What She Left for Me

by Tracie Peterson

  “I thought Rob and you had already talked it all out,” Kerry said, sobbing. “I thought it was your idea to walk away.”

  “I learned in Africa,” Jana said, ignoring the woman’s comments, “that I was pregnant. I couldn’t wait to return home to tell Rob about the baby. A baby we both had agreed to create. This baby was very much planned. Did you know that?”

  She shook her head. “Rob didn’t even know about the baby until Jason told him.”

  “I know. I didn’t have a chance to tell him. But you know what? I don’t think it would have mattered to him.”

  “It would have mattered to me.”

  “Why?” Jana questioned. “Why is it all right to steal a man from his wife—but not his unborn child?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. If I’d known you were against separating and divorcing, I wouldn’t have gone with Rob. He convinced me that it was all your idea—that he was the injured party. That he was all alone. I felt sorry for him, Jana. I loved him, but I would have stopped the affair and never have left with him had I known the truth.”

  “Oh, give me a break, Kerry. Adultery is wrong no matter who agrees to it. You chose your way out.” Jana had taken her fill. “I want you to go. I don’t want to listen to anything more. I don’t know how you found me, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother me again. Otherwise I’ll be forced to get a restraining order.”

  Kerry got to her feet. “Jana, please. I don’t want to leave things like this between us. I know I did wrong. I want to make peace. I want you to forgive me.”

  Jana looked at the woman in disbelief. “Well, we don’t always get what we want, Kerry.” Jana startled at how much she sounded like her mother with those words. Still, she wasn’t about to forgive Kerry Broadbent for what she’d done . . . and the woman was insane to think she should.

  Twenty-one

  “Oh, we’re going to have such fun!” Taffy declared for the fourth or fifth time that morning. She was sitting at the dining room table filling out invitations to her party and acted as though she had the world by the tail.

  Jana had been in a bad mood since three days earlier, when Kerry had come for her visit. Jana had told no one of Kerry’s appearance but knew her mother and Taffy were puzzled by Jana’s change of attitude.

  The visit had left Jana with more anger inside than she had ever known possible. Why Kerry had thought it acceptable to come and try to cleanse herself at Jana’s expense was beyond any rational thought.

  “You didn’t even hear me. What’s going on with you, child?” Taffy asked.

  Jana looked up from the task Taffy had given her. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said you’re going to have to tie those bags shut with ribbon, and I left it in the pantry.”

  Jana noted the small party favor bags in front of her. She’d been filling them with candy, a gift for the children and anyone else who wanted one. “All right. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Well, I’m going to take this stack of invitations down to the post office.” Taffy got to her feet and pulled together a large stack of sealed envelopes. “It’s time for my walk anyway.”

  “I could drive you down,” Eleanor offered as she came into the room with a load of laundry.

  “Nonsense. It’s a beautiful day, and I need my exercise. You should come walk with me—both of you.”

  “No thanks,” Jana said. “I’m not good company today. I’ll get the ribbon and finish these favors.”

  “I’ve got three loads of bedding to do,” Eleanor replied. “I think I’ll get enough exercise.”

  Taffy shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll probably see if Stanley wants to walk with me since neither of you have any ambition to join me.”

  Eleanor was already going into the kitchen and said nothing. “Have fun,” Jana called. She got up from the table to retrieve the ribbon, yawning as she did. She’d been exhausted for the past few days—weeks. She supposed it was depression, but she didn’t like to admit it.

  If anyone has a right to be depressed, I do, she reasoned. Maybe I’ll just stay in bed tomorrow. She yawned again but this time didn’t try to suppress it.

  “Didn’t you sleep last night?” her mother asked as Jana came into the kitchen. Her mother was folding clean clothes at the breakfast table.

  “Oh, I slept—just not that well,” Jana admitted. She went into the pantry, a small room situated next to the laundry room. The ribbon was right there on the shelf—a hot pink ribbon that seemed appropriate for Taffy’s party.

  Jana came out with the ribbon in hand and found her mother standing idle. “What?” Jana asked. She looked down at her clothes as if something were amiss.

  “You’ve been moody ever since Taffy and I went to Missoula. I’ve been wondering if something happened while we were gone.”

  Jana heard concern in her mother’s words. It sounded odd coming from her, but Jana felt a sense of relief. She’d said nothing about Kerry’s visit, but she’d wanted to. She needed to unload the anger and pain it had caused her, but she didn’t figure her mother would care enough to listen or have any answers.

  “Kerry Broadbent came to the house shortly after you left.”

  “The wife of the man who killed your husband?” Eleanor looked completely stunned. “What in the world would possess her to do that?”

  Jana sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “She wanted to say she was sorry.”

  “Oh, brother.” Jana’s mom turned back to the clothes. “Why do people think that as long as they say they’re sorry, it will make everything all right? As if their actions had never happened.”

  “That was my question. She wanted to cleanse her conscience at my expense, and I really resented that.”

  Her mother turned abruptly. “That’s the way it always is. People hurt you and walk all over you. They lie to you and betray you, and then with those two little words, they expect it should all somehow be wiped from the slate. As if I’m sorry had some sort of magical powers to take away the pain.”

  Jana nodded. “She thought I wanted the divorce. Rob told her I was leaving him. She said if she’d known it wasn’t true—if she’d known about the baby—she’d never have done what she did.”

  “Well, that’s easy to say now that it’s all said and done. There’s no way to prove or disprove her on that,” her mother replied angrily. “I hope you didn’t buy into it. I know your faith says you’re supposed to forgive people when they ask for it, but I think that’s malarkey. Why give absolution to someone when they’re only seeking forgiveness to ease their own conscience? They don’t care that what they’ve done has permanently scarred you. They don’t care that they’ve robbed you of all security.”

  Jana suddenly felt like her mother was no longer talking about Kerry. There was something else going on in her mother’s mind.

  “Why do you say that, Mom?”

  “Because it’s true. When pressed for a reason for their actions or when facing the consequences, people are suddenly ever so sorry and apologetic.” She looked at Jana, but Jana was sure she didn’t see her. Her mother was a million miles away.

  “Consequences don’t just go away. They aren’t suddenly dissolved just because forgiveness has been desired or given.”

  Jana studied the expression on her mother’s face. She had dropped the façade of strength that always accompanied her. As her voice broke ever so slightly, Jana was compelled to question her mother.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  Eleanor looked at her oddly and then seemed to snap back to reality. “I’m talking about you, of course.”

  “I don’t think you were. I think you were talking about yourself. About something that happened to you.”

  Her mother turned back to the clothes on the table. “Don’t try to make something out of nothing.”

  “I’m not,” Jana said, putting the ribbon aside. She came to where her mother stood. “This isn’t ab
out nothing. This is about something that happened to you. Something that hurt you enough to talk about consequences not just going away.”

  “Jana, we were talking about that Broadbent woman coming to see you. You’ve been in a mood ever since, and that’s one consequence of her coming here. She needed to feel better about herself, so she put that on your shoulders. She no doubt believes that if you can forgive her, then so can the rest of the world and she can go on.”

  Jana decided to try a different approach. “You know about abandonment. That’s why Rob’s leaving me made you so angry.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Jana. I’m not in the mood for it.”

  “I’m not trying to do that. I’m trying to share whatever it is you’ve been bearing for so many years—alone. I want to help, if I can.”

  “You can’t even help yourself,” her mother said, turning to look at her. “You’re already so deep in depression and frustration from what you’re going through, you barely function. How do you imagine you can help anyone else with anything?”

  Jana felt as though her mother had slapped her. “I can still feel. I know you’re hurting. I realize now that your show of anger has always been to cover up the pain. I don’t know why I didn’t see that sooner. Who hurt you, Mother? Who hurt you so bad that you can’t dare trust anyone—for any reason? What happened that left you unable to show love or any other emotion but rage?”

  Her mother stiffened. She gathered the clothes and put them into a neat stack in the basket. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Well, good for you! I do want to talk about it,” Jana declared. “I’m tired of you shutting me down. Tired of you showing me just a tiny snippet of concern, then pulling back just in case it costs you too much.”

  “Like having to deal with conversations like this?” her mother asked, turning to face Jana.

  “What?”

  “You have no idea the toll this takes on me. I doubt you have ever considered the way it causes me to suffer.”

  What was the woman talking about now? “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. I am suffering because you badger me day and night with questions—with the need to dredge up a past that I have worked hard to put behind me.”

  “You didn’t just put the past behind you, Mother. You sought to eradicate it.”

  “Well, possibly so. If a building is condemned, you tear it down and get rid of it. If your life is condemned, why not do the same?”

  “But why do you consider your life condemned?” Jana softened her voice. “Why?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I have my reasons. Reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

  “But it has everything to do with me. You’ve passed that anger . . . that condemnation . . . on to me. I think your past has more to do with my present life—and therefore my future—than you want to admit. I know it has more to do with the problems between you and me than you’ll say.”

  Her mother actually seemed to think about this for a moment. Jana wondered if maybe she would begin to open up again. But then without warning, Eleanor turned and picked up the basket and started to walk away.

  “Mom, don’t do this,” Jana said, going after her. She followed her to the staircase before reaching out to stop her. “Please talk to me.”

  Eleanor turned, and to Jana’s surprise, there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Jana. Every time you do this—every time you try to force something from my life into understanding—I fervently wish you had never come here.”

  Jana felt a chill run through her. “Like you wish I’d never been born?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You said you wished I’d been a boy. You used to tell me that all the time. How you didn’t want a daughter. Well, you got one anyway, and I’m sorry. I don’t know why being female is so wrong in your book.”

  “It wasn’t wrong,” her mother replied, her words coming out in a broken, dejected manner. “I didn’t want them to hurt you like they’d hurt me. Women have very little defense against men. You know that yourself now. I didn’t want you to get hurt, and had you been a boy, you could have been the stronger one.” She began to sob, the basket of clothes shaking in her hands. “I never had a choice. Do you understand? I just wanted it better for my child.” She tucked her head as if embarrassed or ashamed and hurried up the stairs, not even once looking back.

  The words were a blow to Jana’s senses. “I never had a choice.” What did she mean? “I didn’t want them to hurt you like they’d hurt me.” But worse than the words were her mother’s tears. Jana had never seen her mother break down and cry like that.

  Jana followed her mother upstairs. She wavered between wanting to offer her comfort or an apology. Jana didn’t understand her own emotions. Her mother always did this to her. Why couldn’t they just talk and not fight? Why couldn’t they reveal the things that had hurt them or caused them grief without causing more?

  “Mother?” Jana knocked on the closed bedroom door. She could hear her mother sobbing in abject sorrow. Jana tried the door handle, but it was locked. “Mother, please let me in.” Eleanor refused to respond.

  It went on like this for the rest of the day. Taffy came home to Jana’s confusion and worry. “She’s been crying for hours. It’s not right. I’ve never seen her like this.” Jana explained everything that had happened prior to her mother’s breakdown.

  “We need to give her time,” Taffy said calmly. “Eleanor needs this time to come to terms with so many things.”

  “What things? Why can’t we be a part of bearing that burden? The Bible says that’s what we’re supposed to do for one another,” Jana said, her gaze fixed on the stairs.

  “I thought you didn’t care about the Bible or what it said.”

  Jana caught her great-aunt’s expression. Her brows were raised questioningly. “I . . . well . . . I don’t know anymore what I care about. I don’t understand an awful lot.”

  “I think the Lord is working on your heart, Jana. Your mother’s too. It’s a painful process, but cleansing a wound so it can heal usually is.”

  “I’m going up there to talk with her,” Jana said, grasping the newel post.

  Taffy reached out and held fast to her arm. “No. Give her time. If you care about her—if you love her—give her time to work through this.”

  Jana said nothing, her focus still upward. Finally she turned toward Taffy. “But what if there isn’t any time left? What if we run out of it?”

  “God is never too late or too early,” Taffy said softly. She let go of Jana’s arm and reached up to touch her face in a loving manner. “He’ll give you time to work through all of this—I’m confident of it. I feel it here, in my heart,” she said, putting her other hand to her chest.

  Jana wanted to believe that Taffy was right. She wanted to feel something of comfort—comfort that she’d had prior to Rob’s leaving. While her faith in God had been weak, she’d at least had something. Now there was nothing, and it left a hollow ache inside.

  “But I haven’t had much to do with God,” Jana said with a deep sigh. “Why should He give me anything—even time?”

  Taffy smiled. “Because He loves you, child. Just because you stopped loving Him doesn’t mean He stopped loving you.”

  Jana swallowed hard. Had she stopped loving God? Or was she merely ignoring Him like a pouting child would do with a parent?

  “Give Him another chance, Jana. He’s waiting for you. He’s never left you. Just like He’s never left your mother.”

  Twenty-two

  That evening, Taffy and Jana ate alone in the garden. Climbing roses sent a delicate scent on the breeze, while dahlias, bachelor’s buttons, and daisies waved in unison from their places along the fence. The setting was well suited for a summertime meal.

  “This is perfect,” Taffy said, enjoying the flavor of the lemon-pepper salmon. Jana had surprised her with the d
ish, and it seemed ideal for a late garden supper. A salad and iced tea rounded out the menu.

  Jana picked at her food, pushing it around the large china plate. Taffy knew her mind was on her mother. She wished she could give Jana insight into the past, but that was Eleanor’s job. To betray her niece in that way would be devastating. So instead, Taffy decided to share about her own childhood.

  “When I was sixteen,” she began, “your grandmother, Melody, was born.” She watched Jana perk up at this information and continued. “My mother had so wanted another child. She had suffered through eight miscarriages before Melody was brought to term.”

  “How awful,” Jana said in a whisper.

  “It was awful—but made more so by my father. He was a strict religious man who believed my mother’s failed pregnancies were due to sin in her life. He constantly berated her for not confessing, not repenting. He made her fast for days at a time in hope of gaining favor with God.”

  “That’s terrible. Why did she tolerate that?”

  Taffy smiled at the naïve question. “Women in those days had very little choice. Divorce was out of the question. Few women left their marriages, and those who did were ostracized by ‘decent’ married women.”

  “Even Christians?”

  “Especially Christians. I can remember being taught to have nothing to do with such women. They were sinners.” Taffy shook her head. “How very blind we can sometimes be.” She took a sip from her iced tea. “My mother longed to give my father a son. He wanted a son to carry on the family name and business. He wanted a son to become an extension of himself. So when Melody was born, he was more than disappointed. He was outraged. He acted as though Mother had done this solely to spite him.”