Showers in Season

by Beverly LaHaye

  CHAPTER Forty-Eight

  Like the happy family they’d once been, the Sullivans went to their church’s Thanksgiving service that night. Brenda and her kids were already there in one of the front pews. Barry hung near the back of the sanctuary, his face grim and his eyes vacant, as if he wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore.

  The pastor greeted them at the pew before they had the chance to sit down. “So what’s new with your family?” he asked Brittany and Spencer.

  Brittany spouted out, “My mommy’s gonna have a baby!”

  The pastor spun around, delighted. “Tory, I didn’t know. Congratulations!”

  Stunned that Brittany had made the announcement without warning, she shot Barry a look. He was staring coldly at the floor. “Thank you,” she told the pastor. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Oops!” he said, patting Brittany’s head. “Did she know that?”

  Tory tried to laugh, but knew it seemed fake. A few families around them who had heard Brittany congratulated her. She tried to accept it with the kind of smile she might have had if things weren’t so twisted.

  She sat down, and Barry slipped into the pew next to her. She could feel the chill radiating from him, and knew there would be a fight when they got home.

  Tory didn’t say a word as the service started. She was not going to apologize. The praise team began to lead the congregation in worship, but she found it difficult to join in. Beside her, Barry was also silent. He stood still, his hands at his sides, not participating at all. Tory closed her eyes and began to pray for her husband’s heart to be changed.

  That night, after they got the children to bed, she and Barry found themselves alone. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they’d left the service, but now he had plenty to say. “I told you the kids couldn’t keep this secret,” he said. “I told you that, as soon as they knew, things would get out of hand. You had no right to tell anybody about this. No right at all. Not until I was ready.”

  “You weren’t ever going to be ready,” Tory said. “You wanted me to get rid of this pregnancy, end it like it never happened.”

  “You’re not objective,” he said. “You can’t make the right decision.”

  “How can you be objective?” she asked. “You’re this baby’s father!” She tried to lower her voice, get it back under control. “I watched you sit there like a statue tonight, not praising God, not thanking him, not even acknowledging him, and it was so unlike you, Barry. And I realized how much you’ve changed in the last few weeks. Or maybe that’s exactly how you always were and I just didn’t see it.”

  “You’re changing the subject,” he said. “We’re talking about the baby, not my spiritual life.”

  “It’s all tied in together,” she said. “I’m disappointed in you.” Her voice cracked as tears filled her eyes. “I feel like my best friend has died, and that he’s never coming back. You’ve taken his place, and I don’t know who you are.”

  His eyes flashed. “I’ve never done anything to hurt this family! I’ve only protected it. That’s what I’m still doing. I’m still your husband and the father of your children.”

  “All three of them,” she threw back. The tears overcame her, and she sucked in a sob. “I’m sorry that I went over your head to tell the children. I told myself that night that the children needed to know, but the truth was, there was a lot of revenge in my timing. I wanted to get back at you for not being there for me.”

  “Well, I hope you’re happy. It worked.”

  “I really am sorry,” she said. “I should have waited until you said we could tell them. But it’s too late now. And they were happy about it. They don’t know any better. And I’m starting to be happy about it, too, Barry. I want this baby.”

  He just stood there staring at her, so obviously broken, but unable to cry.

  She took a step toward him. “Barry, please come to the Developmental Center with me. Please come and see these children. Then you won’t be so depressed. You’ll see that they have hope, they have potential, they can learn.”

  “There is nothing you can show me that I don’t know,” he said. “Nothing. I don’t want this for my family.”

  She threw up her chin. “Then I’m prepared to go through this without you. But I need to know. What are you going to do when I have this baby?” she asked. “Are you going to leave? Are you going to abandon your whole family because you’re worried about what a retarded child is going to do to disrupt things? I’ll tell you what’s going to disrupt us, Barry. The father just ripping himself out of this home. That’s disruptive. I need to know your plans, Barry.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Tory. If you insist on going through with this, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Her face twisted as more tears rolled down her face. “Just an hour at the school. If you could just come with me and see.”

  “I won’t do it,” he said through his teeth. “I can go sit with Nathan. I can watch my brother who does nothing all day. He just exists, waiting for his days to be over, one at a time.”

  “But this baby won’t be that bad.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, “but maybe she will. Would you still feel the same way about our child, about her life being so valuable, if you knew she was as bad as Nathan, or worse?”

  She only had to think about that for a second. “Yes,” she said, “because she’s mine, and God gave her to me, and she has a soul, no matter what her body is like.”

  “You’ve never believed Nathan had value. You’ve avoided him like the plague. You haven’t ever been comfortable with him.”

  “Then I’m going to have to change,” she said.

  He stepped toward her. “Tory, time is running out. Soon that option won’t be available to us. It won’t just be a fetus. It will be a baby.”

  “It’s a baby already!” she shouted. “Barry, why can’t you think of it that way?”

  “Because I don’t want to,” he whispered harshly.

  “That’s clear,” she agreed. “But she is a little baby girl. Soon she’ll have a ribbon in her hair and the smell of baby powder in her clothes. Don’t you realize our family is at stake? Not just the baby.”

  “That depends on you,” he said.

  “No! It depends on you! Because if you keep going this way, I’m never going to be able to trust you again. I used to admire you…look up to you. But now…”

  He turned to the basement door, putting his back to her.

  “Barry, it’s not too late to love this baby. It’s not too late to turn things around.”

  But Barry started down the basement steps, ending the conversation.

  CHAPTER Forty-Nine

  Tracy went home with her grandparents for the weekend, and Cathy’s kids headed to their dad’s in Knoxville. Steve surprised her and rented two horses, and they spent the afternoon riding in the pastureland behind Sylvia’s house.

  “I’ve been thinking about your kids,” he told her once as their horses walked side by side.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Here it comes.”

  “Here what comes?”

  She grinned. “The point where you tell me that you really like me, but you don’t think we’re meant for each other.”

  He laughed out loud. “What would make you think that?”

  “My kids,” she said. “You’ve been thinking about them, and you’ve realized what a handful they are—”

  “No,” he cut in. “Nothing like that at all. Just the opposite. I want to take your boys on a camping trip.”

  She stopped her horse and turned to face him. “You want to take my boys out into the woods? Alone?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking next weekend. They will be with you next weekend, won’t they?”

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  “I have a lot of camping gear, and I thought we could go into the mountains and spend the night, do a little fishing.”

  “With my boys?” she asked again. “Steve, why would you want
to do that?”

  He seemed to think his words over carefully. “I just got to thinking about them, about their need for a male role model. I just thought it might be a nice way to bond with them.”

  Cathy was still stunned. He wanted to bond with them? “I don’t even know if they’d go.”

  “Sure they’d go,” he said. “Every boy wants to go camping.”

  “But I can’t guarantee how they’ll behave. You could have a migraine and gray hair by the time you come back.”

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “You’re not going to take them out in the wilderness and beat sense into them, are you?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Not a bad idea.” He laughed at the look on her face. “No, I thought we’d just have fun. And I was thinking that maybe you could take this opportunity to bond with Tracy a little bit.”

  Her eyes widened and she started to see the pattern here. Instead of pulling away because of her children, Steve was actually thinking in terms of a future together. Was there no end to God’s goodness?

  “I think that would be great,” she said. “She and Annie and I can go shopping. I can teach her how to bake my famous cheesecake.”

  “She’ll love it.”

  “I will, too. But you’re getting the short end of the stick. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Just try me,” he said with a grin. He patted her horse’s rump, and the animal started along the path again.

  “I’ll race you home!” he said.

  Cathy didn’t answer. She just gave her horse a kick and sent it galloping off ahead of him.

  CHAPTER Fifty

  Almost a week after Thanksgiving, which Sylvia and Harry hadn’t had time to celebrate, Harry brought home news that had the same devastating effect of the mud slides burying the countryside. The baby’s mother had been found.

  Sylvia rocked back and forth, back and forth in the rocking chair, holding the little sleeping girl in her arms. She knew this was good news for the child. But her heart was crushed. How could she let her go? Tears rolled down her face as she stared up at Harry.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I know how much she means to you.”

  “Are you sure it’s her mother?” she whispered.

  “Positive,” he said. “She has a picture. She’s been in the hospital and just heard about the Andersons’ children’s home. She sent someone to look for the baby.”

  Sylvia closed her eyes, but the tears kept coming. How could she be so selfish? She should be celebrating for the baby. “Why did it take her so long to look for her?” she asked.

  “She was unconscious from a head injury when they took her to the hospital. She’s been in a coma since the hurricane. She didn’t even know where the baby was. But they said she’s been awake for three days and she’s been begging and pleading that someone go find her baby.”

  Sylvia dropped her face to the sleeping child’s and kissed her cheek. There was still a chance that Carly was the wrong child, she thought. Then she quickly chastised herself for wishing such a thing.

  “Honey, the baby’s name is Selena.”

  Sylvia forced a smile. “Selena. That’s nice. It fits her.” Her face twisted with pain, and she wiped away more tears. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m happy for her. Really, I am. It’s so silly. I just thought…that God had brought her to me. A gift.”

  “She wasn’t a gift,” he whispered. “Just a loan. She needs her mother.”

  “Where’s her father? Where is everybody else, if she’s so loved?”

  “Her father was killed when the house fell on them,” he said quietly. “The relatives came as soon as they could.”

  Sylvia swallowed back her pain. “Well…Guess we’d better go.”

  Harry kissed her forehead. “I’ll go with you.”

  The baby stirred as Sylvia got up. Her cheeks were pink from sleep, and her hair stuck up on one side where she had been pressed against Sylvia. “We’re going to see your mama,” Sylvia told her, knowing she didn’t understand. She wiped her face. “She’ll be so glad to see you.” Her voice broke.

  Harry touched her shoulders. His strong hands were gentle, comforting. “Honey, God has work for you to do. Important work. This community needs you, just like little Carly—or Selena—needed you. He sent you to care for her until her mother could, just like he sent you to this community to help them through this devastation. This isn’t the end. He isn’t finished with you.”

  She brought the baby’s blanket to her face and sobbed into it, then pulled herself together and wrapped it around the child. “Let’s go,” she whispered. “We have a family to reunite.”

  CHAPTER Fifty-One

  The temperature had dropped considerably during the week following Thanksgiving, and Friday morning, Tory bundled her children into sweaters before piling them into the car for school. She saw Cathy walking Mark across the street to personally deliver him to Brenda, who stood on her porch. She waved at them both, then turned back to her children’s seat belts.

  She felt the fluttering in the lower part of her abdomen, and brought her hand to her stomach. Then it came harder, that unmistakable feeling of a foot against her uterine wall. She froze with her hand over the baby, waiting for it to happen again.

  From Brenda’s porch, Cathy called, “Tory, are you all right?”

  She straightened, smiling. “I felt her move!” she called.

  Cathy leaped off the porch and crossed the yard. Brenda followed behind her.

  “This early?” Cathy asked as she reached Tory. “What are you, three months pregnant?”

  “Seventeen weeks,” she said. “I felt Spencer at twelve.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Brenda said. “When I was pregnant with my last three, I felt it really early.”

  Both women touched Tory’s stomach, feeling for any sign.

  “I want to feel, Mommy!” Spencer said, unhooking his belt and sliding out of the van.

  “Okay, honey. Just a minute.”

  “Me, too, Mommy!” Brittany cried.

  Brenda placed Brittany’s and Spencer’s hands over their mother’s stomach, and they all waited in silence. They looked ridiculous, Tory thought. She didn’t have enough stomach for all of the waiting hands. Then she felt it again—the slightest flutter. “That’s it!” she cried.

  “I felt it,” Spencer said.

  “I didn’t,” Brittany whined. “Do it again, Mommy.”

  “We have to wait, honey. I’m not sure you can feel it as much as I can. It’s not much. Just a little flutter.”

  “Like butterfly wings?” Brittany asked.

  “A little stronger than that. Just two little feet or hands…maybe an elbow.”

  Brenda leaned over the children to hug her. “Tory, this is the perfect opportunity,” she whispered. “Go to the office and share this with Barry.”

  Tory just looked at Brenda. “Okay, kids, back in the car. We’re gonna be late.”

  “She’s right,” Cathy said. “This could build a bridge. Just go and let him feel his daughter.”

  Tory sighed as she buckled the seat belts again. “But what if it doesn’t do it again?”

  “It’s going to do it from now on out,” Cathy said. “Introduce him to his child, Tory. Once he sees that it’s a live person and not just a concept, he’ll come around. I know he will.”

  Tory closed the door to the van and lowered her voice. “But we’re not really even speaking to each other right now,” she said. “Thanksgiving was awful.”

  “Then start fresh today,” Brenda told her. “Come on, Tory. You need to do this.”

  Tory didn’t want to. She didn’t want Barry dousing her excitement. “Well, I was going to write today.”

  “Tory, what’s more important?”

  Her face twisted, and she closed her eyes. “I know what’s more important. I’m just so tired of the fighting.”

  “But it could be a step that would end the fighting,” Brenda said. “Take th
at step.”

  The baby moved again, and she looked down at her hand over her stomach. There was a little girl in there, one who would smile and hug and have idiosyncrasies of her own. She might delight in the feel of produce, or whistle songs in perfect pitch. Her father needed to know her.

  “I know what Sylvia would say,” Cathy told her. “She’d say get in that car and head over to the office. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

  “All right, I’ll do it,” Tory said. “But what if I get there and he doesn’t even want to feel it?”

  “Just give him the chance.”

  “Okay,” she said with a sigh, “after I get the kids to school. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

  Brenda gave her a hug, then turned to go. “I have to go teach the kids.”

  “And I have to get to the clinic,” Cathy said.

  Tory felt as if they were abandoning her as she watched them head across the cul-de-sac.

  CHAPTER Fifty-Two

  Barry’s secretary was not in her cubicle, but the door to his office was open. With a lump of emotion in her throat, Tory went to the doorway, knocked softly, then leaned inside. Barry wasn’t at his desk.

  She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved. Part of her wanted to turn and run back to the elevator and pretend she had never taken this vulnerable step. The other part of her wanted him to know she had tried.

  She stepped into his office and scanned his desk for a notepad. His desk was too clean, and she didn’t see one. She glanced back through the door toward his secretary’s desk. Surely, she had one. She went to his secretary’s cubicle and found a notepad lying there with a pen next to it. She sat down in the older woman’s chair, wondering if she was out sick today. Quickly, she jotted a note to Barry, telling him she had been there, that she’d wanted to share something with him, but that she would just see him at home.

  That was when she heard the voices in the cubicle next door.

  “We were at church the other night and the kids told everybody that she was pregnant.”