Song of the Brokenhearted

by Sheila Walsh

  “Why don’t you like praying aloud?”

  “I have to organize my words and thoughts for the benefit of others. When I pray at home, to myself, it’s more like me dumping everything on God.”

  “Yeah, sometimes it’s more like pummeling God with prayer.”

  “I think He can take it.”

  The baby stirred. “Why are we discussing this?”

  “So you know how much I love you.”

  Ava was about to say how random that was as well, when Kayanne launched into a prayer over the phone.

  “Father God, I pray much better in my head, but I need you to be with my friend Ava while she’s in some seedy motel in the middle of nowhere with a baby that isn’t hers and while she goes to see people who have never been very good to her. Let her feel your peace and go before her in everything she faces in the days ahead and even tonight in that dark, scary motel room. Keep her safe. Be with her.”

  Ava found herself looking around the room as if some specter might rise from the closet or under the bed.

  “Amen.”

  “That was actually quite wonderful—thank you. Want me to pray for you? Your man issues?”

  “That sounded lovely—my man issues. And don’t you already pray for me to find the love of my life?”

  “I do, but maybe not as often as I should.”

  “Then by all means, please do so now. And aloud so I can hear it.”

  Ava prayed for Kayanne, her life, her dating, and her future. She disliked praying aloud because of the need for cohesiveness, whereas within her head, it could be a jumbled outpouring that she knew God could unweave. Yet the peace that settled over her during Kayanne’s prayer and now her own made it worth it.

  “Where two or more are gathered in Your name, Lord, there you said you will be also . . .” And Ava could feel God with them in the midst of their uncomfortable, aloud prayers.

  Emma slept soundly after a final bottle. Ava muttered the Lord’s prayer several times, and she too collapsed into the warm arms of sleep.

  She woke in the deep of the night with Emma stirring restlessly beside her. She’d want a bottle soon.

  After piling pillows around her little form, Ava forced herself from bed. As she plugged in the portable teapot she’d brought along and poured in some bottled water, Ava realized she’d been dreaming, or perhaps she had been reminiscing about her aunt and their days in the San Francisco Bay Area.

  They’d been talking about God in the dream or the memory. The question was whether God was orchestrating every detail that occurred in their lives. Or was He more distant, caring for the bigger things, reaching out when people prayed? Prayer did something divine; Ava had no doubt about that. She didn’t fully understand it, why God said to pray, why or how it all worked. But that part didn’t worry her—after all, she could watch the stars in the sky or see a jet fly overhead and be okay with knowing nothing about how it all worked. And the Bible had countless stories of God doing something because His people prayed.

  As a child, Ava wanted to think of God as with her always. Sometimes her heart filled to overflowing with the sense of God . . . His greatness, His majesty, the wonder of someone she couldn’t fully grasp or comprehend.

  And God loved her. She knew this as she knew nothing else. Throughout the pain, especially in the pain, God was there. She had crumbled beneath the willow trees along the Black Rock River and found God there. Even when she thought He was distant, so far away that she almost stopped believing in His existence, if she sought Him again, He never failed to be found.

  “How do I find Him?” Ava had asked her aunt in a tone that didn’t veil her resentment. She was in her late teens by that time and had moved to California. Aunt Jenny was her cool aunt, not someone bound by church rules. She wore designer clothes, ate sushi, and went to the opera. Business trips had taken her around the world where she disappeared with her neatly packed suitcases and briefcase in hand.

  “Seek Him,” Aunt Jenny said, and it reminded Ava of her younger days beneath the willow trees.

  Seek and you will find Me.

  Ava ignored the words in her head. “How do I seek Him?”

  “Look for Him as you would something very valuable.”

  Where your treasure is, there is also your heart.

  “Like a treasure? God is a treasure?”

  “Yes,” Aunt Jenny said with a smile.

  “But He isn’t a treasure to be found. I hate words like that. They’re such pat little Christian answers.”

  “But they’re true sometimes. What would be better in this life to find than God?”

  She’d felt so bitter about all of this. About anything that hinted of church, Christianity, faith, or religion.

  “I know why you are so hurt.” Ava was surprised by the tears in her aunt’s eyes. She looked away. “I was raised in the same church,” Aunt Jenny said.

  Ava studied her then. She’d forgotten that. Aunt Jenny had already moved to California by the time Ava was old enough to know her. She never visited the church when she came to town, never stayed out at Grannie’s farm either.

  “My dad wasn’t the pastor when you went, right?”

  “No. Your dad is a few years older than I, but we were in the same youth group together.”

  “What was it like back then?”

  “Strict. We were happy kids, but there was a rule for everything, and it seemed anything wrong we did—which was most everything—was sure to damn us to hell. It kept us in line, sort of.”

  “My daddy is a hypocrite.”

  “No, your daddy is human.” Ava bit her lip at that. “He’s also your daddy. But more than that, he isn’t God.”

  “Well, I know that, obviously. God wouldn’t get arrested, kicked out of church, shame the entire family, and end up in prison.”

  “Well, Jesus did some similar things, but He wasn’t guilty.”

  Ava laughed at that, though there was an element that definitely wasn’t funny at all.

  “You have to always remember that although we think of God as a Father, He isn’t at all like our earthly fathers, thankfully.”

  “Then what is He like?” she’d asked.

  “He’s like God.”

  Monday morning, Ava was trying to figure out the best way to take a shower with Emma sleeping in the bed when a gentle knock sounded on her door. She crept to the peephole and saw Jackie, the waitress from the diner, waiting on the other side.

  “I brought you some grub and caffeine,” Jackie said through the door.

  Ava studied the woman a moment through the distorted view that made her head and hair appear huge and her body small.

  Ava grabbed the pepper spray from her purse and slid it into her pocket, just in case. Then she moved the chair from beneath the doorknob and slid the chain open. Jackie carried a cardboard box with a dishtowel over the top.

  “Good morning,” Jackie said, walking around her and straight to the dresser before Ava responded. She wore tight, sparkling jeans and a low-cut shirt that showed off her bulging chest.

  “Good morning,” Ava said, her stomach growling at the sight of eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and a carafe of coffee.

  “Hope you aren’t a vegetarian—I just don’t get them people, no offense if you are.”

  “I never could let go of bacon and steak. This looks great. I really appreciate it.”

  Jackie pulled out silverware, a plate, and a coffee cup from the box and set them on the small table.

  “I kept thinking about you and that little sweet pea. I did some praying last night. I may not look like much of a God-fearing woman, but I’m that exactly.”

  “Thank you. I’m in need of coffee in a bad way.”

  “Let’s get you plugged in then.” She poured Ava a cup of coffee and unwrapped the food, setting it on the table.

  “You’re eating as well, I hope.”

  “Nope, I’m two weeks into Weight Watchers. Gotta drop me a few pounds before my sister’s wedding in t
wo months. I’ll be seeing my ex.”

  Ava nodded as if she understood completely. She was making herself a plate when they heard noises from the bed.

  “Kids always do that, as if they know you’re about to eat without them.”

  Emma rubbed her eyes as Ava picked her up.

  “Good morning, little peanut,” Ava whispered as Emma touched her face.

  “I can hold her while you eat . . . and if you need to shower too.”

  Ava didn’t mean to blatantly frown, but Jackie let out such a laugh that she knew her thought that Jackie might steal Emma while she was in the shower was written all over her face.

  “Leave the bathroom door open, and I’ll sit with her where you can see me.”

  “I’m not above running after you in my birthday suit, and that sight alone will scare you into giving the baby back.”

  Jackie roared with laughter. “I think I like you even better than I expected.”

  Ava ate breakfast while Jackie gave Emma a bottle. Then Ava showered quickly, with the door open so she could hear Jackie talking and singing to the baby.

  After the shower, Jackie remained in the room while Ava got ready and packed their belongings.

  “Another set of hands is more helpful than I realized,” Ava said, wishing she’d brought Kayanne after all.

  “Of course. Takes a bunch of hands to care for one little sweet pea, doesn’t it?” Jackie bounced Emma in her arms. “By the way, I told Duffy to cut you a deal on the repair. He’d try to pad the price, seeing that honking stone on your finger. But he knows better than to mess with me.”

  “Oh! He was supposed to give me a price before fixing it.” She’d counted her money that morning—it was getting low and she still needed gas and food for the rest of the trip.

  “Why for?”

  “Well, how much do you think it will be? I don’t have much money with me.”

  “Oh, no problem, he takes plastic.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Ava’s mind whirled. She glanced down at the “honking stone” on her finger, but she’d never part with her wedding ring. She touched her ears and felt the diamond posts there. They weren’t a gift, just something she’d bought at Tiffany’s while on a trip to New York.

  “Let’s see what we can do. You are quite a little mystery, but I know this to be true: God’s gonna take care of you and that baby. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes, I do believe it.” The words filled her with strength, and she saw how God was caring for them even in that moment, preparing them for what lay ahead.

  An hour later, Ava waved toward Jackie standing with one hand on her hip and the other waving. The woman turned back toward Duffy, obviously giving him a few of her thoughts. It was only the engine light and Duffy had fixed it and checked the fluids, charging her first sixty dollars, then lowering it to thirty-five after getting an evil eye from Jackie.

  Ava could see Jackie in the rearview mirror as she pulled onto the narrow highway and she couldn’t help but laugh. An angel in a waitress uniform—who would’ve guessed?

  Twenty-Seven

  FOR THE NEXT HOUR AVA SANG WORSHIP SONGS AND EMMA MADE baby noises as if singing along before falling silent into sleep.

  The open plains had turned to farmland and scattered lakes. Storm clouds gathered and Ava knew there’d be rain before long. This part of Texas was far to the south, almost to the Mexican border, and felt distinct from the rest of the state. She felt her roots stirring as she got closer—roots she’d tried to keep tucked away from even her own memory.

  At the crossing into the Rio Grande Valley, Ava’s contented faith was attacked with the realness of her return.

  The highway was like an old friend she’d cut ties with, and now it came to her with such familiarity that she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten it. It had been nearly two decades. Despite her family’s dysfunction, Ava’s brother lived here too, and he’d done nothing to deserve her neglect.

  It didn’t seem possible that so much time had passed without her making the trip. Her children had never visited her hometown, her grandmother’s farm, or the old farm where she’d grown up and their Uncle Clancy still lived. They had never met their grandfather in prison either. Ava wanted to protect them, and as she considered whether to ever bring them to meet her family, the years passed.

  The last time she’d driven on this road Dane was in the passenger side after a knee surgery that ended his college football career. She’d needed her birth certificate for their marriage license and a few other documents left behind after her mother’s death and father’s incarceration. She was the oldest child, so it seemed right that she stop running from the family and get what she needed to move on.

  She hadn’t been to the farm in three years, and she’d nearly forgotten who her family was after her time in California.

  “This land doesn’t belong to you, and we’re not leaving,” Aunt Lorena had said as soon as she’d opened the door to Ava. Behind her, children and cousins craned their necks to see. Ava saw a shotgun sitting on the coffee table with a small child asleep on the couch beside it.

  “I’m not here to take the land.”

  “You better not be. ’Cause we’ll burn it all before we give it over. Your mama had no right getting it from Papa, and she had no right saying it was yours once she died. It’s the family’s, and you ain’t been part of this family for years now.”

  “I’m just here to get the box of papers Mama left me.”

  While Aunt Lorena grilled her, Aunt Lara had stood at the front window, drapes clenched in her hands and glaring out at Dane. “Your man’s too good for your folk, that it? Don’t get out of the car and has his woman driving him around. Men drive the cars where I come from.”

  “I told him to wait in the car.” Ava didn’t defend him, didn’t explain that he’d had surgery on his knee and was still hobbling around on crutches.

  Lorena laughed. “Got him whipped, eh? Your grandma would love that one.”

  “Where is she?”

  Chills ran up Ava’s back at the thought that her grandmother might appear from one of the bedrooms. The last time she’d seen the woman was when Ava told her she was moving to California to live with Aunt Jenny. Grannie had been drinking and knocked Ava down, clawing her face. She still had a slight scar near her eye.

  “In a old folks’ home.”

  Ava shuddered at the thought. She’d sung Christmas carols at a few of the low-income homes for the elderly during her few months in Girl Scouts. “Can I please just have the box? That’s all I want—you can have the rest.”

  “I burned it,” Aunt Lorena said with a look of defiance.

  Ava turned and walked off the porch without another word, too afraid of what those words might be and how she’d regret them. She wasn’t afraid of the aunts or of Grannie any longer— they couldn’t hurt her—but Ava sometimes feared she’d hurt them and follow the family heritage of uncontrolled anger.

  Dane had studied Ava’s face as she tore down the driveway. “I should have come with you. It’s rude of me, sitting out here like this. I should’ve met them properly.”

  Ava shook her head. “They aren’t proper people. She would have found something to say about you. Like the way you hopped on your crutches was condescending to them. She’s so much like my grandmother.”

  “I do get that quite often—about my condescending hopping.”

  That made Ava smile.

  “So where are the papers?” Dane asked.

  “Burned up.”

  Dane upheld an innocent expression as if really concerned. “Did they run out of firewood?”

  Before long they were laughing again as the miles fell away behind them.

  Dane had been good at making her laugh her way through the stress of her family. Whenever she brooded over them, once he found out the subject of her moodiness, he found a way of lightening it up.

  As Ava approached her hometown, a flurry of mixed emotions filled her. Outside of town, a mas
sive Walmart rose from what had been bramble woods and countryside. A gas station with a mini-mart sat at the corner intersection, and a strip of stores and shops lined the edges of the parking lot that was full of cars and buzzing with people. A few miles later, the town welcome sign ushered her back home. She felt a wave of nostalgia as well as a shiver of dread. Ava glanced behind her to where Emma slept on, safe and contented in her slumber.

  The town had a dingy, rundown feel, exactly as Ava remembered it. Many of the buildings were familiar with minor changes—an old Italian restaurant was now a sandwich shop, a small grocery was a used furniture store now, and Jem’s Frosty, behind which she’d smoked that first cigarette, was completely gone and only a cracked parking area remained. Ava drove slowly, taking it all in. She passed the elementary school she’d attended from kindergarten to fourth grade. Its trees appeared taller than she remembered, but the steps up to the entrance seemed shorter. Beyond the school, a subdivision rose up an incline where a popular dirt bike track had once been. The houses were small and many needed paint and a lawn mower— many had For Sale signs stabbed into their lawns.

  The town had relocated closer to Walmart, Ava realized, the downtown aging with neglect. An old gas station was closed down with the gas sign saying $1.27 a gallon.

  I don’t hate this place anymore, Ava realized.

  And she suddenly wasn’t angry with her family anymore either. Long ago, she’d worked hard at forgiving them, but a deep resentment had buried itself deep and hardened like a tiny stone.

  But as she crossed the Black Rock River where they’d once picnicked under a hot Texas sun and where Daddy held his baptism services, Ava knew that the years had softened the bitterness. This place and her family had no hold on her, and it hadn’t for a long while. Yet Ava hadn’t recognized her own freedom.

  They were getting close now, Ava realized as she turned down a smaller country road with farms and thickets interspersed between the rolling hills and valleys. Her grandmother’s farm was only miles ahead. Ava knew every inch of that road, having walked it with her brother and cousins countless times.