Tessa (From Fear to Faith) (20 page)

41

A
t breakfast the next day, Mom greeted me with the usual Saturday-morning proposition. “I have to go shopping. Want to come along, or do you want to be dropped off at Heather’s?”

Even though Walter had been no trouble for several months, Mom still refused to leave me home alone with him for long periods of time. As a result, I got to visit Heather almost every weekend.

On this particular morning, I took one look at the long grocery list and said, “I think I’ll go to Heather’s.” I hadn’t been to Allen’s grocery store since the day Mom punished me for stealing the hundred dollars. Even thinking about going back made me wince.

“Call and make sure it’s okay,” Mom reminded me.

Tom answered on the fourth ring. “Tessa, we’d love to have you,” he said. “But Patty has the flu, and it looks like Heather is coming down with it too. I don’t think you should come today.”

“Great,” I muttered, as I slammed the phone down. I could wait in the car while Mom shopped, but it would be a long, cold wait.

Walter looked up from where he sat at the breakfast table, reading his Bible. “What’s the matter?”

“They’ve got the flu, so I have to go with Mom.”

“Is that so bad?”

Mom paused from cutting out coupons to give a scornful laugh. “Yeah, it’s bad, when it’s Allen’s. She’s got a reputation there.”

I cringed. The memories hurt enough without her rubbing it in.

Walter frowned. “Tessa? What’s this about?”

Mom filled him in. “Your daughter’s a shoplifter and a petty thief. If you hadn’t been so smashed last fall, you’d know that.”

“Is that true, Tessa?”

I hung my head. “I guess. But I told God I’m sorry.”

“Okay, but if you stole from people, you might have to tell them you’re sorry too.”

Anger sprang up in me. “Listen to you talk. Like you’re some great saint now.” I spun around and left the room.

“Tessa, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But talk to God about it, okay?”

No way,
I vowed. I could still see Bruce, standing behind the customer service counter with that ugly smirk on his face.
No way am I gonna tell that jerk I’m sorry. He’d just laugh.

In my bedroom, though, I broke down and cried.
God, I know you forgave me for stealing a couple months ago. And I know I’m not a thief anymore. Why do I still feel ashamed when I think of going to that store? Please, you gotta help me!

The answer didn’t come in the form I expected. There were no words impressed into my mind, no sudden understanding. Just more tears. Uncontrollable sobs, coming from somewhere deep inside me. Ever since that day in church, I’d acknowledged it was wrong to steal. But now I
knew
it was wrong. Horribly wrong.

“I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.

Then I found myself asking forgiveness. I knew God forgave me, but still I felt the need to ask – no, beg for
–
his forgiveness. After a few minutes, joy and assurance flooded me. I knew in the depths of my heart that
I was truly forgiven. The shame was gone.

When I had composed myself, I went and found Mom. She was in the basement, working on laundry. “I’m ready to go now,” I said. “And I want to tell you I’m really sorry for all the times I stole from you.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a wad of bills totaling around thirty dollars. “This is yours. I’m sorry I kept it so long.”

A look of mild surprise crossed Mom’s face. “Okay,” she said.

Walking into Allen’s store that day wasn’t easy, but I did it with the joyful confidence that I was not a thief, I was forgiven. The difference was amazing. I could hold my head up. I had no desire to steal anything or even think about it. When a clerk glanced my way, I was able to smile instead of flushing in shame. By the time we passed the customer service counter on the way out, I was so thankful for what God had done that I didn’t care what Bruce thought. I rode home in victory.

That evening, I witnessed another miracle. Toward the end of supper, Mom went to the pantry as if to get something for dessert. She returned with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Guess what I have here,” she said, and tossed Walter a small paper bag. He stared at her, then slowly unrolled the top and withdrew a package of microwave popcorn and a rented movie.

A smile spread across his face. “Is this for tonight?”

“If you like,” she replied, and went to the freezer to get the ice cream.

That incident marked a change in Mom’s attitude toward Walter. She stopped condemning him for his past misdeeds and began spending time with him. Although their relationship was tentative, overall they seemed to enjoy being together. I couldn’t believe it. Was this what marriage was supposed to be like?

42

F
or three incredible days, I watched in amazement as my parents did the dishes together, discussed the news, or shared a laugh over a funny movie. I’d never seen Mom smile so much. It was like a fairy tale I couldn’t step out of. But like a fairy tale, it also came to an end.

Wednesday morning, I awoke to Mom yelling at Walter. Even with blankets pulled over my head to muffle her voice, I could feel the fear in it. This wasn’t just the old gripe about her having to work while he sat around. I rose up on one elbow and listened.

“Aren’t you ever gonna get over this religious nonsense?” Mom demanded.

Walter’s reply was too quiet for me to hear. I slipped out of bed and pressed an ear to the crack along my door.

“But that’s just plain stupid!” Mom exclaimed.

“Think, Julie,” he said. “They’re gonna find out sooner or later even if I don’t tell them.”

My heart thudded in my ears. He couldn’t, he mustn’t, be saying what I thought he was.

“How do you know?” Mom shot back. “But you can just forget it. I’m not taking you anywhere.”

“Tom says he can take me.”

“Oh yeah? Now I get it. Tom talked you into this. Didn’t he!”

“Tom had nothing to do with it. And you can’t stop me from doing what I know is right.”

Mom snorted. “You are crazy. I’ve half a mind to use that gun of yours and drive some sense into you. Don’t you know how much trouble you’re in? Why don’t you do something smart for once, like destroy the place first or something? Or at least hire a lawyer?”

“I know one thing.” Walter’s voice rang out clear and undaunted. “If we confess our sins, we’ll be forgiven; but if we hide them, we’ll be judged.”

“That’s not the way it works out there! They don’t forgive, they punish.”

“Even so, I’m going,” Walter declared. “And don’t you dare go near that place while I’m gone.”

I stumbled away from the door. “No, God,” I groaned. “I wish nobody would ever have to know.” In my mind I could still hear Pat’s verdict: twenty-five years in prison. Walter would be old and gray before he ever got out. And me – what would happen to me?

Fear constricted my throat so tightly I couldn’t even cry. I crawled into bed and buried my head under the pillow. If my world was going to collapse, I didn’t want to watch. Was there nothing I could do? Where was God?

I prayed frantically.
God, I’ll do anything. Please. Don’t let Walter do this. Please, God!
By the time Mom knocked at my door to awaken me for school, I was trembling all over.

“Go away,” I muttered.

“Tessa, you’re gonna be late for school. Now get up!”

“I’m not going. I’m sick.”

“Yeah, I bet you are. So is everyone else around here this morning.” She came in and started to pull the covers off of me. “Come on. Walter might as well see firsthand the trouble his stupid religious ideas are causing. Nothing else is stopping him.”

Although I doubted it would make any difference, I gave in and followed her to the living room. Walter hunched in a corner of the couch, his head bowed.

“Can’t you see what you’re doing to your family?” Mom said. “You’ve got Tess so worked up she can’t go to school.”

Walter raised his head. His eyes were dark with sadness as he looked at me. “Sit down, would you?”

I perched on the arm of the chair and stared at the carpet.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he said. “But I can’t live one more day with all this stuff on my conscience. It’s like a dark sickness inside of me. If I don’t come clean, it’s gonna spread and do me in.”

“What about me?” My voice trembled. “Did you ever think about that?”

“It’s all my fault,” he answered. “I’m gonna tell them that, and hopefully they’ll let you go.”

“
Hopefully
, that’s a comforting word,” Mom muttered. “What if they don’t?”

“Julie, just let me talk to her, okay?”

He leaned forward, and I could feel his gaze resting on me. “Tess, listen. Don’t hide from the past, and don’t lie about it. Not even to keep from getting in trouble. If we’re honest, the Lord will take care of the rest. Okay?”

I continued staring at the floor. I didn’t want to be honest. I just wanted to forget the whole mess.

Walter went on. “I’ve thought a lot about that one verse. If we confess, he forgives us. Remember?”

“I thought that meant, to God.”

“It does. I know God forgives me. But I broke the law, and I have to face it. If I keep trying to hide it, I’m still guilty. Does that make sense?”

I shook my head. My throat was tighter than ever. Why did things have to go this way?

Walter sighed. “I don’t know how to put it, I guess. All I know is I’ve got to go.”

“Are you gonna . . . come home again?” I could hardly force the words out.

“I don’t think so. They’ll probably put me in jail.”

“Probably us, too,” Mom retorted.

“I sure hope not. I’ll do my best, but I won’t lie.”

At that, Mom snorted and left the room. I rose to leave also, but Walter wasn’t quite finished.

“Tessa?”

I paused in the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Would you pray for me?”

I felt intensely uncomfortable. How could he ask something like that?

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered, and slipped off to my room.

Breakfast that morning was late and tense. I managed to choke down a glass of orange juice and part of a piece of toast. Walter ate even less. Mom continued trying to reason with him, but when he went to the closet to put his coat on, she turned mean and started threatening him again. I was almost relieved to see Tom drive in.

Still muttering, Mom packed me into the car and drove me to school. “You don’t wanna stay home,” she told me. “They’ll get search warrants, and the next thing you know the place’ll be crawling with cops.”

“Are you gonna get in trouble too?”

She swore. “I don’t know. You ask the worst questions sometimes.”

“But, you are involved, aren’t you? I mean…”

“So you think I’m a criminal, huh?” She shook her head.

“Well, you sort of sounded like one,” I fumbled. “Like when you were talking to Patty that day.”

“Yeah, I probably did. We can talk about it another time. Right now, Tess, the less you know the better.”

Mom pulled to the curb in front of the school. I stepped out of the car, then remembered something.

“Hey, I need you to write an excuse for me.”

Mom opened the glove box and pulled out an old registration paper. “An excuse. Let’s see, how about ‘Family Emergency?’ Sound good?”

I shrugged. “It’s true, anyway.”

She scribbled something on the paper, folded it in half, and handed it to me. “See you later.”

As I trudged up the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but wonder if Mom would be in handcuffs the next time I saw her. I glanced behind me, but the white car had already driven away. I wished I had said goodbye to her.

43

I
arrived in time for second period. I tried hard to act normal, but I could not get my mind on my studies. Who cared which Chinese dynasty held power in 1276, when I might not have a mother to go home to after school? When I might end up spending the night in jail or an institution? Would I even be at school tomorrow?

“What’s up?” Heather asked me at lunch. “You look really glum today.”

I considered lying, but decided there was no point. “My whole life is falling apart, and I can’t stop it. And pretty soon everybody in the whole world is gonna know about it.”

“Wow, Tess, this sounds bad. Are you sure?”

I just nodded.

“Well, I’ll still be your friend, no matter what,” she promised.

Toward the end of sixth period, an announcement came over the intercom for several students to report to the office. My stomach knotted when I heard my name. Grabbing my things, I made my way down the hall to the office. It could be something normal, or it could be…

“I’m Tessa Miner,” I told the secretary, though she probably recognized me. “You wanted me?”

She smiled. “That’s right. The principal wants to talk to you. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I bit my lip and folded my arms tightly around myself.
This is bad, really bad.
Was this how they worked it if the police showed up to arrest a student?

The principal’s words were not encouraging. “Tessa, there’s a police officer here to talk with you,” he said. “I understand it has something to do with your father.” He steered me around the corner to the guidance counselor’s office and nudged me inside.

At least it’s not Pat,
I thought, as I sized up the officer. He was at least Walter’s age, maybe older, with thinning hair and glasses. Except for the badge pinned on his shirt pocket, he looked like an ordinary businessman.

He stuck out his hand with a smile. “Hi, Tessa, I’m Chris Johnson. I’m a detective with the Northford Police Department. I talked to your father earlier today, and I need to ask you a few questions.”

I couldn’t bring myself to shake his hand. “Am I being arrested?”

“No, miss. Not a chance. I want to talk to you about your father.”

“My father?” My breath came in short gasps. I wished I could stop shaking.

“I understand he told you he was going to make a confession.”

“Yeah.”

“I have to say, he showed a lot of courage today. I didn’t think he had it in him.” Chris gestured toward one of the upholstered chairs near the door. “Have a seat.”

I sat and clenched my hands in my lap.

Chris settled into the other chair, crossing one leg in a relaxed fashion. “Tessa, your father says he’s entirely responsible for the fact that you helped him in his illegal activities. He says you didn’t want to do it. Is that true?”

I nodded.

“And is it true, also, that if you didn’t obey and help him, he’d mistreat you?”

I nodded again.

“Would you do something for me?”

“What.”

“Try to relax. You are not the one in trouble here, your father is. I’m just trying to establish some facts about his behavior toward you.”

I looked up. “His behavior?”

“I understand he treated you pretty badly at times.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me about any of it?”

It took a lot of prodding, but once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. Story after story poured forth, and with each one, I grew angrier. At times I broke down and could hardly talk. Chris leaned back in his chair and listened, occasionally interrupting to ask a question.

“That is really sad,” he said, when I was finished. “I can see why it makes you so angry. Anybody would feel that way.”

“Yeah, but maybe some of it was my fault. I shouldn’t have made him mad.”

“Tessa, that’s not true. You’ve been abused, and it is not your fault. A loving parent doesn’t abuse his children, no matter what.”

I shook my head, confused.
Sometimes I deserved at least part of what I got,
I argued silently.
Like when I’d be sassy, or just plain disobedient.
But I knew Chris would disagree, so I kept the thoughts to myself.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Chris said. “I understand you helped your father in his meth lab. What was it like working in there?”

I grimaced. “It was horrible. It stunk so bad I couldn’t breathe. A lot of times it made me sick. Walter was usually there, and if I did something wrong, he’d yell at me. Or if I spilled something, or got sick, he’d laugh. In the summer it was really hot, and he wouldn’t let me open the door for fresh air. A lot of times we worked late at night. I’d get so tired I couldn’t stay awake. And then Mom would make me go to school the next day.”

“Did you ever try the stuff?”

I shook my head. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered it. I had, a lot of times. But something always held me back. Maybe it was seeing all the weird chemicals that went into making it.

“That’s good. How about your mom, she ever try it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did she help your father with his drug business in any way? Getting him supplies, arranging sales, anything like that?”

“I’m not sure. I always figured she wasn’t involved, but then I started to think maybe she was. I don’t know.”

“What made you think she was involved?”

“I heard her threaten somebody.”

“Really. Tell me about it.”

So I recounted the conversation I’d overheard at Patty’s. Chris listened thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I can see where you’d think that, after hearing something like that.”

“Is
she involved?”

“She says she isn’t, and so far we haven’t arrested her, which is a good sign, I’d say.”

As relieved as I was to hear that, it left many unanswered questions. Why had Mom been so opposed to Walter confessing, if she wasn’t involved at all? Why did she think she might end up in jail? Also baffling was Mom’s hateful attitude toward the police. To my knowledge, she’d only been stopped once for speeding. Nevertheless, anytime she saw a cop, her eyes would narrow and she’d cuss. It made no difference whether he was taking a cruise through the park or running a radar gun in a speed zone. She never missed one. Why did she hate cops so much?

“You look puzzled.” Chris’s comment broke into my thoughts.

I shrugged. “I was just thinking.”

“There was one last thing I wanted to ask you. Do you know how your mom got out to the lab site back in December to get the car that was parked there?”

“Well, yeah. She got the neighbors to drive her.”

“Tom Erickson took her?”

“Yeah. It was like midnight.”

He nodded. “Okay, good.”

“How’d you know about the car?” I asked.

Chris looked amused. “Oh, we’ve been watching that place for quite a while.”

“You mean if one of us had gone there, we would’ve been caught.”

“It’s quite possible.”

I shivered, recalling the night Walter had tried to send me there by myself. Maybe my premonitions hadn’t been as foolish as I’d thought.

Chris stood up. “Well, it looks like it’s time to get you home.”

I glanced at my watch and gasped. It was nearly four o’clock. Had we talked that long?

“I think I missed my bus,” I said.

He smiled. “That’s why I’m offering you a ride.”

I was glad the halls were empty as I got my things from my locker. I’d never live it down if my friends found out about this. Out in the parking lot, Chris opened the front passenger door of a small gray car. “Hop in.”

A tiny smile tugged at my lips as I settled into the comfortable seat. I had been expecting another ride in the back seat of a cruiser.
This is cool.

Chris already knew where I lived. As he drove, he asked me about school and talked a little about his job. I tried to be sociable, but I couldn’t stop worrying what Mom would say when she found out I’d been interviewed. I rehearsed my answers as I rode along.

I couldn’t help it. The detective came to school. I had to talk to him. But I tried to be careful, and I didn’t say anything about you.

When we arrived at the house, Chris ruined any chance I had of keeping the situation a secret. Over my protests, he walked to the door with me and knocked. He explained to Mom why he’d driven me home, and then he bid us a good evening.

I dumped my knapsack in my bedroom, then gathered my courage and returned to the kitchen. Mom had the table set and was pouring the milk.

“How’d your end of things go?” she asked.

“Okay. Kind of boring, actually.” I prayed she wouldn’t ask for details. “Did I miss anything here?”

She shrugged. “Two cops showed up this afternoon, poked around for a while, and asked like a million questions.” She pulled a green bean casserole out of the oven and set it on the table. “I should’ve gone to work and left them to track me down. That would’ve been more interesting.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I don’t want my boss to find out about this. I could get fired for all I know.”

“Fired? Why?”

Mom took a helping of beans and pushed the bowl toward me. “You ask too many questions. I got a call from Walter this afternoon. Of all things, he wanted to tell me how good he felt after he’d confessed all his crimes. I asked him who he thinks is gonna pay his bail.”

“Was he worried?”

“He should be. My wages barely pay the rent on this place.”

“But your boss will find out anyway,” I persisted. “I mean, won’t it get in the papers and stuff?”

“By the time it hits the papers, neither my name nor yours will be in there anywhere. That will help.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I wished there was a way to keep the story out of the news. Why did the whole city have to know what my father had done?

Mom must have read the look on my face. “I’m sorry, but there’s no avoiding this thing. It’s gonna be embarrassing. We’ll have to face it and live it down the best we can.”

Live it down. Hadn’t I been doing that all my life? I sighed, remembering the first time I’d felt ashamed of my connection to Walter. I had just started second grade. Walter had gotten into a fight at the bar and landed in jail, and the paper had picked up the story. As a little seven-year-old, I was so afraid someone would find out he was my father that I began abbreviating my last name on my school papers. Though I had long since stopped doing that, I continued to resent the name. It was like an ongoing reminder that no matter what I did, I could never escape the disgrace of being Walter’s daughter.