Faithful (34 page)

Evelyn lapsed deep into thought, staring out the window ahead. Finally she turned back. “He hasn't told you why his father and I divorced?”

Phyllis shook her head. “No.”

“I don't mind sharing this with you, Phyllis, because I know God worked it for good, but it's a part of my life that I'm ashamed of.”

Phyllis gave her a quick glance that said she was listening, though she felt weird suddenly. She was about to get a window into Hayes's soul, one she'd never had. Her exit was coming up and she took it, but instead of going home, she headed toward the park so they could continue talking.

Evelyn was fidgeting with her gloves again. “I had an affair when Hayes was ten years old.”

Phyllis felt sick suddenly.

“Harris and I had been having marital problems, and I had gone for counseling.” She paused. “With the pastor.”

Phyllis listened as she drove into the park, which looked festive with holiday decorations.

“Our church was small, everybody knew everybody. The pastor and Harris were friends; I was friends with Marla, the pastor's wife.”

Phyllis had already parked, and she hated to interrupt. Quietly she said, “It's kind of cool out, but do you want to walk?”

They made their way to the water basin in silence and stood by the concrete retaining wall.

Evelyn continued, “On the second counseling session, he started making overtures toward me. I was as much to blame as he was. The affair carried on for months. Marla found out, and after that the whole church knew. I didn't know they knew until we came to church that next Sunday. People were calling me Jezebel and all kinds of names, right in front of Hayes. And the pastor preached about it, saying folk better beware of judging their pastor, that he wasn't perfect, and he could be tempted by an adulteress like anyone else.” Evelyn spoke softly, staring out at the water. “We walked out of the service, and soon after, Harris walked out on me. The pastor remained in his position.”

Phyllis couldn't take her eyes off of Evelyn. So much was becoming clear, even the episode with Hayes coming to Living Word to hear what Scott and Pastor Lyles had to say about what he'd guessed was adultery. She had to know. “Did Hayes enjoy church before that?”

Evelyn turned to her now. “Oh, Phyllis, he loved it. He loved Jesus. He knew his Bible stories like the back of his hand.” She had tears in her eyes. “And after that, especially after we got divorced, his heart turned cold. He blamed me, he blamed the pastor, he blamed God.”

All these years with Hayes, and she'd never known. Phyllis's heart ached for him. No wonder he felt the way he did, about God and about his mother.

Phyllis met her gaze again. “What did you do after that? How did you cope?”

“It was years before I could truly get my life together. It was hard raising Hayes when he had such an attitude with me all the time, understandably so. And Harris just disappeared. I paid such a high price, Phyllis. Infidelity is an awful, awful thing.”

On the brink of tears, Phyllis watched a mother duck and her babies.

Evelyn leaned over the wall, following the ducks as well. “I was bitter about my life for the longest time. Knowing it was my own fault made it unbearable. But one day I got to talking to this woman at work. We both worked in data entry, and on our breaks she began telling me her story, how God had brought peace and joy into her life. It had been so long since I thought myself worthy of even thinking about God. But because of her, I found out He hadn't forgotten about me. Oh, it was the sweetest moment, falling into His arms.” Evelyn paused. “But it's been bittersweet, too, because I want so badly for Hayes to experience that peace.”

She sighed, and Phyllis was sure that sigh held a lifetime of pain.

Phyllis was getting cold, but she lingered in silence anyway. With all of this insight, she hadn't a clue what to do with it.

“Evelyn,” she said finally, “would you mind if we prayed for Hayes?” Evelyn put her arm around Phyllis, and they bowed heads as Evelyn asked God to move powerfully in the heart of her only child.

“G
RANDMA, MOVE!
”

Drew was leaning left. “You're gonna get killed! You can't just
sit
there! Go
that
way.”

“Okay. I'm trying to get the hang of it.” Evelyn was leaning left, too, but she didn't know how to make her ship do the same. Her thumbs were going crazy on the buttons, but they must have been the wrong ones because her ship hadn't budged.

Boom!

“That's it, Grandma.” Sean looked sympathetic. “You're out of ships. That's the third game, and you haven't gotten out of Stage 1.”

Phyllis chuckled. “Winner and still reigning champion: Phyllis Owens!”

“No fair,” Evelyn said, still poised in front of the big screen. “I'm just learning. These are practice games.” She pushed the green button, sure of that one. “Let's go again.”

Ella bounced in place, doing a happy jig. She pointed at Evelyn. “Gandma.”

“That's right, sweetheart,” Phyllis said. “That's your grandma.”

Evelyn bent down, giving Ella a big kiss on the cheek. “Sweet baby! Grandma's gonna get all those kisses.”

Hayes walked past the family room toward the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad!” Drew called. “Let's see you play Grandma.”

Hayes loved Galaga and rarely turned down an offer to take over the controls. But he yelled back, “Can't right now. Thanks, though.”

Phyllis knew he wouldn't. He'd been avoiding his mother since she got here. He didn't get home until almost five o'clock from work, though the office was officially closed today, and at dinner he'd been reserved, letting the kids entertain Evelyn with their many stories.

After four more games Evelyn had finally gotten as far as Stage 3, and Hayes came and stood at the door. “Boys, time to get ready for bed. You've got to go to sleep early so Santa can come.”

Phyllis kept from rolling her eyes. Every year Hayes talked up Santa; it was silly, since the boys didn't believe it and she preferred they focus on the real reason for the season.

“Daddy's right,” Phyllis said, trying to find common ground. “Get ready for bed, 'cause you know you'll be up bright and early.”

This was the only night of the year they didn't have to say it more than once. The boys kissed Phyllis and their grandmother, then Hayes on the way upstairs, yelling, “Good night!”

Phyllis stood and stretched. “I'll get Ella ready for bed.”

Hayes bent to his knees and held out his arms so Ella would run to him. “I'll take her.” His voice changed. “Come on, Daddy's girl.”

Again, he was fleeing the scene. Ella held out her arms, and Hayes scooped her up and turned for the stairs.

“Okay, I guess I'll start on the dishes,” Phyllis said.

She headed to the kitchen, and Evelyn followed behind. “Let me do the dishes, Phyllis. You were in the kitchen all afternoon cooking that big meal. I can still taste that delicious roast beef.”

“Thanks, Evelyn.” Phyllis put an arm around her as they crossed the threshold of the kitchen. “How about we work together?”

Evelyn smiled. “Perfect.” She began to gather the plates, humming, “We Three Kings.”

“That's one of my favorite Christmas songs,” Phyllis said. She started singing, but she only knew the first six words by heart, so Evelyn chimed in, her singing voice strong and beautiful. They made it a lively tune as they moved about, and when they got to the chorus, they both stopped and sang loudly, “Ohh-ohhhhhh”—holding it ten seconds at least—then laughed and continued, “star of wonder, star of light . . .”

After “We Three Kings,” Phyllis cried, “Joy to the World!”

They launched into song after song as they washed and began putting away the dishes. Evelyn handed her a platter to dry, and when Phyllis was done, she went to put it back in the china cabinet. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hayes standing to the left of the kitchen doorway, but he moved as if passing through.

The second she saw him, Phyllis dropped the chorus of “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” but Evelyn continued. So Phyllis picked it back up as she put the platter away. She didn't know where Hayes had gone, but he was passing through again when she headed back to the kitchen. She paused. “Why don't you join us?”

To her surprise, Hayes entered the kitchen behind her and leaned against the counter, watching them. Phyllis tried to act nonchalant, even as they sang, “O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”

Evelyn looked over her shoulder from the sink. “That used to be Hayes's favorite Christmas carol as a boy,” she told Phyllis. “Remember, Hayes?”

He folded his arms. “You mean, back when we were pretending to be a Christian family?”

Phyllis eased a plate into the cabinet, holding her breath.

Evelyn shut off the water and pulled the dishwashing gloves from her hands.

Phyllis kept her head in the cabinet, rearranging bowls and salad plates as Evelyn walked over to him.

“Son, you're right,” she said. “We weren't the Christian home we should've been. I wasn't the Christian mother I should've been. And it grieves my heart.”

Phyllis pivoted slightly so she could see. Evelyn had her hip against the counter, facing him.

“But what grieves me more,” she was saying, “is what you took away from it. I think you thought that's what Christians were about. That that's what Christian life was about. But no, that's what Evelyn Owens was about. It had nothing to do with God.”

“It had everything to do with God. That man was a
pastor
.”

“He was Otis Tillman the Third, with a title the powers-that-be gave him because his father had been a pastor and knew the right people. Titles don't make a person a man of God.”

Phyllis closed the cabinet quietly.

“We were both a poor reflection of God,” Evelyn continued, “and I hate that it diminished the glory of God in your eyes.” She stepped closer to Hayes, though he was still looking down. “Hayes, you used to stand on a little stool and pretend you were preaching.” Her eyes smiled at the memory. “You said the same four words every time—that was the whole sermon—but it said it all. ‘Jesus died for you.' At bedtime you wouldn't let me pray. You'd say, ‘No, I'll pray, Mommy. I'll talk to Jesus myself.' And oh my goodness, how you cried and carried on if you were too sick to go to church.”

Phyllis didn't move a muscle, but she stole a glance at Hayes. His jaw set, eyes hard as steel, he was still staring at the floor.

Evelyn moved even closer to him. “Hayes, if you never listen to another word I say, I want you to know that the Jesus you prayed to as a boy is real. He hasn't changed.
I
let you down, but He'll never leave you nor forsake you. It's true, son. He died for you.”

Five of the longest seconds of Phyllis's life passed as the three of them stood there in silence. Without looking at either of them, Hayes pushed off the counter and walked out.

And it hit Phyllis. He had listened to every word without cutting his mother off.

A
T FIVE THIRTY
Christmas morning, Phyllis's alarm sounded and she popped up. She knew she'd have less quiet time before the kids dashed out of bed, so she didn't want to tarry. She would head to the living room, sit in her favorite chair, and sip tea as she talked to God and read her Bible. But as her legs hit the floor, she felt a hand on her arm.

She looked back at Hayes in the dark. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn't sleep last night.”

Phyllis could see him better now. He was on his back, his eyes wide open.

“You don't feel well?” she asked.

“I don't know.” Hayes shifted to his side to face her. “I just . . . I need you.”

As Phyllis stared at him, she could see the images Evelyn had painted. Hayes as a little boy, praying to Jesus. Hayes let down by the people he trusted.

She nestled close to him and they held one another. Tenderly he kissed her, and for the first time in a long while she looked forward to where it would take them. As they became one, Phyllis was almost sure she felt a dampness on her cheek, but she didn't dwell on it. If she did, she might get her hopes up that something was happening inside of her husband, because of this she was sure.

She'd never known Hayes to cry.

T
HE KIDS WERE
all by the tree, the ruckus high, bells and whistles sounding as they tested gifts they'd just opened. Phyllis and Evelyn were right there with them on the floor, playing with a doll's hair, wielding a lightsaber, squeezing talking stuffed animals. Evelyn, in her robe, was in high spirits, despite the fact that Hayes hadn't said much more to her than “Good morning.” After the revelry of opening presents, he had gone into the kitchen to cook breakfast.

Ella was bringing every gift to Grandma, even gifts that weren't hers, wanting to play with them, though she'd only play for thirty seconds, toss it down, and move on to the next. Now she handed Evelyn a board book Phyllis had given her of the Christmas story. Ella lowered herself into Evelyn's lap and excitedly clasped her hands.

Evelyn gasped with delight. “You want me to read it to you?”

Ella nodded vigorously and pointed to the book. “Read.”

Evelyn made a big show of reading the title. “
The Story of Jesus' Birth.
” She smiled at her granddaughter. “Oh, this will be a wonderful story, Ella. I'm so glad you brought it to me.”

The boys came closer, taking seats beside their grandmother.

Evelyn began, “‘A long time ago, God sent the angel Gabriel to a godly young woman named Mary.'”

Ella tapped the picture on the page.

“Yes, that's Mary! Good girl!” She continued, “‘The angel told her, “You will have a son and His name will be Jesus. He will be called the Son of the Most High and He will reign forever.”'”