The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  She wasn’t sure if screaming at Jesus counted as praying to him. If it didn’t, then it had been three months since she’d uttered anything to God. She wasn’t sure she was ready to try yet.

  Savannah turned back toward the house. Tabitha would be finishing up lunch, the rest of the Refugees heading out to do whatever they chose to do while waiting for their individual therapy appointments. Maybe she and Tabitha could hide away somewhere and Tabitha could try praying for her again. Maybe even aloud.

  The thought was not repulsive. That was a good sign.

  SAVANNAH WAS IN A GOOD mood. It felt almost foreign, but she wasn’t one to deny a gift the universe (or, dare she consider it — God) had given her. Dinner had been eaten, Tabitha had prayed over her and she had lived to tell, and she was feeling cautiously hopeful that things might eventually turn out okay.

  She decided to call Shaun. It was hard talking to him these days without feeling defensive, but she was feeling more amiable than she had in months, and maybe that would make all the difference. She sat out on the patio in her favorite rocking chair and hoped he was home.

  “Hello?”

  Savannah was surprised. “Jessie, hi honey. It’s Mom.”

  “What do you want?”

  She stopped rocking. “Well, I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

  “Oh, just peachy. The entire campus is ostracizing me and they’re threatening to kick me out for unpaid tuition. So I saved them all the trouble and just moved home.”

  The pain in Jessie’s voice was loud and clear. Savannah ached with every word. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  “Whatever. If you were sorry you wouldn’t have done all this.”

  “Jessie, I know it’s hard to understand what’s going on —”

  “I’m not six, Mother, don’t talk to me like this is some big grown-up problem that little me can’t understand. You bailed on every commitment you had and left everyone to clean up after you.”

  “Jessica, please understand. There’s more going on here than my issues. Your dad —”

  “Don’t try to drag Dad down with you. You two are so dysfunctional, I swear! You’re trying to implicate him, he’s trying to defend you —”

  “Defend me?”

  “ — it makes me sick.”

  The line went dead. Savannah gaped at the cell, head spinning. Things were apparently worse than she’d believed them to be, that much was clear. And with her daughter practically disowning her, Savannah knew it was time to go home. She had to get to the bottom of Shaun’s role in all this, and do whatever she could to salvage her relationship with Jessie.

  She went in and began packing, but stopped when she realized she was picking and choosing what to bring back. This isn’t home. You can’t assume Tabitha can or will hold this room for you. Who knows when you’ll be back. Or if.

  But was she ready to move on? She didn’t feel ready. Though, as you’ve already discovered, emotions can lie. But what would Tabitha say about her using the place like a hotel, just coming and going as she pleased?

  She debated, frozen in the middle of the room with a pair of cargo pants in her hands, then slowly folded them and placed them into the duffel. I can always bring it all back. She stuffed the last shirt into the bag and zipped her books into the side pockets, then brought the bag downstairs and sought out Tabitha.

  “I have to go home. Jessie left school and something’s going on with Shaun.”

  Tabitha gave her a hug. “I’ll cancel my therapy sessions and drive you to the airport. When’s your flight?”

  “I didn’t even make one. I’m just going to find the first plane I can get on.”

  Tabitha tracked down Jim, the other resident therapist, and told him her plans, then ushered Savannah to the passenger van that sat in the barn-like garage. “May I pray aloud?” she asked as they turned onto the main road.

  “Um … yes.”

  Savannah gazed out the window at the scenery they passed as Tabitha kept up her spiritual assault on the plans of the enemy to destroy Savannah and her family. She was trying not to listen, but even though Tabitha kept her voice low, every word seemed to seep in. She didn’t feel uncomfortable, though. Oddly, the prayers made her feel safe. Maybe she had truly reached a turning point. Maybe she was ready to leave.

  SAVANNAH ENTERED HER HOME JUST before ten p.m. No one called out; she heard no sounds at all. She’d been gone less than two weeks but she felt like an intruder.

  She stood in the foyer, determining her next move. She checked the garage and neither Shaun’s nor Jessie’s cars were there. No point trying to track down Jessie; who knew where she might be, and she’d come home eventually. So would Shaun — and if she wanted to do any snooping, she’d best do it before then.

  She left her bag by the door and went into Shaun’s office. She had never cased someone’s private space before. She walked around the room, eyes peeled for anything suspicious, though she didn’t know what that might be. Finally she sat down at his desk and began to open drawers. Now she really felt like an intruder.

  Office supplies, software, files for the bills and insurance papers. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. She tried the drawers on the other side of the desk. The top one was empty. The bottom one was locked.

  She searched for a key but found none. She opened the empty drawer again and examined the rails on which it slid, looking for a way to remove it. With some jiggling it finally came free, and she was able to peer down into the drawer below. A manila file, a binder, and a CD sat inside.

  She pulled them out and opened the folder. Inside were four letters from the IRS, dated six years back. The first notified him that A&A was being audited because of suspicious tax filings their first two years in business. The second informed him of the amount due. The last two were late notices for those payments.

  Savannah didn’t know A&A had ever been audited. How could Shaun have kept that from her? And how did he keep it from her?

  She looked again at the letter stating the amount owed. It was larger than she would have expected. Had Shaun not paid any of their taxes those years?

  Next she opened the binder. It turned out to be an executive checkbook, where only a few of the checks seemed to be missing. The stubs were all blank, there was nothing indicating what the checks had been made out for. The address was A&A’s.

  Her hands went clammy. She’d seen the kinds of paychecks the staff got. They didn’t look like these. Neither did the reimbursement checks. What were these used for—and why were there apparently two sets of checkbooks?

  Then she took the CD out of its case. There was nothing indicating what had been burned to it. She turned on his computer, then inserted the disc and waited for it to boot up. When she brought up the list of drives, the CD was listed as A&A Financials. She opened it, which launched the budgeting program Shaun used for the ministry. Spreadsheets and pie charts popped up on the screen. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she clicked around anyway, hoping something would stand out.

  It did.

  Here and there on the spreadsheet were amounts highlighted in blue. They were unlabeled, and did nothing when she clicked on them. All were fairly small; the largest was only $12.53. She counted them, flipping from one worksheet to another, until the total was over fifty and the amount equaled just over $450. What on earth?

  She glanced back into the drawer, hoping she’d missed something that might give her more information. She saw it in the back. Another checkbook.

  The checks inside contained only Shaun’s name, and their home address. The next check number was 118. Didn’t they usually start at 101? Seventeen checks missing, most likely, and no duplicates. Shaun had never told her he had a separate checking account.

  She picked up the checkbooks to put them back in the drawer, and a loose check slipped out of the back of the smaller book. It had been partially filled out, then scribbled over as though to void it; the written-out version of the amount had been botched. The pay
ee was listed as Carlie Stone. The amount in the box was $4000. The date was from last July.

  Carlie Stone. Why do I know that name? She searched her memory, repeating it aloud, waiting for it to trigger something. Someone she met through A&A? No—someone who worked there. A short-lived administrative assistant, less than six months if she remembered correctly. They’d hired Brenda after that, three years ago.

  Savannah put the check back into place and returned it, along with the other items, to the drawer. She shoved the top drawer in, then launched Shaun’s email client, hoping it was still what he used. The inbox contained messages from yesterday. Still in use! She entered Carlie Stone into the search box. A page’s worth of emails filed onto the screen. She scrolled down and opened the first one, dated September of 2006.

  Don’t think I don’t know why I was fired. You are a liar, Shaun Trover. I’m plenty stable and I’m plenty competent. You’re the one who is sick in the head.

  I want a thousand dollars by the end of the day on Friday. If it’s not here by then I’m going to tell Savannah we had an affair and tell her what you’re doing with A&A’s bank accounts.

  Savannah’s hand trembled as she clicked the message that Shaun had written in reply.

  This is blackmail, Carlie. This is illegal. And it’s not even true. We gave you a decent severance that you didn’t even technically qualify for, just be happy you have that and leave me alone.

  Carlie’s next reply was a single sentence. You really want to test me?

  Savannah opened each of the emails, which came at uneven intervals over the last few years. Sometimes months would go by, sometimes less than six weeks. At first she asked for the same amount every time, then starting last year the amount increased, until the most recent email asked for $10,000. Shaun’s response had been simple. I don’t have any money!!!

  She hadn’t replied yet. He’d written her three weeks ago.

  Savannah jumped when the front door closed. She’d spaced out, staring at the computer, feeling completely undone and not knowing what to do next. She scrambled to close the email client and was shutting the computer down when she heard Jessie call, “Mom?”

  Relief flooded her. She went out to the foyer and saw her daughter looking as though she hadn’t slept in a week. Her cheeks were red, her hair damp at the temples. “I saw your bag.” Jessie nodded to the carry-on leaning against the wall. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

  “I just got in a bit ago. Last minute decision. Where were you so late at night?”

  “Went for a run at the church’s gym.”

  Savannah smiled. They actually did share something in common. “I didn’t know you ran.”

  “Big surprise.”

  Jessie turned to go upstairs. Savannah followed her. “Listen, Jessie, can we talk? I’ve had some revelations the last couple days, and one of them pertains to you.”

  “Whatever.”

  She followed her to her room and sat on the bed while Jessie sat on the floor and began to stretch. She didn’t make eye contact with Savannah at all, acted as though she wasn’t even in the room. Savannah decided to just forge ahead and see what happened. “I realized the other day I have a tendency to brush your troubles aside and not be very sympathetic. I tell you to buck up and get over it and don’t really give you the space you might need to deal with things the way you want to. And I don’t often give you a lot of encouragement or support. I guess … I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew how to take care of yourself, that you wouldn’t be one of those girls always looking for some boy’s shoulder to cry on. I wanted you to be independent and strong—and you are strong, but …” Savannah sighed. “Anyway, I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”

  Jessie snorted. “And?”

  “And?”

  “All that and no apology. That’s pathetic, Mom.”

  “Didn’t I just apologize?”

  “No. There was nothing apologetic there but your tone, and after the last ten years I deserve a lot more than that.”

  Savannah was wounded, but knew she’d earned that comment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Real heartfelt.”

  “No, Jessica, listen: I’m really, really sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more attentive to your frustrations, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the way you needed me to be, and … I’m sorry if you felt like you weren’t as important to me as A&A was.”

  Jessie finally looked her in the eye, but her expression was anything but forgiving. “Buzz words. You’ve been talking to Dad.”

  “Well … yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not being honest. I know this doesn’t excuse it, but in my head, I was justifying the time I spent away from you because I thought the work I was doing at A&A would help make the world a better place for you. I was trying to reshape what it meant to be a Christian woman, trying to make it a better experience for women now and women in the future, like you. But I didn’t think about how your womanhood would be shaped by your childhood, and by how absent I was from it. I’m sorry.”

  Jessie’s stare locked on Savannah’s for a moment more before she finally broke the connection and stood. “Shocker. You finally figured it out.”

  “Yes, I did. And I’m here now and I want to do what I can to help. I know you don’t necessarily trust me right now, and I understand why. I won’t push you to share with me what’s going on, but I do want to know, and I do want to help if I can.”

  Jessie eyed her warily. “Let me think about it. I’m going to go take a shower.”

  “Go right ahead. Are you hungry? I’ll make us something to eat. Do you know when your father will be home?”

  “No. I don’t even know where he is.”

  “Alright then. Come on down when you’re ready; I’ll go cook something up.”

  Savannah went downstairs, pride still smarting but feeling far more confident in the restoration of their relationship than she’d expected to be. She opened the cupboards, searching for comfort food, and was pleasantly surprised when she found what she was looking for.

  Jessie appeared half an hour later, her hair still wet. “Waffles?”

  “I always find carbs comforting.”

  Savannah put a plate of two waffles in front of Jessie, along with a glass of milk. “So.”

  “So.”

  “Dad told me about Adam.”

  Jessie’s eyes went to her plate and stayed there. “Yeah.”

  “That was incredibly shallow of him.”

  “I don’t know … I don’t feel like I can really blame him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it makes sense he’d be so hurt. And what if our roles had been reversed—would I really want to go see his parents, spend Christmas day with them, knowing they’d put you out of a job?”

  Savannah was encouraged by how little judgment was in Jessie’s tone. “I understand his loyalty to his family, and what a tight spot this has put them in. Ministries operate very differently from businesses. The knowledge of a higher purpose involved and a shared belief system breaks down those formal, business-like walls that people tend to erect between themselves and their superiors. We were all like family at A&A; which was good. But when life happens and businesses fail, people need to realize it wasn’t done intentionally. Nothing personal was meant by it. Mistakes have been made that I’m just now finding out about, and those mistakes are part of what led to A&A’s demise. I don’t want to go into details,” she added when she saw Jessie look up with curiosity, “because I want to make sure I’ve got all my facts straight—and I need to talk to your father to do that. But point being—Adam should have known our family better than to think we’d ever hurt his family — or anyone — on purpose. We didn’t ‘screw them over.’ The money ran out and we had to close down.”

  Jessie nodded a little as she cut her waffle across the gridlines. “I guess that makes some sense. I’m just … I’m mad at God that all this happened. I don’t see how any of this can turn out well.”


  Savannah brought her own plate to the bar and sat beside her daughter. “I know how that feels, believe me. At least your anger is yours”

  “Yeah … Dad told me about the whole cellular memories thing.” She looked sideways at Savannah. “I’m having a hard time believing it. Sounds a little kooky to me.”

  “It sounds kooky to me, too. But what other theories are there to explain it all?” She poured maple syrup over the waffles, wishing she had some strawberries. “But the good news is that I had started therapy back in Georgia, and I think it’s helping.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The folks at The Refuge are pretty remarkable. I hope you get to meet Tabitha someday. And Aniyah. The cooking this woman does, let me tell you …”

  They continued to talk after dinner about Savannah’s experiences in Georgia and Jessie’s trials at school, until the clock on the mantel struck 2:30 and Jessie decided to turn in. Savannah sat in the living room with the remains of her coffee, longing for Aniyah’s sweet tea and reflecting on the last three hours she’d spent with her daughter. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked that long. She wasn’t actually sure they ever had.

  But as the night settled around her, the warmth from their conversation gave way to a chill at the memory of what she’d found in Shaun’s office. She was getting anxious to hear the whole story. When would Shaun get home?

  By 3:30, she was worried that he wouldn’t.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE SOUND OF THE GARAGE DOOR OPENING STARTLED SAVANnah awake. She pushed herself upright on the couch where she’d fallen asleep and checked her watch. 4:15 a.m. What on earth has he been doing all this time?

  She stood and straightened her clothes as she psyched herself up for the confrontation. When he walked in and saw her, she knew things would not go well. She tried not to sound as angry as she felt. “Where have you been all night? I was really starting to worry.”