Reunion: A Novel

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Right, and she went on welfare. Tell me how great that is.”

  “Just telling you what I know.” She drained her soda. “So… is that why you didn’t order a cola?”

  “Yes. My mother told me that my biggest job now is to do everything in my power to have a healthy baby. Caffeine is bad for babies.”

  Lindsey’s cell sang. She flipped it open. “It’s my mom.” In a minute she clicked it shut. “I’m supposed to stop for ice cream on the way home.”

  “We better go, huh?”

  “Wish I could think of something to help you.”

  “One thing: don’t tell anyone, not even your mother.”

  “I won’t. Some birthday present, huh?”

  “Right.”

  Lindsey started the car and backed around to head out the drive. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  “Thanks. Maybe your prayers will do better than mine. I think God turned off the receiver from me.”

  When they stopped in her driveway, Kirsten unbuckled her seat belt. “I’ll call you in the morning about my birthday.”

  “ ’Kay.” She paused. “We could go to the pool.”

  “No thanks. Guess who’s the lifeguard?” She slid out and slammed the car door. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  She watched Lindsey back out. She really didn’t want to go in the house. Her dad’s car was in the garage. That used to make her happy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I have to talk with Dad.”

  Leah looked up from her memory-book table. “I know. He’s in his office. Go ask if he’s ready.”

  “What if he says no?” Kirsten fought back the tears that brimmed instantly. I don’t want to talk with him, I want this all to go away. She couldn’t stand the disappointment in his eyes, the shadows that lined his face. Her stomach clenched, leaving the acid-bile taste in her throat. “Will you come too?”

  Leah nodded. “Let me put this away so nothing happens to it.” She reached down into a hanging-file box and withdrew a file folder, added some pictures to it, and put it away.

  Lord, help. Kirsten felt like she was watching a slow-motion movie. Even her mother’s words dragged out, making her sound like some kind of monster. Oh sure, now you pray for help. The fiend shrieked and cackled in her inner ear, a parody of her own voice. Tonight she didn’t have the strength to argue. Her confession to Lindsey had taken every bit of energy she possessed. Maybe now was not the best time. But would there ever be a good time for a talk like this? What was she going to say? “I’m sorry” didn’t make much difference at this point.

  She forced her feet to carry her to the door of her father’s study. Books lined one wall and a window onto the garden took up a good part of another. Her father sat in his recliner, staring out the window. “Daddy.”

  “Yes.”

  How could such sorrow, depression, anger—whatever it was—be packed into one word?

  “Can we talk?” Never before had she stood at the door and asked. She’d always known he would put down anything he was working on and open his arms to her. She would crawl up in his lap and he would lay his cheek on her hair and say, “I love you, little princess. What can I do for you?”

  Now, he only nodded.

  Look at me, Daddy, please look at me. She wasn’t brave enough to even kneel by the arm of his chair, another favorite place of hers. Instead she pulled the ottoman away from the wall and let her mother have the wingback chair that matched it. Just do it, she screamed at herself, the words echoing in the halls of her mind. “Please forgive me.”

  The silence pounded her into the floor. His sigh ripped at her heart.

  “Yes, I forgive you. And if you have asked, Jesus does too.”

  A tear dripped on her clasped, clenched hands. “Thank you.”

  “But there is no way to undo what is done.” He shook his head slowly as if the action was almost beyond his control. “No way.”

  “I know.” How well I know.

  “I wrote my letter of resignation. The elders are meeting tonight.”

  “Oh, Dad, why? You didn’t do this. I did. Why should you have to pay for my mistake?”

  “Sometimes that’s just the way life is.”

  “But this is your church.”

  “No, this is not my church, it is God’s church. When I read the scriptures, there are clear rules there for pastors, and I must follow them.”

  “But where?”

  “In the book of Timothy.”

  “It’s not fair!” Why could she not make him understand? Let her pay the price, not her father. But she knew, deep inside, that when her father believed something and made up his mind, nothing she said or did would change it.

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know.” The three words lay like a dead body between them. He didn’t look up, only at his lap where his hands lay, fingers curved in, not moving. Usually some part of her dad was moving, often one forefinger silently tapping on the other.

  Kirsten looked to her mother, who sat perfectly still but for the tears leaking one at a time down her face. “I-I knew I messed up my life and José’s, but not yours.” What can I do? An inner snort. Haven’t you already done enough?

  “Sin is like that. It never affects just one person.” He spoke softly.

  Get angry at me, yell at me, something. I can’t stand this. How can I pray? God, would you hear me now? Are you listening to my father? I know he’s been praying. And Mom. Don’t punish them for what I did. Please, the blame is mine, the sin is mine. Not theirs, they did their best. It was me. Me and José. Oh God, it was me. She crumpled into the ottoman, no longer able to remain upright. She looked to her mother, who sat with her face in her hands. Three people, three chairs, the canyons between them wide as the night sky.

  How could there ever be any healing for them all?

  After a long silence broken only by a stray sigh or sniff, Leah stood. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

  As Kirsten followed her mother out the door, the house phone rang. Taking a deep breath and blinking away tears, she made sure her voice didn’t betray the sorrow pressing down on all of them. “Sorenson residence.”

  She could hear a woman crying. “P-please, can I talk with Pastor?”

  What to do? How could her father talk on the phone right now? “Uh, just a moment.” Kirsten covered the receiver. “Someone is crying and wants to talk to Dad.”

  “Go get him.”

  “But…” At the look on her mother’s face, Kirsten padded back to the study. Keeping the receiver covered, she stopped beside him. “Dad, someone needs you.”

  He straightened, his eyebrows went up in a question, so she shrugged. “I don’t know who, but she’s crying.”

  Marcus closed his eyes, inhaled, and reached for the phone. “Pastor Sorenson.”

  As she left the room, Kirsten heard him say, “Oh, Virginia, I am so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

  Kirsten joined her mother in the kitchen. “He said he’d be right there. How can he do that?”

  “Your father is first and foremost a pastor and he will go where he is needed.”

  “But he resigned.”

  “No, he sent in his letter of resignation. The deacons have to accept it before he is officially no longer their pastor.”

  Kirsten felt hope leap in her heart. “So what if they say no?”

  “They will all talk and decide how best to handle this.”

  “Would it help if I left?”

  “Left what? The church? Our family?” Her mother almost smiled. “Sorry, sweetie, but you are stuck with us. And while there will be gossip and possibly rude remarks, you are still part of the family of God and the family of Munsford Community Church.”

  “But it might be easier on everyone if they didn’t have to see me grow bigger and bigger.”

  “But not easier on you, and you are the most important part of this equation to us.” They sat down at the table, tea mugs
steaming. “I fixed apple spice, so there’s no caffeine.” She pushed the plate of peanut butter cookies across the table. “Keira sent these over.” She picked up one for herself. “You never told me how the meeting with José went.”

  “He has things all planned out. We will live with his grandmother and he will work days and go to school nights. I would keep working for Uncle Bjorn and go to school if I’m able.”

  “Until after the baby is born. Then what?”

  “Then his grandmother will take care of the baby while we work and go to school.”

  “I see.”

  “He stormed off when I told him no. He’s not called since.”

  “And you will call him… when?”

  “I don’t know. I want to talk to him and then I think, why bother? He doesn’t have to stay around for this. He can go away to school and be just fine. One of us is going to have to have a good education. It’ll take me years longer to get my degree now.” She circled the rim of the cup with her fingertip. “If I ever do.” The pause lengthened. “I told Lindsey.”

  “So the ones who know are Keira and Lindsey. I’m not sure if Keira has told Bjorn or not. I’d like to invite them over for supper tomorrow night… no, that’s your birthday. The next night. Tomorrow night we’ll just have cake and ice cream. But maybe I better wait and ask your father if he can handle company.”

  “They aren’t company, they’re family.”

  “True, and we need to act like they are. When are you going to tell your brothers?”

  “I thought maybe at the family reunion.”

  “I think before then, so they can recover from the shock before the others find out.”

  Kirsten nodded. “Like when they call to wish me happy birthday? That’s just great. Thanks for your good wishes and I have a bit of news, I’m pregnant.” Shaking her head, she drained her mug and picked up the last cookie. Cuddling Patches, she trudged up the stairs. Now she was wishing José would call. Before she didn’t want him to. Can I never figure out what I want? She turned and called back down the stairs. “Lindsey and I are going to the pool tomorrow and for ice cream to celebrate my birthday, okay?” She’d made up her mind on one thing.

  “Sure, just plan on being home for supper.”

  “At least she remembered that my birthday is tomorrow,” she told the cat in her arms. “I was beginning to wonder. Just think, I’ll be eighteen.” Dumping the cat on the bed and shaking her head she went to stand in front of the full-length mirror. “Eighteen and pregnant. How can this possibly be a happy birthday?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At the breakfast table the next morning, Kirsten had toast and tea in front of her when her father came into the kitchen. “What happened last night, Dad?”

  “A terrible tragedy. The Winchesters’ grandson, you know, little Kirby?”

  “Of course.” Her stomach was already tying in knots. “What happened?”

  “He was riding his bike and a car hit him. The surgeons tried to save him, but he died about two a.m.” He rolled his lips to keep back the tears and shook his head. Leah laid her hands on his shoulders and her cheek against her husband’s.

  “Losing a child is the hardest thing ever. I put it out on the prayer chain first thing this morning.” She sniffed back her own tears.

  “He was so cute. Like in the Christmas program. Waving to his family and dancing to the music.” Kirsten wanted to go hug her father but sat stuck on her chair.

  He sat with his head in his hands, propped up by his elbows. He heaved a sigh and scrubbed fingers through his hair. Looking up at his daughter, he blinked. “Kirsten, I have to ask for your forgiveness.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

  “No, listen to me. I have been so angry and heartsick, and yes, we have a problem here in our family…” He looked up at Leah. “But we still have our daughter and I am so grateful I can’t begin to tell you.” He held out his arms. “Please forgive me for the way I’ve been treating you. Thank you, heavenly Father, we still have our Kirsten.”

  “Daddy!” She threw herself in his arms. “Of course I forgive you. It was my fault, not yours.”

  He held her close, his tears mingling with hers and Leah’s arms wrapped around them both. “I can’t say I won’t be angry anymore, but please, God, help us love each other no matter what.”

  Kirsten sat on his lap, held in her father’s arms, something she hadn’t done in years, just what she had cried out for. She wiped her eyes and grabbed for a napkin to blow her nose. Leah handed round the tissues. “What about José, Daddy?” How that had leaped into her mind, she didn’t know.

  “I’ll talk with him. I have to keep remembering that God will bring good out of this somehow. He said so.” Marcus blew out a breath. “How can that be with little Kirby? Lord, I don’t get it.” He sniffed again and glanced at the kitchen clock above the window. “I told them I’d come by about ten so I better get a move on.” He kissed Kirsten’s damp cheek. “I love you, princess, and don’t you forget it, no matter what.”

  She sat up and turned to stare into his eyes, her vow echoing his. “No matter what.”

  “Bjorn and Keira are coming over tonight for your birthday dinner. Is there anyone else you’d like to invite?”

  Kirsten immediately thought of José. But decided not to. She didn’t want another argument on her birthday. “Lindsey.”

  “Okay. Steaks all right?”

  “With twice-baked potatoes?”

  “If you want.”

  Kirsten returned to her own chair. “You want me to stay home and help?”

  “On your birthday? Not likely. You go have a good time and don’t get sunburned. That’s not a good way to celebrate.”

  After Marcus left, the front doorbell rang. Kirsten went to answer it. An elderly man stood on the porch, holding a vase of peach-colored roses.

  “Hey, Kirsten, I think you must be one lucky girl. These are for you.”

  “For me? Thank you, Mr. Olson. It’s my eighteenth birthday today.”

  “Well, that young man must like you a whole lot to send two dozen roses.” He handed her the card. “Happy birthday.”

  She blinked and grinned at the same time. Opening the small envelope, she pulled out the card and read: “I love you. Nothing else matters. José.”

  She carried the vase into the kitchen. “José sent these.”

  Leah leaned in to sniff the blooms. “Ah, they even have some fragrance. They certainly are lovely. You want to put them on the table for everyone to enjoy?”

  “Yes, and then I need to get ready. I’ll text him a thank you so we don’t argue.”

  “Maybe you two need a referee.”

  Leah smiled as she heard her daughter jogging up the stairs. So many good things happening on Kirsten’s birthday. That was as it should be. “Thank you, Lord.” Her cell phone sang—a call from Keira.

  As soon as she flipped it open, Leah heard, “What would you like me to bring?”

  “Good morning to you too.”

  “Sorry. I’m baking bread, should I turn some into rolls?”

  “Sounds wonderful. We’re having steak, twice-baked potatoes, and I thought to make that broccoli salad. Kirsten really loves that.”

  “So do we all. I’ll bring that too, then. Angel food cake?”

  “You sure know a lot about this family, my friend. The cake is in the oven.” A laughing snort was her answer.

  “I’m taking bread and a Jell-O salad over to the Winchesters. You want me to take anything for you?”

  “Not today. I’m going to wait until after the funeral. They’ll need things then too.”

  “Okay, anything else?”

  Leah eyed the steaks thawing on the counter. “You’d better bring a big appetite, the steaks are huge.” She paused before continuing. “I bought fresh strawberries yesterday to go on the cake, along with whipped cream. Am I forgetting anything?”

  “Not that I know of. See you later.”


  Leah took the cake from the oven and turned it over while still in the pan. She hulled the strawberries, cut and sugared them. What an easy dinner this was turning out to be. Keira was doing the hard part. While the oven was still hot, she scrubbed the baking potatoes and put them in the oven, and set the timer for an hour. Back in her room, the end of the memory book was in sight, over a rise or two, but still coming closer.

  “So is José coming to dinner?” she asked when Kirsten joined her.

  “No, but I called and we did better. You might have a good idea with the referee. I’m thinking both you and Mrs. Flores. She said I should call her Betty now, but that still feels strange.”

  “Work up to it. I still call a teacher I had in high school Mrs. Southworth. I know her name is Jen, but my mouth can’t say it.”

  “You want anything from the store?”

  “Nope, all is well.”

  “Hey, Mrs. S,” Lindsey called from the porch. “How come you’re inside on a day like today?”

  “She’s finishing up the memory book for the family reunion. Wait until you see it.”

  Leah smiled as the two strolled down the walk to the car. They could walk to the pool, so perhaps they planned… that’s right, they were going for ice cream. She brought the wrapped packages out from her hiding place and arranged them on the coffee table in the family room. The boys had sent theirs ahead too so they could surprise her. Some of the gifts she’d bought were for Kirsten’s dorm room. She heaved a sigh. Oh well, she could use the desk things in her room upstairs. The gift card for the bookstore would be good anywhere.

  They had given her a Kindle for Christmas, and the Amazon gift card could be used for books on the e-reader. The kids had tried to talk Leah into using one, but she could see no sense in it. There was something about holding a book in her hand and smelling the printer’s ink that was pleasing to her. Or maybe it was because she had always done it that way. Was she getting old enough to get caught in that trap?

  Every time she thought of the Winchester family, she prayed for them again, just like she did for Kirsten and José and the life they had created. Kirsten had to tell her brothers, that was all there was to it. They tended to get more than a little upset when something important happened and they weren’t notified.