Showers in Season

by Beverly LaHaye

  Realizing that she could solve only one problem at a time, she set about trying to get these wounds sanitized before infection and disease set in.

  CHAPTER Twenty-One

  The sight of Mark on his hands and knees, cleaning out the dog cages, was immensely satisfying to Cathy. The thirteen-year-old had sported visions of three days of vacation from school, sleeping late, watching television or playing on the computer all day with no one breathing down his neck.

  Cathy had other plans. She had informed him quickly that three days of suspension from school meant three days of hard labor for her at her clinic. And that had only begun after their field trip to the juvenile detention center. Mark had expressed deep humiliation at being taken there, even just to look around, but she had gotten the guard to show them everything from the cells to the isolation rooms. He had been very quiet as they drove home. She hoped he had resolved never again to do anything that would land him there.

  Mark saw her looking in at him now. He tried to look weary, and wiped the sweat from his brow. She almost broke into a chorus of “Chain Gang” just to accompany his performance. “Why do I have to do this? You pay Joe and Carol to do it, and you’re not paying me. This is child abuse,” he said. “There are laws, you know.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. I do pay employees to do this, and they are extremely thankful to have a break from it while you’re here. You’ve made them very happy.”

  “Mom, haven’t I been punished enough?”

  “Punished enough?” she asked. “Mark, this is only the second day of your suspension. The fence around the yard needs painting. The floor in each of my examining rooms needs Lysol. All the trash cans need emptying.”

  “Can’t I just play with the dogs you’re boarding? I could take them out one at a time and walk them.”

  “Nope. That’s what Joe and Carol are doing today. You’re freeing them up to get a lot more done. I can hardly wait until the next time you get suspended.”

  She knew he wasn’t fooled by her facetious joy over his plight. The fact that her son had gotten three days of zeroes because he had dallied in drugs in the school bathroom had been enough to make her want to lock herself in a dark room and mourn for a week. She had kept quiet about it, had not told Brenda or Tory, because she didn’t want them to know how miserably she had failed as a parent. She had avoided Steve for the same reason.

  She realized she was doing exactly what she had chided Tory for doing—keeping her problems secret from people who could have prayed for her. What did that say about her belief in the power of prayer, she wondered.

  “Mom, I’m tired. I can’t wait to go back to school so I can get some rest.”

  That was just where she wanted him, she thought. Wishing to go back to school. Looking forward to sitting in class.

  She wished she could ensure that he would stay away from those boys who had influenced him into doing things he might never have done otherwise.

  But that was the hard part, she thought. That was why this parenting thing wasn’t easy. While Mark was here, cleaning out cages, she had some control. But the minute he stepped foot off of her property, he was prey for whatever vulture was out there, waiting to bite.

  She didn’t know if she had it in her to get through the teenage years with this one.

  CHAPTER Twenty-Two

  Brenda sat with Joseph in the room where she home-schooled him, and put up a good front as she read the essay he had written on his experiences with his heart transplant. She didn’t want him to see her getting all teary-eyed again, but the wounds were still fresh. She glanced up at him, saw him working on his project on the aortic system. She had used his heart transplant to teach him how the heart worked. In the process, she was learning, too. “Good job, Joseph.”

  “The project or the essay?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “Both, but I’m not finished reading the essay yet.”

  He squeezed out some more glue and carefully placed a piece of construction paper on one chamber of the heart. She went back to the essay, reading about the last day before they’d found a heart, and how he had expected to die, and all the regrets he had because his father didn’t believe in God, and his fear of never seeing him again.

  She thought of showing David the essay, but he hated things like this. Though he was extraordinarily proud of his children—all of them—he would tell her that she was emotionally blackmailing him with Joseph’s essay. Besides, she knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing Joseph or Leah or Rachel or Daniel had ever said had changed him into a believer. Even the neighbors’ selfless efforts to raise money to pay their hospital bills hadn’t done it. He wasn’t going to believe what he didn’t believe, he’d told her time and again. He had believed as a child, but Christendom had all but destroyed him when his father, a preacher, ran off with his church organist, and the congregation subsequently evicted him and his mother from the parsonage. They had lived in a one-room apartment above someone’s garage, and he had grown into a bitter, angry young man from whom the most zealous ones of his father’s flock had tried to cast out demons.

  He had never gotten over it.

  If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to myself. The words of Christ railed around and around in Brenda’s mind, reminding her that David’s salvation was not in her hands. The Holy Spirit would convict him when it was time. She had to believe that.

  She wiped her eyes and smiled up at her little boy. “That’s wonderful, Joseph. Great essay.”

  “Any mistakes?”

  “No. It’s an A+. I’ll bet you’ll be a writer someday. You’ll change the world. Already writing this well at nine years old?”

  “I used all my vocabulary words,” he said with a wry grin. “Did you notice?”

  She looked back down at the paper and realized that he had used them so well that she hadn’t even noticed. “You sure did. Would you look at that?”

  He wiped his hands on the paper towel she had given him, and sat back to survey his work. His cheeks were a little more plump than they had been a few months earlier, before he’d had to go on steroids and a dozen other drugs to stay alive. She was grateful for those plump cheeks now.

  “Mama, do you think you’re gonna let Leah, Rachel, and Daniel quit school?”

  She grinned. “Quit school? You sound like they want to drop out and get jobs.”

  “I want them to stay home,” he said. “It’s lonesome here.”

  She got up from the desk and went to sit by her son. He was getting stronger every day. His sutures were beginning to heal, and the weekly hospital visits had been positive in every way. She had to be careful to administer the right amount of medication at the right time, and watch the scars that were giving him some pain as he healed. But things had been going well so far.

  “I know you’re lonely, sweetheart, but I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

  “You think I’ll get sick again,” he said. “But I won’t. I’m doing good.”

  “Well. You’re doing well.”

  “I’m not gonna reject my heart. I promise.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “If you do, the doctors will know even before we do, and they’ll just adjust your medication. But we have to stay flexible.”

  “But they could be flexible if they quit school. It could be like old times.”

  Old times were less than six months ago, she realized, but they must seem like an eternity to Joseph.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Think hard.”

  “I am,” she said. “Just between you and me, I think I’m ready to go back to homeschooling, too. It’ll be good to get things back to normal.”

  “Well,” he said. “It’ll be well to get things back to normal.”

  “No, good. Well is an adverb, and good is an adjective.”

  “See, Mom? You’re a born teacher.”

  He was good, she thought. Well. He was good and would soon be well. Maybe it was time that she brought her children
back home, after all.

  She wanted to resume homeschooling for them, but she also couldn’t help thinking about the financial advantage it would give the family. Even though they were in public school, there were constant needs for money. Yearbooks, class pictures, music fees, class party fees, field trip costs, book fairs…That didn’t even include the cost for clothes and shoes so they wouldn’t feel out of place. The list went on and on, times three, and she was beginning to have to let her children go without. If they were back at home, maybe she could save a little money. Wouldn’t God provide the energy she needed to homeschool and work nights?

  Somewhere, there was a way. The Lord hadn’t brought them this far to drop them now.

  CHAPTER Twenty-Three

  Steve’s calls kept coming, though Cathy avoided talking to him. Desperate to keep him from knowing the truth about her wayward child, she hid behind the injured poodle and claimed she was too busy to talk to or see him. Each time, she heard the pain in his voice, as if he thought something else was going on. But she could not reassure him without explaining about her son’s tryst with drugs. If he knew, she suspected he would end things with her, anyway. What kind of future could they have together if he saw her children as discipline problems who could be a negative influence on his daughter?

  She told herself that it might be better for them to slow things down, anyway. She needed to give whatever energy she had left to her family. If Steve got tired of waiting and moved on…well…at least that was one less ticking bomb in her life.

  But on the last day of Mark’s suspension, Steve showed up at the clinic. She heard him asking the receptionist if she was there. At the time, she was engaged in checking the vital signs of the poodle that was still hanging on for dear life. She took her time, trying to organize her speech in her mind. I haven’t been avoiding you, Steve. I’ve just been so busy with this poodle…

  Before she had the speech completely planned, she heard Mark burst out into the waiting room. “How’s it going, Steve?”

  It was the first time in his life that Mark had addressed Steve with any kind of enthusiasm. But it didn’t surprise her that he did so now. Mark must have sensed her reluctance to share his plight with Steve, so of course, he had to go wave his problems like a flag in Steve’s face.

  Cathy leaned her forehead against the examining room wall as she heard Steve’s surprise. “Mark! What are you doing here?”

  “Mom’s forcing me to work for her during my suspension,” Mark said. “Talk about child abuse. You should tell her there are laws. She listens to you.”

  “Suspension? You got suspended from school?”

  Cathy groaned. It was done. The secret was out, dropped on the waiting room floor like a living thing with claws. “Well, yeah,” Mark said. “She didn’t tell you? I figured you were the first one she called.”

  Cathy adjusted the poodle’s useless IV, then carried him back to his kennel. She had to go out there, she told herself. She had to face Steve and explain why she hadn’t wanted him to know. She stepped slowly into the hall and listened.

  “She’s got me in here cleaning up dog mess and dipping animals. I’ve practically been clawed to death, and I probably have pneumonia from all the stink.” When Steve looked less than sympathetic, he threw in, “And yesterday a Doberman bit me.”

  It was a real sad story, Cathy thought, and she hoped Steve would ask to see the scars. The puppy’s “bite” hadn’t left any.

  Deciding that she’d better intervene before Mark could spill his guts about what he’d done to receive such brutal punishment, she plastered a smile on her face and stepped into the waiting room. “Steve, what are you doing here?”

  The sight of him reminded her how much she had missed him. He looked nervous, standing with his hands in his pockets, and wearing a strained smile. “I thought since you were avoiding me I’d just pop in. Unless you ran and hid, you’d have to talk to me.”

  She tried to laugh, but didn’t tell him that running and hiding had crossed her mind. “I’ve been talking to you,” she said as if that was the silliest thing she’d ever heard. “I’ve talked to you every night on the phone.”

  “I’ve never had so many thirty-second calls in my life.”

  She sighed, realizing she had hurt him. “Okay, let’s talk.” She gestured for him to follow her back to her office. “Mark, take Jumbo out for a walk. He’s getting a little restless in his cage.”

  Mark groaned. “I hate that dog. He’s fat and lazy and he smells bad.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  “Man!”

  Cathy took Steve into the office and closed the door. Before she could get around the desk, he said, “Come here.”

  She hesitated, so he reached for her and pulled her into a hug. All the self-defense tactics melted right out of her as he held her. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “You’re not about to cut me loose, are you?”

  “No,” she said. “You might cut yourself loose when you hear what’s going on, though.” He let her go, and she sank down in her chair. “Steve, I’ve been avoiding you because of Mark’s suspension. I didn’t want you to know.”

  He kept standing. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” Dramatically, she bent over and put her face in the circle of her arms. Gently, he pulled her ponytail up.

  “Cathy, why not?” he asked when their eyes met. “Tell me.”

  “Frankly, I was a little embarrassed. I thought the fewer people who knew, the better.”

  He looked crushed, and finally sat down. “Well, I can understand that. I mean, it’s personal, and it’s your family. It’s nobody’s business.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Cathy clutched her head as if it might split down the middle. “It’s not that it’s none of your business. It’s just that, well, I’ve been a little depressed about the whole thing. It just…” She covered her face. “Steve, it’s not that he was suspended. It’s why he was suspended.”

  “He didn’t tell me,” he said. “What did he do? Get in a fight?”

  “No, it’s worse than that.” She made herself look at him. “Steve,

  he got caught in the bathroom at school, smoking marijuana.”

  She could see that Steve was struggling not to look shocked. “Mark?”

  “Yeah, Mark.”

  He looked down at his feet, as if trying to process what he’d heard. “So you’ve been working him in here?”

  “I figured hard labor was the best punishment. But I have a real bad feeling that tomorrow when he gets back to school, he’s gonna go right back into that group of friends, and there’s no telling where they may lead him next.”

  Steve sat back hard in his chair. “Cathy, I wish you’d have talked to me about this before. There’s no need for you to hold this in all by yourself.”

  “Why not?” she asked, throwing her hands up. “I’m a single mom. That’s what we do. We take care of things by ourselves.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Have you told his father?”

  She breathed a laugh. “Yeah, I told him. He wasn’t that concerned. Said suspension didn’t mean the same thing today that it did when we were kids.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “Yep, that’s it. Didn’t even mention the marijuana. Like every kid gets caught taking drugs in the bathroom.” She touched the corners of her eyes, valiantly fighting back the tears. “You know, I do the best I can. I really do. I mean…well, okay, in some ways I’ve done a pretty sorry job. But I’m trying to teach them right. I mean, I know that there’s no excuse for Mark doing what he did, but I can’t help thinking that if his father was still in our home, the authority would be there, and maybe he’d be too afraid to take a step like that.”

  “But if his father didn’t take a stand, it wouldn’t matter if he was in the home.”

  “But it seems like he would take a stand if he was here every day. He’d care more. It’s real easy to stand back from a hundred miles away and decide that nothing
is very important.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you’re doing a great job.”

  She gave a loud, sad, skeptical laugh. “Right. That’s why my child came this close to getting arrested the other day. Honestly, I’m not sure why the principal didn’t call the police.” She rubbed her forehead. “You know, I’ll never forget when Jerry said that the most we could hope for in child-rearing is that we would get our kids to adulthood without pregnancy or disease. I guess he’d like to amend that now. Pregnancy, disease, or a prison sentence. I had visions of raising that bar, but it looks like even that is going to be a struggle.” She drew in a deep breath. “You must think we’re the most dysfunctional family you’ve ever seen.”

  “Cathy, your family is anything but dysfunctional. You’ve got Mark here paying for his crime. You didn’t let him off the hook. Your family is functioning just fine.” He reached across the desk to brush a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “Cathy, don’t close me out. You don’t realize how attached you are to someone until you think you’re losing them.”

  She smiled. He was good medicine.

  “So now that this is out in the open, do you think we can get together, or are you gonna keep hiding from me?”

  It was as if the burden had been lifted off of her back. “We can do something tomorrow night,” she said. “Sound okay?”

  He got up and came around the desk, settled his hands on the arms of her chair, and bent over to kiss her on the forehead. “It’s good to see you,” he whispered.

  “It’s good to see you, too.” She touched his jaw, and smiled at the fine sandpaper feel of it.

  “I don’t mean that in a polite sort of way. I mean it’s good to see your face. Good to look into your eyes.”

  Her eyes misted over again, and she got up and hugged him. He held her tight as time ticked by. She could get used to this, she thought. Every morning…every night…

  “Don’t hide anymore, okay?” he whispered. “It gives me a complex.”