“You look tired, Andrew,” Kara said with concern. “Is everything all right?”
Andrew glanced around the room and asked where Ronnie was.
Kara paused to listen to the soft sounds of the television coming from the bedroom. “In the other room watching cartoons. We can talk.”
Andrew clasped his hands together and looked at his mother through weary eyes. “It’s about Kevin.” He snorted and said, “Course, who else would it be about? He asked to—well, no, it was more of a demand—to see Ronnie once a month. Can you believe the gall of him to ask such a thing?”
“But he can’t—”
“I know he can’t, and I told him. And boy, did I tell him. Made him mad, of course, but I wasn’t going to let his hateful stares and balled fists push me around…not like he did to Ronnie. Mom, I swear—”
“Don’t say that. I know you love Ronnie, just like I know you’ll take good care of him. Ronnie knows that too. I can see it on his face that he feels safe around you.”
Andrew could feel his blood pressure rising. “It isn’t just about that. Mom, you don’t understand. I wanted to hit Kevin. I’m talking about a full one-two punch in the face. I wanted revenge. A scar he could remember for life every time he looked in the mirror. I know he’s your son too, Mom, and he’s my brother, but do you ever just find yourself…I don’t know, almost hating someone?”
Kara looked away and fingered the delicate indentions of flower petals around the handle of her empty coffee cup. “I still have to love him, Andrew,” she said quietly. “I can’t hate him. I may disagree with him—”
“Oh, definitely that.”
“—and it may turn to anger, but never to hate. A mother can never hate her son.”
Andrew rubbed the palms of his hands together and said almost hesitantly, “I know in the Bible Jesus commands me to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me, but what about the people who persecute my family? A child? Is He saying to forgive them and pray for them too? I try my hardest, but I can’t make that fit.”
His mother was silent, so he took it to be a yes.
Andrew studied the beige carpet between his shoes, unwilling to accept a response like that this soon. “I guess I know what the answer is, but it’s still hard. I can’t look into Ronnie’s eyes without seeing years of hurt and abuse there. Sometimes, I honestly don’t know if I can ever forgive Kevin for what he did.”
Kara thought for a moment. “Do you mind if I read you something I read in the Bible yesterday?”
Andrew winced. “Is it gonna make me feel like a jerk?”
Kara smiled. “Probably, but that’s OK. Good stuff to build on.” She picked up her worn, leather-bound Bible and turned to Romans chapter 12. “Repay no one evil for evil. Have regard for good things in the sight of all men. If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.”
“Notice Paul says, ‘If it is possible,’” Andrew pointed out.
“True, but you have to at least put forth an effort first and try. After that, if Kevin still refuses to be peaceable, at least you know you’ve done what’s right and that’s all God requires. The verse goes on to say, ‘Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. Therefore, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink; for in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.’”
She closed her Bible and stared at Andrew, his face partially darkened by the shadowy lines of her staircase. “Andrew, no matter what you feel in your heart, no matter what situation you’re put through, you can’t make exceptions for God’s Word. If Jesus tells us to forgive, we forgive. He never tells us to trust that person again or make ourselves vulnerable to their attacks. He only tells us to forgive. Release Kevin from what he’s done. I’m not saying you have to trust him or open yourself up to more hurt, but release him. That way you’ve done your part, and by doing so, have untied God’s hands so He can begin to bring healing.”
Andrew nodded and massaged the back of his sore neck. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“God’s right. He always is. I’ve had your same struggle too, Andrew. You’re not alone. But when I turn to God and not to my anger, somehow the peace God instructs me to give comes naturally when I’m willing to listen and obey Him.”
Andrew turned his head as a shadow crept along the wall and saw Ronnie.
“You’re back!” Ronnie exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his uncle. “You got my toys?”
Andrew smiled. “Everything. I also stopped by the grocery store on my way home and picked up some vanilla ice cream and lots of bananas. You know what that means, right?”
“Banana smoothie!” Ronnie shouted. He reached for his uncle’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on before the ice cream melts!”
Andrew waved to his mom as Ronnie tugged him toward the door. “I’m being taken prisoner, but I’ll see if I can sneak a phone call to you tomorrow!”
“Don’t wear yourself out!” Kara called after him.
“I won’t!” Ronnie said.
“I was talking to your uncle!” Kara said, now laughing.
Andrew barely pulled the door shut behind him before being dragged down the porch steps. He felt so incredibly blessed to have Ronnie and his mother filling his life with joy at times he needed it the most.
Drake sat up suddenly, fully awakened by the jarring sound of a jackhammer breaking up concrete some fifty yards away from his truck. He blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the light, his heart still racing to keep time with the jackhammer. Why was he surprised he had a headache? If it wasn’t caused by his dad, it would be from that idiot across the street. He lazily raised his arm to check the time on his watch.
The library had been open for nearly two hours now! Drake hurriedly pressed down his uncombed hair, shoved his keys in his pocket, and flung the truck door open. He had expected some emotion, but he was completely taken off guard by the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t found a single thing out yet, and already he felt sick.
Drake found an unoccupied computer next to the wall and jiggled the mouse to wake up the screen. He breathed slowly through his nose and ran his thoughts one last time through his mind. Here we go, pal.
He moved the pointer to one of the search engines at the top of the Web page. He decided to use the hunt-and-peck method for typing Stephanie Pearson, Missouri for fear that the memory of anything beyond home-row keys would fail him. He hit the enter button and waited as the computer loaded the search results.
Fifty-two thousand, three hundred results. What? He quickly scanned down the list of web links. Stephanie Pearson’s new ocean drilling program…find Stephanie Pearson, age 15, on MySpace…breakthrough made in new stem-cell research…Stephanie’s recipe book… He let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. Not even two minutes in front of the computer screen, and already he had run smack into a brick wall. I can’t go through all these. I gotta be more specific.
He sat drumming his fingers lightly against the keys, wondering what he should type that would help narrow his search to a number preferably in the hundreds. Looking for mom who left me twelve years ago? Man, what am I supposed to type? I don’t even know where she lives or if her last name’s changed by now. Drake didn’t know his mom’s exact age and definitely had no clue as to what her maiden name was. He was literally left with nothing to go on and no one to turn to. He sure couldn’t rely on his dad for any help—that would be a joke. His situation suddenly seemed doomed to failure, and made him realize how foolish he had been for believing he could actually find information on someone he hardly knew anything about. But if I don’t try—even if I have to go through every one of these fifty-two thousand links—I’ll never forgive myself.
Drake cleared the search and retyped Stephanie and Ben Pearson Linhurst Peak
Missouri. Even though she no longer lived here and his dad was out of her life, it was all he had to work with. He had nothing else.
The page popped up almost instantly. Drake could feel the air escaping from his lungs. The first link captivated him, and for the longest time, he could do nothing but stare at the title. The Stephanie Pearson trial. With trembling hands still on the mouse, Drake leaned closer to the computer screen and read the small type beneath the headline. Court rules death by drowning on November 14, 1997, an accident due to a sleeping disorder. Though there was substantial convicting evidence presented in the autopsy report, Ben Pearson was found innocent after presenting…
Drake felt as if his mind was shutting down. The room, the lights, the voices…everything began fading into a silent, distorted haze.
The headline drew his eyes in again. This must be talking about his mom, because there was his dad’s name directly beneath it. Then that means she’s…
Leaving the Web page up, Drake darted outside to his truck and tore through his bag for his mom’s journal. He knew what he would find, yet he opened it anyway and frantically turned to the last written page.
Drake clamped a hand over his mouth as a surge of acidic vomit inflamed his throat. No, it’s a lie. It has to be wrong. He let the journal slip from his grasp and fall to the floor as he covered his face in his hands and sobbed.
In the top left corner, slightly smeared by blue ink, was the date November 14, 1997.
Ronnie slurped the last of his melted smoothie through his straw and dramatically patted his stomach. “I’m so full, I feel like I could bust!”
Andrew poked at a banana clump with his straw and decided he wouldn’t try to finish his. “Oh, you are, are you?” he said casually. “Then you’re probably too tired to help me get your toys out of the car and—”
“No, wait! I can do that! I’m not so full I can’t walk.”
Andrew stood and took their glasses to the sink. “All right, then. Follow me.”
Ronnie was overjoyed to discover that his uncle hadn’t forgotten a single item. He busied himself by lining up his stuffed animals against the wall as Andrew lugged in the heavier things.
“No, I want my toy box over there, next to the giraffe,” Ronnie said as he stood on his bed, ordering his uncle all over his room every time he changed his mind about something. He gave him a thumbs-up when the last item was set in place. “Perfect.”
Andrew wiped his forehead and sat beside Ronnie on the edge of the bed, bowing the mattress with his weight. “And we’re done.”
“You’re sweaty,” Ronnie said, as if that weren’t already a well-known reality to Andrew.
Andrew looked down at his wet shirt and sucked in another deep breath of air. “Thanks to you. Do you mind?”
“As long as you don’t smell,” Ronnie said, flashing him a cautioning look.
Andrew laughed out loud. “Thank you for your bluntness.”
“I don’t know what bluntness means, but you’re welcome anyway.”
Andrew gazed around the room and guessed it to be almost twice the size of Ronnie’s old bedroom. “Wait…one thing’s missing.”
Ronnie looked around him, confused. “What?”
Andrew pulled out a container of colorful thumbtacks from his pocket. “Your puzzles. Don’t tell me you’re going to keep them under your bed where no one can see them. You ought to cover the walls with them.”
Ronnie looked stunned. “You mean you’ll let me do that? Poke holes in the wall?”
Andrew pulled out a puzzle of an underwater scene and held it out in front of him. “I think these masterpieces deserve to be seen.”
Ronnie smiled sheepishly and threw his arms around his uncle. “Thanks, Uncle Andy. Here, let me help.”
Andrew hung all six puzzles, letting Ronnie once again decide for himself where each one would go. “Now the room’s complete. Like it?”
Ronnie nodded. “A lot. It’s really big too. Bigger than my other room was.”
Andrew sat down beside Ronnie again and said, “Do you know what tomorrow is, Ronnie?”
Ronnie stared up at the ceiling as he thought. “Wednesday? Because today’s Tuesday, right?”
“Yes. Wednesday is a church day. Have you ever been to church?”
“A little. Sometimes Daddy and Mommy would take me at Christmas to watch a play.” Ronnie’s voice cracked slightly at the mention of his parents. He wasn’t sure if that scar would ever leave his life. He looked up at Andrew and said, “Are they having a play tomorrow at your church?”
Andrew chuckled and shook his head. “No.”
“Then why are you going? I thought that’s why people go. That’s why Daddy and Mommy went.”
“Well, you see, Ronnie, church is where we go to learn about Jesus and sing songs to Him. It’s a place where we go so we can get close to God and hear about the Bible. It’s important that we go to church.”
Ronnie nodded his head, even though he still didn’t quite understand. “How come?”
“Because Jesus loves us. Do you know that?”
Ronnie shrugged. The only love he had ever felt in his life came from the one sitting beside him now. As far as he knew, no other form of love existed. “Why do you love Jesus, Uncle Andy? Did He do something for you?”
Andrew tried not to appear disappointed. Oh, Ronnie. If you only knew.
Drake still tasted vomit. Still felt the anesthetic of shock. He had his hands on the steering wheel like he was going to strangle it. Someone was not going to be happy to know he had found out. Everything.
Drake hit the brakes midway into his driveway and let the screeching sound be the only warning. As he jumped out of his truck and banged the door shut behind him, he realized he was still shaking.
You’re dead. Nothin’ but a dirty liar. Drake felt sick again and gripped his stomach. A mass of emotions was about to send him over the edge. Every step forward felt like electricity. You’re dead, old man. Your secret’s finally come out.
Rain pelted against Drake’s light jacket as he took the stairs with heavy, crushing steps. He tried the screen door and found it locked. He slapped the palms of his hands against the cheap glass and yelled, “Let me in! We need to talk!”
The lights were all off, but Drake could vaguely make out a large figure moving toward the door at a snail’s pace. “Hurry up!” he shouted, striking the door harder. He heard several screen doors creaking open across the street and knew he had attracted an audience. Well, if they wanted a show, then they might as well pull out the lawn chairs now and start the popcorn, because Drake was about to give the whole neighborhood the shock of its life.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” Ben yelled back. He was wearing a ratty pair of blue-jean shorts and had a shirt draped over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you, Drake? You high or somethin’?”
“Why did you lie to me?” Drake said strictly, forcing his way inside.
“Leave me alone. I’m going out.”
Drake blocked the door. “Don’t think you’re going to run off to get drunk somewhere before explaining to me why you lied about Mom!”
“I don’t know what you took last night or where you got it from, but it’ll probably wear off in a few hours, so I suggest you go to bed before the migraine starts,” Ben said indifferently, still thinking his son to be drunk from too much beer.
Drake refused to budge. “Why did you kill her?”
Ben spun around. He said nothing, but his stunned face said all Drake needed to know. “Your theatrics are getting old, Drake. Like I said, go to bed.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Drake pressed, his voice still raised. “I read it online. Her drowning, her trial, and how you tried to cover it up!”
Ben felt the breath drain out of him. He swallowed and looked away.
“Oh, but I wasn’t supposed to know, was I?” Drake said coldly, his hands trembling to hit something. “It was my fault. She left because of me. Wasn’t that
the story?” He swatted the lamp to the left of him onto the ground just to hear it shatter.
“Breaking everything in this house isn’t gonna change things!”
“Then what’s it gonna take?! What’s it gonna take to penetrate through those stone layers of your skull?”
“Out!” Ben yelled, pointing his finger to the door. “If this is what I can expect of you being out of school now, you can go. I’m not gonna waste time and money supporting you anymore.”
“I’m not done talking.”
“Well, I’m done listening.”
“No, you’re gonna listen. You drowned the only person who cared anything about—”
“All right! So you found out she died! But before you go accusin’ me of somethin’, it might interest you to know that she—”
“I know she had a sleeping disorder!” Drake interrupted. “Narcolepsy. I read it in her journal.”
“Well, there you go. That’s how she drowned. Every time it hit her, she just conked out and stayed asleep for up to half an hour sometimes. I found her like that in the bathtub at the hotel, but I never told you because I wanted to protect you.”
Drake made himself laugh despite his rage. “Protect me? Protect me? You mean protect yourself. When the matter went to court, all you had to do was show the judge Mom’s doctor reports, and you were a free man. I read all that online too. Probably even had to buy a bottle of eye drops to put in your eyes so your tears would look believable to the jury.”
“That’s a lie!”
“This is the same old story you told the jury twelve years ago, isn’t it? Isn’t it?! Just say it! I want to hear you admit—”
“Enough! Get out of my house!”
“I’m not listening to you anymore,” Drake said through clenched teeth. “You’ve kept me blind for too long, and I’m not gonna take it anymore.”
Broken Identity Page 5