Wings of Glass (26 page)

TRENT TAYLOR
slunk out of my life wearing an orange jumpsuit, a pair of handcuffs, and an attitude I couldn’t wait to take my eyes off.

To this day, I’ll never understand why he didn’t just throw away that stupid slag hammer he used to kill her. Instead, he washed off the blood, leaving just enough DNA to convict him, and placed it back among his tools. While he was still in St. Joseph’s recovering from the gunshot wound, he was charged with first-degree murder.

Neither I nor the jury would ever learn exactly how or why he had killed her, because he pleaded the fifth, declining to take the stand in his own defense. Whether this was his idea or his attorney’s, I never learned.

Instead, we heard theories from the prosecution. His motive, they said, was nothing more than jealous rage. Norma was prostituting herself and he couldn’t stand it. It took the jury less than two hours to deliberate.

In the courtroom, Callie Mae sat on one side of me, Fatimah on the other, as I watched the back of Trent’s freshly shaven head. Even through the hushed chatter surrounding me, I could hear the tap of his heel against the floor. He leaned to the left and whispered something in his lawyer’s ear. She nodded, while looking away from him toward the door, as if she couldn’t wait to bolt.

I knew just how she felt.

Fatimah and Callie Mae each took one of my hands as Trent and his lawyer rose to hear the jury’s verdict.

He was sentenced to twenty years for second-degree murder. As the deputy sheriff handcuffed him, he turned and glared at me in accusation. In defiance, I stared back, unblinking. There’s enough blame assigned to me from my own actions. I refused to accept his, too.

As he was led away, I felt my heart both break and begin to mend. I was finally able to look ahead at our new reality, our wide-open future full of possibility and promise.

Fatimah pulled me against her, hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe. “I am so proud of you, Peeny. I did not think you would speak the truth, but you have. It is the bravest moment I witness for any woman. Your mother will be proud of you.”

I knew she was right. My mother would be proud. I called her after the trial to tell her the outcome. Again, she asked me to come home. “This is home now,” I said, “but when Daddy’s finally ready to retire, maybe you two could do it here. I want Manny to know his grandparents.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Mama said. “
I
couldn’t get him off the farm, but that grandbaby just might. You would think that child walks on water by the way he talks about him.”

My eyes still well because my father’s love for you registers in my heart as love for me.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

I glanced over at Callie Mae, blowing raspberries on your belly, and laughed. “Better than okay, Mama.”

IT’S AFTERNOON,
and I’m returning to Callie Mae’s house to pack our belongings. She has been more than kind to let the two of us live with her for the past few months while we waited for the trial to take place, but it’s time for us to go home now.

“You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?” she asks, bouncing you gently through the air.

“I’ve never stood on my own, Callie. I need to learn how.”

“How will you get by?”

“With a little help from my friends,” I say jokingly, but it’s the truth. I need the community I’ve begun to build around myself. Callie Mae, Fatimah, Edgard, my new church family at Sheckle Baptist, and the Alanon support group that meets on Monday nights. I don’t think, when God said it’s not good for man to be alone, Manny, he just meant that we need a mate. I had a mate and was never more alone in my life. But I’m not lonely anymore, and I make a vow to never isolate myself again.

“You should turn that into a song,” Callie Mae says. “You could make a lot of money.”

I smile as she rubs noses with you. Squealing, you reach up and grab a hunk of her hair. With a grimace, she pries your hand loose, then gives you another Eskimo kiss. She lays you flat on the bed, lifts up your shirt and blows a raspberry on your tummy. Your arms and legs flail at the stimulation and you squeal again.

“I see you got another letter from Trent,” she says, motioning with a nod of her head toward the opened envelope lying on the dresser.

“It’s not just a letter this time. It’s divorce papers.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Let me get this straight.
He
’s divorcing
you
?”

It’s a twist I didn’t see coming either, but it is the out I’ve been praying for. No matter how logical Callie Mae’s arguments sounded, I still couldn’t find a way to divorce my husband and reconcile it with God’s Word. “Apparently he’s been corresponding with a pen pal and they’re ‘in love.’” The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh.

Callie Mae squints at me for a moment, then says sarcastically, “Lucky girl.”

“I never thought I’d be divorced,” I say, cringing at the word.

Callie Mae tries to look sad, but I know better. I try to look sad too, but I’m not.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asks.

I pick up the glass of iced tea I had set on the dresser and
take a sip. Like this moment, it is both bitter and sweet. “I’m not sure. It’s like there’s this menu in front of me with way too many choices.”

She tilts her head and smiles. “It’s exciting, don’t you think?”

I put the glass down and open another drawer. She’s right—it
is
exciting. Exciting and scary at the same time.
I can do this,
I tell myself. Your name, Emmanuel, reminds me that I won’t have to do it alone. “You think I’m college material?” I ask, hopeful as I pick up a stack of onesies.

Her eyes move off you, onto me, and settle there a moment. “Penny, I think you’re capable of moving whichever mountains you choose.”

I think I might want to be a florist, but I don’t say so. Not yet. I have more thinking and praying to do. The next time I roll the dice, I want to be as sure as I can be that the prize is worth the gamble.

Anxiety fills me on the drive. I wonder if it will still feel like home, now that your father is gone. I pull up to where our little tar-papered house should be, but it isn’t there. In its place stands a charming little cream-colored stucco home with white trim and matching flower boxes dripping with blooms.

All the odd little questions Callie Mae and Fatimah have asked me over the past weeks finally make sense. It’s a good
thing I actually gave some thought to my answers, or I might have ended up with purple siding. Fatimah’s LeBaron is already in the freshly paved driveway, and Callie Mae, who has followed me over, parks along the curb. As I unstrap you from your car seat, you look up at me with those Tweety Bird eyes of yours, and as it does every time I look at you, my heart overflows with gratitude.

“We’re home, Manny,” I say. Your arms flutter happily.

I hold you facing outward so you can see.

“It is beautiful, true?” Fatimah calls from an open window. All I can see is the white of her smile.

“True!” I call back. I stop to show you the magnolia tree in the front yard that wasn’t there the last time we were here. Its huge white blooms are almost the size of your head. You grab hold of a leaf and try to stuff it in your mouth. I kiss your soft cheek as I pry it from your hand.

“Do you like the tree? You said magnolias were your favorite,” Callie Mae asks from behind me.

I turn and try to thank her, but the boulder in my throat won’t allow me to speak. I feel guilty for the gift. She’s already done so much for us.

Callie Mae must have read my mind because she says, “It’s the least I could do after all you’ve given me.”

Her words confuse me. “I haven’t given you anything except a lot of trouble.”

Sunlight makes her blonde hair look like spun gold, and the fine lines she always refers to finally become apparent in the harsh light. But to me, she’s never looked more beautiful.
“You gave me the grandson Sara couldn’t. You give me friendship. You give me hope.”

“I don’t deserve this,” I say.

“You’ve been given a lot in this life you haven’t deserved, Penny.” At first I think she’s speaking of Trent, but as I kiss the top of your head, I realize it’s you.

I don’t know what to say, so I just hug her. It’s the best I have to offer.

Her smile tells me it is enough.

IF YOU
know someone who is or has been in an abusive relationship but have never experienced it for yourself, you may wonder why someone would put up with it. The answer is often a mixture of fear, shame, love, and embarrassment—or not even realizing that abuse
isn’t
normal.

It is so difficult to watch family members and friends go through degrees of what Penny suffered in this novel. Many of the tactics Trent used are typical of abusers, and Penny’s justifications and faulty thinking are typical of an abuse victim. She lies to cover up her husband’s bad behavior, gets defensive when her friends confront her with the truth, and believes him time and again when he says things will be different next time. Like many victims of abuse, Penny wanted to believe that her husband would change because she loved him. In their own way, I believe abusers often want to change. But wanting to change and changing are two different things.

The hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn is that it isn’t my job to change anyone but myself. Once I really began
to understand that, everything else started to fall into place. I began educating myself about boundaries, codependency, and what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. We have a tendency to think only abusers need help, but victims of abuse need help just as much.

If you or someone you care about faces a situation similar to the one depicted in this novel, please consider some of the following resources for more information about how to get help.

1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

TTY 1-800-787-3224

www.thehotline.org

Boundaries define who we are and who we are not. They impact all areas of our lives:
Physical boundaries
help us determine who may touch us and under what circumstances.
Mental boundaries
give us the freedom to have our own thoughts and opinions.
Emotional boundaries
help us deal with our own emotions and disengage from the harmful, manipulative emotions of others.
Spiritual boundaries
help us distinguish God’s will from our own and give us renewed awe for our Creator. Having clear boundaries is essential to a healthy, balanced lifestyle. Questions addressed in this book include the following:

• Aren’t boundaries selfish?
  
• Can I set limits and still be a loving person?
  
• Why do I feel guilty or afraid when I consider setting boundaries?
  
• What are legitimate boundaries?
  
• What if someone is upset or hurt by my boundaries?
  

In this bestselling classic, you’ll learn how to recognize verbal abuse, respond to abusers safely and appropriately, and most important, lead a happier, healthier life. Drawing from hundreds of real situations suffered by real people, Evans offers strategies, sample scripts, and action plans designed to help you deal with the abuse—and the abuser.

Many people invest themselves in people who shipwreck their lives in return. If you’re one who has chosen the wrong people to get involved with or makes the same mistakes about relationships over and over again, then this book offers you a remedy.
Safe People
gives you solid guidance that will help you

• Correct things within yourself that jeopardize your relational security
  
• Learn the twenty traits of “unsafe” people
  
• Recognize what makes people trustworthy
  
• Avoid unhealthy relationships
  
• Form positive relationships
  

Recovery has begun for millions of individuals with this straightforward guide. Through personal examples and exercises, the author shows how controlling others forces you to lose sight of your own needs and happiness.