The Weight
of Shadows
Alison Strobel skillfully intersects the lives of three souls bearing the unfair weight of past wounds. Told with care and sensitivity, Alison capably delves into the often misunderstood cocoon of domestic abuse as well as the changing shape—and density—of personal loss. Well done.
Susan Meissner, author, The Shape of Mercy
Alison Strobel has penned an important book about a battered woman’s psyche and the length God journeys to rescue her. Honest, painful, redemptive, The Weight of Shadows is the kind of gutsy novel book clubs enjoy discussing.
Mary DeMuth, author, Daisy Chain and A Slow Burn
The Weight
of Shadows
A Novel
Alison Strobel
ZONDERVAN
The Weight of Shadows
Copyright © 2010 by Alison Strobel Morrow
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan
ePub Edition © APRIL 2010 ISBN: 978-0-310-56226-9
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Strobel, Alison.
The weight of shadows / Alison Strobel Morrow.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-310-28945-6 (pbk.)
1. Wife abuse—Fiction. 2. Secrets—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3619.T754W45 2010b
813’.6—dc22 2010006416
* * *
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973,1978,1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers printed in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.
* * *
10 11 12 13 14 15
Dedicated to Claudia Mair Burney,
who lived the nightmare but never lost her spirit.
Thank you for sharing both your soul
and your journey with such brutal honesty.
I am honored to be your friend,
and thankful you like to be mine.
Chat you soon!
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Half Title Page
Epigraph
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the Publisher
Share Your Thoughts
ONE
Is it truly a birthday party when the guests don’t even know it’s your birthday? Kim pondered the question as she slipped on the slacks she’d borrowed from her roommate Corrie. Certainly it was an improvement over eating a store-bought cupcake alone in front of reruns. She’d done that more times than she cared to remember.
The intercom buzzed the arrival of the first guest. She spread her hands over her stomach, willing death to the butterflies that had come to life. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it away as she put on her only pair of earrings and secured her locket around her neck. Fingering the pendant brought to mind memories of the day she’d received it. She replayed them in her mind, conjuring every detail she could as she pulled a brush through her hair: the blanket of snow on the bushes outside, Sinatra serenading the restaurant’s customers, her foster parents ordering four desserts for everyone to share when no one could decide what they wanted. That was the last good birthday she’d had.
Corrie’s voice rang out over the stereo, welcoming whoever had arrived and bringing Kim back to the present. She bit her lip, debating whether or not to go out yet. These weren’t her friends, she wasn’t good at small talk, and with only one guest there was no way for her to disappear into the crowd or avoid interacting. Three strikes. She’d better wait.
A pair of black flats, their toes and heels repaired with a marker, were the finishing piece to her ensemble. She gave her red blouse a tug at the bottom and examined herself in the mirror, happy with what she saw. It was possible she wouldn’t talk to anyone all night, but at least she looked nice. In fact, part of her hoped no one would talk to her—she’d met a few of Corrie’s friends before, and they were all out of her league. The thought of trying to hold a conversation with any of them resurrected the butterflies. She frowned at her reflection as the familiar self-doubt crept in. The less she said tonight, the better.
Kim hated battling the voice of inadequacy that resurfaced whenever she met new people. She reminded herself of the same things she told her Club girls and gave her head a shake to dislodge the negative thoughts. Your roots may form you, but they do not define you. You are not less of a person because you lack the things most people have. Your worth as a person is not determined by what you have, but by who you are. When she talked to the girls, she was referencing money, social standing, academic success, the perfect body—the things teen girls usually stressed over. When she gave herself the pep talk, though, she was thinking of family.
The buzzer sounded again, followed a minute later by multiple voices calling out cheerful greetings. No more hiding. Kim left her room and joined the party.
Six people had arrived, an equal mix of men and women who had the same casual sophistication as Corrie, though two of the women had a sort of polished hippie look that Kim envied, knowing she lacked the fashion sense to be like them. Her coordinating abilities ended with slacks and blouses.
Three of the guests sat on the couch, paging through one of Corrie’s photo albums, while the others were filling their plates with snacks. Kim flashed a smile to the one person who acknowledged her presence, then walked to the kitchen to get herself a drink. She took her time so as not to look as harried and nervous as she felt, and sighed with a small smile when the intercom buzzed again. A bigger crowd meant easier hiding.
Corrie propped open the front door and returned to her conversation. Kim walked to the snack table and began to load a plate with some veggies and dip. She really wanted the chocolate chip cookies Corrie had baked the night before, but she wanted to make a good impression, and these folks looked like veggie people.
The next wave of guests entered, and instantly the party felt more like a party. More talking, louder calls of “Hello!” across the room, and, to Kim’s great relief, less sophisticated dress. The last one in shut the door behind himself and handed his scuffed leather jacket to Corrie as he greeted her. Kim couldn’t peel her eyes away from him.
He doesn’t seem to belong with these people any more than I do. Who is he?
The guest who had entered with Scuffed Leather Jacket introduced him to Corrie. Kim was too far away and the room too noisy for her to hear any of what they were saying, but Corrie, ever the gracious hostess, made the universal mi casa es su casa arm-sweep with a bright smile before carting the coats to her bedroom.
He stood with his hands half-jammed into his pockets and looked around the room. When his gaze neared Kim she ducked her head, though what she really wanted was to look him in the eye, smile and welcome him, and commiserate. When he appeared at her side, she almost couldn’t breathe.
“The snack table is my favorite place to hide at a party too,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was sympathizing or making fun of her. But his face, when she glanced over at him, was open and honest-looking. There was no twinkle of teasing in his green eyes nor the tug of a smirk at his lips. She laughed faintly and searched in vain for something clever to say.
“My name is Rick, by the way.”
“I’m Kim. Nice to meet you.”
“You too. How do you know, um…”
“Corrie?”
“Yeah, Corrie.”
“She’s my roommate.”
“Oh!” His face brightened. “Wow, this is your place?”
She slid her eyes back to her plate. “No. I wish. I just rent a room from her.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” He leaned in a little closer. “It’s a nice place, but not my style, you know? A little too…” He waved the hand that wasn’t holding a snack plate. “Calculated. Like those model homes that are so decorated it’s like walking into a design magazine.”
Kim looked around the living room, trying to see it through the eyes of a stranger. Corrie had added most of the room’s contents since Kim had moved in, so the change had been so gradual she hadn’t noticed the overall effect. “You know, you’re right.” She grinned. “I’ve never thought about it, but you’re right.” She swirled a carrot stick in a puddle of dip. “It’s not really my style, either, but I’ll take it over just having a room any day.”
“I’m sure you’ll have your own place someday.”
She laughed a little. “I hope so!”
They crunched on their respective vegetables in silence for a few minutes before Kim got up the courage to speak again. “So who did you come with?”
Rick pointed to the couch with a celery stick. “Guy I work with. Adam. I think he knows Corrie from college or something like that. Life has kinda sucked lately, so he invited me to cheer me up.”
“That’s a shame. I hope it works.”
“It already has.”
Kim felt her cheeks heat. She smothered the smile that stretched across her face with a long sip from her soda.
“That’s a really cool necklace.”
“Oh, thanks.” She pulled it along the chain a few times before patting it back into place. “I got it for my seventeenth birthday.”
He grinned. “How long ago was that?”
“Seven years ago—today.” She almost didn’t say it, but his attention was making her bolder. And it would take a lot of attention to spoil me, so I’m going to get it while I can.
“No way. It’s your birthday?” She giggled in response, instantly wincing inside at the childish sound. “So this is for you, then? This party?”
“Oh, no. Corrie doesn’t even know.”
“Your own roommate doesn’t know it’s your birthday?”
She shuffled a little. “Well, we’re not really friends, you know? I’ve only lived here a few months. I just found the room through an ad. We share space—that’s about it.”
Rick shook his head. “That’s just a shame. So all these people—just friends of Corrie’s?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re spending your birthday with a bunch of strangers. That’s just wrong. I feel like I need to go find you a cake or something.” She laughed. “No, I’m serious! Did you do anything special for your birthday? Did anyone acknowledge it?”
“Well—one person did.” She smiled, remembering her conversation with Patricia, the case worker who had shepherded her through the foster system for so many years. “But no, I didn’t do anything special. Just went to work like I usually do. But this—” she waved her hand towards the room full of people, “is more than I usually do. Birthdays weren’t a big deal when I was growing up.”
He didn’t ask why not, to her relief. But he asked plenty of other things, and eventually she reciprocated. Over time they migrated to the kitchen, and then to a couple dining room chairs in the corner. When Adam came to say he was ready to leave, Kim was stunned to see they’d talked for two hours.
“I’m really glad I came,” Rick said to Kim as he shrugged into his jacket. “I’m glad I met you.”
“I’m glad you came too.” Her mouth hurt from smiling so much, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I had a great time talking with you.”
“Do you think I could take you out for dinner sometime?”
Her heart nearly burst. “Yes, definitely, yes. I’d love that.”
Rick smiled and ran a hand through his blond bed head. “Great. I’ll call you this week, I promise.”
“HE’S TOTALLY NOT GOING TO CALL.”
Corrie laughed as she spread plastic wrap over the bowl of dip. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know—I just don’t think he will. I don’t have luck like that.”
“Maybe you will now.”
“Maybe.” Kim cinched the trash bag shut and pulled it free from the can. “But even if he doesn’t, it’s okay. I’ve never had that much fun talking to a guy before. No one’s ever even flirted with me before.” Memories of her unattractive teen years surfaced briefly but lacked the sting they usually held. Even thoughts of her life until now—nights alone, undeclared infatuations, awkward introversion—weren’t as painful. “I hardly knew what to do. But…” She trailed off, a smile still tugging at her lips, and carried the trash to the door. “If nothing else, it was a perfect way to spend an evening.” And a birthday.
TWO
“Joshua, Seth wants to see you in his office at four. Are you free?”
Joshua’s stomach dropped. “Yeah, I am, Amanda. Thanks.” He set the phone back into the cradle and ground his palms against his eyes. This couldn’t be happening.
Maybe it’s not. He sat up straighter, took a couple deep breaths. Don’t jump to conclusions. The spreadsheet on the monitor in front of him seemed to glow brighter than normal, and a low-level throb began in his temples. God, please, not my job too.
He still had an hour left before the meeting, and at least three hours’ worth of work waiting to be done. This was not the time for a pity party. He shook his head to clear away the wild thoughts that threatened to steal his concentration. Show them why they still need you.
He got back to work, diligence and fear driving his pace, and at 3:56 p.m. he set his shoulders back and walked down to Seth’s office.
Amanda sat at her desk, the phone clamped between ear and shoulder. She waved her hand towards the door, mouthing, “Go on in.” With a final fleeting prayer he pushed open the mahogany door and went inside.
Seth was standing at the window, looking out to the parking lot where snow was once again beginning to fall. Joshua closed the door and walked to a chair, but couldn’t bring himself to sit. He wanted to face his fate standing. He braced his hands on the back of the chair across from Seth’s desk and waited.
Seth’s eyes remained on the view. “You know, of course, about the financial struggles we’re having.”
Joshua smiled, though there was no humor in it. This kind of small talk didn’t bode well. “I wouldn’t be a very good accountant if I didn’t.”
“The board wants me to cut ten positions. With three of you down there in accounting—” He shook his head. “It’s killing me to do it, Joshua—I hope you never think for a minute I didn’t feel sick to my stomach over
this decision.”
Joshua nodded, though Seth couldn’t see, and felt the last flicker of hope die out. “Last hired, first fired, I know. I understand.”
When Seth faced him, Joshua saw the haggard look of a man haunted by the less-pleasant aspects of his position. His boss and friend closed the distance between them, and spoke quietly. “I’m not blind to how absolutely awful the timing of this is. I talked with the board and begged them for another few months, but…” He shrugged. Joshua knew enough of the organization’s worries to be able to end the sentence himself. “They actually wanted your position cut by the end of last year, but held back until now because of the…circumstances. But the budget—I’m sorry, Joshua. I really am.”
Seth’s compassion made Joshua’s heart ache almost more than the loss of his job. “I appreciate it, Seth. Really appreciate it. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost the job in December. It was a rough enough month without that to deal with.”
Seth nodded. “We haven’t had the chance to talk in a while. How’s Madeline doing these days?”
Joshua took a deep breath. “She’s doing about as well as expected for a four-year-old. Still dreams about Lara, though; those nights are…hard, to put it mildly. For both of us.” He took another breath as his composure wobbled. Keep yourself together, man. “My parents were here for a couple weeks last month and that helped. Hopefully this summer we’ll be able to go out there for a week or two. It gets hard being at the house all the time—all the memories—” His throat closed and he looked away, coughing to cover his emotional slip.
Seth grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “If there’s anything Beth and I can do…”
Joshua straightened and nodded. “Thanks. Just keep praying.” Seth nodded and closed his eyes, beseeching God aloud for mercy and blessings on behalf of Joshua and his daughter.
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