Showers in Season (33 page)

Brittany’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded agreement. “That’s right, Mommy. She’ll be fine with us.”

And Barry knew that it was true, that those words had come from the mouth of God, because their family was still intact. They were going to be all right.

Their home had never felt so empty as it did the day they brought Tory home without the baby. Barry had set the bassinet up in the corner of the master bedroom. Already he had begun getting estimates to add a new room onto their house. By the time the baby was old enough to have her own room, it would be ready. But right now, the family seemed to have a hole in it, because one of them wasn’t home.

That night as they went to bed, he lay awake looking at the bassinet in the corner of the bedroom. “It feels strange without her,” he whispered.

“Funny how a little tiny thing like that can wriggle her way into the family.” Tory looked up at him with sad eyes. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”

“She has to,” Barry said. “She just has to.”

He held Tory until she fell asleep. As she slept in his arms, he cried into the pillow and prayed again that God would forgive the choice he almost made. More than anything in his life, he wanted the baby to live.

They named the baby Hannah, after Tory’s mother, and with each passing day, she grew strong enough to be weaned from another machine. The first time she held her, Tory’s heart almost burst with the fierce love that overwhelmed her. Barry was so emotional that, when she handed Hannah to him, he almost fell apart. She didn’t know if he would ever forgive himself for wanting to abort the baby.

When they finally brought her home after twelve weeks, it seemed as if the family was finally complete again. The neighbors of Cedar Circle set up a huge banner that said, “Welcome Home, Hannah!” That night, the children were happier than they’d been in weeks as Barry read them a story and put them to bed.

Then he went back to the bedroom where Tory had been feeding the baby. Hannah was asleep as Tory rocked back and forth, back and forth, the circles under her eyes dark from the hours she had been keeping.

He bent down and took the baby from her. “You need to get some sleep,” he said. “Here, I’ll take over for a while.”

“You can lay her down,” Tory said. “She’ll sleep.”

“No, I want to hold her,” he said. “Go ahead. Get in bed.”

She surrendered the baby and the rocker and climbed into bed, turned on her side, and watched her husband rock their new child. Her eyelids were heavy, and a sense of peace greater than she had ever known flooded through her. She had just about dozed off when she heard Barry singing.

“And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own…”

She smiled as she remembered the story he had finally shared with her about the woman whose life Nathan had saved. Then, in a soft, soothing voice, he whispered to the baby, “You need to know about your Uncle Nathan and the lady who knows the Lord because of him.”

And as the baby’s eyes drifted closed, Barry softly began to tell her about his own brother who sat in his wheelchair, whistling tunes and touching lives without even knowing it.

“Some people think Nathan has a cursed life,” Barry whispered to the baby, “but it just depends on whose eyes you’re looking from, God’s or man’s.”

He looked up at Tory, and saw her smiling at him from the bed. “You were right, you know.”

“About what?” she asked.

“About the crisis being the miracle.”

She looked down at the baby, knowing it was true. As imperfect as this baby was, she was perfect for their family, for this time in their lives.

As Tory drifted off to sleep to the tune of “In the Garden,” she had the sweet, spiritual sense that they had, indeed, gotten the miracle they had prayed for.

Cathy
Flaherty kicked her pumps into the corner of the kitchen and wondered why she’d gone to the trouble of getting her hair done this morning. Her blonde strands were already wisping out of the French twist, and the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. She should have come in her jeans and lab coat, the veterinarian’s garb she wore every day. She would have been more comfortable with her hair in a ponytail and sneakers on her feet.

But that would have disappointed the friends who were throwing this shower. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan, her neighbors on Cedar Circle, had been working on this for weeks. And if that weren’t enough, Sylvia Bryan had left her mission work in Nicaragua to come back and host it. It was as if Sylvia had to see it to believe it, Cathy mused.

“Hold still and I’ll fix your hair,” Brenda said, coming at her with a comb.

“I’m not used to having my hair up,” Cathy said. “Shoulda known not to go fu-fu.”

Brenda moved a bobby pin, catching some of the escaped wisps. “Tory, does that look okay?”

Tory turned back to them with her fifteen-month-old daughter, Hannah, asleep in her arms. Her body rocked from side to side, as if she swayed to some imaginary beat that only a mother could hear. “Looks good,” Tory said in a voice just above a whisper. “I think I’ll run home and put her down. Barry can watch her if she’s napping.”

“When your hands are free, you can help me put out these flowers,” Sylvia said. She had several vases of fresh flowers, probably cut from her garden. Cathy had trouble growing weeds, yet Sylvia still had beautiful blooming jasmine, impatiens, petunias, periwinkles, and a dozen other floral varieties around her house, when she didn’t even live here to care for them. But Cathy knew Brenda and Tory weeded and watered Sylvia’s yard. In March, Brenda had taken her home-schooled children over to plant new annuals in the front garden. She’d considered it a science project. Cathy’s son Mark, who was home-schooled with Brenda’s four children, had taken great pride in his green thumb. Now, in June, the yard overflowed with blooms, showing evidence of their care.

The Gonzales family had done a good job of caring for the home while the Bryans were on the mission field. In early May, they had finished Juan’s seminary training and returned to Nicaragua, so the house was empty again. It was clear Sylvia had enjoyed being back in the home in which she’d raised her children and that she loved launching Cathy’s new life with this shower.

Tory was on her way out the front door when Annie and Rick burst in. “Steve’s in the driveway,” Annie said. “He and Tracy are on their way in.”

“But Mark is AWOL at the moment,” Rick said.

“AWOL?” she asked, going to the door and waiting for Steve and Tracy. Tracy was all dressed up, and her hair had been braided with little white flowers. Steve had taken her to get her hair done this morning.

She switched her thoughts back to Mark. “So where is he?”

“Went to run an errand.”

“An errand? In what?”

“In Ham Carter’s jeep,” Annie said. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes. Right.”

Steve came up to the porch, dressed like a financier, and grinning like an Oscar winner. Cathy matched that grin and reached up for a kiss. “So we’re gonna go through with it, huh?” he teased.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” she said with a wink. “It’s just a shower.” They had postponed the wedding two other times. One was after Mark’s arrest, the other after they’d realized how hard it was to blend parenting styles. This time, they had sealed their plans with work—building an addition onto her house. She let Steve go as Rick grabbed a monstrous handful of peanuts, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved them into his mouth. “Rick, please. They’ll think you haven’t eaten in a week!”

Sylvia came over and gave him a hug, and Brenda bent down to pick up the fallen peanuts. “It’s good to see a healthy appetite,” she said. “Besides, who cares what we think?”

“That’s what I was thinking, Mom,” Rick said with his mouth full. “You’ve just got to get over this constant worrying what other people think. Are you going to wear shoes?”

Cathy tried to remember where she had left them, then hurried to slip them on. Annie was right behind her. “Your hair looks funny, Mom. It’s falling on one side. Looks kind of like somebody jabbed some pins in trying to hold it up.”

“Okay, so I’ll never be able to work as a hairdresser,” Brenda said, throwing up her hands in mock defeat. “Annie, help her.”

“I’ll help!” Tracy shouted, bouncing up and down. “I can fix your hair, Cathy!” The eleven-year-old was already reaching for the bobby pins.

“Tell you what.” Cathy started pulling pins out and letting the hair fall around her shoulders. “Forget the fu-fu do. I’m coming as me.”

Steve grinned and stroked the silky hair. “Suits me fine.”

“Me, too,” Brenda said. “Just run a brush through it, and you’ll look like a catalogue model.”

The front door came open, and Cathy turned hoping to see Mark. Instead, Tory stood just inside the door, looking tired and slightly out of breath. “Okay, let me at those flowers,” she called to Sylvia.

Sylvia handed her two vases, and the women began placing them. The smell of white roses and lilies wafted on the air. Cathy looked around at the house full of memories—gold gilded photos of Sylvia’s children on the walls, an eight-by-ten of her new grand-baby, and multiple pictures of Sylvia and Harry with the children they loved in Nicaragua. A dried vine wound over and between the pictures, creating that thread of life that had never been broken. Not in this family.

Cathy wished her vine wasn’t broken. There was something strange, unnatural, about having a wedding shower when you were forty-two years old. But the events of her life had not always been her decision.

“So where’s Mark?” Steve’s question turned her around, and she thought of lying and saying that she’d sent him to get something. She didn’t want to see that look of
he’s-at-it-again
pass across Steve’s face, and she didn’t want to start him down the
are-we-doing-the-right-thing
road again, either. She’d been down that road enough herself.

Besides, she wanted to be free to hear Mark’s reasons for being late,
before
she lambasted him. Her reaction to the children was different when Steve was around. She found herself responding the way she knew he would want her to, with consistency and discipline—all the right things, but for all the wrong reasons.

But the truth would come out soon enough, anyway. “Mark seems to have disappeared with Ham Carter. We’re expecting him to be back soon.” She turned to Annie. “This Ham Carter. How old is he?”

“At least sixteen, I guess,” Annie said. “Can you believe his parents are letting that loser drive? They ought to announce it
on the evening news or something just to give everybody a chance to get out of his way. Cool! Cake.”

“Annie, don’t touch that. We’re not ready to cut it.”

Annie looked insulted. “So what do you think I’m gonna do? Just grab a handful?”

Cathy glanced at her son, who had just about finished off the bowl of peanuts. She thought of pointing out to Annie that the only thing she could expect from her children was the unexpected. She stepped into the kitchen, where Brenda and Tory were busy decorating plates of pastries. Steve followed her in and leaned against the counter. He reached for a pastry.

Sylvia slapped his hand. “The guests will be here soon,” she said. “Just a few more minutes. Then, after you and Rick and Mark make your introductions, you can go watch football until we need you to help carry everything home.”

“Might be a long wait, then,” he said. “When did you say Mark would get here?”

“Few minutes,” Cathy said.

Steve looked at his watch. “Mark knew what time the shower started, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah, he knew. In fact, I even picked his clothes out for him and told him to get dressed before I left. Annie, he was dressed in those clothes when he disappeared, wasn’t he?”

Annie shrugged. “Not his tie. Not yet.”

Steve stiffened, and that pleasant look on his face was replaced with concern. “Why would he do this today of all days? Do you think this is some kind of psychological plea for us not to get married? Because every time we’ve set a date, something has happened.”

“No, he’s not lashing out. He’s just being thoughtless.”

“Cathy, any psychologist would have a field day with your youngest child running off
today.
”

“Well, thank goodness no one’s analyzing it.” She took a brownie and bit into it. “Come on, this is not a crisis. Mark’s been disobedient, and I’ll take care of it when I see him. But I don’t want it to ruin the party. So let’s not mention it again, okay?”

Steve locked looks with her, threatening to say more, when Tory walked up between them. “Why’d you take your hair down?” she asked. “Cathy, it was beautiful up!”

Grateful for the change of subject, Cathy handed her the brush.

When Tory had finished lacquering Cathy’s hair, they emerged from the bathroom in time to see Tracy barreling for the door.

“Grandma’s here!” she shouted, and Cathy looked out the window to see Steve’s mother and sister getting out of the car in the driveway. “Let me get it!” she shouted. “Please, can’t I?”

“All right,” Cathy said. “Have at it.” She turned to Steve and struck a pose. “So give it to me straight. How’s it look?”

A gentle smile softened Steve’s features.

“Like cool water in hundred-degree heat. As usual.” He leaned down to kiss her. “How’d I get so blessed?”

Tracy threw the door open, and her grandmother and aunt came in with a flourish of gifts and hugs. Sylvia turned on some piano music on the old stereo system Harry had left behind. As more guests arrived, Cathy greeted each one as if they were her old best friend. It bowled her over that anyone had actually taken the time to come. When there was a lull in the number of women arriving, Cathy went to look for her children, who had retreated into the kitchen. “You guys come out here and be polite now,” she whispered. “Speak to every guest, and when I open gifts, ooh and ah over everything. And no cryptic comments about what I get.”

“Do you believe this?” Annie asked Rick. “She’s asking us to lie.”

“I’m not asking you to lie,” Cathy said. “I’m just asking you to be polite.”

“So what are you going to do to Mark?” Annie wanted to know.

“I’ll deal with him when the shower is over. One thing at a time, okay?”

The doorbell rang again, and she heard more guests coming in. “Come on, now. We have to get out there.”

The smell of fruit punch and sugar icing hung on the air, along with that of melon balls and a dozen different pastries that Brenda had concocted. Cathy owed them big-time, she thought. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to move out a couple of rooms of furniture to get all the gifts into her house.

She and Steve had thought of moving to his place, but she hadn’t been able to stand the thought of leaving her little neighborhood. Sensing her reluctance, he had offered to move into hers and build a couple of extra rooms, so they would have a little more square footage in which to spread out. The foundation had been poured last week, and the contractor said it would take a couple of months to get the rooms up—not in time for a July 4th wedding. But that hadn’t bothered them. They would go ahead with the wedding and move Steve and Tracy into her house, as it was. That way they could put Steve’s house on the market while they waited for the new master bedroom and the extra family room to be finished, and they could take their time decorating Cathy’s room for Tracy.

The doorbell rang again, and Tracy flung it open. Her excited face changed to surprise, and she stepped back and called over the crowd, “It’s a policeman!”

Everyone got quiet and turned to the door, and Sylvia rushed to the foyer. “May I help you?”

“Could you tell me if there’s a Cathy Flaherty here?” the officer asked.

Cathy started to the door, not certain whether this was some kind of prank her friends had played on her, or something more serious. She glanced at Tory and Brenda and saw that there was no amusement in their eyes.

“I’m Cathy Flaherty,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“Mrs. Flaherty, I need for you to come to the police station as soon as possible.”

If she hadn’t still been standing, she would have been certain her heart had stopped beating. “Why?” she asked. Something told her she didn’t want everyone to hear this, so she stepped outside. Steve followed her out, then Annie and Rick bolted to the door.

“It’s your son, Mark,” the police officer said. “I’m afraid he’s been arrested.”

A wave of uncertainty and denial washed over Cathy, and she took a step back and bumped into Steve. His arms came around her, steadying her.

“For what, officer?” he asked.

“The charge was drug distribution.”

Cathy couldn’t get her voice to function, and she felt Steve’s hand squeezing her arm. Tears blurred her vision, and she thought she might tip right over and collapse on Sylvia’s front porch.

“No way,” Rick said, finally.

“My brother was selling drugs?” Annie asked, as if to make sure everyone in the house had heard.

“He was picked up on Highland Avenue,” the officer said, “after he tried to sell marijuana to a plainclothes officer.”

The world seemed to grow dim. Cathy was going to throw up. Her head was going to explode. Her heart was going to give out. Her knees were going to buckle.

But she just stood, letting the words sink in like some kind of toxin, seeking out every vulnerable cell in her body.

She heard Steve taking charge, finding out where they were holding Mark, asking Rick to get the car, telling Sylvia to call off the shower. For a few moments, her thoughts remained scattered. Only one seemed to motivate her to action.

Her son needed her.