Times and Seasons

by Beverly LaHaye

  She sat Hannah up in front of her and tried to make her balance. The child raised her hands in excitement at her daddy’s face, apparently forgetting that she was making the effort. Tory balanced her on her little rump, sat her up, then tried to let her go. Always before, Hannah had gone limp and fallen back against her. But this time Tory could feel that there was a little muscle tone there, a little balance. Her heart rate quickened, and slowly she let Hannah go. Barry’s smile faded and his eyes widened as he saw what she was doing.

  Slowly Tory pulled her hands away. Hannah was sitting up on her own, waving her arms and laughing up at her daddy in the window!

  Tory held her breath as the child sat there for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds. Tory wanted to scream out that Hannah had done it, but she knew it would startle her. So she sat there, frozen, counting off the seconds.

  Finally, Hannah seemed to realize what she was doing, and wilted back against her mother. Tory snatched her up and let out a loud whoop. Everyone in the room turned around and Barry burst through the door.

  “She did it!” she said. “She sat up! Did anybody see her? She sat up! Barry, did you see it?”

  He came into the room and took Hannah from her, swung her around, and the baby laughed.

  “She did it!” he said. “That’s my girl!” They were both crying and laughing at the same time.

  Other mothers in the room cheered for Hannah and made their babies clap along with them. Joy danced in Tory’s eyes, until she saw the looks in the eyes of the mothers whose children were older, yet had not passed that milestone. She knew how it felt.

  But this was Hannah’s time. Her baby had sat up! That meant she was progressing, developing. Next, she would crawl—and then walk. Maybe there was hope. And as Barry clung to his youngest child, Tory threw her arms around his neck and hugged them both.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Eight

  Tory couldn’t wait to tell Brenda. She didn’t even go inside when she got home, just let Spencer and Brittany out and hurried over to the Dodds’s house. The wrecked minivan still sat in the driveway, along with the dented truck. She went to the door and gave a light knock, then stepped inside, carefully carrying Hannah.

  She found Brenda in the kitchen. “Brenda, you’ll never guess what she did. Hannah sat up by herself.”

  Eyes wide, Brenda clapped her hands. “Hannah, you’re such a big girl! You sat up for your mommy?”

  “It was so great,” Tory said. “Barry was there, and she was laughing and reaching up at him, and it was like she just forgot I was trying to make her do something. You know, sometimes I think she just doesn’t want to do it for me. Like she’s tired of the constant exercises and just doesn’t want to work. But today she forgot she was working.”

  “See? I told you she’d do it in her time. Relax, Tory. Hannah’s gonna be all right.”

  Tory let out a breath and looked down at the food covering the stove. “You’re cooking supper already?” she asked. “I don’t even know what I’m going to fix tonight. I was thinking pizza sounded good. I want to celebrate.”

  “I’m actually making this for Cathy,” Brenda said. “You know how it is. When you don’t know what else to do, make food.”

  Tory picked a cut cucumber out of a bowl and crunched on it. “I didn’t know what to do either. I thought of food, but didn’t know if she’d even feel like eating.” She shifted Hannah in her arms. “How do you do it, Brenda? How do you always know what to do?”

  Brenda dropped a fork in the pan and turned around to Tory. “I hate it when you make me out to be some kind of angel,” Brenda said. “I’m not like that at all, and you know it. We’re supposed to love our neighbors and that’s what I’m doing. Just trying to love my neighbor.”

  “I love her, but I don’t know whether to show up at her door or take her food or write her a card or visit Mark or what.”

  Brenda put aluminum foil over the fried chicken piled up on a platter and covered a Tupperware dish full of mashed potatoes and a little Cool Whip container of gravy. “You know what Sylvia would say. If you err, err on the side of too much food. It’s sustenance, energy. It’s also sometimes comfort.” She stacked another Cool Whip container of green beans and a bowl of corn on the cob. “Could you help me carry this over?”

  “Sure,” Tory said, shifting Hannah again. “Is she home?”

  “I don’t think so. I saw Annie and Rick drive up a little while ago. We’ll just leave the food.”

  “I’d love to tell her about Hannah,” Tory said. “I know she’d be excited. She knows what a step this is.”

  “You’ll have a chance soon. Cathy’s not the type to wallow in depression. If I know her, she’ll be over here laughing and praying with us again soon.”

  “I don’t know,” Tory said. “We haven’t watched Cathy deal with anything this serious. All the rules might change. The pain from our children’s hurts can really do us in. They can be downright debilitating.”

  “But God doesn’t leave us,” Brenda said, “and he won’t leave her. He’ll tell us what to do.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Nine

  Steve had struggled between anger and compassion all week long, and Wednesday as he sat in the visitation room at River Ranch, waiting for them to bring Mark to him, he told himself that he needed to go easy on the kid. By now, Mark was probably pretty shaken up at what his own actions had cost him.

  The door opened. Steve looked up and saw the guard standing a foot taller than the kid he ushered in. For a moment Steve didn’t recognize Mark. His lip was cut and swollen, and his head was shaved.

  Mark searched the room, then caught Steve’s eye. Steve saw the look of profound disappointment pass across his face. He got to his feet and reached out to shake Mark’s hand as the kid came closer.

  Mark ignored the outstretched hand and sat down. “They told me my dad was here.”

  Steve gave the guard a frustrated look. “I didn’t tell them I was your dad. I don’t know why they’d think that.” Steve put his elbows on the table. “So, how you doing, buddy?”

  Mark shrugged. “How do you think?”

  “Well, you don’t look so good. How’s the other guy look?”

  Mark didn’t find that amusing. “He looks just fine, okay? He’s had more experience than I have.”

  “I talked to one of the guards while I was waiting,” Steve said. “They said you threw the first punch.”

  “There’s only so much a person can take before he snaps.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Steve said.

  Mark looked surprised that Steve would agree with him. Suspicion narrowed his eyes.

  “What do you want from me?” Mark asked. “Why are you even here?”

  The sudden question surprised Steve. “I’m here because I care about you,” he said. “I don’t like to see what’s happening to you. You’re too good for this.”

  “You don’t think I’m good. You’re probably glad to get me out of the way.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Steve said. “I’d take your sentence myself to keep your mom from going through this.”

  “My mom? I’m the one going through it.”

  “Actually, she’s trapped in prison, too. She’s impacted by this more than you’ll ever know. I worry about her.”

  “You’re not even married to her yet. What are you trying to do? Score points with her or something?”

  Steve swallowed back the retort that flashed into his mind. “I love her, Mark. I can’t stand to see her heart breaking.”

  “My mom can stop this. She doesn’t have to leave me here. If her heart is broken, it’s her own fault.”

  “Wrong again, Mark. Your mom feels completely helpless. And you should have seen her when she came home last week, after you told her you hated her,” Steve said. “She doesn’t deserve that, Mark.”

  Their eyes locked and held each other off for several moments, and finally Mark looked away. “Well, thanks for this visit,�
� he said, getting to his feet. “Feel free to come any time, but next time don’t make them think you’re my dad.”

  Mark headed out of the room. Steve sat still for a moment until his heart rate settled. It was going to be a long year. And it was going to take every resource he had to get through it without doing any serious damage.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty

  The food that Brenda had brought over was a godsend. Cathy hadn’t thought as far ahead as supper, and now, as Rick and Annie sat down with her to eat, she wondered if any part of the day could be salvaged.

  It was getting warm in the house, but just before they sat to eat, Rick had opened all the windows and left the door to the garage open, as if they needed fresh air to blow out the cobwebs and the sadness from their home. They all ate in relative quiet. Finally, Annie spoke up.

  “This is the worst day I’ve ever had in my life.”

  Cathy tried to look interested, but Annie was prone to exaggerations and melodrama. “Any special reason?”

  “Yeah, a special reason,” Annie said. “The fact that my brother’s in prison.”

  “It’s not prison,” Cathy said. “Don’t call it that.”

  “Jail then,” Rick said.

  “It’s not that, either. It’s a correctional center. A school, really.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a lot better,” Annie said. “It was all over town. Everybody’s heard about it by now. Even at the church, that was all they could talk about.”

  When Annie had taken a job at the church helping with the summer day camps, Cathy had seen it as an act of God. The jobs were coveted, and the fact that they’d chosen Annie had given Cathy hope that the girl would enter a deeper level of commitment to God. Would Mark’s situation change all that?

  “Well, you’d better just get used to it,” Cathy said. “There’s no use hiding.”

  “They act like we’re convicts,” Rick said. “I had a date with Rebecca Farmer for Saturday night, and would you believe, her mother made her break it!”

  Cathy looked up. “Why?”

  “Because she found out about my brother and figured I was the same way. She told Rebecca she doesn’t want her going out with a druggie.”

  “A druggie?” Cathy said, throwing her fork down on her plate. “I have a good mind to call her myself and tell her that no one in this family is a druggie.”

  “It’s ruining our social lives, Mom.”

  Cathy sat back in her chair. “Well, I’m sure Mark is devastated to have a part in that, Annie. And if the judge had only known, I’m sure he would have given Mark a lighter sentence.”

  There it was again. The sarcasm. She didn’t know where it came from or why it seeped into her tone so quickly. She thought about being on her knees the other night and repenting and asking God to put her back on the vine. Why was it that she kept falling off?

  She rubbed her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just under a lot of stress right now, Annie, and I have a few more things to worry about than your social life.”

  “Hey, Mom, people kill themselves over their social lives, okay?”

  “Well, I’m just going to have to trust that you’re not planning to do that.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t care if I was.”

  Cathy got up from the table, trying to keep herself calm.

  “Annie, I don’t have the patience for your games right now.” She took her plate to the counter and left it in the sink. “Since you have so much energy to keep pounding me, why don’t you just clear the table when you’re finished and come do the dishes?”

  “Mom, that’s not fair,” Annie said. “Rick never has to do anything.”

  “Yes, I do,” Rick said. “I do more around here than anybody else does. Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

  “Don’t call me a jerk,” Annie said. “I’m sick of you calling me names. Mom, make him stop calling me names!”

  “Rick, why don’t you go out and mow the yard when you’re finished eating?”

  “Mow the yard? I just mowed it a few days ago.”

  “It grows,” Cathy said, and she threw her dish towel down and started out of the room.

  “What is it with you, anyway?” Rick demanded. “You’re acting like Annie and I are in jail ourselves. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “She’s not acting any different than she always does,” Annie pouted.

  “Annie, go to your room,” Cathy said.

  “How can I if I’m supposed to be doing the dishes?”

  Cathy was getting confused now. She brought her hand to her head. “Get up and do the dishes and then go to your room.”

  “Well, I’m still eating and so is Rick. I can’t very well take his plate from him when he’s still eating, can I?”

  “Annie, why don’t you shut up?” Rick asked. “You’re making it worse for both of us. She’s going to jump all over us no matter what we do.”

  “I don’t jump all over any of you. I respond to the things you say to me!” Cathy shouted.

  “Well, why don’t you just respond to somebody else!” Rick returned. “I’m sick of taking the heat for what everybody else does around here.”

  It was at that moment that the screen door flew open and Steve stepped inside.

  Cathy was startled. She hadn’t heard his car pull up, hadn’t known he was standing there listening to the exchange. “Steve, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Obviously,” he told her, “and neither did they.”

  “Oh, great! Here it comes,” Annie said. She got up and took her plate to the sink and turned on the water, as if to drown out whatever Steve might have to say.

  He just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor as if he had lots to say but was restraining himself.

  “I’m sorry you heard that,” Cathy said. “I lost my temper.”

  “No problem,” he said in a strained, quiet voice.

  She just stood there, looking at him, wondering if he was judging her, condemning her. She stepped outside with him and closed the screen door behind her. In the garage, she turned back to him with her hands on her hips. “So just say it. I’m a terrible mother because I talked to my kids that way.”

  “No, that’s not what I was thinking.”

  “What then?”

  “I was thinking that they shouldn’t talk to you that way. You’re their mother, not a paid servant. Not an equal. They’re supposed to respect you. All of them—Annie, Rick…and even Mark. But if you don’t require it of them, if you don’t expect it of them, then they’re not going to do it.”

  He started back out to his car.

  “Wait!” she said. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” he said. “If I go back in there, I’ll say something that won’t be constructive.” He got into his car and drove off.

  Feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her, Cathy went back in.

  “You know, Mom, I heard what he said out there,” Rick spoke up. “If you ask me, he’s gotten way too power-hungry. He’s not our father, and he has no right to tell you how to treat us.”

  “Go to your room,” Cathy said. “Now.”

  Annie just threw her hands up. “The dishes? Excuse me?”

  “I’ll do the dishes myself,” she said. “Go to your room, both of you. I don’t want to see you again until I tell you you can come out.”

  The kids scurried off as if they were getting away with something, instead of taking punishment. As Cathy began to clean the kitchen, she felt as if she had failed again.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-One

  Steve was pensive and still nursing his anger when he picked up Tracy from her friend’s house that afternoon. He fixed them a light supper and tried to pay close attention as the little girl rambled about her day, and all the friends who had done silly things, and the way Matthew Rutledge had made fun of Susan Murphy until everyone on the playground had been cracking up. It all seemed so simple, he thought, when he listened to T
racy talk about her grade school problems and her friends who were too young to break their parents’ hearts.

  He realized that he and Tracy had it pretty easy. Yes, they had had trauma in their lives when his wife died of cancer. It was the worst two years of his life, but they had come through it together.

  That night, he sat on her bed, brushing out her braids and thinking how precious she was to him. What would it be like when they were all living together as a family? Cathy’s three kids and Tracy. Some part of him felt as if he was sacrificing his own child on the altar of that family life. That instead of her children becoming more respectful and better behaved, Tracy would be the one to decline.

  “Daddy, why did Mark have to go to jail?”

  He brushed her hair and stroked the silkiness of it, wondering how much longer she’d let him do this. “He’s not really in jail, honey. He’s kind of in a home. It’s a place where they’re going to teach him not to do the things he did.”

  “I already know what he did, Daddy,” Tracy said. “He took drugs and he sold them to somebody.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “I heard everybody talking at the shower after the policeman came. And then Annie told me. Why do people take drugs if they’re going to go to jail for it?”

  He didn’t know how to explain to his child that not everyone went to jail, that only the ones who got caught did, that many, many others got away with the act to the detriment of their own bodies. He hated for his daughter to be exposed to such things. Would there be any preventing it, once he and Cathy got married?

  “I don’t know, honey. Sometimes people do pretty stupid things.”

  “Are you still going to marry Miss Cathy?”

  “I hope so,” he said.

  “I want you to,” Tracy whispered. She crawled under her covers and lay flat on her back, looking up at her dad. “She’s really sad right now, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she’s worried about her son.”

  “I don’t like for her to feel like that,” Tracy said.