The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  It was a topic she was getting tired of addressing with every person who saw her these days. “Yes, fine, thank you.”

  Jessie began to fix herself some toast as well. “That’s good. I can’t imagine what it must be like. But, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that with me.”

  Savannah was relieved by her daughter’s unexpected empathy. “Thank you.”

  A cloud passed over Jessie’s face, but her voice was still light when she spoke. “So the freshman welcome dinner went off without a hitch. I told some of the girls about the doily story you’d told me; they all want to make next year’s dinner a throwback thing and cover everything with doilies. Isn’t that a riot?”

  “Mmm.” Savannah eyed her computer as she bit into her toast. “Yes, funny.” She thought of something one of the other transplant recipients had written about, and she was struck with a sudden insight into the man’s struggle. She began to form her reply in her head as she blew over the top of her tea mug.

  “… children’s home on Tuesday afternoons. It’s been such an incredible experience. I’ve only done it twice but I have a feeling this is really going to affect the way I go with my career.”

  Career. Savannah certainly wished these days that hers had gone in a different direction. “Well, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go the way you’re expecting.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jessie’s tone snapped Savannah out of her own thoughts. “I — just that, your career—”

  “Is this more about my major? I thought we were done with this conversation, Mom. I love the options I’ll have in education.”

  Savannah set down her tea, bewildered by Jessie’s reaction. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry, sweetheart.”

  “Gosh, could it be because you have once again shown that you have no respect at all for me and my choices? I could be the homecoming queen and valedictorian and you’d still think I’m inadequate.” Jessie popped the toast prematurely from the toaster and spread a sloppy layer of peanut butter over the still-soft bread. “I don’t know why I keep trying to show you how wrong you are. You never see what I’ve accomplished, only that it’s not what you’d choose to do. I’m really sorry I didn’t turn out to be a mini Savannah, but I am who God made me to be; and if it’s good enough for him it should be good enough for you.”

  Savannah stared at Jessie, shocked. “Look, Jessica, I wasn’t trying to criticize with my comment. My mind was elsewhere—”

  “Of course it was. It’s always been elsewhere. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with you where you were fully present. This wasn’t some momentary lapse of focus, Mom. This is an issue ten years in the making. You have no idea what it’s like to be Savannah Trover’s daughter—her only daughter — no, worse, her only child. Not only do I get to live with everyone’s expectations of what your daughter should be like, but I have to live with your expectations all concentrated on one person. I really wish you’d at least had another kid so I’d have someone to commiserate with.”

  Savannah stared open-mouthed at her daughter. The comment hurt more than Jessie knew. “I’m serious, I’ve never meant to be hard on you. And any criticism I might have made was only to try to push you to consider other options instead of just blindly following what some guidance counselor made you think was your best bet. I never realized you were taking it that hard.”

  Jessie sniffed and rolled her eyes as she pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. “Of course you didn’t. You never think about anyone else. You never notice anyone else’s feelings. You never consider how what you say might hurt someone. You’re totally self-centered, but you excuse it as ministry. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have time for you because I need to work on my book.’ ‘Gosh, I’d love to help you out, but I really need to devote my time to my ministry.’ One excuse after another. Thank God I had Dad.”

  The words were a slap in the face. Savannah watched Jessie storm off to her room, heard the door slam shut, and wandered in a daze back to the couch to try to figure out what just happened. She’d been called focused, and driven, and passionate, but never self-centered. Surely this was just Jessie spouting Psychology 101 insights that were completely off-base.

  But as the sting wore off, Savannah couldn’t help noticing how accurate Jessie’s accusations were. She’d considered her ministry to be A&A and only A&A. She’d considered herself … not above serving in other ways, but excused from it. Her ministry was writing books and speaking, not feeding the homeless or praying with the sick. Savannah ministered to the people who did those kinds of things, and when someone invited her into the trenches she’d politely decline.

  And when it came to Jessie … well, she had never meant to come off the way she apparently had. Yes, she did have high expectations for her, but she’d never disapproved of what she was doing—she’d merely thought other avenues might yield more fruit for her.

  Though by not explicitly approving her choices, wasn’t I disapproving of them?

  Jessie was so smart, had so much potential, Savannah was afraid she’d end up unappreciated in some overcrowded school working for pittance. And, if she was brutally honest with herself, she had to admit she’d often hoped Jessie would want to join Savannah in her ministry to women, helping them to reach out and grab the life God had for them.

  It had all been for Jessie, really. For Jessie and her generation and the generations after her. All she’d wanted was to make the Christian subculture a place where women’s contributions were just as valued as the men’s, where the jobs mothers did were held in the same esteem as the pastors and teachers of the church. She’d been trying to strengthen and empower Christian moms to see the worth in what they did—and in doing so, she had checked out of her own mothering role and left her daughter to fend for herself.

  She now saw the irony.

  Savannah went to Jessie’s room and knocked. She opened the door when “come in” was muttered, and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m … I’m sorry, Jessie.”

  “Thanks.” Her daughter’s tone suggested she didn’t think the apology very heartfelt.

  “Listen—why don’t we do something this weekend, since Adam is going to be tied up anyway. Why don’t we go somewhere—like a spa.”

  Jessie’s breath left her like a deflating balloon. “A spa? Seriously? I never even paint my nails, Mom. Not that you’ve probably ever noticed.”

  She was right.

  It was obvious Jessie had no intention of letting this smooth over and be done with. Their problems had been a decade in the making; one spa invitation wouldn’t make things right, but Savannah had no idea what to do. She shut the door and went back to her computer to lose herself on the forums.

  SHAUN COULDN’T SLEEP. HE’D BEEN staring at the ceiling for over an hour when he finally got up and tiptoed from the bedroom so as not to wake Savannah. She’d told him about her conversation with Jessie, and it had broken his heart to see Savannah so wounded by the realizations she’d come to. He’d been unable to answer her, however, when she’d asked why he’d never said anything to her about her attitude.

  “We’ve been doing this for ten years and you never once told me I was turning into a prima donna. Why didn’t you stop me, speak some sense into me?”

  He’d squirmed beneath her stare, unwilling to confront his own shortcomings. He already had enough to hate himself for. He’d made up some excuse about not wanting to encroach on her personal approach to ministry, but she hadn’t bought it. Thankfully she hadn’t pushed him for a better answer.

  Sure, maybe he should have challenged her more in regards to Jessie’s and her relationship—but what did he know about mothers and daughters? He’d been raised in a houseful of boys. When Jessie had been born, dads at church with daughters had warned him of the teen years. He’d just assumed a rocky relationship was par for the course. And the few times he’d spoken up on Jessie’s behalf, Savannah had countered with what sounded to him like a perfe
ctly reasonable excuse for whatever it was she’d said or done to send Jessie crying to him.

  He sympathized with Jessie’s frustration; he just wished she had picked a different weekend to dump all this on Savannah. She had enough on her mind without facing the damage she’d done to her daughter. But trying to untangle it now was not going to make her any more confident in writing that book, and that book needed to get written. They needed the advance. Jessie’s tuition bill was past due; he’d written a letter to the financial department asking for grace given the unexpected financial hardship they were facing, but he hadn’t heard back yet on whether or not they would be willing to give him some more time.

  What frustrated him more was that Savannah wasn’t even trying to write the book. Twice he’d snuck a peek on her laptop to see if she’d started the manuscript, but found no new documents in the word processing program. The file for the outline hadn’t been opened in weeks.

  He sat in his office with the lights out, staring at the moon and trying to figure out how to get that book done. Maybe he could hire a ghost writer. It would kill him to have to split the advance, but part of an advance would be better than none at all. Savannah could just write out notes, rather than having to worry about crafting them into something readable; maybe she could go through the finished manuscript and add her own touches here and there so it sounded more like her voice. All it really needed was her name on the front to be a bestseller.

  And if they arranged a small book tour to promote it —just ten cities, perhaps, to guard her from exhaustion and overexertion — they’d really be in the clear. That would bring in all they needed, certainly. Savannah could sell hamburgers to a vegan if given the chance; she could easily get this book on the top of the New York Bestseller List if she was able to get in front of people. He knew how important a personal connection with the author could be in increasing sales; maybe if they arranged for signings that didn’t include a presentation and held those in other cities —

  The light switched on and he let out a yelp of surprise. Savannah stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Shaun rubbed a hand over his face as the adrenaline settled. “That’s alright. I was just lost in thought and didn’t hear you come in.”

  “It’s two in the morning. You’re not still working, are you?”

  “No, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come in here rather than risk waking you up.”

  She sat in the chair across from his desk. “What’s on your mind?”

  Had he been thinking, he wouldn’t have answered the way he did. But instead he made the mistake of being honest. “I was thinking about your book. Maybe we should hire a ghost writer, just to take some of the pressure off you.”

  “A ghost writer? Are you serious? What—you think I can’t write anymore?”

  “No, Van, it’s not that at all. Just, like I said, to help take the pressure off. I don’t doubt your ability, but I’ve seen how difficult it’s been for you to get going on it. We have a lot riding on this one; we have lots of bills to pay. The sooner we get it done, the better.”

  She waved her hand. “That’s what savings are for, Shaun. I know you like to have that safety net; this is when it’s okay to dip into it.”

  “Well, between the medical bills and Jessie’s tuition, our savings aren’t going to cut it.” He knew better than to tell her they had none.

  “So this is all on me then? It’s up to me to save us, is that what you’re saying? Ha—no pressure or anything.”

  He winced at the bitterness in her tone. “No, Van, that’s not how I meant it. I’m just saying that … that God brought you this contract. He’s trying to provide a means for us to deal with these expenses, but we need to do our part.”

  “You mean I have to do my part, as in, this is all on me —just like I said.” She crossed her arms, her expression steely. “So God throws an ‘opportunity’ at me and I don’t have a choice? I just have to take it? What if I don’t want it?”

  “What do you mean, ‘throws’ an opportunity at you? You started the book on your own; it’s not like God was twisting your arm. If you didn’t want to write it you shouldn’t have told your agent about it.”

  She pushed herself to her feet. “Well, regardless, I don’t feel like dealing with God and his opportunities right now.”

  Shaun was confused. “What does that mean?”

  But she was already halfway out the door, and if she heard him, she didn’t let on.

  He stared at the doorway with his mouth hanging open. What was that about? He knew writing books wasn’t always her favorite thing to do—it was too solitary a task, and she hated the time it took away from relating face-to-face with people. But she knew it was part and parcel with being a speaker, and had always managed to soldier her way through the process anyway. Why was this book any different?

  He certainly couldn’t go to bed now; he didn’t want to risk running into a steaming Savannah. He woke his computer, planning on returning a few emails he’d been putting off, but when he opened the program his mouth turned to cotton. Another email from her sat in the inbox. Fear won out and he closed the program without looking at the message. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. He’d read it tomorrow.

  Maybe.

  WHAT’S THAT AXIOM ABOUT THE best-laid plans? Or, even better— Man plans, God laughs. Well, if he’s laughing at this then he’s pretty cruel.

  Those were the thoughts in Jessie’s head as Adam drove them back to school Sunday night. The weekend had been an absolute disaster. All her self-analyzing and resolutions aimed at improving things with Savannah had flown right out of her head during their first conversation. It was as though her mouth worked on autopilot. She hadn’t really wanted to fight, but the accusations came almost without her thinking them. Tears of practice, I suppose. An unfortunate form of muscle memory.

  She’d kept herself out of sight for the rest of the weekend, spending as much time at Adam’s as she could. They needed the extra hands anyway, and it wasn’t like she was needed at home. Her dad worked most of the time, even on the weekend, and all her mother did was sit around on the computer—a new hobby, apparently. Jessie wondered if Savannah enjoyed the anonymity of internet forums as much as she did. She had actually been really curious about the forum Savannah was on, and would have liked to have talked with her about it. For once they had something in common. But she’d wrecked any chance of that with her opening salvo. Old habits die hard. Another fitting cliché

  She’d just finished unpacking when her cell rang. Shaun’s name was on the screen. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey yourself. Back at school?”

  “Yeah, just a bit ago.”

  “Didn’t get to see you much this weekend.”

  Guilt tugged at her gut. “Yeah, I know. Adam’s family needed some help.”

  “Well, I’m glad you could help them out. But I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. I, um, heard you and your mother had an interesting conversation.”

  Her defenses rose. “We talked, yes.”

  “Sounds more like you ranted.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to judge our whole conversation just from her view? That’s not fair.”

  “I don’t really think it matters whose view it’s from, your mother doesn’t deserve to be called self-centered.”

  “Even when it’s true?”

  “Your mother is not self-centered. She’s focused.”

  “Semantics, Dad.”

  “Mind your tone, Jessie.”

  She winced. “Sorry. But really, Dad, it’s not like I haven’t told you this stuff before. She just … I don’t know. And honestly, I was trying so hard to be agreeable, but it’s like my brain has these ruts from years of us butting heads, and the minute she says something that rubs me the wrong way I fall right into them and can’t get out. I end up arguing even though I don’t want to. Believe me — “ She swallowed back the lump that was forming i
n her throat. “I don’t want to fight with her. I don’t. And I really do want for us to get along. But it’s like it doesn’t matter what I do; it’s not gonna happen.”

  His voice was softer when he spoke. “I understand, sweetheart. And I’m glad to hear that you’re trying and that you want things to change. They will. Change is hard, especially when the old way of doing things is so ingrained. Keep working at it, keep praying for a change of heart—it’ll come.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. And in the meantime, I think an apology would be a good idea.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You were pretty disrespectful, Jessie. And your mom is having a hard enough time right now.”

  “Is she going to apologize to me?”

  “Should we only apologize when we’re receiving an apology as well?”

  “No, but that’s not the point.”

  “Don’t worry about what your mother does or doesn’t do. Just do what you need to do.”

  Anger made the tears start. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Gotta go. Bye.” She ended the call and choked back a sob of frustration. This was not how she’d wanted to end her weekend.

  She dialed Angie’s number. “Talk me down.”

  “Uh oh. What happened?”

  “Mom and I had a fight and Dad is totally taking her side and insisting I apologize, even though she isn’t going to apologize, as usual.”

  “Oy. Details?”

  Jessie laid out the conversation, sniffing her way through it and hating how hard it was to talk while crying.

  “I’m so sorry, Jess,” Angie said when she finished her story. “I totally get why you’re so upset. But I think your dad is right.”

  “What?!”

  “Put on the big-girl panties and apologize. You know, that whole fifth commandment thing about honoring your parents.”

  “I can’t believe you’re siding with my dad.”

  “Oh, come on, Jess, you know I’m not siding with anyone. I really do get how angry you are, and I totally agree that your mom was out of line. But seriously, if you’re wanting to make things better with you guys and break out of the pattern you’re stuck in, then this is a good way to do it.”