Authors: Nicole O'Dell
Olivia nodded.
“No. I’ll never be okay with those decisions. Never.” Ju-Ju’s voice caught as she struggled to keep it together. “I mean, sure. Time heals all wounds, and God’s grace is enough—I know He forgave me a long time ago. It’s forgiving myself that I’m having a hard time doing.”
Should she speak? Reach out a hand to touch Ju-Ju? Just let her talk? Olivia had no idea what to do. So she waited.
“I never thought I’d feel this way.” Ju-Ju shook her head. “To me, it seemed like the easy way out of a very difficult situation. I mean, what was I going to do with a baby at fourteen? Then fifteen? Impossible.” She fingered the fringe on her pillow. “Turns out, it wasn’t the easy way out at all.” The tears started to flow. “It would have been easier to give my babies life and know they were healthy, growing, and happy than it is to live with the knowledge that I … didn’t. And not a day goes by that I don’t feel the guilt and think of who they might have been.”
“Oh, Ju. I don’t know what to say.”
“Why do you ask? Did you …?” Ju-Ju gazed with sympathetic eyes.
“No. I never had to.” Olivia sighed. “But I planned to if it came up. If I had to.”
“You had a boyfriend?”
“No.” Olivia shook her head and whispered, “Stepfather.” She lifted her eyes.
Ju-Ju nodded and held her gaze. “I’m glad you never had to make that decision. Sounds like you have enough baggage to deal with. Something to be thankful for in the middle of all the garbage, huh?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s one way to look at it.” Olivia looked away. “Ju?”
“Hmm?”
“How do you move on from your past?”
“One day, one hour, one moment at a time. I have to constantly remember that part of God’s grace is that He asks me to forgive myself. If I don’t, then I’m kind of wasting His forgiveness of me. Does that make sense?”
“I guess.” Olivia shrugged. “No. It doesn’t, actually. I mean, what am I supposed to forgive myself for? Not stopping Jordyn from driving that night? Not making my daddy put on his seat belt? Hating my stepfather?”
“In your case, you just need to feel the love of a true Father. God wants to be your Daddy.”
“What if I can’t get over it all? What if I can’t let go? What if I never find God?”
Ju-Ju grinned. “Not an option. You will.”
“But how do you know I will?”
“Your Daddy doesn’t break His promises. You’ll see.”
H
ow much do you remember of the crash?” Tammy banged her hands together in the sign for
car accident
. “I was only seven, but I remember every moment. Every heartbeat. Every breath.” Olivia peered through the blinds on Tammy’s office window then looked back at her so she could read Olivia’s lips. “Those visions are with me all the time. I wish I could forget.” She swiped her hand across her forehead. “Which of your memories stick out to you the most?”
“I remember thinking that I had warm glue on my hand. Turns out it was Daddy’s blood.” Olivia shuddered. “It felt sticky, so I thought it was glue—like when a little kid puts Elmer’s on her hand and rubs her fingers together. When they shined the light in the car, I saw what it was. I can’t get the picture of my hand covered with his blood out of my head no matter how hard I try.”
“What were you thinking at that moment?” Tammy moved her finger in a circle beside her head.
Olivia shook her head. “I heard myself screaming, but my mind went blank. I overheard someone say I was in shock.” Tammy nodded. “What else do you remember?”
“Daddy prayed as the car was rolling.” Olivia put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “Why didn’t God listen?”
“What did he pray? What were his words? Do you remember?” Tammy leaned forward.
Like she’d ever forget. “He shouted, ‘Oh God, save my angel.’”
Tammy gasped and grabbed Olivia’s hands. “Olivia? Don’t you see? God
did
answer his prayer. He heard the cry of your daddy’s heart, and He answered.”
Maybe. But He didn’t hear mine
.
“When can I come for a visit, Liv?”
“I don’t know, Mom. It’s going to depend.” Olivia played with the spiral phone cord in one of the semiprivate conference rooms the girls used when calling home.
“Depend on what?” Mom’s exasperation came loud and clear through the phone lines.
“On a lot of things. I really don’t know when they’ll move me to the level of the program where I’m allowed visitors.”
“But I’m your mother. Enough’s enough. I’ve put up with these restrictions far too long, actually. What kind of mother lets someone else keep her from her daughter?”
That—from the Mother of the Year. Olivia leaned against the wall and gripped the phone.
Please don’t make this harder than it has to be
. “I know it’s hard, Mom. We’ve been over this before. There are steps I have to take, progress I have to make, before they’ll let me have the distraction of visitors.” Especially when the visitor had been the cause of many of her problems. “It’s the way the program works. It’s what I signed up for. What
we
signed up for.”
“But you’ve been there for four months. What’s the holdup?”
“It’s not about the length of time, Mom.”
“Have you gotten into trouble? Why haven’t they told me about it?”
“No. No. Nothing like that. I don’t know why this is so hard for me and not for others. I just … I just can’t seem to figure things out, to let go like the other girls have.” Not for lack of trying.
“What do they want from you? I mean, what would prove that you’d made it?”
“I’m not sure. I think it’s more about what I feel than it is about what they observe. As long as I’m honest about my confusion, they’ll keep trying to help me through it.” Did Mom want her to lie to them and fake a religious epiphany?
Silence.
“How’s Jake?”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Olivia.”
Like Mom wouldn’t if she were under scrutiny? Like she did every day of her life. “I’m not, Mom. I want to know how my brother is before I have to go. I wish we could just have nice conversation instead of it always being a battle.”
“You’re right. That’s what I want, too.” Mom sighed. “Jake’s doing great. His grades are up. He’s made lots of friends. His basketball season is almost over, and they’re in the play-offs. He’s pretty stoked.”
Stoked?
“That’s wonderful. Would you tell him … tell him I miss him.”
“If you want to come home, Liv, all you have to do is say the word.”
Olivia bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. “I believe in what I’m doing here, Mom. I wish you would, too.”
Mom heaved a heavy sigh. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just support me.”
Love me
.
Olivia perched on a stool on one side of Justin, and Tricia sat on a chair on the other as he stepped up to the microphone. How could his hands not be shaking? The sight of hundreds of people sitting silently, staring wide-eyed at them, waiting to be entertained, almost made Olivia crumple to the floor. She trembled so much she thought she might fall off her stool. It was different than being just one member of a large orchestra. This time the spotlight was on her. It took all of her focus not to turn her eyes on Kira. Olivia could only imagine the rage on that girl’s face when she saw the trio on the stage.
Olivia lifted her hands in feigned confidence, prepared to sign when the words started.
Justin stepped closer to the microphone, raised his face, and began to sing softly as Olivia signed the words and Tricia let the delicate tinkling notes flow from her flute.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way
,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Olivia closed her eyes and let her arms fall into a peaceful rhythm to accompany the beautiful music coming from Justin’s lips.
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul
.
As the last note of the first chorus faded, Olivia reached for the oboe that hung by a strap around her neck. She pointed the bell at the microphone while Justin prepared to sign the verse they had chosen to be next, just as she’d taught him. He finally looked a little nervous.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Olivia played those notes on her oboe as if they came from her soul. The words flashed on three screens—two behind her on either side of the stage and one on the back wall of the auditorium—but the emotion best came through in the sign language and the contrast of the somber oboe and hopeful flute.
The third verse reversed back to Justin singing, Olivia signing, and Tricia playing the flute. Then, for the final verse, they crescendoed and Justin sang
and
signed while both girls played their instruments.
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul
.
As the song ended, the trio walked off the stage to the coveted sound of no applause. Reverent silence. After his last performance, Justin had explained to her that clapping was great, but no applause was even better. It meant the congregation was so moved they wanted to sit quietly and contemplate what they’d heard. To have their own private moment of worship as the notes faded away.
That was all Olivia wanted to do, too. She’d have loved to just crumple onto the couch that sat backstage for guests who were waiting to be called out. But she had to join the group in the auditorium or someone would come looking for her. “Justin, I’ll be right out. I need to use the restroom.”
He opened the door to the sanctuary. “I’ll save you a seat.”
Olivia hurried to the bathroom and splashed some cool water onto her face. She startled as a toilet flushed behind her. A door banged open with force that shook the walls.
Kira thundered out from the stall. “I hope you’re happy with yourself, you piece of slime.”
Olivia reared back like she’d been slapped. “What? Are you serious? I don’t—”
“Blah. Blah. Blah.” Kira made talking motions with her hand. “You say lots of words, but none of them mean anything. Here’s something maybe even
you
can understand.” Kira stepped up on her tiptoes and lifted her nose to just barely an inch from Olivia’s. “Stay. Away. From. Justin.” She huffed toward the door and then spun around with her hand on the handle. “Or. Else.”
“Or else what, Kira? You keep saying that, but what exactly are you going to do about it?”
“Don’t forget that I have that picture, and I’m not afraid to use it. Not only would you get kicked out of Diamond Estates, but Justin would be in so much trouble.”
“There’s no way I’d get kicked out—not after what you’ve done and still managed to stay.”
“You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend to think you do.”
“Kira, you know as well as I do, that picture isn’t what it looks like. Ben will believe me. Maybe
I’ll
get in trouble, but Justin is innocent and you know it.”
“Prove it.” Kira grinned. “In fact, I think I’m going to forward it to Ben right now.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
Could she dive for it and knock it out of Kira’s hands? Nah. It wasn’t worth it. Olivia would keep her dignity and deal with the fallout later.
Kira backed away as she pressed buttons. “There. It’s sent. We’ll let Ben decide about guilt or innocence.” She took a step toward the door and then turned back to Olivia by the sink. “Hey, can I have your bed once you’re gone?”
A beep came from the back stall. A toilet flushed, and the door swung open. Tricia came out, her eyes a little bloodshot, but sporting a grin on her face. “I don’t know what picture you just sent to Ben, but I just sent him a recording of this conversation. So … you’re right. We’ll let him figure out the truth.”
If looks could kill.