experimenting. But anyway, he wasn’t all that nice to us when he came home. He’d get mad at the girls, yell, and slap them. I tried to keep them out of his way.

  “A couple years went by, and Walter got into an accident with his truck. He lost his license and his job. After that, he couldn’t stay out of trouble. I pushed him to get another job, but he never did. He kept saying there were easier ways to make money.

  “One night he got this idea. He wanted me to help. It sounded kind of interesting, so after the girls went to sleep, we took off. Everything went smoothly until the cops pulled out behind us on the way home. Walter tried to outrun them, but it was a pretty stupid idea. We slid into the ditch and got arrested.

  “We both ended up in jail. I did nine months, and he did a year. During this time, my parents took care of the girls. When we got out, I took a job, since I was the only one who still had a driver’s license. Walter stayed home with the girls. Things went okay for a couple of weeks, until my boss found out I had a record and fired me. She didn’t even ask me to explain, just handed me my check and told me to beat it.”

  Mom paused, and for a moment she looked like she was going to cry. But she composed herself and continued.

  “About this time Walter discovered we could make lots of money selling drugs, and it was safer than burglary. Pretty soon he had quite a business going. I got used to it, but I never could get used to his temper. It didn’t take much to set him off. One day, the girls were playing tag, and they knocked a lamp over and broke it. Walter went into a rage and beat both of them. It was horrible. I was so mad I could’ve killed him. But Walter said he was sorry and he hadn’t meant to do it.

  “I believed him, until it happened again about a month later. As the summer wore on, it became a regular thing. Every couple of weeks, he’d find some reason to beat up the girls. It got to where I was afraid to leave them home with him.

  “Sometimes I let the girls stay overnight or even all weekend with my parents. They had a good time there, and I liked being free of them now and then. But you know little kids. They talk about everything. I guess my mother noticed some bruises and asked them about it. Next thing I knew, Dad was at the door chewing me out. He says to me, ‘This is terrible. Why don’t you stop him? Don’t you even care about your own kids?’ Well, of course I did, but what was I supposed to do? Walter was a lot bigger and stronger than me.