Carol went for a walk with her golden retriever. The morning sun blazed hot. Goldie ran ahead. She called to her, but Goldie wouldn’t budge. Something in the large Oak tree piqued her interest. Probably a squirrel. Carol walked over and spotted a wooden box with a leather strap. It hung several feet from the ground on a limb in the crook of the tree. Faint crying came from inside. A baby. Its mouth open in a feeble cry, wrapped in dirty pillowcases. Flushed from the heat, the infant whimpered, struggling for air. Carol removed the box and raced home before calling the police. Officers rushed the baby to the hospital and called in child protective services.
Sucked into foster care, the newborn was given the name Shade Doe. “If it hadn’t been for the shade of that old Oak tree, she wouldn’t have survived,” the social worker declared.
And so, Shade entered this world. Unwanted. Branded with a badge of shame. A throwaway. Human garbage. She would spend her early years living in several foster homes, a tumbleweed bouncing from one barren dust bowl to the next.
At the age of ten, she moved in with Millie and John Rodriguez—her third family. They were the family she craved. She had found her place in the world, thriving in school and at home. Evenings were spent reading the Bible together and discussing the virtues of living a Christian life.
As Shade grew older, she blossomed into a striking young lady and at fifteen, Matthew Caldwell took notice. While walking the hallway of Stonewood Middle School, Shade glanced around, referring to her class curriculum.
“What room are you looking for?”
“Room 256. History.”
“Follow me. I’m in the same class,” he said, smiling. “By the way, I’m Matthew.”
“I’m Shade,” she said, her eyes cast down.
“Interesting name, but I bet you’ve heard that before.”
Matthew and Shade soon became close friends, often studying together and meeting at the local diner after Matthew’s football practice.
“So, you planning to go to college?” asked Matthew, stabbing a french fry into a puddle of ketchup.
“Not sure, but I hope so. I live with a foster family. They said they would help with college if I kept my grades up. I don’t know what area I wanna study, but I’d love to start my own business.”
“My dad’s hoping I can get into the University of Michigan on a football scholarship. I plan to study engineering.”
Over the weeks, Matthew and Shade became inseparable.
“We need to talk,” said Matthew, reaching for her hand at the diner. “I have feelings for you—feelings I’ve never had for anyone else. He leaned in, his expression softening. “I can borrow my dad’s car on Friday. Clueless is playing at the show. Do you wanna go?”
“I’d love to.”
They went on their first date. After the show, Matthew drove to his favorite spot down a wooded dirt road. He cut the engine and turned, pulling her into him.
Their first kiss sparked warm feelings throughout her body as he caressed her face, holding her in his arms. But his kisses became more aggressive, his hands groping underneath her sweater.
She drew back, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“I thought we meant something to each other. Guess I’m wrong.”
“If that’s all you’re looking for, then take me home.”
Matthew drew back and started the car. They drove home in silence. When they reached her house, she glanced over at him. “Please don’t be angry.”
He looked ahead, his chin jutting forward. “I gotta go.”
She opened the door and stepped out as he peeled away, the taillights growing smaller, disappearing into the night. She stood sobbing, watching him drive out of her life.
Over the next several days, she moped around the house, her energetic smile turned to stone. She tried calling him, but he avoided her. In desperation, Shade approached him at school.
“I made a mistake. I care about you. Please, give me another chance. I want us to be together.”
In November 1975, she missed her first period. She waited another month before telling Matthew.
“How do I know it’s mine?” he asked. “How do I know you’re not trying to trap me?”
With nowhere to turn, she went to Millie and John.
“We don’t want you to have an abortion,” said John. “We’ve contacted a Christian home for unwed mothers. You can live there. After the baby comes, you can put it up for adoption, and we’ll talk about next steps.”
“So…so I can’t live here anymore? You don’t want me?”
Shade looked at Millie, hoping to hear words of encouragement, but the pain etched on her face told her what she didn’t want to hear.
She never saw or heard from Matthew again. His father moved the family to California, and Shade moved into the shelter for unwed mothers.
Once again, alone and insecure, she withdrew into herself. An outcast with no place to call home. No roots to anchor her to this world.
Mabel Johnson felt led by the Lord to mentor young, pregnant girls, so she started Mabel’s House. The young women lived there until their babies arrived, but many had no place to go. Mabel gave in, allowing them to remain until they got their lives straightened out.
Shade kept to herself, often alone, staring off into emptiness. Wandering the hall one day, she stopped in front of a framed needlepoint and read the words of the poem:
“My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned”
Mabel came up beside her, her arm around Shade’s waist. “Some say this poem was written by a woman named Corrie ten Boom. Others say the author is unknown. I’m not really sure, but I enjoyed it so much I made a needlepoint and had it framed. It speaks about God weaving our lives like a tapestry. We only see the underside, a tangled mess of thread with no clear design. But from above, God sees a glorious, finished work of art, skillfully woven together.”
Mabel turned and peered deep into Shade’s eyes. “Honey, God often takes a bad situation and turns it into a blessing. I know you’re frightened, but trust in the Lord. A favorite verse of mine is Jeremiah 29:11-13. Why don’t you look it up?”
Alone in her room, Shade opened her Bible to the verse; “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
Drawing her finger over the words, tears trickled down. She had been searching for solace, desperate and lonely. She had not expected her soul to be so hungry. Her eyes hung on a single word. When. When I seek, I will find. Closing her eyes, she meditated on the verse. A heavy weight lifted. Her pillar of shame crumbled. She wasn’t alone. God drew her close, loving her, and she sensed His presence for the first time in her life. She belonged in this world, and God had a plan for her.
Mabel continued to guide Shade in her faith, and Shade drew nearer to God.
While attending Sunday church services with Mabel, Shade noticed a man watching her. An older man.
He approached her during coffee hour. “I’m Stanley Lane. Did you enjoy the service?”
“Yeah, I did,” she said, stammering. “I’m Shade Doe. I’ve only been here a few times.”
“I’ve been happy with this church. When you’re a single man, the church becomes your h
ome.”
Over the next few months Stanley continued to seek her out after Sunday service.
“When is your baby due?” he asked.
“In three months. I live at a home for unwed mothers.” His compassionate smile eased her anxiety.
During their frequent talks, she learned a great deal about Stanley. He owned his own home and managed a used car dealership in town. Born and raised in Michigan, he had no siblings, and both his parents had passed away by the time he turned eighteen. He had been on his own since, and at thirty-five, he had never married.
Stan stood over six-feet tall, lean and brawny. Losing ground to his expansive forehead, thin strands of hair formed a swirly pattern and moved like a cardboard flap when the wind caught hold. His razor-sharp nose jutted an awkward distance from his peculiar face, which sat perched atop his neck like a character on a PEZ dispenser. No, not a handsome man. But the more time she spent with him, the better looking he became—to her. He carried himself with a flair of confidence. She found herself drawn into his world.
One Sunday he asked her to go out for coffee. She talked it over with Mabel. She gave her blessing, but with caution. “I’m not sure what his intentions are, but I don’t want to see you get hurt. He’s quite a bit older than you. You’ll be bringing new life into this world in a few months. Stay focused on your baby and pray for guidance.”
Over the next month the two spent hours chatting over coffee after Sunday service. Despite their age difference they had a lot in common and shared a deep faith in God. Stanley revealed his goal to one day marry and start a family. He hadn’t met the woman of his dreams, and time continued to tick away.
“Shade,” he said, clearing his throat and repositioning a strand of hair. “I know this seems sudden, but I’m attracted to you. Yes, there’s a twenty-year age difference, but I want to spend more time with you. In fact, the rest of my days with you—taking care of you. I’ve been searching for the right woman, and I feel God has placed you in my life. I know this seems hasty, but I want to marry you after the baby is born. I’ll adopt the child and raise it like my own. Don’t answer me now. I want you to pray about it.” He reached for her hand. “I’m in love with you Shade. I want you to be my wife.”
Her eyes glistened. Her smile frozen. Could it be God’s plan? This gift of a man sent to rescue my baby and me? To give me the family I never had?
When Shade approached Mabel about Stan’s proposal, Mabel sat silent, considering her words before responding. “I don’t want to dampen your spirits, but we need to pray about this—for God’s guidance. You know nothing about him. This is a big decision. I want you to make the right choice.”
She lay in bed, her heart on fire. God had given her a gift, Stanley, and she couldn’t be happier. A family. Her family.
Shade informed Mabel she had decided to marry Stan.
“Honey, I’m not sure this is the path God wants for you. You’re still a child, and he’s a grown man.” Mabel placed her hands on Shade’s shoulders, her eyes searching Shade’s face. “Did you pray for guidance?”
“I know this is what God wants for me. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. A family of my own.”
In July 1976, Shade gave birth to a daughter and named her Adeline. When Shade turned sixteen, they were wed in a small ceremony.
Stanley accepted a job managing a car dealership in Emmet County, Michigan. It would be a new start for them. He sold his home and purchased a small house on Birch Street. True to his word, he adopted Adeline.
Shade settled into her new role as wife and mother. She spent her days honing her culinary skills, wanting her beloved Stanley to come home to a delicious meal after a long day at work. Everything she wanted in life came true, and she aspired for nothing more.
Chapter Three
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.
Revelation 21:4
Year 1996
No one knows what a day might bring. Shade woke that morning, happily married and content. She went to bed, a widow. At thirty-five, she had no sense of self. Her identity hinged on the man she married twenty years ago. A part of her perished.
When evening came, Shade gathered the strength to call Addy. “Something terrible happened,” she said, emotion gripping her.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Mom—talk to me.”
“It’s your father. We—we were at the picnic. He collapsed. He’s gone. A heart attack. Oh Addy, how will I live without him?”
“I’m on my way over.”
Addy let herself in and found her mother sitting on the edge of her bed stroking a framed photo taken on their wedding day. Addy sat beside her.
“Mom, I’m here.” Addy pulled her into her arms.
Shade sat weeping, clutching the frame against her chest. But no tears fell from Adeline’s eyes.
In the weeks following the funeral, Shade slowly emerged from the blackened bowels of despair. Growing stronger each day, she pondered life beyond her bubble. Her former world had been small. A dollhouse. Stanley controlled every aspect of her existence. He believed women belonged in the home. And she never wanted it any other way.
She never finished high school, never drove on an expressway or pumped gas, knew nothing of their financial situation, didn’t go out with friends and never went shopping without Stan. She didn’t even know what she didn’t know.
He had kept her tucked away all these years. But she had never desired to be anything but a good wife. Stan’s good wife. Even her mothering skills were lacking, but now she needed to take control. She registered for the GED test and accepted a part-time job at a bakery in the charming beach town of Edelweiss.
With bills coming in, and little to no income, she met with Gwen Foster at Emmet County Bank.
“It’s good to meet you,” said Gwen, smiling at the reserved woman sitting across from her. “I’ll walk you through your financial standing and make sure your name appears on everything. Mr. Lane had a checking account and a savings account. You also have a mortgage with us. It looks like you’re behind on payments. I would suggest you write a check today to get caught up.”
Noticing the startled look on Shade’s face, Gwen’s tone softened. “Do you know if your husband had a life insurance policy?”
“I—I’m not sure,” she replied, pushing her glasses against her nose. “How would I know?”
“You might check for a policy at home. Or you could look in your safe deposit box here at our bank. You’ll need to bring in the key.”
“Thank you. I’d like to write a check for the mortgage payments. How much do I owe?”
When she heard the amount, her heart fluttered, and her hand shook as she wrote the check.
Shade left the bank, heaviness crushing down on her. How would she keep up with the bills? The income from her new job would hardly cover expenses.
She sat at the kitchen table, lowered her head into her hands, and prayed. In the evening, she found a file box in the closet and looked for an insurance policy. Nothing. However, she found a key in a small envelope labeled ‘Emmet County Bank.’ She would return to the bank tomorrow.
That night, she called Addy. “Do you think I can come over this week and take Tyler for the day? I got a job at a bakery. I wanted to spend time with him before starting.”
“What? You’ve gotten a job? And you’re driving the car all by yourself? How does it feel to be free, doing things normal women do?”
She sighed. “Your father always treated me well. He only wanted to make things easier for me.”
“No, he wanted to control you. It wasn’t about you. It was about him. He had you right where he wanted you. Now look at you. You’re like a little, lost puppy trying to find her way in the big, scary world.”
“Please don’t talk like that,” said Shade. “Can I pick up Tyler this week?”
“Fine. How about Thursday? Jaime and I need to g
et out and have a little fun for a change. Maybe he can spend the night.”
“That’d be great. I’ll pick him up around ten. Thanks, honey.”
At the bank the next day, Gwen Foster handed Shade the metal box and took her into a private room. Alone, Shade shuffled through the contents of the box.
Within the stack of paperwork, she found the deed to their house—in both their names—the title to the car, the registration for his hunting rifle and Stanley’s birth certificate. She examined the birth certificate; Stanley Lane, born in 1940 in Spring Hill, Ohio. Mother’s name: Hazel Lane. Father’s name: Henry Lane. That’s odd. He never mentioned living in Ohio. “Born and raised in Michigan,” is what he’d said. Dismissing the thought, she went through the other documents.
At the bottom of the pile she discovered a brown envelope labeled “American Guardian Life.” It appeared to be a life insurance policy with her name listed as the beneficiary. As she stared at the amount, her body melted like warm wax. She re-read the policy. Five-hundred-thousand dollars. With trembling hands, she placed the envelope in her purse and left the bank.
Two days later, she entered the nondescript building of American Guardian Life. An agent ushered her to a seat.
“Hello Mrs. Lane. Stanley came to see me about five years ago. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of if anything happened to him. He worried about your age difference. I see you brought the death certificate,” said the agent, reviewing the document. “Everything looks to be in order. I’ll have our auditors do a review. Provided everything looks good, you’ll receive a check within a few weeks.”
The Essence of Shade Page 2