"Hey, little boy," Juanita said, holding her arms out to Kent. Kent threw his arms around her, and she winced.
"I missed you."
Only then did Tracy see the yellow and blue bruise on her cheek, the stitches on her forehead, the fading marks on her bare arms.
"Are you okay, Juanita?" Emily asked.
Juanita looked up at Emily and gave her a sappy grin. "Just peachy. You've got my kid. Those painkillers make me feel like I been hit by a lousy gravel truck, and my driver didn't come. So I couldn't visit my boy. Oh, yeah. I'm just ace." She grinned again, her attitude at odds with the sarcasm in her voice.
For a split second, Tracy could empathize with Juanita. She, too, felt as though Emily had "her kid."
"The driver didn't come?" Emily asked. "She told me that she went to pick you up and you weren't there."
Juanita sighed loudly. "I told her where I was. She was supposed to get me from there. And she didn't." She shook her head. "Lousy drivers. Couldn't find their way out of a parking lot."
"How did you get here?"
Juanita held up her thumb. "Year-round pass," she said, and then reached out for Kent, wrapping one arm possessively around him. "Now I'm here. And I wanna visit my boy."
Emily glanced back at Jack, who had also gotten to his feet. "Kids, we're done here," Jack said. "Max, Rachel, you clear the table. Harmony, you help me load up the dishwasher."
"Why don't we go sit outside?" Emily suggested, putting her arm around Juanita's shoulders and escorting her to the French doors.
Tracy watched Kent skip alongside his mother, swinging her hand. Her thoughts shifted back in time, and she saw herself, on her mother's good days, walking beside her, looking up at her with the same hope and love Kent showed now to Juanita.
Tracy experienced a twinge of envy mixed with guilt at how gentle Emily was with Juanita. There was no way she'd be able to be as patient with the woman.
Which was probably why Kent had ended up here.
The realization thrummed through Tracy with the accuracy of a well-shot arrow, and as it did, she looked up at David again.
He was still watching her, his pie untouched. "May I talk to you?"
She couldn't avoid him forever. Tomorrow she'd be seeing him at work. They had things to clear up. She nodded, pushed her chair back, and stepped away from the table.
The kitchen was a cacophony of dishes clanging, cutlery being dropped, a few reprimands and a few objections.
David got up, angling his head out the door. "Let's go out on the deck. It will be a little quieter there."
She followed him outside, and they walked to the farthest corner of the deck, where they sat down on the sun-warmed bench that lined the railing. Emily and Jack had a large, pie-shaped lot, and Emily, Juanita, and Kent had gone to the farthest back corner and were sitting in lawn chairs tucked up against a fire pit. Tracy heard the faint murmur of their conversation. Emily had a gentle smile on her face and one hand rested on Juanita's.
"Emily is a good person," Tracy said, stifling a spill of envy. "I can see that she and Jack are good for Kent and his mother."
"They are, and they've done this more often. It's not new to them." David, to her discomfort, sat down right beside her instead of in the deck chair that was a few feet away. He touched her shoulder, and she bit her lip against her reaction, and then pulled farther away. "Tracy, I am sorry about how things went. I want you to know that."
Tracy pulled her arms tight against her. Her emotions were too tender yet for his attempt at reconciliation. She felt as if she had been caught in an undertow, twisted around, and thrown. She didn't know which way was up anymore. She had lost too much, and on top of all that, she didn't know where to put her feelings for David. Where to put the information that Emily had given her.
So she kept her eyes focused on Emily's quiet interaction with Juanita. On Kent's smiling face turned up with hopeful love to his mother, even as every nerve ending was aware of David's solid strength beside her.
"I used to do that, too, you know," she said. "Look at my mom as though this time it would be different."
"It must have been hard for you."
"Unless you've lived that kind of life, I don't know if you can ever know how hard." She didn't mean to sound so harsh.
"Will you tell me?"
Tracy sighed. "I confessed to you before. And look where it got me." She turned to him, wishing that the sorrow on his face didn't call to her so deeply.
"What do you mean?"
"What I told you about my mother. About wishing she was dead. That's part of the reason Kent didn't come to my house, wasn't it?"
"Tracy, I never said anything about that to anyone." He gave a short laugh. "I don't know why you think that's such a deep, dark secret. You wouldn't be the first to think that way about parents."
Tracy held his gaze. "But I'm sure you never planned it like I have." She took a deep breath. "Each time I hear the command honor your father and your mother alongside do not kill, I know I'm toast. Because I've not only broken those, I've smashed them. I can't see her as my mother. And I can't honor her. And I can't love her. And what kind of Christian does that make me?"
But David didn't look away. "Someone who lives what they believe. Someone who was willing to put all her dreams and hopes on the line for the sake of a little boy she barely knew." He smiled at her, a careful, tender smile.
His eyes pierced hers with an intensity that she couldn't look away from. As his words settled into her mind, into her soul, she felt a kindling warmth.
"Don't say that, David. I'm not a good person. I see Emily with Kent, and I know that he's in a good place now. Better than I could have given him. You were right to have him come here," she said, glancing back at Emily. Emily had her hand on Juanita's shoulder, her head bent as she was talking.
"Juanita's caseworker had more to do with that decision. Juanita absolutely didn't want you to take care of Kent."
Tracy frowned. "I thought you and Danielle made that decision."
"I had input, but I didn't have that much pull." David sat up, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "Did you think that I . . . ?" He caught her hands, holding them tightly. "Tracy, I recommended that Kent come here for a lot of reasons. But it wasn't because I thought you were a bad person. You've done wonders for that boy. Given him more love than I'm sure he's had in a long time." He touched her cheek, gently turning her face to his.
The intensity of his gaze underscored his words, and as he spoke, Tracy felt one more burden slip off her shoulders.
"I will admit that I considered Emily and Jack's home a better place, but not because I thought yours wasn't good," David continued, his hand warm on her cheek. "Yes, your relationship with your mother was a factor. I knew that part of what you felt toward your mother would affect your relationship with Juanita as a foster parent. But there were other reasons too. For now, Juanita is hiding behind her situation. Saying how hard it is as a single mom. And she's right. But if you, as a single woman, were to take care of Kent, you would show her up and she'd be left with no defense at all."
Tracy looked back at Juanita, as if trying to see the situation through the woman's eyes.
Juanita was swiping at her face with the heel of one hand, her other arm wrapped tightly around Kent, who leaned against her, his hand wrapped in hers. Emily handed her a tissue and sat back. As if waiting.
Tracy couldn't stop a faint pang of jealousy at the sight of Kent so easily slipping back into his role with his mother. So easily forgiving her.
Just wait, she thought. She'll mess up again.
The unkind thought rose like a snake to face her, and Tracy realized that she didn't want that to happen. She wanted Juanita to succeed. For Kent's sake.
Juanita pulled Kent close and wrapped her arms around him, much as Tracy had only an hour ago. She rested her chin on his hair and smiled.
But if Emily could help Juanita, if Juanita accepted that, then maybe, just maybe, Ken
t had a chance. And if she didn't, there were a few more people who were watching out for Kent.
"What are you thinking?" David asked.
Tracy hugged herself and leaned back against the sun-warmed wood. "Right now, I'm trying not to be jealous of Emily. Of what she can give to Kent and what I can't."
"You gave Kent more than you'll ever realize," David said. "More than I'll ever realize."
The note of regret in his voice made her turn to him. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He turned his head to her, his eyes soft now. "When I watched you in the restaurant giving up your dream just for Kent . . ." He laughed lightly, shaking his head. "You asked what kind of Christian you are? I can tell you. The right kind. You sacrificed what you wanted and dreamed to keep him safe. I'm humbled by what you've done. You've shown me faith in action, Tracy. A faith that doesn't talk but does. A faith I wish I had. That's what kind of Christian you are."
Tracy held his gaze. Saw the sincerity in it. "I don't deserve your kind words. What I did was for Kent . . ." She shrugged. In spite of her self-deprecating words, she felt her cheeks grow warm with his praise. "Anyone would have done the same."
"Not anyone, Tracy. I don't know if I would have had the courage." He sat up. Reached over and gently pulled the collar of her sweater straight, smoothing it with his finger. "You're an amazing person, Tracy Harris. And I'm hoping that the same heart that gave so much to Kent has a little bit of space left for me. Because you're in mine. I love you."
Tracy closed her eyes, as if capturing his words.
"I know I've made mistakes and I'm sorry for that. I paid too much attention to your mother and not enough to you." He unfolded the collar of her sweater, his fingers lightly brushing her neck. He covered her hand with his. "I want to know what your life was like, Tracy. I want to know, because when I see you, I see a woman who isn't scared to live what she believes. You're an example to me. I want to hear what you have to say."
She smiled then. Turned to him. "Do you have an hour?"
"For you? I have all the time you need."
"Let's go for a walk."
Chapter 18
Tracy walked with her arms folded, her face forward. But David could see the wary look had gone from her face.
Baby steps, David reminded himself, trying not to panic. She was still talking to him. She hadn't run away.
When Emily had phoned to tell him she was here, he couldn't come fast enough, hoping, praying she would still be here when he came. And she was. And she hadn't run away from him yet.
They rounded the block, and she crossed the street to the park, and he wondered if her mother had tried to contact her at all.
She walked to a bench, sat down, and pulled her knees up to her chest in a defensive posture. She rested her chin on her knees and stared over the playground, now empty of children. Most of them were at home, David suspected, eating supper. Safe in their own places, their own homes.
"What was your life with your mother like, Tracy? I said I'd listen," he prompted.
She blinked, feathered her hair back from her face with her fingertips. "You want to know what it's like to be the child of an alcoholic?" she asked.
"Why don't you tell me?"
She drew in a slow breath as she lowered her feet to the ground, anchored her hands under her knees, and leaned forward, as if looking into her past. He took a chance and laid his hand on her shoulders, stroking in small, healing circles, drawing the evil from her.
She gave him a careful smile and then looked away again.
"Imagine you are Kent, sitting alone in an empty apartment," she said, her voice so quiet, he had to strain to hear. "It's starting to get dark outside. Getting close to supper. And you're all alone. You hear footsteps coming down the hall. You start to relax. It's okay. Here she comes. Mom is home. And then the footsteps go right on past and your stomach gets a little tighter. It's getting darker, but you don't dare turn on the lights, because then you can't see out the windows anymore. And when that happens, the apartment suddenly becomes smaller, the windows huge dark expanses that can suck you in. Your stomach is growling. All you've had to eat was a sandwich that a friend gave you. There's not a lot of food in the house this week. Mom forgot to buy it. Again. Lots of liquor, which you've learned to associate with fear and uncertainty, with a mother who turns into a shrill and angry stranger who brings other cold-faced strangers into your home and brings in the rank smell of fear and danger." Her voice hitched.
David felt his own heart stutter in sympathy. He pulled her close to his side and was grateful that she allowed it.
"Pretty soon you get tired of being afraid," she continued, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. "And then, one day you venture outside, because that can't be scarier than sitting around waiting for a mother who warned you, on pain of death, not to leave. You meet other people. Get pulled into a circle of friends. You get to know them. And sometimes you stay at their home where it's warm and fun and light. And a mother comes and tucks you in at night. And makes you feel safe. You're in a home where there are two parents standing guard against evil and loneliness. This is a good thing, a bright spot in your life. But the only problem with light is the contrast it creates. Your own place feels colder. Even darker. But once in a while, your mother comes home sober. Sometimes there's supper on the table. Sometimes she plays games and hugs you and makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world. And you dare to think that this time it's going to be better. That you're starting a journey to a good place. But then, a month later, sometimes only a couple of weeks, sometimes a few days, you're sitting alone in the apartment again. Oh, she's full of promises that she will change. She hugs and kisses and cries, and each time, her remorse pulls you along." Tracy stopped, took a long slow breath, and turned to David, looking him straight in the eye. "And it pulls you along because you want so badly to believe her. Even more than she wants to herself. Because in spite of your fear and your anger and your pain, you still love her. That love is like a hook in your flesh you can't get rid of, and each time it pulls, it hurts."
David didn't look away from the pain in her eyes, or the sorrow in her voice. Because of what he'd seen for only that small moment with Kent, he understood a tiny part of what she'd had to live with. In spite of his own shame, his patronizing attitude, he faced it head-on. He cupped his hands over her shoulders.
"I wish I could take it away for you," he said, his fingers pressing deep into her skin as if he could squeeze the pain out of her life. "I wish I could take this hurt on."
Her gentle smile held a note of melancholy. "Thanks for saying that, David. But Jesus did that already. And that's also been my struggle. To recognize His love and His caring as a constant in my life that has never changed."
"But what your mother did and does still hurts."
She looked down at her intertwined fingers. "Yes. At times, it still hurts. And that's the part I struggle with the most. That she can cause this pain in my life."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Other than Danielle, I’ve never told anyone else before."
"Why not?"
She looked up at him. "Because nobody listened. Not like you're listening now. Mostly they believed my mother."
"I did that too. And I'm so sorry."
Her wistful smile absolved him. Just.
David drew her gently close. Held her against him. "I love you, Tracy Harris. I want you to give me another chance."
She rested her head against his neck, and when she slipped her arms around him, the breath he'd been holding slipped out in a sigh. "How can I not?" she said. "I tried to run away from you. Tried to run away from what had happened. But I had to come back here and face it eventually."
"I'm sorry about Kent, Tracy."
She shook her head. "Don't. Please. Don't. He's in a good place. I could never give him what Emily and Jack can. He needs his mother. And Emily can help both of them." She drew away just enough to look up into his e
yes. "Which makes me wonder what life with my mother would have been like if I had kept trying to tell someone what I had to live with. If there had been someone like Emily who could have shown my mother how a real mother behaves."
"I shouldn't have pushed you about your mother. I didn't know. Please, forgive me."
"No, you didn't know. But at the same time, you were right. I wanted my mother. There's probably always going to be a part of me that wants a relationship with her." She paused, fingering a button on his shirt. "I didn't dare let her back into my life because I didn't have anyone to fall back on if she let me down again."
David stroked her face with his fingers, sorrow piercing his heart. Sorrow and hope. "For what it's worth, Tracy, you have me. I haven't been as understanding as I could or should have been, but I want you to know I'm here for you. I will love you. As long as you need or want me."
A smile crept over her finely shaped mouth. "Emily told me that you were a faithful person. That I could trust you."
David felt a rush of gratitude toward Emily. "I hope you will. I hope you'll trust me with your love. And with your life."
Her lips trembled. But only for a moment. Only until she reached up and pressed her lips to his. "I will, David," she whispered against his mouth. "With all my heart, I'll trust you. And love you."
David closed his eyes and held her close. And closer. And sealed their future with another kiss.
Epilogue
I'm nervous." Velma drew in a long shaky breath, smoothing her hand over the skirt she had picked out. She was perched on the edge of the couch in the living room of Emily Friedman's house, trying not to look at the clock ticking above the fireplace.
"You'll be fine. Just be yourself," Emily said.
Velma still wasn't sure what to think of all this. She barely knew this young woman who had contacted her a month ago, telling her she was a friend of Tracy's.
Emily Friedman had said that Tracy was upset after her last visit. Velma completely understood. She blamed her lapse on nerves but knew it wasn’t an excuse. When she talked to her sponsor, she said she had blown it, but her sponsor reminded her that there were consequences to her behavior.
A Silence in the Heart (Holmes Crossing Book 4) Page 20