Stuck in the Middle (24 page)

“Cigarettes,” she managed to choke out. “Daddy smoked cigarettes, not pot.”

“Don’t be so naïve, Joan.” Allie gave her a disgusted look. “He got stoned every night. I found his stash out in the garage and took it to Mom.”

“Daddy?” Tori’s voice shook. “Our father was a pothead?”

Allie turned a look of compassion on her. “Maybe I’m exaggerating. He probably didn’t get stoned every night. But he definitely got high.”

“Why haven’t you talked about this before?” Joan demanded. “If you knew this all along, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Hey, don’t get hyper with me. You know very well the subject of Daddy has been taboo since he left. That’s the way Mom wanted it, and I respected her wishes.”

Tori nodded slowly. “Mom’s always been really closemouthed about Daddy. I’ve never had the nerve to talk to her about him. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Joan was aware that Allie was watching her closely, but she had trouble meeting her sister’s eye. Tori was right. They’d all seen how Mom clammed up whenever they mentioned Daddy. He was one subject the sisters had learned to avoid almost instinctively. Even among themselves.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know this, Joan,” Allie said. “You were twelve when they divorced. That’s old enough to notice things.”

Joan stared at the floor, numb. “I guess maybe I didn’t want to notice.”

Allie scooted over on the couch and laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. But I think silence is unhealthy. It’s time we talked about this.”

Tori got out of the chair and came to sit beside them on the cushion Allie had just vacated. She leaned over to put a hand on top of Allie’s, and laid her head on Allie’s shoulder. “I always wondered why Daddy left. I . . . figured it was my fault.”

Joan’s eyes flew to Tori’s face. “Your fault? How could it be your fault? You were only nine.”

She lifted a shoulder. “They say kids always blame themselves.”

“I know I did.” Allie’s forehead creased. “I knew about his affairs, but I figured if I hadn’t told Mom about the marijuana, if I’d kept his secret, maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to kick him out. She’d put up with his affairs for so long, but it was like that pot was the last straw. I always wondered if she was trying to protect us from being around drugs.”

A vise squeezed around Joan’s chest, and each breath came hard. All these years she’d interpreted Mom’s silence as an admission of guilt. Joan blamed Mom for driving her father away, when it turned out Mom was only protecting her girls.

“But she didn’t even let him visit,” she said, her voice choked with unshed tears. “Why didn’t she let him come see us, or even call us?”

Allie’s hand squeezed her arm. “You think she kept him from us? No, Joan. She wouldn’t have done that. The minute the divorce papers were signed, he took off and she never heard from him again. He never paid a cent of child support, the jerk. That’s why we had to move in with Gram and Grandpa.”

Joan squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want to think that about Daddy. He wasn’t a jerk. He was just weak. He’d never been strong enough to stand up to Mom in anything. He was gentler, quieter, more like her. That’s why it was easy to forgive him, to find someone else to blame.

But what kind of father would desert his own daughters?

She swallowed back the tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. “I . . . guess I knew that. But for some reason I placed the biggest part of the blame on Mom.”

“Transference,” Allie said. “It’s a normal reaction.”

Giggling, Tori sat up. “I love having our own personal psychologist.”

“This is serious.” Allie poked her arm with a fist, then turned back toward Joan. “Daddy hurt you, but you couldn’t express your anger toward him. So you turned your anger on someone else. And Mom was a safe target, because you knew she would continue to love you even if you were mad at her. You knew she would never leave you.”

“This is exactly why I’m not getting married.” Tori stood. “Look what their divorce did to us. And the statistics say children of divorced parents are a lot more likely to divorce themselves. I don’t want to go through another one. It’s not worth the risk.”

Allie’s hand curled around her tummy. “But don’t you want to have children yourself someday?”

Tori shrugged. “If I do, I’ll visit a sperm bank. That way nobody gets hurt.”

Joan laughed at the outrageous idea of Tori calmly sifting through a stack of forms to select a donor for her child. “Not me. I want my children to have a father, a good one.” She smiled toward Allie. “One like Eric.”

Only Christian.

Startled, Joan brushed at a crumb on her jeans. Not often your own thoughts surprise you, but that one came out of nowhere. Probably her conversation with Karen the other day was still rolling around in her mind.

Tori bent over and placed both hands on Allie’s belly. “Yes, but Eric is one of a kind.” She straightened. “I’ll be right back, and then we can start the next movie.”

She left the room, and Allie grinned at Joan. “She’ll change her mind when she meets Mr. Right.” She heaved herself off the couch. “I’m going to use her other bathroom.”

Alone in the living room, Joan wondered if Allie was right. Was there a Mr. Right out there for Tori? And one for Joan, maybe even a Dr. Right? A grin stole across her lips at the thought, but then it faded. What if her judgment was somehow damaged when it came to men? She thought she knew Roger, but he hurt her, left her for another woman. She sucked in a breath. Just like Daddy!

These revelations about Daddy’s affairs and his pot smoking had come as surprises, but she knew deep inside that they were true. Which meant she had known as a girl, but chose to ignore the signs. The father she thought she knew wasn’t real. He had deserted her. She always thought he was out there somewhere, thinking of her, loving her from far away. But now she realized she never really knew Daddy at all. And what good was love from a distance, anyway?

Mary Alice Sachs’s voice sounded in Joan’s mind, as if in silent answer to her unspoken question.
The almighty God
is our Father. He loves us. He delights in delighting us.

A heavy stillness stole over the room, an almost electric feeling that prickled the skin along Joan’s arms. A clock on the wall ticked, echoing her heartbeat. The answer to her questions was all around her, as though a curtain had been suddenly opened to flood the room with bright sunlight only her soul could see.

She did have a father, and he was almighty God.

She squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of tears. But if he loved her, why was he so remote? He wasn’t distant from Mr. and Mrs. Sachs, or from Ken, or even from that orphan boy, Rahim. But for Joan, God was just like her own father, out there somewhere, loving her from far away when what she really needed was someone right here. No dramatic miracles, no helicopters. Just a little reminder every now and then that he cared.

She heard the bathroom door open, and Tori’s footsteps go into the kitchen. A drawer opened, silverware rattled. Joan gulped a deep breath and managed to get her emotions under control as her little sister came around the corner.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Tori’s hands were full, and she turned to share her burden with Allie, who followed her into the room.

“Oh, yummy,” said Allie. “Moose Tracks, my favorite.” Joan’s jaw dropped as Tori thrust something toward her. She stared at it without moving, her hands lying like lead in her lap.

“I knew that’s what you liked.” Tori grimaced in Allie’s direction. “But I think it’s disgusting. So I got each of us a pint of our own. This is your favorite, isn’t it, Joan?”

Joan could only nod as she took the spoon and a pint of chocolate ice cream from her sister’s hand.

~ 16 ~

Joan awoke to a pain in her right shoulder. She rolled onto her back, reached up with her left hand, and grabbed the hard object. A peek through groggy eyes confirmed that she’d been lying on the remote control to Tori’s television.

She struggled to sit up, her back stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. Beside her, Tori was curled into a ball, hugging a pillow. A backward glance told her Allie had moved to the couch sometime during the night.

Correction. Sometime during the morning. At 4:00 a.m., bellies bloated with pizza and ice cream, they spread Tori’s comforter out on the floor in front of the entertainment center and propped themselves on pillows to watch
X-Men.
The screen showed the disc menu now, though she must have lain on the Mute button. The only sounds in the room were the ticking of the wall clock and a gentle snore coming from the direction of the couch.

She glanced at her watch. 8:24. If she hurried, she could get back to Danville in time to shower and still make it to Sunday school.

Her jeans were in Tori’s bedroom, and she tiptoed down the hall so she wouldn’t disturb her sisters. She didn’t know why it seemed so important to go to Sunday school this morning. But if God was interested in having an up-close relationship with her, and apparently he was, she needed some answers. Church seemed like the logical place to get them.

Dressed and clutching her overnight bag, she hesitated in the living room. Should she wake Tori and Allie, let them know that she was leaving? No. They’d want an explanation, and Joan wasn’t sure she could explain herself. Or that they would understand.

She left a note telling them she’d see them at home for Sunday dinner and slipped out the door.

Ken swiped the last of the shaving cream from his chin with his razor, watching his reflection in a cleared section of the steamy mirror. He yawned hugely. It had been a long, boring night at the hospital, and what he really wanted to do was fall into bed for a few hours. But it was Sunday morning, and if he wanted to find a church in town, he had to stay awake long enough to attend one. From the clock radio in his bedroom, the Newsboys admonished him to
Shine!
as he splashed warm water on his face.

Someone pounded on the front door. Trigger leaped up from his position in the center of the doorway and ran, barking excitedly, through the house. Ken dried his face and glanced at the clock. 9:15. Odd time for a visitor.

He slipped on a handy pair of scrubs and followed Trigger into the living room.

“Calm down,” he told the excited dog, who was twirling in circles in front of the door.

He grabbed Trigger’s collar and hauled him backward, holding on so the pup didn’t assault whoever waited on the front porch. When he swung the door open, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Joan.”

She looked tired. Her hair was pulled sharply back from her high forehead, and her eyelids drooped over her eyes. The skin beneath them was puffy, like she’d had a hard night.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh,” she stammered, “fine. Everything’s fine.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest, and then she turned her head to look away, her cheeks red. An answering heat crept up his neck. Why hadn’t he taken a minute to put on a shirt?

“Hey, Trigger.” A smile lit her face as she ruffled the dog’s ears. Trigger’s tail looked like he might take flight. “How’ve you been, boy?” She raised her smile to Ken for a second. “He’s growing.”

“He’s eating me out of house and home. But he’s learned a few things. Watch this.” He bent over to look Trigger in the eye, and when he had the dog’s attention, released his collar. “Trigger, sit.”

The dog’s hindquarters dropped to the ground.

“Hey, that’s great!”

At Joan’s exclamation, Trigger leaped up, this time to plant his paws on her chest, his tail going crazy.

“No, down!” Ken grabbed him by the collar and hauled him into the house. “You just stay in there for a minute.” He ignored the reproachful canine expression and closed the door. Then he turned back to Joan with a sheepish grin. “We’re working on not jumping on people, but he forgets.”

“You’re doing a good job with him.” She plucked at a string on the pocket of her jeans. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to church with us again this morning.”

That was a surprise. He’d thought of her several times during the week, but something always stopped him from calling her. His hesitation was only partly due to a busy schedule.

“Well, uh, actually I was thinking of trying another church today.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay. No big deal.”

She flashed a brief smile his way, and then turned to leave. Something about the droop of her shoulders made Ken want to keep her here, to keep her talking. “Uh, Joan?”

She stopped, looking back at him.

“Are you alright?”

A tired smile lit her face. “I’m fine. Allie and I spent the night at Tori’s, and I didn’t get much sleep, that’s all.”

As if to prove her point, she covered a yawn with her hand. Why were yawns contagious? Ken hid his own, which made her laugh.

“I guess I’m not the only one who didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“Long night at the hospital.”

She nodded, and backed down the first step. Then she stopped again. “I don’t know how far you want to drive to go to church, but there’s one in Lexington you might like. It’s called the Open Bible Church. I visited there Wednesday night.”