Showers in Season

by Beverly LaHaye

  “Brenda, you aren’t going to quit, are you?” Sylvia asked.

  “No,” Brenda said quietly. “I’ll keep going. There’s got to be an answer somewhere.”

  “I just don’t know what it is,” Cathy added.

  “All boys are hard at this age,” Sylvia told them. “You should have seen Jeff when he was twelve. I thought I would lose my mind. One time he was doing an experiment on electricity and blew out the wiring in our whole garage. Thank goodness it was on a separate circuit breaker, or it would have lit up the whole house.”

  “Really?” Cathy asked. “Your Jeff did that?”

  “Sure did. And I probably never told you that he had to go to summer school after his seventh grade year, because he failed algebra and English.”

  “Sylvia, I never knew that,” Cathy said. “I thought Jeff was the perfect child.”

  “Heavens, who gave you that idea? He turned out fine. He’s happy and has a good job…and his mother misses him terribly. But there were some trials in raising him.” She shifted her thoughts to Brenda, who quietly let the others talk. “What about Joseph, Brenda? Is he okay?”

  “He’s doing great. Hasn’t shown any sign of rejecting the heart. And I think he gets wiser every day.”

  “Talk about answered prayers,” Sylvia said. “If we ever forget that God is watching over us, we should think of Joseph.” She pressed her eyes as remorse filled her. She had been so blind to God’s goodness. All she had seen was the impact things had on her. But God was still there, working quietly in all their lives. “Oh, I wish I could give you all a really big hug, and we could stand around in a circle and cry our hearts out together, until we could each remember how blessed we are!”

  She knew they were all crying, unable to speak, so she took the lead again. “You know, someday we’re going to laugh about all of these things. I’ve always said that in every crisis there’s a blessing. It’s not so easy to see when it’s my crisis, but it’s there whether I see it or not.”

  “I’m sorry, Sylvia,” Tory said, her voice cracked. “I usually buy what you tell me, but that one’s really hard to swallow.”

  “But it’s true. You just watch. Look back at what we went through with Joseph. Brenda’s stronger for it. We all are. You’ll be stronger for this, honey.”

  “For having a retarded child,” Tory asked, “or for losing my marriage in the process?”

  “Whatever God lays out for you, Tory, you’ll be able to stand it. You’ll see. He’ll equip you. His grace is sufficient.”

  “Is it sufficient for you?” Tory asked. “Giving up the baby when you were so sure that God had given her to you?”

  Sylvia was silent for a moment as she turned Tory’s painful question over in her mind. “I’m just now beginning to realize that God did give her to me,” Sylvia said. “Even though I couldn’t keep her, she was a precious, wonderful little gift, and I’m glad I got that time with her. I wish you could have met her.”

  “Maybe someday,” Brenda said.

  “I doubt it,” Sylvia said. “I may never see her again. She’ll grow up and not even remember the lady who took care of her after the hurricane. I guess that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’ve already raised my kids. I’m not supposed to be a mother again.”

  “I can’t imagine that,” Cathy said. “I can’t imagine looking back and knowing I’ve raised my kids successfully. What peace there must be in that.”

  “I know,” Tory said, “and I keep looking back to when my marriage was happy, and my kids were bouncy, and the only problem I ever had was that I didn’t have a long enough stretch of time to write a novel. I didn’t have a clue what real problems were.”

  Brenda agreed. “And I look back to when teaching my kids was my biggest objective, and I had never had a sick child or a neighbor who was mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you,” Cathy insisted.

  “Well, not anymore.”

  “Brenda, I overreacted, but I didn’t mean it.”

  “Guard the friendship,” Sylvia cut in. “I hear tension in both of your voices. Don’t let this come between you. I need you too much. All three of you. We’re going to be all right, all of us. We’ll get through these storms. One of these days, I’ll even stop feeling like a fool.”

  “If you feel like a fool,” Brenda said, “then you’re missing the best part of the blessing.”

  “Missing it?” Sylvia asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Carly needed somebody who could love her until her mom was on her feet. That somebody turned out to be you. I don’t think it was all some divine joke, or a misunderstanding, or an accident. I think God picked you, Sylvia. Right out of all the people in León, he chose you to take care of little Carly. I would count that a high honor.”

  She found herself dissolving into tears again. “You’re right, Brenda. That is a high honor. Maybe it’s as high as God choosing Tory to take care of her special little baby.”

  She heard Tory weeping on the other end of the line. Sniffs came from both of the other women, as well. “Girls, let’s pray together. We haven’t done that in a long time.”

  As they started to pray, Sylvia felt the peace of God falling like a warm, cleansing shower over them.

  CHAPTER Fifty-Seven

  After the week she’d had with Mark, Cathy had serious reservations about letting Steve take either of the boys camping Saturday morning. She offered them each twenty dollars if they behaved for him. If it provided the incentive they needed to cooperate, it would be forty dollars well spent.

  Steve didn’t take the boys far, since he knew a long car ride might ruin the trip before it even got started. He took them to a wooded area just outside of Breezewood, and got Rick and Mark to help him unload his truck. He heard Mark muttering under his breath as he did, but he cheerfully ignored it.

  When they had set up the tent, he tossed them each a fishing pole. “Come on. Let’s get down to the lake and see what’s biting. Mark, grab that box.”

  Mark picked up the box he pointed to and opened it. “Stinks,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Bait,” Steve told him. “Crickets.”

  Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you catch them?”

  “No, I bought them.”

  “They sell these things?”

  Steve grinned. “Mark, have you ever been fishing before?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “He hasn’t,” Rick said. “But I did a long time ago.”

  “When?” Mark asked, as if he’d been slighted.

  “When you were a baby or something. Dad and I went.”

  “Oh.” Mark studied the crickets again, then put the top back on. “I didn’t know Dad liked to fish.”

  Steve had spent the last week praying that the Lord would help him to have compassion for the boys, and that he would see into their hearts, the way their mother tried to do. Now he saw that his prayers were being answered. “The question is, will you like it? Come on. Let’s go see.”

  A little later they sat on the edge of the lake looking across the Smoky Mountains, fishing as the autumn breeze chilled them. Mark couldn’t take his eyes from his white cork ball bobbing on the water.

  “When I was a kid,” Steve said in a quiet voice, “my parents had a lot of land. We had a little lake on the back of the property, and I would go there to fish. Sometimes I would just sit there for hours. Of course, I was never alone. I had three male labs that we bred, and they would follow me. They’d sit next to me and just look out over the lake as we fished. It was a great place to think.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Mark’s question cut through the moment.

  Steve looked over at him, bracing himself. “Doing what?”

  “Taking us camping. Fishing with us.”

  Rick shoved him. “Mark, shut up.”

  “I just asked him a question!” Mark said.

  “It’s okay,” Steve interrupted, pulling his line in and checking his b
ait. “What reason do you think I had for bringing you here?”

  “’Cause you want to score points with our mom,” Mark said.

  Steve laughed. “There’s some truth to that.”

  Both boys looked up at him, surprised by the honesty.

  “But I also wanted to get to know you guys a little better. Tracy doesn’t like to touch the crickets. It’s fun to fish with guys sometimes.”

  Mark wasn’t buying. “You thought we needed a male influence,” he said belligerently. “But we don’t. We have a dad. If we wanted to go fishing, he’d take us fishing.”

  “Mark, stop it!” Rick said.

  “It’s okay,” Steve said. “I’m not trying to horn in on your dad. I just thought it would be a pleasant way to spend a couple of days.”

  There was silence for a moment, and Steve steeled himself for another accusation. How would he get past the suspicions and make friends with the boys? He breathed a silent prayer for help.

  Then to all their surprise, Mark got a bite. He got to his feet and started jumping around. “I got one! I got one!”

  Steve laughed out loud as he grabbed the line and helped him pull it in. The trout was an admirable size, big enough to keep, and Mark glowed with pride.

  Rick was next to catch one, then Mark caught another. By noon, they had enough for lunch. Steve taught Mark and Rick how to clean the fish and cook them. Mark kept a marker on the fish he had caught, and refused to let anyone else touch them. He told them it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  After lunch, they piled into the truck and went to rent mud bikes. They spent the rest of the day getting filthy and making a lot of noise.

  “I gotta get myself one of those,” Rick said, as they headed back to the camp. “I’m gonna start saving my money now.”

  “Where will you ride it?” Steve asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the land behind the Bryans’ house. That new Gonzales family is nice and they’re never home. They probably won’t mind.”

  “It might tear up the property,” Steve said. “Besides, if you can do it anytime, it gets old. Maybe you ought to just rent them once in a while.”

  “Maybe,” Rick said, “but it sure was a blast.”

  Mark looked down at his mud-caked clothes. “So how are we gonna bathe?” he asked. “I don’t think I can sleep like this.”

  “We’ll bathe in the lake,” Steve said.

  They both looked at him like he was crazy. “Are you kidding?” Rick asked. “It’s cold in there.”

  “Not that cold. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

  When they reached the camp, he took his clothes off down to his shorts, then ran and plopped into the lake. “Come on in,” he said, teeth chattering. “It’s nice and warm.”

  The boys laughed. “It is not warm,” Rick said.

  “Your lips are turning blue,” Mark accused.

  “That’s just from treading water,” Steve told him. “The aerobic exercise is pumping the blood through my lips.”

  Rick guffawed harder. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  Mark grinned and pulled off his mud-caked shirt. “I’m gonna get in.” Leaving his jeans on, he dove into the water. He came up and flung the water out of his hair. “Nice and warm, Rick. Come on!”

  Suddenly, Steve and Mark were allies, trying to coax Rick in. Not one to be outdone, he pulled off his shirt and did a cannonball right between them. Steve and Mark attacked him as soon as he came up.

  They laughed and screamed and splashed and ducked each other until they couldn’t stand the cold anymore. Then they all got out, shivering and running to find towels and dry clothes. Steve had a new fire started before Mark had managed to get his wet jeans off.

  Things were going just as he’d hoped, he thought. Cathy would be pleased.

  CHAPTER Fifty-Eight

  While Steve was getting to know her boys around a campfire, Cathy spent the day shopping with Annie and Tracy. Steve had left her his credit card and told her that Tracy needed a couple of new dresses and some school clothes. He told her to buy Tracy anything else she saw that she might need. He trusted her to use good judgment.

  She had never had such a peaceful day shopping for school clothes. Normally, she and Annie fought from store to store as Annie begged for things that were either inappropriate or too expensive. But today Annie delighted in choosing things for the little girl. Tracy liked everything the teenaged girl suggested.

  That morning, Cathy had french-braided Tracy’s hair. Annie had taken her upstairs and applied a little makeup, which Cathy had promptly made her remove. They had eaten out in a nice restaurant, and with Tracy watching with adoration, Annie acted like a perfect lady.

  That afternoon, she had taken Tracy to the clinic and let her play with two puppies and a litter of kittens she was boarding for the weekend. She managed to get a precious picture of Tracy with a kitten against her face. She hoped it would come out well enough to blow it up for Steve.

  That evening, they rented the movie Babe and laughed as the little pig ventured through the plot. When it was over, Tracy leaned against Cathy, watching with sleepy eyes as the credits rolled across the television screen.

  “Are you ready to go to bed, Tracy?” Cathy asked.

  Tracy’s peaceful expression suddenly changed. “Where am I gonna sleep?”

  “I was thinking you could sleep in Rick’s room,” she said. “I made him clean it up before he left.”

  “By myself?” Tracy asked.

  Annie, who had been getting ready for an eight-thirty date, sat down next to them. “Mom, she can sleep with me if she wants to.”

  “But you’re going out. I don’t want her to stay up late. She’s worn out.” Cathy looked down at the frightened little face. “Tell you what, Tracy. You can sleep with me. I’m worn out, myself.”

  Tracy’s worried expression faded. “Okay.” The three went upstairs to Cathy’s room, and Cathy began to take Tracy’s french braid down. When Annie had been this young, she had loved brushing her hair and arranging it with bows and barrettes. Annie hadn’t allowed her to touch her hair in years.

  A soft smile came to her face as she remembered those times, and she caught Tracy’s eyes in the mirror. The child was smiling and watching her with pensive eyes.

  “Are you going to marry my daddy?” she asked.

  The question startled Cathy, and she stopped brushing. “You know, I have a real bad feeling that when your dad gets home from the camping trip, he won’t even want to date me anymore.”

  Annie began to laugh, but Tracy looked disappointed.

  When she had gotten Tracy into bed, Annie plopped down next to them. “Let’s say prayers,” Cathy said as she pulled the covers up over the child. Tracy closed her eyes and folded her hands, and Annie bowed her head.

  Cathy prayed for her boys and for Steve out “in the wild,” for their attitudes and their dispositions, and that they were still speaking to each other by the next morning. Then she thanked God for the blessing of the day spent with Tracy.

  When they whispered “Amen,” she smiled down at the child. “It’s been fun spending time with you girls today.”

  “We could do that all the time, Mom,” Annie said, “if you’d just take me shopping and act right.”

  Tracy giggled, and Cathy rolled her eyes.

  “I wish Annie was my sister,” the child said. “We’d have fun.”

  “Nah,” Annie said. “We’d probably get tired of each other and fight like my brothers and I do.” She grinned down at Tracy. “On the other hand, it might be pretty cool to have a sister.”

  “Now don’t get carried away,” Cathy said, sliding under the covers next to the child. “This is just one night. Steve and I are just friends.”

  “Yeah, Mom, just friends. Like Danny Botcho and I are just friends.” She looked down at Tracy. “You should see him, Tracy. He’s got eyes to die for.”

  “My daddy has eyes to die for,” Tra
cy said, and giggled.

  Cathy grinned. “No comment.”

  As Annie left the room and Tracy began to fall asleep, Cathy lay in bed, wondering if there really could be a future for the two families, or if it would all come to a crashing halt this very weekend.

  CHAPTER Fifty-Nine

  By the time darkness settled over the area, Steve and the boys were exhausted. “You know something, guys?” Steve asked, leaning back against a stump and carving on a piece of wood. “I had fun today.”

  “It was pretty cool,” Rick said.

  Mark couldn’t be so generous. “It made Mom happy.”

  Steve accepted that. “I like making her happy. I think your mom is about the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

  Rick chuckled. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool, all right.”

  Steve grinned. He knew Cathy would love to have heard him say that. “You know, when I was a kid, I didn’t appreciate my mom half as much as I do now. I used to think she was about the dumbest person in the world, and I would smart off to her with this scathing sarcasm, almost every time I opened my mouth.”

  “You?” Mark asked.

  “Yep, and my mom would sometimes get tears in her eyes and fuss back at me and tell me that I didn’t need to talk to her that way. And I would think, ‘Who cares if I talk to her that way? She’s my mom. That’s what she’s for.’”

  In the firelight, he saw Rick and Mark shoot each other grins.

  He kept carving, shaving away pieces of wood just for the sake of keeping his hands busy. “But then I had a roommate in college, and he didn’t have a mom, hadn’t had one since he was eight years old. She had died in a car accident, and his dad had raised him. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’d sometimes take him home with me, and he seemed so moved by the fact that I had a mother there cooking in the kitchen, making everything warm and nice, feeding us and pampering us. And I started to realize that my mom wasn’t just this person put there to drive me crazy, or embarrass me, or wait on me hand and foot. I realized she was really a pretty neat person. What a blessing to have her.”