Tessa (From Fear to Faith)

by Melissa Wiltrout

  I settled on the couch and pulled a magazine from the rack. After last night’s bad dreams, I wasn’t eager to go to bed. Maybe if Patty saw me out here, she would stop and talk to me.

  In a few minutes, Patty emerged from her bedroom, carrying an empty mug. Sadie followed at her heels.

  “Why Tessa, aren’t you in bed yet?”

  “It’s dark and lonely out there,” I protested.

  Patty went to the back door and let Sadie out, then returned to the living room. “Tell you what. You go get in bed, and I’ll come in a few minutes and say goodnight. How’s that?”

  “All right.” I tried to hide the little smile that sprang to my lips. Everyone would say I was too old for that kind of attention, but Patty was a grandma. Maybe grandmas did things like this.

  When Patty came, she tucked me into bed the way Mom used to. Then she asked God to give me a good sleep and keep the nightmares away. “Goodnight, I love you,” she finished. Turning out the light, she went softly away.

  I lay still, unwilling to move lest I break the wonderful spell she had cast. Inside I felt peace and a deep contentment that I hadn’t felt in years. I wanted to stay awake and savor it, but the warm bed made me drowsy. Soon I drifted into sleep.

  26

  The insistent ringing of the telephone jolted me awake. It couldn’t be Mom again, could it? I rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall, rubbing my eyes. Patty stood talking on the kitchen phone. She was barefoot and held a wet toothbrush in her free hand.

  “We’ll work something out,” she was saying. “No, it’s okay, really. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” She hung up.

  “What was that?” I demanded. By now Tom had appeared in his pajamas to see what the stir was.

  “That was Julie. It seems she left the hospital and was going through State Street intersection when she got broadsided by somebody running the red light. She isn’t hurt, but her car’s in pretty bad shape. She asked if we could drive her home.”

  “Sure, why not,” Tom drawled. “We are the late-night emergency crew nowadays. I guess I’d better get dressed again.”

  I slipped off to my room without a word. Fear clawed at my throat. Why was everything going wrong? My hands shook as I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Tom and Patty might disapprove, but I had to see Mom.

  I met Patty at the back closet, buttoning her coat. I ducked behind her and grabbed mine off the hook. She turned in surprise. “Why Tessa, you don’t have to come.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m used to staying up until midnight,” I said. “I can even drive if you like.”

  Patty raised her eyebrows. “You can drive? You don’t have a license, do you?”

  “Well, no.”

  Tom appeared then in his red flannel shirt and jeans. Together the three of us trudged out into the cold and piled into Tom’s SUV. Tom drove.

  Mom had called a tow truck and then hitched a ride to the 24-hour convenience store on Park Avenue, where she’d told Patty to pick her up. When we arrived, the parking lot was deserted. Tom pulled into the space nearest the door and tapped the horn.

  Mom hobbled outside. “Thanks so much,” she said, as she opened the rear door and got in. “I could’ve gotten the tow guy to give me a ride home, but I didn’t like the looks of him.” Then she turned her attention to me. “Tessa! What’re you doing here?”

  On impulse, I fished in my pocket and handed her the key to the Impala. “Here. Might as well give this to you before I forget.”

  Her face broke into a tired smile. “Tess, you’re amazing. A real lifesaver.”

  My cheeks warmed with the unusual praise. “Yeah. I even offered to drive, but Patty doesn’t trust me.”

  “You brat,” she scolded playfully. “You’re gonna ruin my good reputation yet. What else are you telling them?”

  “Oh, I told Heather all about Genevieve, and how much fun she had the night she ran loose in my room.”

  “Oh brother. That explains why your room still smells.”

  I laughed, and the conversation ended. We rode along in silence for several minutes.

  “Well, this does it,” Mom said then. “Tomorrow I’ll have to figure out how to get me another car. Of course, there’s the old Impala,” she added, as if she’d just thought of it. “It probably still runs. But I’d have to get out there somehow. Even if I could walk, which I can’t, it would take me like . . . two hours?” She glanced at me for confirmation.

  “Yeah, probably.” Worry tugged at my mind. Why was Mom talking so freely around Tom and Patty?

  Mom was silent for a while. Then she leaned forward. “Sorry to impose on your kindness, Mr. Erickson, but could you drop me off at my brother-in-law’s place instead? We’ve got an old car we keep there.”

  My heart lurched. She wouldn’t!

  “Where is the place?” Tom asked.

  “It’s only a couple of extra miles.”

  “I suppose. How do I get there?”

  My anxiety diminished as I realized Mom was taking Tom to the farmhouse the back way. By going in through the field and parking behind the outbuildings, she would disguise both the location and the deplorable condition of the place. Tom would assume it was just another farm. The plan was daring, but with a little luck, it would probably work.

  A few miles past Vance Road, we turned left. Dirt replaced the blacktop as the road narrowed and began to wind along the base of a high ridge. The surrounding land was mostly wooded, with an occasional isolated farmstead. Every now and then the road widened out to form a Y.

  “Your brother-in-law lives way out here?” Tom queried.

  “No, but he’s got a cabin of sorts.” Mom’s voice was too sharp. “There’s the driveway, on your left.”

  Tom slammed on the brakes and made the tight turn. The narrow field lane might have indeed passed for a driveway if it weren’t for the two inches of fresh snow obscuring the wheel tracks. Tom drove slowly, rolling over bumps and slipping into ruts. To our right lay a snow-covered cornfield; to our left, a brushy woods.

  “Don’t get stuck,” Patty warned, as the vehicle began to climb a slight incline. I nodded in silent assent. Even Walter’s three-quarter-ton pickup had gotten stuck out here a few times.

  Rounding the corner at the end of the field, Tom nearly collided with a rusty combine smothered in a tangle of vines and brush.

  “Oh, that thing,” I said.

  Mom turned toward me so sharply I could almost hear her reprimand. I’m running this thing. Don’t ruin it. Then she leaned close to the side window to watch for the turnoff.

  “Okay, hold it. Turn left right here.”

  The SUV jolted to a stop. “Right where? This is getting crazy, Julie.”

  “Right between those trees. There’s a gate, see?”

  I nearly choked. Anybody could see the barbed wire had been cut.

  Tom sounded skeptical. “It’s how much farther to this place?”

  “Oh, maybe an eighth mile.”

  “I’m holding you to that.” Tom turned the steering wheel and proceeded through the narrow opening onto the next property. He drove slowly, following a faint trail that wound between patches of sumac. At length the headlights shone upon a group of dilapidated buildings.

  I was so nervous I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. This was it. If anything went wrong now, we’d be in huge trouble.

  “There’s the car,” Mom said, indicating a snow-covered shape next to a low shed.

  Tom pulled up alongside it. “So, you guys actually own this car, Julie?”

  “Of course we do. I hope you didn’t think I was stealing it.” Mom gave a quick laugh.

  A brief, awkward silence followed.

  “Oh come on,” she groaned. “Don’t you trust me at all?�
�� She tugged a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and thrust it at Tom. “Look.”

  Tom flipped on the dome light. I craned my neck until I could make out the heading on the envelope-sized paper. It was the registration for the Impala.

  “Okay.” Tom sounded satisfied. “Will the thing start? I didn’t bring my jumper cables.”

  Mom tucked the paper back into her pocket and opened the door. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe you could stay a minute until I get it going.”

  “I know how to start it,” I said.

  “Will you shut up?” Mom slammed the door and began to brush the snow off the white car with her mittens. I hunched in my seat and wished I were back at Tom and Patty’s, asleep. This trip had turned into a lot more than I’d bargained for.

  The old car cranked slowly, but at last it roared to life. Mom lifted her hand in a gesture I took to mean “thanks and goodbye,” then pulled a scraper from the back seat and began to chip ice from the windows.

  “I guess we can go,” I said. “You just sort of turn around and go out the way we came.”

  “So where does your uncle live?” Tom asked, after we’d made it back onto the road.

  “My uncle?” I tried to think where he’d gotten that idea.

  “Wouldn’t your mom’s brother-in-law be your uncle?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess so.” I tried to remember what Mom had said about this imaginary relative on the way there. “I wanna say Chicago, but I’m not real sure. He moves around quite a bit.”

  “And he comes up here to go hunting or something?”

  “Yeah. In the fall.”

  “What does he do the rest of the time?”

  “Go left here,” I directed, as we came to the first branch in the road. “I don’t know what he does. Why?”

  “Just curious,” Tom said, and dropped the subject.

  It was past two by the time we returned to the house. I quickly got ready for bed. Then I slipped out to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the way back to my room, I heard talking in Tom and Patty’s bedroom. I paused outside their door.

  “You see what I mean,” Patty was saying. “That Julie is a con artist, or worse. This is the last time I’m doing anything for her.”

  “Yes, she’s quite a character,” Tom agreed. “But I think I’m too tired to figure it out tonight.”

  Then the lights went out, and I heard them get into bed. “Oh Lord,” Patty prayed. “Please, let us sleep the rest of the night. No more car accidents, nightmares, and doorbells.”

  “Amen,” murmured Tom.

  I could not dismiss my worries as easily as Tom had. I lay wide awake for at least another hour. Why had Mom taken such a foolish chance? Wouldn’t it have been better to walk the two hours – even with a bruised leg? Maybe the whole incident had been some kind of setup, some plan to get out to the farmhouse without being followed. Maybe she was going to load the car with meth, then split for the Twin Cities or someplace and sell it.

  Round and round my mind went, each possibility crazier and more frightening, until at last, exhausted, I sank into a restless sleep.

  27

  The remainder of the week passed without event. I had to laugh at myself for imagining so many awful scenarios, although I wondered if Walter’s accident had played a part in preventing them. Mom picked me up for school every morning and dropped me off again in the afternoon like clockwork. She deflected questions such as how long I’d be staying with Tom and Patty, but she did keep me abreast of Walter’s condition. He was doing well and would be coming home on the weekend, she said.

  I didn’t dare ask, but I hoped Mom would continue to let me stay with Tom and Patty. I felt safe with them. Sure, they had rules, some of which were stricter than Mom’s. I had to go to bed by ten thirty, and there was no watching TV or videos unless all my homework was done.

  But Heather’s companionship more than made up for the annoying rules. She played CDs for me while we did the dishes, kept me company as I struggled with my never-ending barrage of homework, and even gave me one of her hand-crocheted pillows for my bed.

  “I always wanted a sister,” she confided one evening, after trying to explain for the third time why adding two negative numbers would not give me a positive. “So this is actually kind of fun for me.”

  Patty welcomed me in her own way, whether it was buying a nightlight for my room or inviting me to help make muffins for supper. At bedtime, she would tuck me in and pray for me. Afterwards, she’d often stay a few minutes and talk to me about God. I didn’t follow everything she said, but I did notice I wasn’t having nightmares anymore. Could it be that God was looking out for me like she said? It seemed preposterous, but I had no other explanation for my calm nights.

  Saturday morning I slept in until ten o’clock, the way I always did. As far as I knew, everyone slept in on the weekend. To my surprise, when I got up I found the breakfast table cleared and the dishes already washed. Heather sat at the table in a patch of sunshine, working on a pen sketch of Sadie.

  “Hey, you’re pretty good,” I complimented her. “Did you leave me anything to eat?”

  “There was a bowl of oatmeal for you. Grandma must have put it in the fridge.”

  “Oatmeal.” I made a face. I’d been hoping for pancakes again.

  Heather’s pen made short, fast streaks as she filled in Sadie’s thick ruff. “Yup. It’s good for you.”

  I made a growling sound. “If I eat oatmeal one more day, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Heather chuckled. “Nah. You’ll get used to it. You’re just spoiled.”

  “I am not.”

  Heather shrugged. Picking up a different pen, she began to add in the finer details on the face.

  Spoiled, my foot. Bet she wouldn’t survive even one night at Walter’s farmhouse. I pulled a box of raisin bran from the pantry and poured myself a bowl.

  Heather glanced up from her dog portrait. “See, you are spoiled.”

  “Shut up.” I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.

  “Fine. Next time I’m not making you anything. You don’t show up for breakfast anyway.”

  “I never asked you to make me anything! And by the way, I can sleep as late as I want, and you don’t have anything to say about it.”

  Heather stood up. “You know what? You’re a brat. A spoiled, lazy brat. I hope your mom comes and gets you pretty soon.”

  “And you’re little Miss Perfect, huh? You’re nothing but a smart aleck and a showoff.”

  “Girls, girls,” Patty chided from the living room.

  Heather shoved her chair into place and grabbed her unfinished drawing.

  “Not gonna argue it, huh?” I said.

  Heather spun around, her face red. “I’m not gonna argue with you because it’s a sin!” She stomped into the bathroom.

  “I don’t care!” I fired after her, as the door slammed. Man, was Heather in a bad mood this morning, picking a fight with me like that. Oh well, at least I could enjoy my breakfast in peace now.

  But a peaceful breakfast was not to be that day. About the time my flakes lost their crunch, the phone rang. Patty answered in the living room. “Tessa, it’s your mom.”

  I groaned as I reached for the kitchen phone. “Yeah?”

  “Can you be packed and ready to leave in half an hour?”

  My head spun. “Uh . . . I suppose.”

  “Good. I’ll be over to pick you up. We have a lot of work to do before Walter comes home.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye.

  “What did she want?” asked Heather, appearing from the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

  “None of your business, nosy.” I upended my bowl and gulped down the remaining milk and cereal. Then I hurried down the hall to my
makeshift bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Angry thoughts tumbled through my mind.

  Leave it to Mom to do this to me. Why couldn’t she have said something yesterday, when any other decent person would’ve mentioned it? But no, she had to keep me hoping til the last second, then drop the bomb and whisk me away before I could protest.

  I seized one of the black trash bags and began shoving clothes into it so violently that it tore. The stupid, cheap bag! I kicked it, punching another hole in the side.

  “Tessa! What’s going on?” Patty poked her head around the door.

  “Nothing. Mom’s coming to get me.” I continued stuffing clothes into the bag as fast as I could.

  Patty walked in and sat down on the unmade bed. “I thought that might be it. Need help packing?”

  “No, I’ve about got it.” I kept my back to her as I dumped the box that held my dirty clothes into the second black bag.

  “We’re going to miss you.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Why are you so upset?”

  “I’m not upset. I’m in a hurry.”

  Patty walked over to where I stood at the chest freezer, pretending to examine a hole in one of my socks. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Tessa, do you know why we care about you?”

  I shook my head and stared harder at the torn sock.

  “Because God cares about you. You’re so very precious to him. He made you. He loves you deeply, and he causes us to love you too.”

  I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. My throat felt like it had a block of wood stuck in it.

  “I wish you could stay here longer because I know you’re hungry for love. It’s harder to believe God loves you when the people around you don’t love. But if you’ll open your heart to God’s love, he promises to come and satisfy that deep longing inside of you in a way no one else can.”

  The tears were coming faster than I could blink them away. Whatever she was talking about, something inside me desperately wanted it.