Tessa (From Fear to Faith) (12 page)

23

H
ow would you like to come along into town?” Patty asked me midway through the afternoon. “I have to get a few things at the store, and if we leave right away, we can swing by the high school and pick up Heather.”

I gulped. I had forgotten about Heather. She probably didn’t even know I was here.

“She’ll be delighted that you’re staying over,” Patty assured me. “You want to come?”

“I suppose.” I’d had enough of sitting at the table trying to do homework while my mind spun with anxious speculations about Mom.

I pawed through the two black trash bags of belongings Mom had left me until I found my jacket. Then I followed Patty out to the tiny one-car garage. She pulled the wooden door up by hand, revealing a mid-sized red car with a few rust spots. Except for the color, it was a carbon copy of the old white Impala that Walter had parked behind the abandoned farmhouse.

“We’ve got a car just like this,” I said, as I opened the door and slid into the back seat.

“Really? I’ve never seen it over there.”

“It’s in the repair shop right now.”

Patty backed the car out, pausing at the road. Her gaze lingered on me. “Tessa, you need to wear a seat belt.”

“Aww, come on. Do I have to?” I pulled the belt across my lap and clicked it shut.

“Yes, as long as I’m the driver, you do.”

“Mom doesn’t make me wear one,” I argued.

“Well, it’s never too late to develop a good habit,” was Patty’s reply.

I let the subject drop. I was more concerned how Heather would react when she found out I was staying at her house. Wouldn’t she feel I was intruding? Taking away time and attention that was rightfully hers?

But the grin that spread across Heather’s face when she saw me dispelled my fears. “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, as she climbed in back with me. “You weren’t in school either.”

“It’s a long story, but I guess I’m staying at your place for a couple days.”

“Awesome.”

“My mom said I could. Actually, she more like told me I had to. So I don’t know; I guess it’ll be fun.”

“Of course. Sleepovers are always fun.” Heather’s eyes sparkled, as if she could envision the good time we would have.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I never did it before.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Not even at your grandparents’?”

I shook my head. “Walter wouldn’t let me.”

“Who’s Walter?”

“My father.”

“How come you call him ‘Walter’ and not ‘Dad’? Is he really your father?”

“Yeah, as far as I know. He doesn’t act like it though.”

Patty pulled into a parking space at Allen’s grocery store. “Maybe you girls want to stay here and talk,” she said. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

I nodded. That was fine with me. The last thing I wanted to do was explain why I couldn’t go into the store with them.

“So how’s your mouse doing these days?” Heather asked.

I pulled my hair loose from its ponytail, then smoothed it out and gathered it up again. “She’s okay, I guess.” I desperately wanted to change the subject. “Hey Heather, you ever drive a car?”

“Not yet. I’m planning to take driver’s ed in the spring.”

“I guess it’s not too terribly hard,” I said.

“What, driver’s ed?”

“Driving. You know, stay in your lane, don’t hit anybody, make sure you stop at the red lights.”

Heather laughed. “Yeah, but there’s a lot of laws you need to know about. Like who goes first when you get to a four-way stop.”

Patty returned with two sacks of groceries, and the conversation took other twists. I withdrew, keeping my thoughts to myself as the traffic and noise of the city gave way to wooded hills and snow-covered farm fields. At the crest of the hill where we turned left onto Vance Road, I noticed two sheriff cars sitting side by side in the driveway of the power substation.

“I wonder what they’re doing,” Heather commented.

I said nothing, but their presence a quarter mile from my home alarmed me. It was probably the same guys who’d followed Walter home last night. Maybe they were waiting for him.

Sadie greeted us at the back door with barks of delight. I scratched around her collar and she leaned into me, panting and wagging her tail furiously.

“She really likes you,” Heather said, as she hung up first her coat, then mine in the closet.

I continued scratching Sadie’s neck. Much as I loved dogs, we’d never had one of our own.

“You can take her out and play with her if you want,” Patty said. “She’d like that.”

I didn’t answer. I probably shouldn’t go outside; if Walter happened to drive by and see me, I’d be in big trouble.

“So, what would you like to do?” Patty asked me, after she’d put the groceries away. “I’m making meatballs for supper. You could help with that, or if you’d rather, you could join Heather in the dining room and do some more homework.”

“I’ll help out here.”

I watched as Patty scooped a chunk of hamburger into a mixing bowl, then cracked two eggs over it.

“Your eggs are brown,” I said.

“Yeah, we’ve got a little flock of chickens out back. Most of them lay brown eggs.”

“They lay eggs – like every day?” My curiosity was piqued.

Patty smiled. “Like every other day. They kind of switch off. I’ve got sixteen hens, and they give me ten or eleven eggs every day. You want to see them?”

“Sure.” It would be fun to see some farm animals up close.

“After we get the meatballs in the oven, I’ll take you out there. I have to feed them anyway.” She added a heaping cup of Parmesan cheese and several handfuls of crushed saltine crackers to the bowl, then pushed it toward me. “Here, why don’t you mix this. I just use my hands, but if you want a spoon, they’re in that drawer in front of you.”

I stared down at the square mass of raw hamburger in the bowl. Somewhere I’d heard this stuff was contaminated with all sorts of unmentionable things. But if I used a spoon, Patty would think I was squeamish. It wouldn’t kill me, I decided, and I could wash my hands when I was done.

“Good job,” Patty said when I was through. “Now we roll the meatballs.” She made one to show the correct size, and after that we worked with the bowl between us until we had forty-seven little balls lined up on the tray.

I retired to the sink to scrub my hands while Patty slid the tray into the oven. A sheet of yellow paper tacked on the side of the refrigerator caught my eye. This must be Mom’s note. Grabbing a towel, I stepped closer and read.

Tessa has my permission to stay at Ericksons’ house until I say. She will be free to leave at any time and must leave when I say. She may not stay longer for any reason.

At the bottom of the page, Mom had signed and dated it.

Uneasiness churned in my stomach. Mom never wrote but one short line in her notes to the school office. Clearly she was making a point here, but what was the point? That Tom and Patty could not imprison me at their house? It made no sense.

***

A wash of subdued orange and pink was all that remained of the modest sunset as Patty and I walked down the shoveled path to the chicken coop a few minutes later. Patty carried a two-gallon bucket of feed in one hand. Sadie bounded ahead of us, her breath making little clouds of fog in the frigid air.

Patty pulled open the main door and stepped inside. I followed. Immediately half a dozen chickens clustered around my feet and began to peck the snow off my shoes. Their beauty and diversity amazed me. Yellow, black, red, speckled and striped, no two were alike. I stooped to touch the yellow one. It shied away, but then circled around to peck at my shoes from behind.

Patty gathered eggs from the wooden nest boxes along the wall, then tossed corn from her bucket in handfuls onto the floor. The chickens scattered for it like children after parade candy.

I laughed at their eagerness. “Where’d you get them?”

“My brother gave them to us when we moved here last summer. I’d love to have some other animals, but without a barn, it’s going to be a while.” She led me back outside and latched the door. Sadie bounded up to us, a frozen tennis ball in her mouth.

“Well, where’d you find that?” Patty said. “Give it here.”

Sadie swung her head up and down, the ball firmly clenched in her teeth. I reached for her and she pranced away.

Patty laughed. “You could chase that dog all day and she wouldn’t give you the ball. Tom’s the only one who can get it away from her.”

Back at the house, Heather met us looking downcast. “Grandma, I can’t get this equation to come out.”

“All right, honey. Let me get something started in the kitchen, and I’ll come look at it.”

Patty pulled the meatballs from the oven, then opened a jar of spaghetti sauce and emptied it into a pan on the front burner. “Would you watch that for me and turn it down if it starts to splatter?” she asked me.

“Sure.” I got out a spoon and stirred the sauce a few times, but it was still cold. So I turned it up, put the cover on, and wandered over to the windows to admire Patty’s houseplant collection. She had everything from cactus to marigolds to freshly potted amaryllis bulbs in the deep-silled windows behind the sink. I especially liked the plant with big shiny leaves and red flowers that resembled tiny roses. Carefully I pinched off a few blooms that had faded to a papery brown.

Behind me, I heard a loud sizzle.
Oh no, the spaghetti sauce!
I whirled in time to see the cover lift. A wave of bubbling sauce poured over the side of the pan and down onto the burner. I sprang to turn it off. My sleeve caught the handle of the pan, flipping it on end. I cussed as a splash of boiling liquid hit my hand. Spaghetti sauce was everywhere – flowing across the stovetop, leaking down around the other burners, dribbling onto the floor. I wanted to cry. How would I ever get this cleaned up?

The voices in the dining room ceased, and I heard footsteps. Through the kitchen window, I saw Tom’s SUV pull in. I couldn’t face three angry people. Would Tom beat me like Walter did?

I didn’t wait to find out. Grabbing a paper towel for my hands, I fled down the nearby stairs to the basement.

24

T
he basement was pitch dark, but I was too scared to turn on a light. I bumped my way around, searching for a place to hide. There, behind the furnace!

I squeezed into the narrow space. At my back was a cold cement wall. I clawed a cobweb from my face and tried to quiet my breathing. Overhead, I heard muffled voices and footsteps, then water running. My hand stung where it had been burned, but the pain was nothing compared to my fear. Tom was a big man, over six feet tall and built like a football player. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Why had I been so careless? What was wrong with me?

Light footsteps pattered on the wooden stairs. “Tess, you down here?” Heather called. I made no reply, and after a moment she went back up and closed the door behind her.

Maybe they won’t find me after all. Maybe they’ll think I ran away
. The thought both relieved and pained me. Tonight after they were all asleep, I would sneak upstairs, get my coat, and leave.

A long time later, I heard Patty coming down the stairs in her slippers. She turned on the light. “Tessa? Where are you?”

She didn’t sound mad. I slipped out from behind the furnace. “I-I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Of course not. Why are you hiding down here?”

Now I felt foolish. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Patty smiled and shook her head. “I’m not mad. Come on, it’s time to eat.”

She turned toward the steps. Despite my embarrassment, I felt remarkably light, even happy, as I climbed the stairs behind her.

***

After supper, Heather and I withdrew to her bedroom. She played her new Taylor Swift album, and we sat on the bed and talked. I envied her pretty bedroom. Rose flowered wallpaper ran halfway up the walls, and above that they had been painted a delicate pink. Her bedspread was a patchwork pattern of rose and light pink with a matching pillow sham. Lace curtains hung at the window.

“I like the way you’ve got your room decorated,” I said. “Did you do it yourself?”

“Partly. I picked out the paint and the wallpaper, but Grandpa helped a lot with putting it up. We just got the last bit done last weekend.”

“That’s cool.” I racked my brain for something else to say.

“Yeah. You should’ve seen the room before we worked on it. The walls were dark blue, like a blue crayon. It took three coats of paint to cover it all up.”

“Well, I’d say you improved it.”

“Thanks. Grandma says it’s a good thing, because she didn’t know where to start.”

“Have you always lived with your grandparents?”

“No, just since last summer. Mom and Dad are on a mission trip to Haiti, so I’ll be here until school ends in the spring.”

“Haiti? What’re they doing down there?”

“Well, you know there’s some tremendous needs there. My mom’s a nurse, and she used to work with the Red Cross. My dad has worked in construction most of his life, but he’s been unemployed since last winter. If there’s one thing Dad can’t stand, it’s having nothing to do. One day last spring he was talking to our pastor. Mike happened to mention they needed help building houses in Haiti. He told Dad if he was interested, he’d put him in touch with some people who worked down there.

“Mom has always been interested in mission work, but she didn’t want to travel around the world by herself. When it turned out Dad could go too, I guess that sealed it. So now she’s down there helping sick people, and he’s overseeing teams that build houses and schools and stuff.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. They’re planning to stay down there for most of the winter. I kind of miss them, but Mom sends me pictures and calls sometimes.”

A knock on the door interrupted us. “Girls, you’ll have to wrap it up and get ready for bed,” Patty called.

“Okay,” Heather said. “Say, is Tess supposed to sleep in here?”

Patty opened the door. “Did you girls have some kind of plan?”

“No…” Seated beside me on the twin bed, Heather glanced around the small room.

“Actually, I was thinking she’d use the hide-a-bed in the back room,” Patty said. “I straightened it up just yesterday, and I think it’ll make a splendid bedroom for a few nights.” She smiled at me. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Patty took me farther down the hall, past the master bedroom. She pushed open a door and flicked on the lights. “What do you think?”

The room was large and unfinished, with a bare plywood floor and three big windows facing out into the night. Stacks of storage boxes and a chest freezer took up the far end of the room. But directly in front of me, a couch, an overstuffed armchair, a bookshelf, and an antique floor lamp had been arranged to form a sitting area. A large scatter rug in the center added a touch of coziness.

“It’s not fancy, but I thought you’d like it better than sleeping on the couch in the living room.”

I nodded. “It’ll work.” I almost added that I had slept in worse places, but I didn’t want Patty to think I was complaining.

“Let’s bring your stuff out here,” Patty said, “and then you can take a bath while I make up your bed.”

Back in the living room, we each grabbed one of the black trash bags Mom had left me. They were heavier than I expected.

“This is a lot of clothes for just a few days,” Patty commented.

I said nothing, but as I emptied the bags on top of the chest freezer and began to sort the contents, the apprehensions I’d felt earlier returned in full force. I had enough clothes for about ten days. With a weekly laundering, I could easily get by for the rest of the winter. What was Mom thinking?

Maybe she’s not coming back. Maybe she knows the cops are gonna close in, and she’s gonna take off while she can.

I shoved that thought away as fast as I could. Mom might be crooked, but she would never abandon me. Or would she? The longer I contemplated the matter, the more uncertain I became. Didn’t I have two older sisters somewhere? For all I knew, Mom might have abandoned them just like this. She’d already proven herself a liar; why should I trust anything she said?

Despite the hot bath I took and the flannel nightgown I put on, I still felt cold inside when I climbed into bed that night. I didn’t even answer when Patty came by to tell me goodnight. I couldn’t. I was sobbing under my pillow.

That night was awful. Even sleep brought me no peace. I dreamed Walter broke in during the night and kidnapped me. He tied my hands and hauled me into the woods, where he had built a bonfire. He had a huge pistol stuck in his belt. He was going to get warm, he said, and then he’d “take care of” me. Mom was there too, but she seemed indifferent to what was happening and wouldn’t even look at me.

I managed to escape with Walter in pursuit. The path was rough, blocked by fallen trees and chest-high brambles. Worse, some kind of paralysis was setting into my legs. Only with great effort could I keep moving.

Clambering over yet another fallen tree, I found myself at the brink of a deep gorge. I could hear Walter’s footsteps crackling in the dead leaves behind me. I crouched down, hoping he wouldn’t see me; but as I did, my foot slipped. I tumbled over the cliff.

I awoke to my own screams. I was lying on the floor near my bed, drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. The light was on, and beside me Patty knelt on the floor in her nightgown.

“There now, it’s just a dream,” she soothed me. “It’s okay now.” She guided me back to the rumpled bed and tucked a blanket around my shoulders. But I couldn’t stop shaking. The dream had been so real.

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?” I pleaded. More than anything, I wanted her to stay.

“Just for a moment,” she said. “I have to put on a bathrobe before I freeze.”

When Patty returned, she sat down on the bed and took my icy hands in her warm ones. “You still look scared. What’s up with the bad dreams?”

I started to cry. I didn’t even try to stop it. Patty put an arm around me and pulled me close, rocking me gently. “Is it Walter?”

I nodded.

“Tell me about it. What’s he like to live with?”

More tears spilled down my cheeks. “I can’t. I’m . . . not supposed to talk to anybody.”

“Yes, you can. Nobody will find out. Now do you want to tell me or not?”

I sniffed a couple of times, struggling to compose myself. “If he knew . . . I was here . . . I’d be in really big trouble.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve run away before.” I swallowed hard and fixed my gaze on the blue quilted blanket on my lap. “He always found me and punished me, but . . . last time he couldn’t find me. One day the police picked me up. I didn’t tell them anything, but they figured out who I was anyway and . . . and called Walter.”

“What happened then?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Patty stroked my hair. “Don’t worry about bothering me. You need to get this out of your system.”

“Well . . . it’s bad…”

I stopped. How could I admit what had happened to me that night? It was too horrible, too shameful. Just the thought of recalling it caused me physical pain. Maybe it hadn’t really happened like I remembered. Maybe I had imagined some part of it.

Patty helped me out. “So the police picked you up and called Walter. What then? Did he come get you?”

My voice choked as I tried to answer, and then everything fell apart. I began sobbing and beating the bed with my fists. I hurt. I raged. I yelled. Somewhere in there, though, I got the story out.

Patty listened with tears in her eyes. “Does your mom know about this?”

“I can’t tell her stuff like this. She don’t believe me.”

“I see. But tell me, why does Walter care if you run away? If he is like you say, I don’t see why he’d miss you.”

“He’s afraid I’ll say something, especially if I get picked up again.”

“Say something? About what?” Patty’s arm around my shoulders was warm, reassuring, but I knew better than to answer truthfully.

“I don’t know. He’s kind of neurotic.”

Patty talked with me a few more minutes, then offered to pray for me. This time I agreed.