The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  “Sadly, yes.”

  She pulled the rental car to the back of the building, parking it alongside the passenger van. “I volunteered you as manual labor to Tabitha in exchange for room and board. You’ll be painting the garage.”

  Jessie laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, maybe not. She did say plenty of things needed to be done, so you could either help me in the kitchen or tackle her To Do list.”

  “I don’t have your cooking skills.”

  “I’m sure if you really tried—” Savannah stopped herself as Jessie’s face clouded. “I mean, if you were interested, I’m sure you’d do great. I’d love to teach you what I know. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay, too.”

  Jessie raised an eyebrow, looking wary. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessie nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  They brought their bags into the house. The doors to the group therapy room were closed, a meeting likely in session. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find Tabitha.”

  She went to Tabitha’s office, but she wasn’t there. An envelope with her name on it sat in the middle of the empty desk, however.

  Welcome back! You and Jessie are in rooms 3 and 5. I’m off campus until 3, but will come find you when I’m back. I have a proposition for you.

  Tabs

  Savannah folded the letter and put it in her pocket. A proposition? That sounded intriguing.

  She led Jessie upstairs, then took possession of her old room. She unpacked, then went to Jessie’s room to see if she needed anything. She’d put her things away already and was sitting at the window seat with a ball of green yarn and a few inches of a project hanging off the end of a red crochet hook. Savannah gaped. “You crochet? Since when?”

  Jessie looked sheepish. “Adam’s mom taught me.”

  Savannah took a breath. “Ah.” Then she smiled. “Will you teach me?”

  Jessie grinned. “Seriously?”

  “I’ve never tried anything like that. But I’d like to learn.”

  “I thought you hated doing crafty stuff like this.”

  “Well, yes, I did. I think because that kind of thing was always foisted on me by my mother, as though I couldn’t possibly be a proper woman if I didn’t know how to make things by hand. But I’ll bet it’s relaxing.”

  “When I don’t forget how to do a stitch, yes.”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, I definitely want to try.”

  “I’m not that good,” Jessie said. “I only know how to do a few stitches.”

  “That’s more than I can do.”

  “I have a hook you can use, but we’ll have to get you some yarn. Think there’s a store around here?”

  “We’ll ask Tabitha. I’m sure she’ll know.”

  “My ears are burning.” Tabitha poked her head into the room. “Did I just hear my name?”

  “You did. We need yarn.”

  “There’s a great place twenty minutes from here. We’ll take a field trip.” She extended a hand to Jessie. “I’m Tabitha. I’m so happy to finally get to meet you, Jessie.”

  “Thanks, Tabitha. And thanks for letting me come.”

  “Of course, of course. Folks are hanging out in the common room at the moment. Feel free to stay here or go down and mingle. I’d like to talk to your mother for a minute, though, if that’s alright.”

  Jessie nodded, picking up her yarn. “I’ll go down and see what people are up to. Anyone else down there do anything like this?”

  “Actually, yes — look for Anne, long curly red hair. I’ve seen her knitting a few times.”

  Jessie’s eyes lit up. “Great, thanks.”

  They all went downstairs, and Tabitha took Savannah to her office.

  “Oh, a private talk. This must be serious.”

  Tabitha chuckled. “Not so much serious as official.” She sat back in her chair and regarded Savannah with a smile. “But first of all, how are you?”

  “You know, I feel pretty okay.”

  “That’s an improvement.”

  “A huge one, yes. I feel … peace, about selling the house and moving. Still no clue where we’ll move to, but I think it’ll all work out in the end.”

  “You were this close to saying something that sounded decidedly Christian.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I know. I very nearly did, to be honest.”

  “So …”

  “Still doubting. But not angry. And not closed off to the idea. More … curious and confused.”

  Tabitha beamed. “That’s fantastic. And it makes me even more sure that this is a God thing.”

  “What’s ‘this'?” Savannah grinned. “Do I get to hear your proposition?”

  “Yes. So here’s the thing. Aniyah is leaving.”

  Savannah gasped. “What? No!”

  “She’s been looking for her auntie lately. Just ‘felt like she needed to.’ And she found her — and she’s dying. She has no one, so Aniyah is going to go to her.”

  “But—to go back there—”

  Tabitha shrugged. “She thinks she’s ready to face her again. And she thinks God is telling her to go, so she’s not willing to say no.”

  “So what’s going to happen to your kitchen? You going to start catering Chick-Fil-A or something?”

  Tabitha laughed. “No. I was hoping to hire you.”

  Savannah’s jaw fell. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not at all. When you called to say you wanted to come back with Jessie, and you told me about selling the house … it was like God wrote it on the wall.”

  “But—but what happens if we move somewhere else?”

  “I’ll keep you for as long as you’re willing to stay. If it’s a month, it’s a month. If it’s a year, it’s a year. I’m not too concerned about that. God has it figured out, so I’ll just sit back and let it unfold.”

  “This is … this is amazing.”

  “I think we’ll be able to work it so you can come to the therapy sessions, too, if you want to.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Well, then, it’s official. I’ll get the employee paperwork together and get you on the payroll. Aniyah leaves next week, so you’ll have a few days of overlap for her to help you transition into the position.”

  Savannah shook her head. “This is just incredible, Tabitha. Thank you, God.” Her eyes went wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.

  Tabitha gasped. “Savannah! Did you mean that?”

  Savannah nodded. “You know,” she said, grinning, “I think I did.”

  EPILOGUE

  SAVANNAH’S CELL JANGLED IN HER POCKET. SHE GAVE THE gumbo one more stir, then set the lid onto the pot and pulled out the phone. Shaun’s number showed on the screen. “Hi, Shaun.”

  “Hey, Savannah. I just accepted an offer on the house.”

  She let out a whoop. “That’s fantastic! How much?”

  “Only ten thousand under asking price.”

  “Oh, Shaun, that’s incredible! What a relief.”

  “We close January 25th, though, so we need to figure out where we—I mean, where I’m going after that.”

  “Well …” Savannah brushed egg white over the top of the French bread dough. “I don’t know if you’re interested, but I’ve been keeping an eye on places out here; there are a couple really nice places not far from The Refuge. If you wanted to look at them when you come out, I’ll find a Realtor and get some appointments set up. When will you be out again?”

  “I’ve got a ticket for the 23rd—but I may not be able to come out.”

  “What? Why not?”

  He paused; she could hear the deep intake of breath that always signaled unwelcome news. “I got a call from the Denver Post today.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. She did it.”

  “Oh Shaun —”

  “It’s okay. I mean—it’s not at all okay, but I’m not surprised it happened, and I deserve
pretty much anything they throw at me now.”

  “Well—so now what?”

  “I’m going to contact the lawyer we had for A&A and consult with him. I don’t know what to expect. I just …” His voice broke and Savannah’s eyes misted in empathy.

  “I don’t know what to say, Shaun. I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “I know, I know.” He cleared his throat, and sounded stronger when he continued. “I’m not going to dwell on it right now. There’s no point. I’m doing the best I can right now to make amends and that’s all I can think to do. Maybe it’ll count for something if— when — I go to court. Anyway, I’ll let you know what the lawyer says. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he advised me to stay in Colorado.”

  “That makes sense.” She rubbed her wrist over her forehead. “I’m … I’m just so sorry, Shaun.”

  “Don’t be, Van. I have no one to blame but myself. Maybe this is just God’s way of making sure I do the right thing. I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to turn myself in otherwise. It’s been hard enough facing everyone and telling them the truth.”

  She ached for him, knowing the embarrassment and self-loathing he was struggling with, and found herself wishing she could be there to comfort him. Another step forward. It was a slow process, but their marriage really was on the mend. “I wish I could be there right now. I — I miss you.”

  “Really?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, really.”

  “I wish you could be here too. Tell me how things are going. Tell me how Jessie is.”

  She gave him an update until the timer went off on the gumbo and she had to focus on finishing dinner. She gave the pots a final stir after hanging up, then slid the loaves into the oven and went in search of Jessie to tell her the news.

  She found her with three other Refugees, all of whom held yarn projects of one kind or another. The multitalented Anne was taking a break from knitting to tutor Jessie in crocheting circles. Savannah watched Jessie and felt a warmth spread through her at the look on her daughter’s face. She had fallen in quickly with the others and had begun going to therapy, though she never told Savannah what she shared. Savannah didn’t mind, though. She was just thankful for Tabitha’s generosity, and for the fact that Jessie had somewhere to go to heal.

  Jessie glanced up at her and smiled as she held up her crochet. “Hey Mom. Check out this flower. Isn’t it cool?”

  “Very impressive. You’re really good at that.”

  Jessie beamed. “Thanks. So what’s up?”

  “I can tell you later; I didn’t know you were in the middle of a lesson.”

  “That’s alright,” Anne said. “Group starts in five so we should break anyway.”

  The others began to pack away their things. Savannah took a seat beside Jessie, but waited until the others had left before telling Jessie about the phone call. “I just talked to your dad. He sold the house.”

  Jessie’s face betrayed conflicting emotions. “Oh—oh wow.”

  “There’s something else, too.” She broke the news about the reporter from the Denver Post, and Jessie’s face belied fear. “So I don’t know if he’ll be coming out or not. He’ll let us know once he’s talked to the lawyer.”

  Jessie stuffed her yarn in her messenger bag, avoiding Savannah’s eyes. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, fine.” Jessie stood, still not meeting Savannah’s gaze. “You coming to therapy today?”

  “Yes. In a minute.”

  “Okay. See you in there.”

  “Alright, honey.” She watched her daughter disappear into the powder room, then saw Tabitha come out of her office and head for the therapy room. “Hey, Tabs?”

  She stopped and turned. “Oh, hey, Savannah. You ready?”

  “Just about. I’m going to check dinner one more time. Just … do me a favor and pray for Jessie? And Shaun, too. I’ll tell you about it all later, but … life is catching up with us and the unknown is scary.”

  Tabitha nodded, instantly sober. “Of course, Van. I’m honored to pray for your family.” She gave Savannah a hug. “See you in a few?”

  “Yes. I’ll be right there.”

  She returned to the kitchen and went over her checklist one more time. Then, after setting a timer for the bread and clipping it to her jeans pocket, she joined the others in the therapy room.

  Tabitha had already started and was giving them the background story on Savannah’s heart transplant. “ … which occurred about five months ago, right Savannah?”

  “My transplant? Yes. End of August.”

  “After the surgery her heart worked fine in the physical sense, but other things were not as they had been before. Savannah has agreed to share that story with us today. Savannah?”

  She couldn’t believe she used to make a living standing in front of hundreds of people, sometimes thousands, and talking to them as though it was just her and one person having coffee. She rubbed her damp palms on her jeans and gave them all a nervous smile, then began to recount her story.

  It was only the second time she’d strung it all together and told it, beginning to end, and the first time she’d told a bunch of strangers. To her own ears it sounded incredulous, and she’d worried they’d all think she was a head case, but the faces of the Refugees told her they were at least willing to believe it had all happened the way she claimed it did.

  She gave them an embarrassed smile as her story came to a close. “The bottom line is that God is becoming more real and more relational to me every day, so I’m going to keep working the same way I’ve been working and just hope—and pray, when I can — that I’m able to get back to the relationship he and I once had.”

  She shrugged a little, signaling the end of her testimony, and received a round of applause. She ducked her head as she felt her face heat, and when the applause died down Tabitha began to lead them in a discussion. Keeping the promise she’d made to Jessie, Savannah slipped out and eventually sat in the foyer. Her mind was wandering, thinking about the feeling she’d had as she’d spoken to their little group. She truly couldn’t imagine going back to those huge auditoriums and women’s retreats, but she could imagine talking with small groups like she just had, trying to share some hope with people who were struggling to find some. It was the same way she felt about her job at The Refuge, serving people by filling their stomachs with the fortifying meals Aniyah had taught her to make. Providing someone with a meal was more than just providing them with their daily allotment of calories. It was a chance to show them love, to comfort them, to soothe them. To be able to sit at the long, rough-hewn dining room table after an emotional therapy session and enjoy a home-cooked meal could fill the soul as well as the stomach.

  The timer went off, and Savannah returned to the kitchen. The scent of the gumbo and fresh bread made her mouth water and reminded her of Aniyah, who had written twice to assuage their concerns for her. After removing the loaves from the oven, she opened the pass-through between the kitchen and the dining room. The heavenly aromas wafted from one space to the other as she set the dishes and silverware, buffet-style, on the pass-through counter. She had just finished laying out the napkins and side plates on the table when the door opened and the first of the Refugees entered. “Oh, my gosh,” an ex-pastor said. “That has got to be the best thing I’ve ever smelled.”

  “It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever tasted in about five minutes,” she said with a grin.

  The others were close behind, and soon the hall was filled with the community she had come to love. Ever changing as people left and arrived, but bound by a shared experience of pain and disappointment and the shared hope of recovery, the community had come to be more than just a recovery group to Savannah. It represented a new chapter in her life. Before, she had maintained a certain distance, kept herself from getting too emotionally involved, even with one-on-one encounters. Now she labored to supply people with something th
at would nourish them for the journey ahead, getting her hands dirty and her clothes stained, and then sitting with them, eating with them, sharing with them.

  She went through the line last, then took a seat beside Jessie as Tabitha stood and held a slice of French bread aloft. “Friends,” she said, “let us give thanks, and eat.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  MANY THANKS AND MUCH GRATITUDE to:

  My ever-amazing husband, Daniel, for all the ways he makes it possible for me to write. It never goes unnoticed and I’ll never take it for granted. I love you so much, babe.

  My generous parents, Lee and Leslie, for the myriad ways they support and encourage not just me, but my whole family.

  Meagan Casimir, Jim Gleason, Eric Goberman, and Don Peshek, for sharing their heart transplant stories and helping me with the accuracy of the medical side of the story.

  Dr. Kate Hrach, for sharing her time and knowledge and reading my manuscript to make sure my medical ignorance didn’t show.

  Dudley Delffs, for getting me such amazing book covers!

  Sarah Fields, for providing Marisa with the perfect name.

  Miriam, April, Jessica, Ruth, Heather, Linda, Debbie, and Maggie, for stepping in when my creativity cut out. (Thank heavens for Facebook!)

  My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for showing me His heart and redeeming my own.

  About the Author

  ALISON STROBEL writes novels that explore life, love, and faith. She lives in Colorado with her husband and two daughters. Visit her at www.AlisonStrobel.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

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