Letting Go (Healing Hearts)

by Michelle Sutton

  “That’s probably true, but when you know Christ, there’s nothing He can’t help you do. I believe that with all my heart.”

  “Nothing? How do you know when God will help you forgive?”

  Rachel chuckled softly. “Because I know Him. And I trust Him.”

  “Even though He’s never answered your prayer to heal your Lupus?”

  Her friend sighed. “It’s because of my weakness that I love Him even more.”

  Diane’s breath caught. “It just seems so odd. Like everything is the exact opposite when you believe in Jesus.” She chuckled. “No wonder being a real Christian isn’t popular. Who wants to suffer so they can find joy?”

  Rachel giggled. “I never really thought of it that way before, but you’re right. The ways of the Lord are in conflict with the ways of men.”

  “How did you get so smart about stuff like this?”

  “The Bible. Know what I think would be really smart for you to do? Talk to Dave when you see him tonight. Listen to him. I believe he really cares about you.”

  Tears filled Diane’s eyes.

  The receptionist buzzed her on the intercom. “Diane, Mrs. Moriarty is here.”

  “Thanks, Jeanine.” She pushed the button, turning off the speaker phone. “Rachel, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you Wednesday night. And guess what? The topic is forgiveness. Make sure you come, okay?”

  Diane agreed and hung up the phone. “No sense delaying the inevitable.” She stood and pushed the intercom button. “Send her in.”

  Chapter 22

  Jeanine opened the door to Diane’s office. “This way, ma’am.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  An elderly woman in her mid to late sixties stepped into Diane’s office. She wore a tailor-made, muted red business suit with white trim around the seams. Her pumps matched perfectly. The outfit really suited her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Moriarty.”

  “My name used to be Mrs. Mackey. I remarried in 2003.”

  Diane recognized her immediately. “Mrs. Mackey from Orange County, California? I can’t believe it.”

  The woman grinned. “So you do remember me? I’d hoped you would.”

  “I certainly do. You lived next door. How’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been well, thank you.”

  Silence lingered between them, then Mrs. Moriarity asked, “So how are you, Diane? Tell me.”

  “Good. As you can see I graduated from law school and joined a good law firm.”

  “You’re not married?”

  Diane’s chest tightened. “No. Is it that obvious?”

  Mrs. Moriarty glanced at Diane’s hand. “No ring, same last name. It wasn’t hard.”

  “What brings you to Idaho?”

  “My husband is here on business, and I came with him. I scheduled this appointment because I have something for you, but I’d like to talk for a few minutes first.”

  Diane motioned her to a chair in front of her desk. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Moriarty looked around. “You have a very nice office. And what a wonderful view you have! I’m impressed.”

  Diane sat down and leaned back in her chair. “Thanks. It’ll do for now.”

  “For now? Do you have bigger plans for yourself?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve always thought about being a judge.”

  “That sounds like a great plan.” Mrs. Moriarty shifted in her seat, clutching her purse on her lap. “Have you thought about settling down and starting a family?”

  Diane’s cheeks burned. “I can’t have children.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s okay. You’re not the first person to ask. I might as well get used to the question.” Diane reached into her desk drawer, pulled out a roll of cherry antacid tablets, and popped two into her mouth.

  Mrs. Moriarty gave Diane a questioning look.

  Diane shrugged. “I chew antacids when my stomach starts to ache.”

  The elderly woman’s mouth went slack. “You know, I remember that.”

  Diane’s eyes narrowed. “You remember what?”

  Mrs. Moriarty smiled wistfully. “I remember your frequent stomachaches. You used to ask me for antacids when you ran out of them.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, I remember that very well.”

  The memories made Diane’s stomach burn, and she changed the subject. “You never said what brought you to me.”

  “I didn’t? I thought I did. I looked you up in the phone book when I found out we’d be traveling here. When I sold my house in California after I married Joe, I found this photo album you gave me as a gift when you were about twelve. I thought you might want it back.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a small album decorated with a yellow smiley face and the words “Don’t worry, be happy, Mrs. Mackey” written on the front cover with permanent marker.

  Diane gasped and reached for the small book. “I remember this. I gave it to you when you were in the hospital and you were sad about your operation.” Tears filled her eyes. “That’s when you had your hysterectomy, wasn’t it?”

  Mrs. Moriarty pulled a tissue from her purse. She dabbed the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “You said you couldn’t have children, and you wanted one so much. I felt sorry that you couldn’t have kids of your own, so I gave you pictures of me.” Diane ran her trembling fingers over the smiley face, afraid to open the book and look inside.

  Mrs. Moriarty smiled. “You were such a sweet girl. I felt like you were my daughter in so many ways.”

  “I’ve had a hysterectomy too,” Diane whispered.

  The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Diane. Was it recent? The surgery, I mean?”

  Diane nodded. “Right before Christmas.”

  “How awful. Did your mother visit you?”

  Diane’s head snapped up. “Mother? She was too busy doing her own thing to worry about me. She hasn’t changed much.”

  Mrs. Moriarty leaned forward and placed her hand over Diane’s. “How’s your father doing? You look so much like him.”

  “You haven’t heard? He died when I was sixteen.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. Remember? I moved and rented the house out. I’m sorry I failed to keep in touch with you. It would’ve been so nice.”

  “It’s okay.” Diane glanced at her nails. “I survived.”

  “You remind me so much of your father.” The old woman chuckled. “He was such a handsome man.”

  The blood drained from Diane’s face and her stomach cramped. She leaned on her elbows to steady herself.

  “Are you okay? You look as if you don’t feel well.”

  “Just give me a minute.” Diane took slow breaths, trying to achieve a sense of balance. She took a small sip of water from the cup on her desk.

  Mrs. Moriarty remained seated with her hands folded in her lap. She watched Diane with concern.

  “I upset you, didn’t I?”

  Diane offered a shaky smile. “I get dizzy every once in awhile. It’s nothing.”

  “You looked fine before I mentioned how much you looked like your father.”

  Diane cringed. “You don’t want to know.”

  The elderly woman scanned Diane’s face. “I think I might know.”

  Diane’s breath caught.

  “I always suspected something wasn’t right, but never quite figured it out. I asked you several times if your father had hurt you, but you wouldn’t say much. Same with your mother.”

  Diane tucked her hair behind her ear, her hand shaking. “Why would you think that he hurt me?”

  “Oh, I saw the way he looked at you as you grew older. It bothered me and I tried to tell your mother, but she refused to listen. The other thing that concerned me was that you seemed happy when your parents broke up. Especially when your father left the house.
Most kids aren’t happy when their parents split up, but you were.”

  Diane shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs that fuzzed her thinking. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much.”

  “Oh, but I do, honey. When they were together your parents had a lot of pool parties. They invited my husband and me over several times. I recall your father following you around with his eyes. You would smile at him and giggle, but it was a nervous kind of giggle. Know what I mean?”

  “I . . . I guess. I honestly don’t remember much.”

  “It’s probably just as well. I remember the time you confided in me, when you asked me to pray for you. Remember when I taught you how to pray?”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said your father always wanted to kiss you and you didn’t like it. You were afraid to ask him to stop.”

  “I told you that?”

  “Yes, sweetheart.” Mrs. Moriarity frowned. “At the time, I didn’t think much about it. Lots of parents kiss their children.”

  Diane touched her fingers to her lips. A memory flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. The world started spinning.

  “Remember how we prayed together and asked God to help you be brave enough to ask him to stop?”

  “How old was I?”

  “I think you were twelve. You were very developed for your age, but you still looked like an angel to me.”

  Diane started to cry, and Mrs. Moriarty gave her a tissue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll change the subject.”

  “No, we need to discuss this. I think maybe God sent you here to tell me that I need to deal with this. I need to forgive my parents.”

  “Forgive them?”

  She glanced up and said in a rush of words, “My father molested me. I think my mother knew about it, and she let it happen.”

  “Oh, honey. I didn’t know it was that bad, but I suspected something was going on. I wish I’d prayed for you more or at least done something to help you.” Her voice cracked. “I should have paid more attention and asked more questions.”

  “Maybe God answered my prayer, and I didn’t realize it at the time. My father wasn’t home for very long before he left us again. The last time he came home he had a heart attack and died. He was home for maybe six months.”

  “I’m truly sorry to hear about what happened to you. I meant it when I said I apologize for not helping you more.” Mrs. Moriarty stood. “But you seem to have done well for yourself regardless.”

  Diane rose and offered her hand. “Thanks for coming to see me. What you shared really helped with some things I’ve been struggling with.”

  Mrs. Moriarty bypassed her hand and enveloped Diane in a warm embrace. “If you have questions, just ask. I’ve told you all I can remember right now, but I may have forgotten some things.”

  “That’s okay. You told me enough.”

  “Here’s my card in case you want to get in touch.”

  Diane accepted it with a smile. “Thanks again.”

  After her former neighbor left, Diane called her receptionist and asked to not be disturbed unless it was an emergency. She had totally forgotten about the photo album. Her hands trembled as she considered opening it. Several times she started to, but then set it on the table and eased onto the couch beside it.

  Lord, did You send her as a messenger for me? Was I wrong to assume what my mother said about me was true?

  She recalled the discussion Wednesday night at women’s group. They talked about how God was true and every man a liar. Diane figured they meant only God could always be truthful, and that she could trust Him. Not what her mother said about her, not what Dave thought, or even how she saw herself. Only God remained true. She’d have to think about that some more.

  Glancing over at the book on the table, she decided to look inside. Lord, give me some answers. Help me to understand.

  She held her breath and reached for the album. The first page contained a picture of her at about three years old. Her eyes shone bright as she held her favorite stuffed bear, Muffy. How she had loved that thing. Her eyes looked so happy. Where did that innocent little girl go? Wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand, she turned the page.

  In the next picture, Diane looked older. She wore a shiny satin dress and a crown made with rhinestones. The first pageant she had won. The year of the competition was posted on a banner in the picture. She had an enchanting smile for a six-year-old. Her makeup looked a bit overdone, but otherwise she resembled a princess. Diane smiled and ran her finger over the picture. She had been a pretty child.

  Turning the page became more difficult with each photo. There were eight pages in all. The fifth page had a picture of Diane standing beside her father. Her ninth birthday. Her cheeks puffed as she blew out the candles. Her mother stood in the background, wearing that familiar scowl. Diane shivered.

  The next held a snapshot of Diane sitting on her father’s lap. She looked no more than eleven. The lustful look on her father’s face churned her stomach. She hated that look. Covering her mouth, she choked on tears.

  Daddy, why did you hurt me. Why?

  With a sob, she threw the album across the room, hitting the outside of the wastebasket. That’s where the pictures belonged—in the trash. She couldn’t bear to look at them again.

  Jeanine buzzed her office. “Diane? Are you okay in there? I heard a noise.”

  Sniffling, Diane tried to sound normal. “I’m sorry. I have a really bad headache. Will you please reschedule my last appointment?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  Diane flopped on the couch with a moan. She couldn’t decide which hurt more, her heart or her head. They both pounded, but for different reasons.

  Exhausted from the emotionally draining meeting, Diane drifted off. An image of herself at twelve rolled through her mind like a movie. She remembered lounging alone in the backyard pool. The sun had just set . . .

  * * *

  Her father showed up in his swimsuit, dove into the pool, and swam a few laps. When he finished, he moved closer, panting. Then he winked.

  “Hey there, honey.”

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  As he edged nearer, she caught the scent of liquor lacing his breath. “Get in the hot tub with me?”

  “Um . . . sure.” She slid away from him and walked over to the whirlpool, then eased into the steamy water. Her father slid into the tub across from her and whistled.

  “Yum. You look tasty in that suit. Did I pick it out for you?”

  “Uh-huh.” She shivered under his gaze, no longer feeling warm.

  “Honey, are you cold? Come here. Daddy will warm you up.”

  She inched closer until she sat beside him, hip to hip.

  “That’s better. Now look at me,” he whispered.

  The weird expression in his eyes intensified as he draped his arm over her shoulders and kissed her hair. “Don’t you have some sugar for your daddy?”

  That familiar phrase usually preceded something she hated. She couldn’t speak.

  “Come on. Just one tiny little kiss?”

  Closing her eyes, she puckered up, hoping for a peck, and praying he’d keep his hands to himself this time.

  Her father held her face and pressed his mouth to hers. She wiggled under him as he pulled her body close, but he wouldn’t stop. He forced her lips apart and grabbed her suit.

  She fought to breathe.

  “John, what the hell are you doing?” her mother yelled.

  He released her and flicked the tip of her nose. “That was great, baby.”

  She tried to catch her breath and turned away from him, trembling. Her father had never kissed her like that before. He’d made suggestive comments and touched her, but he’d never forced himself on her.

  The grating pitch of her mother’s voice echoed across the yard. “John, can you hear me?”

  Her father grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. He tipped her chin up and stared in h
er eyes, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “You made me do it, beautiful girl. When you get close to me I can’t help myself.”

  Clutching her abdomen, she turned away, trying not to get sick.

  The sound of water sloshing told her he’d climbed out of the whirlpool.

  “Stop shouting, will ya? What’s so doggoned important, anyway?”

  * * *

  Diane woke, disoriented and shivering. “Why, Daddy?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. A wicked headache pounded in her temples.

  “I’m sorry, God. I didn’t mean to tempt my father. I didn’t think he would do that to me. I tried to be good. Forgive me, Lord. Please.”

  Suddenly something Dr. Rhiner had said in one of their sessions echoed through her brain.

  “What happened with your father wasn’t right, but you didn’t cause those things to happen. You wanted a normal relationship with your father. When that didn’t happen, you decided to take whatever affection he offered. That’s something any child would do.”

  His words gave her a small measure of comfort. It was as if God was telling her, “Stop blaming yourself, Diane. It wasn’t you. Forgive your parents, forgive yourself, and move on. I don’t want you stuck in that bitter place anymore.”

  “I’m so scared, God,” Diane prayed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  The answer came as clearly as if He stood beside her in the room.

  Trust Me. Lean on Me. I will give you rest. I will lead you where you need to go. All you have to do is listen for My voice and follow Me.

  Chapter 23

  Dave arrived at McDonald’s early. Joey giggled and pointed at the Golden Arches. He tried to run from the car the moment Dave unclipped the seatbelt. He had to slow Joey down and make him walk inside holding his hand.

  He crouched down so he could look his son in the eyes. “Joey, before you go and play over there, I want to tell you something very important.”

  Joey nodded, glancing every few seconds at the ball pit, obviously distracted by what he really wanted to do.

  “Listen, Joey. This is very important. I’m not letting you play until I know you heard what I’m saying to you.”