Tessa (From Fear to Faith) (16 page)

31

W
ednesday was the first day of Christmas vacation. I would have liked to sleep in, but it was impossible with the arguing that commenced about six thirty. I felt like screaming at both my parents.
Just give it a rest! Why’d you bother getting together in the first place if you hate each other so much?

In disgust, I pulled on my clothes and strode out to the kitchen for an early breakfast, ignoring the yelling and banging coming from Walter’s corner of the living room.

Mom was at the table, spooning up a bowl of cornflakes. She was also ignoring the noise, or pretending to. Before I sat down, I reached over and flipped the radio on. While I didn’t care for the mix of commercials, news tidbits, and jokes that comprised the morning show, it did help drown out the racket Walter was making.

Toward the end of breakfast, Walter’s temper cooled off. He inched his wheelchair across the living room until he could see us sitting at the table. “Hey. Give me some food.”

Mom went to the counter to refill her coffee mug. “No way. You’re on your own. You don’t want my help, remember?”

Walter cursed. “Do what I say. Get me some food.”

“Listen to you begging. Come on, Walter, if you’re really such a big tough guy, get it yourself. Quit sitting there like a helpless invalid.”

“I said,
get me some food!”
Walter’s voice shook with fury. “Don’t make me have to do something to you.”

“Yeah? Like what? You can’t even–”

“Shut up, woman!” He bit out the words through clenched teeth.

Mom thumped her mug of coffee down hard, slopping some of the liquid. “Fine! But just so you know, you’re getting nothing til you apologize to me!”

“I said shut up!” Walter hissed.

Something in me snapped. Standing up, I grabbed the radio and dashed it to the floor. A piece of plastic broke off and skidded under the refrigerator. From the speakers came a loud crackle, then silence. I ran out of the room.

“Tessa! Get back here! What’s the matter with you?” Mom’s voice carried down the hall after me.

What’s the matter? Man, if she doesn’t know by now, she’s crazy.
I slammed my door, shoving a book against it to make it stay shut, and threw myself onto the bed. I felt bad about wrecking the radio, but what was I supposed to do?

In the kitchen, I heard talking, then arguing. Were Mom and Walter at it again?
I shoved a CD into my player and cranked up the volume until the window rattled. How I would survive eleven more days confined to this loony bin I had no clue. Maybe I should just check out. I still had the marijuana joints Lorraine had given me, hidden in my top dresser drawer. But since there were only two, I would wait until I really needed them.

My parents eventually reached some kind of truce, and things quieted down. Around noon, Mom stopped by my bedroom to tell me she needed to run over to the farm market and get some potatoes.

“I’m counting on you to keep an eye on Walter,” she said. “He’s in his wheelchair and he’s trying to move around a bit, but I don’t trust him. I set up some ironing in the kitchen, and I want you to stay out there and work on it. I shouldn’t be long. Keep him away from the phone, and do not give him any alcohol or medications. Understand?”

I nodded.

“I’m gonna try to sneak out of here. Hopefully he won’t know I’ve left.”

But Walter was more perceptive than she’d judged him to be. As I walked to the kitchen a few minutes later, he called to me. “Hey Tess, where’s your mom?”

I kept walking. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t try that on me. I know she’s gone. Listen. I want you to do a job for me tonight. We could sure use the money.”

My heart rate doubled and my hands started to shake. I leaned on the kitchen counter. What could I say? If only Mom were home!

“Did you hear me, Tess?”

“I-I don’t think I can do it,” I stammered.

“Aww, sure you can. You’re good at it. Heck, you’re even better than me. Never told you that, did I? But you gotta stay in practice, or you’ll get rusty.”

I didn’t answer. I had no intention of doing the job, but I was scared what he might do if I said no. Grabbing the iron, I tackled the pile of shirts. If I put him off long enough, Mom would come back, and that would be the end of it.

In the next room, Walter groaned and muttered as he strained to move his chair. After a short time, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Desperation lined his face.

“Tessa, please. Just this once? We really need the money. The rent’s so far behind, we could get kicked out any day. And there’s nothing to eat except that stupid canned soup. Do you wanna starve?”

I hesitated. He was right about the money. Mom had cut the grocery list down to the bare necessities, and then some.

“Your mom doesn’t ever have to know. She’ll be so busy with me she won’t even notice you left. Please, Tess, say you’ll do it.” Walter shifted in his chair, grimacing at the pain.

I stood silent. How could I say no with him sitting right there? Especially when he was being so polite. Maybe it would be okay. It would be scary, yes, but I could handle it. And it would help out a lot.

I nodded. “I suppose.”

Walter’s face broke into a sort of grin. “Thanks. You’re a good partner. I knew I could count on you.”

A lump filled my throat. Never in my life had Walter spoken that respectfully to me. In fact, I wasn’t sure anyone had.

“Hand me the phone, and I’ll set things up,” he said.

“Set things up?” I felt a stab of apprehension.

“That’s where the money is, kid. Don’t worry, I do this all the time. Hand me the phone.”

So, contrary to Mom’s specific orders, I got him the phone. What else could I do? Then, like a good partner, I positioned myself at the kitchen window so I could warn him if she drove in. But I could not push away the nagging thought that I was turning into a criminal, just as Mom had predicted.

32

B
y the time Mom returned from the farm market with her potatoes, Walter had made half a dozen phone calls and changed my job description considerably. Not only was I supposed to return to the farmhouse the next night to finish the job – a necessity he had failed to mention in the beginning – but after that, I was expected to drive out to the dog park at the far end of town and deliver the finished product to two of his buyers. Of course, I had to bring some home for him too. I couldn’t help but notice the gleam in his eyes when he said that.

I swallowed my disgust and promised I would. I had expected as much. But that part about selling it had me scared. I knew the sort of characters Walter dealt with. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap or even murder me, if it suited their interests. Having a gun in my pocket that I didn’t really know how to use wouldn’t make things any safer. But Walter assured me everything would go fine. I hoped he was right.

Mom did question why I hadn’t finished the ironing. I told her I had a headache, an explanation she seemed to accept. It also doubled as an excuse to stay out of sight the rest of the afternoon. I knew Mom too well to take her intuitive powers lightly. But supper came and went with no sign of suspicions on her part.

Late that evening, while Mom was helping Walter in the bathroom, I slipped the ring of keys he’d given me into my pocket, pulled the biggest kitchen knife from the drawer, and stole out the back door. Walter had instructed me to take the pistol, but I didn’t know where Mom had put it. The knife would have to do for tonight.

Trembling with excitement and fear, I got into the car and softly closed the door. I turned the key, holding my breath as the engine started. Was the car always this noisy? I shifted into reverse and backed down the driveway, leaving the headlights off. I didn’t want to think what would happen if Mom caught me.

As I swung the car onto the road, I glanced back at the house. No lights had come on. Everything was quiet. A sudden thrill ran through me.
I finally did it! I ran off with Mom’s car, and it wasn’t even that hard.
I groped in the dark for the headlight switch, then hit the gas and tried to remember the things Walter had taught me about driving.
Look ahead on the curves, don’t hug the center line, and don’t poke along, they’ll think you’re drunk.

I tried my best. But I hadn’t driven for some time; and at forty-five miles an hour, with a light wind drifting loose snow across the blacktop, it took a great deal of concentration just to stay on the road. Passing the tavern at the corner of Kruger and East Bluff Road, I glimpsed a sheriff car parked at the edge of the lot. My stomach knotted.
Just what I don’t need. Suppose he recognizes the car and follows me?

I forced the thought away. No doubt he was watching for drunks. But as the road narrowed and began to wind back along the ridge, I realized I had a lot more on my mind than the fear of being stopped. Deep inside, I knew I was doing wrong. I also knew God wasn’t happy about it. I dreaded what might happen if I continued on. Would he punish me? What if he let the place blow up with me in it?

As I rounded the final bend and steered the car into the narrow, snowy field lane, I broke out in a cold sweat. I hadn’t been this nervous since the night Walter drove me back into the forest to punish me for running away. But I couldn’t let fear stop me. Walter had already set things up. I had promised, and everyone was counting on me. I had to go through with this thing.

Or did I? Uncertain now, I shifted the car into park and switched off the lights. “God, I need help. I don’t know what to do. Walter’s gonna kill me if I don’t go through with this.”

I waited, but there was no answer. The car engine vibrated beneath me.
I might as well drive on to the farmhouse,
I thought
. If I sit here too long, I’m gonna totally freak.

But I decided to hold out a bit longer.

“I don’t wanna be a criminal, God. You know that. But I feel like I gotta do this, and in some ways, I guess I want to do it too. I want Walter to think I’m good at something.”

But even as I said it, I realized the foolishness of supposing I could earn Walter’s respect. It had never worked before.

I continued. “God, I’d get out of this if I could. But I can’t. Walter will throw a fit and do something really mean to me.”

The answer this time was clear.
No matter what Walter does, I’ll be with you. It’s going to be okay.
Suddenly, I could sense God’s arms around me. He really was here, talking to me! The fear drained away, and I realized I didn’t have to do what Walter said. I was free to make my own decision.

I backed the car onto the road and pointed it toward home. Facing Walter would be difficult, but at least I knew God would be with me.

The car clock read ten minutes past midnight when I pulled into the driveway. I parked in the usual spot, sent up a final prayer, and stole into the dark house.

Walter didn’t stir as I tiptoed past him to my room. I closed my door, pulled off my wet shoes, and collapsed on the bed. I couldn’t believe how exhausted I felt. But there was a sense of relief as well. I was glad I’d made the right decision.

Five minutes later, there came a sharp knock on my door. I bolted upright, nearly falling off the bed in fright. “What? Who’s there?”

“I want to talk to you,” said Mom.

Lightning struck my soul.
She knows.
I grabbed my pajama top and yanked it on over my sweatshirt in a frantic attempt to disguise the fact I was still dressed. Mom pushed the door and flipped on the lights. For a long moment, she stood there with folded arms and scrutinized me. I hung my head, my confidence melting like snow in a July sun.

“Where were you?”

From her tone of voice, I knew it was no use trying to lie my way out of this one.

“I . . . well, it was Walter’s idea,” I faltered. “I don’t know what got into me. I…”

“Go on,” she said. “You what?”

I wished I could drop out of sight. How would I explain this?

“I-I was on my way to do a job. Walter told me to. But I got so scared I had to turn around. I didn’t even get there.”

The fury on Mom’s face changed to scorn. “Tessa, I honestly don’t know what to do with you anymore. You’re just like your father. I know a lie when I hear one.”

“You gotta believe me,” I pleaded. “I turned around because I knew God didn’t like what I was doing. He helped me decide to turn around. I’m never going back there again, I promise.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard that before too. If you mean it, you can start by giving me that key.”

“It’s Walter’s. He’ll be mad if I don’t give it back.”

Mom held out her hand. I gave her the keys, and she pocketed them. But she wasn’t done with me.

“You should know I was on my way over to Ericksons’ to hitch a ride out there and stop you.”

Another bolt of lightning struck me. “What?”

“You really don’t get it, do you.” She gripped me by the shoulders and shook me. “Listen,” she hissed, her breath hot on my face. “I’d rather end up in prison than see you go anywhere near that cursed stuff. Do you understand?” She shook me again, harder.

“Yeah. I-I won’t do it again.” Her uncharacteristic severity frightened me.

“I hope not.” She gave me a final shake, then left, bumping the door shut behind her.

I cast myself onto the bed and buried my head under the blankets.
You’re no Christian. You’re nothing but a miserable, worthless failure. No wonder Mom doesn’t believe you. Why should she?

That night I cried myself to sleep.

33

I
awoke feeling lower than I’d ever felt in my life.
I knew it was wrong to go along with Walter,
I mourned.
But for some reason, I didn’t care. Why couldn’t I have been born into a family like Heather’s? Here I don’t stand a chance.

I wondered what Patty would think if she knew what I’d done last night. Would she still hug me and say how much God loved me? Did God still love me? Or did he only love people like Patty and Heather who had it all together?

Dragging myself out of bed, I crossed to the window and pulled up the shade. Outside it was snowing, the fine-textured, heavy kind of snow that meant it wasn’t planning to stop. Maybe later I could shovel the driveway. It would give me an excuse to get out of the house.

Walter didn’t look up as I walked past on my way to breakfast. But when Mom slipped down to the basement a few minutes later to wash a load of towels, he called me.

“Say, Tessa. Would you do something for me?”

I swallowed my mouthful of cereal and growled, “Why should I?”

“Hey, don’t get all mad on me,” he said in an injured tone. “You’re the one who broke your promise.”

I didn’t try to answer that.

“Look, I know it was a big order. I guess I was asking too much of you. If you just get me a beer, we’ll call it even, okay? We’ll forget it happened.”

I was disgusted with him. Was he so desperate for a drink that he’d resort to pleading like a child?

“Walter, you need Jesus, not a can of beer.”

He tried to laugh. “That’s so cute, Tess. Now be a sport and get me that beer. Please.”

“Ask Mom.” I lifted my cereal bowl to my mouth to drink the rest of the milk.

Walter slammed his fist on the end table so hard I jumped. Milk dribbled down the front of my sweatshirt.

“Who’s in charge here, anyway?” he yelled. “You’re not gonna get away with treating me like this. I’ll see to that!”

I shoved back my chair. “You know what? You’re not in charge.” I grabbed my dishes and carried them over to the sink. I was shaking, but inside I felt good. For the first time ever, I had stood up to him. I didn’t care that he was calling me every dirty name he could invent.

The snow let up mid-afternoon. I put on my coat and boots and went outside to shovel. As I worked, scooping and throwing in rhythm, I began to relax for the first time in days. Except for a family of crows in the pine tree and the occasional car on the road, the world around me was silent and incredibly beautiful. If only I didn’t have to go back inside when I was done.

I stopped to rest before tackling the last ten feet of the driveway. Here the snow lay deeper and heavier because of the plows. As I stood leaning on my shovel, a red SUV slowed and then stopped in front of the driveway. Tom rolled down the window. “Hey, you need some help?”

“Sure.”

“Got an extra shovel?”

“Yeah, up at the house. I’ll get it.”

By the time I returned with the second shovel, Tom had cut a path through to the road. “You start on this side, and I’ll work in from the road,” he said.

In about fifteen minutes, the shoveling was done.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Not a problem. I can use the exercise. So, how’s Walter doing?”

“He’s horrible.”

Tom laughed at my matter-of-fact tone. “Okay. How’s Tessa doing putting up with him?”

“I wish I didn’t have to be here.”

“I see.” His face grew serious. “You’re welcome to come over, you know, if your mom is okay with it. Maybe you could even go to the Christmas Eve service with us tomorrow night.”

I shook my head. “I’d be crazy to even ask. She doesn’t trust me out of her sight.”

“Do you have a radio?”

“Sure, why?”

“Because there’s this program I think you’d like. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on a scrap of paper, then handed it to me. “It’ll be on in about ten minutes. Check it out.”

I promised I would, even though I knew I wouldn’t. If I could judge from the week I’d spent at their house, Tom’s music tastes were outdated by at least fifty years.

Back in my bedroom, though, curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the crumpled paper from my pocket. “Set Free, 92.5 FM,” I read. “Weekdays at 4:30. Oh, what the heck. I can always turn it off.”

I set the radio on my bed, adjusted the antenna, and tuned in. After a brief commercial, the program announcer came on.

“How do you do, friends? Few people set out to ruin their life on purpose. Often it happens through a series of small and seemingly unimportant decisions, decisions that once made are difficult to reverse. The man in our story learned this the hard way. He thought he was stuck with the mess he’d created, until the day the grace of God set him free.”

Intrigued, I turned up the volume and listened as the dramatized story unfolded – the story of a young man who, although raised in a Christian family, turned his back on God at the age of sixteen and began using alcohol and heroin to cope with his heartache over his father’s death. After two failed marriages, three treatment programs, and innumerable stints in jail, he concluded suicide was the only way out of his terrible addiction.

That night, as he was on his way to jump off a bridge and end his life, he stumbled into a rescue mission and heard about Jesus. He got down on his knees in front of everyone and gave his life to God. From that night on, he was a changed man. He reconnected with his family, attended a Bible college, and dedicated the rest of his life to helping other men like himself.

When the story ended, I sat deep in thought. Although my circumstances differed, I could relate to the story. I too felt stuck in a situation from which there was no escape. Time and again I had tried to escape, only to find I couldn’t. I had even wondered whether suicide might be an answer. The main difference was that, for the man in the story, things had straightened out when he became a Christian. For me, they hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

***

Supper that evening consisted of cabbage and potatoes boiled with ham to make a chunky soup. I didn’t like it, but at least it was warm and nourishing. Clearly we were not about to starve, regardless of what Walter said.

After the meal, Mom went to help Walter into his wheelchair. I was clearing the table when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being opened. I assumed Mom was doing it, until I heard her agonized yell. “Hey! You can’t come in here!”

A commotion followed. Hurrying around the corner, I saw a large bearded man in a dark jacket and orange stocking cap. I recognized him as one of the guys Walter hung out with at the tavern. He pushed his way past Mom and plopped down on the couch beside Walter’s chair.

“Hey buddy, how’s it going?” he said.

“What are you doing in my living room?” Mom demanded, her hands on her hips.

Walter waved his hand as if to dismiss her, but the stranger flashed her a smile. “Hey, little lady, get me a beer. We’re gonna be a while.”

“Make that two,” Walter said.

Mom’s face turned a deep scarlet. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again. She wheeled and headed for the kitchen, leaving both men hooting.

“Good girl,” Walter yelled after her. “That’s the way you do it!”

Mom marched straight to the corner cupboard, pulled the pistol from underneath a stack of tablecloths, and began to load it.

Fear clawed at my heart. “Mom, don’t!” I grabbed her sleeve. “What’re you doing!”

She gave me a shove. “Get outta here.”

I watched in horror as she finished loading the pistol and pulled back the slide. How could I just stand here, when she was going to kill somebody?

I grabbed at the gun. She yanked it away from me, then swung hard, slamming me over the head with it. I cried out and staggered backwards against the pantry door, my hands pressed to a rapidly forming lump on the side of my head. There wasn’t any blood, at least not yet, but it hurt like she’d cracked my skull. I slipped down the front of the pantry to the floor, still cradling my head.

Through the blur of pain, I heard Mom walk into the living room. “You! Get out of here!” she ordered.

“Hey! What’re you doing with my gun?” Walter demanded.

The man tried to laugh her off. “Ah, lady, you wouldn’t shoot a nice guy like me, now would you?”

“I certainly will. Get out – now!”

“Hey, stop pointing that gun at people. Somebody might get hurt.”

“Get moving. You have fifteen seconds. Fourteen . . . thirteen…”

“Stop it!” Walter screamed. “Charlie, wait…”

Charlie didn’t wait. I heard scuffling noises, then the screen door banged.

“Don’t you ever come back!” Mom yelled after him.

“You rat!” Walter’s voice was strangled with fury. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“That’ll be hard to do, being as I’m the one with the gun.”

“How dare you touch my gun! You just wait til–”

Mom interrupted him. “Don’t you ever let me find that door unlocked again.”

There was still no blood coming from my wounded head. I rose and stumbled to my room, where I curled up on the bed in the dark and fumed at Mom.

She had no cause to hit me like that! I was trying to keep her from killing the guy. What was I supposed to do?
The pain in my heart kept getting worse. I wanted to scream and beat my fists on the mattress, but my head hurt too much.
Mom, I hate you,
I thought. Then aloud, I repeated it. “I hate you!” Deep sobs shook me. Wasn’t there anyone I could trust not to hurt me?

“Please, God,” I sobbed. “I’ve had it. I can’t stand this anymore. Please let me go back to Heather’s!”

It must have been two hours later when I heard a soft knock at my door. I had stopped crying, and the pain in my head and heart had numbed to a dull, hopeless ache.

The knock came again. “Can I come in?” Mom asked, nudging the door open. Yellow light spilled into my room from the hallway. Mom stood near the partly open door, toying with her hair.

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. You were afraid I was gonna shoot somebody, and I guess I can’t blame you. Are you okay?” She moved closer to the bed.

I didn’t reply. Why did she always ask that dumb question? Of course I wasn’t okay.

Mom sat down on the edge of the bed. “Tessa, I’m so sorry. Nobody should have to live in a family like this.”

“Can’t I go back to Heather’s? Please?”

“Oh Tess, I wish you could. But I need you here. There’s no way I can watch Walter by myself. He’s getting worse by the day.”

“Why do you even bother with him? He’ll probably pay you back with a gun in your face the day he’s well.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Tess. Somebody’s got to look after him. He’s in a lot of pain. I’m sure he’ll settle down once he feels better.”

“Yeah right.” I turned away. How could she be so blind?

Mom stood up. “So are you gonna be okay? Do you need anything?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“How about some aspirins for your head?”

“I can get ’em myself.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight.” She left the room.

Moving slowly so as not to worsen my headache, I reached down and pulled a half-empty bottle of Nyquil from under the bed. I took a good swig and lay back on the pillow. Gingerly I ran a hand over the painful lump on the side of my head. At least it wasn’t getting bigger. I hoped that was a good sign.