Silent Cry (20 page)

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”

Is Nate my enemy, Lord? Or is Nate tormented and controlled by my real enemy? Your
table is my provision, even when I am in captivity and surrounded by betrayal, lies,
deceit, violence, anger, and abuse. Your table is my protection, keeping me safe,
keeping me alive so I can care for Tré and protect my unborn child.

“Thou anointest my head with oil.”

God, I need your healing. My mind needs to be healed. It is broken and bruised and
weary and sad. Please let your oil of gladness flow over me. Let your healing balm
flow. Anoint my head, Lord Jesus; anoint my head.

“My cup runneth over.”

Yes, you have given me much to be thankful for. My cup runneth over with love for
Tré and the baby who is not yet even born. My cup runneth over with the goodness
of friends who care for me. My cup runneth over with your love. God, I love you.
God, how I need you.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”

Your goodness overwhelms me. Your mercy is never-ending. Help
me to understand. Help
me to see, Lord. Let me feel your goodness and mercy, and grant many days to my life.

“And I will dwell in the house of the L
ORD
for ever.”

Yes, Lord. I will dwell with you forever and ever. I will never leave you. I will
never forsake you. I will always call on your name. You are my hiding place. You
are my shield and my deliverer. You are my song. You are my strong tower. You are
my refuge.

I meditated on this passage daily and took strength from its words. I poured out
my heart to God and gave him all my sorrow and grief, doubt and fear. I fellowshipped
with God in my suffering, and I found comfort in his presence and in his care.

I never once blamed God for what I was going through. I never once felt like he wasn't
protecting me. I felt like I had placed myself in this situation. Over and over again,
I had made bad choices, and the consequences were pain, suffering, and abuse.

Each day, I asked for God's protection over my life, over Tré, and over our baby.
My energy was totally spent. I knew if my situation was going to change, it would
absolutely take God's intervention.

CHAPTER 21

The Last Straw

It is devastating to be abused by someone that you love and think loves you in return.

U.S. Senator Dianne Feinstein

N
ate had not come home for several nights. He was not at home as I stood over Tré's
bed
and
watched him sleep. He was so peaceful, lying there with his little hands cupped under
his cheek.
Such a handsome boy
, I thought to myself. Love for him welled up inside
of me, and I reached down to stroke his head. Just then, the baby kicked me, as if
he was jealous of the attention I was giving his brother. I patted my stomach and
admonished him, “Stop that, now. I love you too, little one. Don't you ever think
Mama doesn't love you with all her heart.”

Tré rolled over, and his brow furrowed. A moment before, he had been totally peaceful,
but now his face looked troubled, and he was restless, as if he was having a bad
dream. I knelt down beside him, remembering how many bad dreams I had known in my
childhood. I knew what it was like to be afraid for your mother. I knew what it was
like to wish your daddy would stop yelling, stop hurting her . . .

I ached inside. I never wanted my children to know the fear I felt as a child. I
never wanted their dreams to become nightmares. I crawled into Tré's bed and held
him close, tears streaming down my face.

“God,” I prayed, “watch over my children and protect them from harm. Let them learn
to love you with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength. Show me a way of escape.
Keep me from the bondage of unforgiveness. I belong to you, Lord. Nate belongs to
you. This isn't right. This isn't your plan for us. Guide me now. I don't know what
to do. I need you . . .”

I lay there, praying off and on throughout the night, stroking my stomach with one
hand and cuddling Tré with the other. Remarkably, the night passed in peace. There
was no argument with Nate, no demands — just God's peace, a respite from the storm.
I didn't know how, but I knew God was going to take care of us. I knew this suffering
would not last forever.

I was concerned for Tré. I knew all too well what he was going through. I knew the
deep fear and anxiety that came from watching someone you love be battered and abused.
No child should have to feel like they are on guard, waiting for something bad to
happen, never knowing what will trigger the abuse, never quite feeling safe. I wanted
him to know that prayer had the power to change things. I wanted him to know that
kneeling at the feet of Jesus would always give him the strength and power to do
whatever needed to be done.

On our long commute to school each morning, I prayed with Tré. I talked to him and
tried to give him a safe place to vent what he was feeling. He was free to talk about
anything and everything. I was strong for him. I did my best to explain things and
share how God protected me and watched over us. I sometimes felt guilty that I had
put him in a position to experience this pain, but I was so proud of how he handled
things and how open he remained with me. We developed clear communication, and a
lasting trust was established. During this season, our relationship grew strong and
deep.

I was still working for Nate, arranging appearances and doing other things. As his
popularity increased, I needed to work more closely with Valerie, his publicist.
She was a nice, sweet Christian lady, and I enjoyed working with her. We talked often
about coordinating Nate's calendar and keeping the schedule straight. In a moment
when I was vulnerable, I confided in her that things were bad at home. She was kind
and understanding and tried to reassure me that it didn't have to be that way. She
thought it might help if she mentioned it to someone inside the Cowboys organization.
She was sure they would intervene and make sure Nate got the help he needed and that
I would be protected. Suddenly, I was frightened that I had told her. What if it
got back to Nate? I told her she could tell no one. She might think it was going
to help me, but it would only make things worse. Oh, how I regretted telling her.
I hadn't intended to; it just sort of came out. I wasn't myself these days — tired,
bruised, swollen — and being pregnant didn't help.

It had been a bad night. Nate had come home very late, and the abuse was worse than
usual. I dropped Tré off at school and sat in my car for a moment, wondering about
what to do next. When Nate first woke up, he was not usually violent. In fact, even
if we had been through a bad night, he often didn't seem to remember what had happened.
I was never quite sure what to expect. I was exhausted beyond belief, and my body
was sore all over — like one giant bruise, so I put the car in gear and headed for
home. Nate was still sleeping, so I went into Tré's room to lie down. I set an alarm
just in case I fell asleep, wanting to be sure I had enough time to shower and dress
before I left again to pick up Tré from school.

I felt better when I woke up, and the sun was shining as I pulled out of the driveway
and headed for Fort Worth Christian.
Why do I put up with this?
I asked myself.
Why don't I just leave him? It isn't my fault that Nate beats me. It isn't my fault
that he sleeps with other women. I don't deserve this. Tré doesn't deserve this.
I can't bring another baby into this horrible situation. I can't!

Just then my cell phone rang, and it startled me. It was Nate. I stared at it, frightened
that Nate knew what I was thinking. I swallowed hard and answered.

“Where you at?” Nate asked.

“I'm on my way to pick up Tré,” I replied. He was silent.

“Nate,” I said, “why are you treating me this way? Why are you doing all this?”

I felt as if something had uncorked inside of me. “I can't do this anymore. I
won't
do this anymore. I'm leaving you. Don't worry; I'm not gonna run to the media or
anything. I won't tell a soul what has happened, but I have to go. I just have to
go.” Silence.

“Nate,” I said firmly, though my whole body was shaking, “I want a divorce.”

Nate was furious and started shouting. I couldn't believe I had told him what I was
thinking. It's a good thing the route was so familiar, because I know I wasn't paying
attention to the road — it was like the car was driving itself.

Nate ranted for a few minutes and then told me we would talk when I got home — and
I had better come home. Then he asked, “Who did you go tellin' my business to?”

I froze.
Oh, God
, I thought,
did Valerie . . .?

“Don't make me come and find you,” Nate snarled. “If I have to come find you, I'll
kill you.” He hung up.

I picked up Tré and thought about just driving away, but I was too afraid. I knew
Nate would never lay a hand on Tré — at least I didn't think he would — but I was
certain I was in for a very rough night. I knew if I didn't go home, he would find
me.

I called Valerie. “Did you tell anybody?” I asked. “Who did you tell?”

Valerie was stunned and very upset. She felt like someone needed to reach out and
help me. She meant to help. She didn't realize how desperate my situation was.

Without thinking, I drove to Ingrid's house. She would know what to do. I arrived
a total mess. We sent the boys to
another room to play, and I wrote a letter stating
that if I turned up dead, it was because Nate had killed me. I made her promise not
to read it, but if anything happened to me, she had to take it to the police. She
promised, and I watched her put the letter in her safe. I was scared I was going
to die, and I was even more afraid of what would happen to Tré if I did.

“Ingrid,” I said, “you must promise me that if anything ever happens to me, you will
raise Tré. I don't want him to grow up with Nate if I'm not there.”

I was worried that since Ingrid had never told Monte about my situation, he might
not agree to take Tré from Nate. I knew how charming Nate was to everybody else,
and I could see him telling Monte I had gone crazy or something, and I was sure Nate
would get his way. Ingrid promised me she would raise Tré, and I asked her to put
that commitment in writing, sign it, and give me a copy. Then I watched her as she
put her copy in the safe. I let out a sigh of relief. Tré would be taken care of.

Ingrid didn't cry, but her countenance betrayed her sadness. I knew she was scared
for me. I sat in her home, thinking that if my family knew what I was going through,
they would risk everything to protect me, but they didn't know. I thought about my
aunt in Virginia; I knew she would help me, but she didn't know either. Sheila, Bug
— many names came to mind, but no one knew I was in danger. I hadn't told anyone,
and now it was too late. Nate was going to kill me; I was sure of it.

“You promise me you will take Tré?” I asked Ingrid again.

“Yes, yes, of course I will,” Ingrid said, her eyes completely sincere and her face
filled with concern.

“You should not go back there,” she said. “Stay here. Don't go home.”

“I have to,” I said. “I have to go back. You don't understand.”

“You don't understand,” I repeated. “I have to reassure him that I haven't gone to
the police. He told me I have to bring Tré home. I have to go.”

I collected Tré and tried to prepare him as we drove home.

“Tré,” I said.

“Yes, Mama?”

“When we get home, I want you to stay in the car until I come back outside to get
you, okay?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Listen, baby, I'm going to turn on some music for you. You just put your little
headphones on and pretend like you're driving the car. Can you do that? Your daddy
is really upset about some things, and I don't want you to come inside until he calms
down.”

“Okay,” he said. It was like any other day to Tré. He was used to Daddy being angry
and Mommy getting hurt. He had learned to hide and be quiet and wait until the storms
blew over. It was sad.

We were almost home. An icy calm settled over me. I expected the worst. I didn't
even mind — except that I cared so much about Tré. If Nate killed me, I would be
with Jesus and free from suffering.
If only Tré —
I couldn't think about it or I would
break down and cry. I felt the baby kick, and I was sorry I would never get to hold
him in my arms.

I put the car in park and took the keys out of the ignition. I got out Tré's music
and his headphones and told him to wait for me in the car — he was
not
to come inside.
I looked at him, hugged him hard, and kissed the top of his head.