by Chris Fabry
“I decided last night after some friends helped me see what’s at stake,” I said, dodging her question about the ticket cost.
“And what is that?” Miriam said.
“The heart of my daughter. She’s more important than anything.”
Elsie frowned. “Why did it take so long to realize that?”
“She’s always been on my mind. I’ve thought of her every day.”
“Listen, sister, thinking about someone and doing something about it are two wildly different things. I get the same kind of letters from family members who never visit. ‘We’re thinking of you.’ ‘We hope to see you soon.’ That kind of thing. Doesn’t mean a hoot if you don’t show up. And the truth is, you didn’t show up for more than twenty years.”
Elsie and Beverly would make good friends. “I don’t have a good answer for that. Except I thought I was loving Treha. I thought she was in a good family situation and I didn’t want to disrupt that.”
“But you saw the film,” Miriam said before Elsie could launch in again. “You knew Treha wanted to find you. And you still waited. When she showed up in your class, even then you kept the truth hidden.”
“Yes.” I sighed. “This is part of what I realized last night. How much I’ve been guided by my fear. All my life.”
“So why have you come now?” Elsie said with a new level of tenacity. “You’ve gotten over your fear and you took an early flight, but what’s the purpose? What do you intend to do?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to show my daughter I’m ready to be her mother.”
Elsie raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“For some reason she thinks I’m lying. I’m not. I’ve been truthful the entire time.”
“Every minute you taught that girl and didn’t tell her you were her mother, every essay or test you graded and didn’t reveal yourself, you were lying,” Elsie said.
I wanted to argue, wanted to defend myself, but I swallowed that. “I see your point. I understand why you would feel that way, but I haven’t lied to her.”
“We’ll have to disagree about that,” Elsie said.
“What is it she thinks I’m lying about? If it’s me being her mother, that can be cleared up with a simple test.”
“I don’t have any idea,” Elsie said. “I had only begun to talk with her when you blew in on an east wind.”
I looked at Miriam.
“I think that ought to come from Treha,” Miriam said. “But I hope you can tell we’re her staunch supporters. We’ll do anything we can to see that she’s not hurt again.”
“I understand it was you two who helped her with the funds to come to Bethesda in the first place.”
The two looked at each other and Elsie took over. “We would do anything for that girl. Anything at all. There’s been no one to take up her case, no one to fight for her. To see her hurt further is unconscionable.”
They kept questioning me from there. They wanted to know about Dr. Crenshaw. They wanted to know about the depression medication and other things uncovered through the documentary. Then came questions about Treha’s conception and her father and before long I was sharing details I hadn’t shared even with my own mother. I wanted to show them my life was an open book. In truth, I wanted them to like me, to encourage Treha to come to my side. But my job was to reach Treha. If her friends warmed to me, in the end, that was icing on the cake.
“So what do you propose?” Elsie said finally. “What are you going to do with our girl? You going to try to take her back to Bethesda? Do you want her to live with you?”
Another deep breath. “I actually haven’t gotten that far. Bottom line, I want whatever is best for Treha. If she wants to come live with me, my home is open. If she wants to go to Bethesda, I’ll help make that happen. If you want to be reimbursed for her school fees—”
“You can forget about that,” Elsie said. “The money we gave was an investment in that girl’s life. You’re not taking that away from us.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’m not trying to take anything away, and honestly, if Treha said she wanted to stay here and work with you, Miriam, I would support that.” I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard. The words came easier than the feeling. “This is about Treha. This is not about what I need.”
Miriam stood as the door to the office opened.
One of the facility’s female workers poked her head in. “Mrs. Howard, Buck called. He tried to follow Treha on foot but she ran too fast. He’s in the car now, but he hasn’t been able to find her. He was wondering if you would like to help.”
Miriam looked at me and I grabbed my purse. Elsie grabbed her walker like she was going as well.
“Maybe you should stay here and pray,” Miriam told her.
“I can pray in the backseat just as easy as I can here.”
In the car, I dialed Treha’s number but there was no answer. Miriam called and left a message saying we just wanted to know she was all right. As we drove, Miriam pointed out different places that were important to Treha.
“Could she have gone back to your house?”
“It’s too far to walk. I think she’s probably near here—that’s the coffee shop where her bike was once stolen.”
“What about her old apartment?” I said.
Miriam shook her head. “She had some friends there who moved away. I don’t think she would have walked that far.”
“She probably just needs some time to think,” I said, hoping it was true. “Time to be alone and process her thoughts.”
The woman ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe we should get you to where you’re staying tonight. Treha is staying in our extra room, but you’re welcome to be on our couch. We have plenty of room.”
“I couldn’t impose. I saw a hotel not far back.”
“It’s not an imposition,” Miriam said.
“I appreciate that. But I’m thinking of Treha. I think it would be better for her if I didn’t stay with you. Maybe if we go back to Desert Gardens, she’ll be there.”
We drove back and helped Elsie inside. Buck hadn’t returned but the person at the front desk said no one had seen Treha. Miriam asked me to wait while she helped Elsie to her room. The old woman was tired from the driving and needed a nap.
When Miriam returned, she took me into her office and closed the door, her face grave. “There’s something you should know. It’s about the lie that Treha says you told. It concerns Treha’s father. . . .”
Startled, I could only nod for her to go on.
“You gave her a picture of him and a name. Treha has a friend at school who helped her find information about him.”
“I assumed that at some point she would try to find out more. I could have helped her with that.”
“You told her this man passed away twenty years ago.”
“That’s right.”
Miriam’s face contorted, lines appearing in her forehead.
“What is it, Miriam?”
“Paige, Treha’s father is not dead.”
I stared at her, frozen. “What do you mean? Of course he is. He died in a car accident shortly after he returned to the States.”
“I don’t know the details, but Treha is convinced that her father is alive.”
I felt light-headed as I walked to the parking lot. I wandered around looking for my car, then remembered it was a rental. Where was my mind?
Treha had to be mistaken. Maybe her friend who did the online search was lying.
Then an even more frightening thought invaded. What if she’s right?
The car was stifling and rolling the window down didn’t help, so I started the air conditioner. It was a compact and the engine rattled and so did the air through the vents. Despite the heat, my hands shook as I dialed the number.
When I heard my mother’s voice, I closed my eyes, hoping there was something more to the story, some kind of plausible explanation. “Mom, I need a straight answer ab
out something.”
“Paige, what’s happened?”
“I’m in Arizona. I’m meeting with my daughter.”
“Oh, honey. How did she—?”
“I need you to listen. I need an answer.”
“What in the world is this about?”
“I’ve just heard something that concerns me. About David.”
Silence on the line.
“Treha is under the impression that he’s still alive. She thinks I’ve lied to her about him.”
A long pause. “How could she think that?”
“I’m not sure, but she and a friend came to that conclusion. I need to hear it from you. Is it true?”
“Paige, that was so long ago. I don’t know if he’s alive.”
“What? You told me he had died in a car accident.”
“Yes, that was the information we had. At first.”
The shaking in my hands got worse. “At first? Back up. How did you find out about his death?”
“I don’t think bringing this up now can help—”
“Mom, is he dead?”
Another pause, then her voice emerged like a whining moan. “I thought he was. That’s what we were led to believe. It’s what the mission told us.”
“What are you saying?”
“There were two different teams on that short-term trip. I don’t know if you remember that. One worked at the mission and in our village, and the other was working on another island. We received word about a prayer request from the US. They asked us to pray for David Weber’s family, as he had been killed in an accident. That’s the information I had, and I told you that.”
“But the information was wrong?”
“There were two Davids. One on each team. They got the last name mixed up. It was an honest mistake. We were finally notified of the error, but that was later, after you had left for the States.”
I tried to speak through a clenched jaw. “And you never thought it was important to tell me?”
“At the time, I thought you had been through enough. It felt better to leave things the way they were. For everyone.”
“The letters from him. They stopped. But it wasn’t because he had died. Did the letters actually stop?”
Silence.
“Mother?”
“Yes—he wrote you. A few more times, even after you left. I wanted to discourage him. I sent him a short note asking that he please stop. Saying that you had moved on with your life.”
I was shaking my head—had been shaking it most of the time she talked, I realized. “I don’t believe this. No wonder you didn’t want me reaching out to Treha.”
“Paige, we did this for your good. For David’s as well.”
“Did you tell him I was having a baby?”
“Of course not.”
“Right, how foolish of me to think you’d do that. Mom, your whole life has been based on telling people the truth. How could you do this?”
Through the line I could hear gritted teeth and a stiff neck. “We were doing the best we could. We were trying to care for you after you’d made a mistake.”
The bile rose, the indignation, the feelings of betrayal. “Do you know where he is?”
“No. I haven’t concerned myself with finding out that information. I knew it would only bring heartache. And I caution you, Paige. Information like this can destroy a person’s life, his family, his reputation.”
“I have to go,” I said. I hung up before she spoke again and sat there in the hot car wondering what to do, where to go, and if there was anything else I didn’t know about my life.
CHAPTER 33
Treha
Treha sat alone outside an Olive Garden restaurant in a hot metal chair. There used to be a young man who worked here and was nice to her, gave her breadsticks, but she didn’t see him. This was one place she could go to think and not have to buy anything. But the sun beat down and she tried to think of someplace else. She didn’t want to go back to Desert Gardens and face her mother.
Treha pulled out her phone, disregarded the missed calls, and dialed Charlie, who said he would come get her.
“Don’t tell Miriam where I am, okay?” Treha said.
“She doesn’t know where you are?”
“No.”
“All right, Treha. But don’t you think she’ll be worried?”
“I don’t want her to know.”
“She’ll need to know before the end of the day, though. She won’t leave there without you.”
When Treha didn’t respond, he said, “Okay, I’ll be right there. Give me fifteen minutes.”
He pulled up in front of the Olive Garden in twelve minutes, which made her think he had the drive timed. He unlocked her door and she slipped in beside him. The seats were leather and cold and felt good. Charlie had the talk radio station on but lower than usual.
“Were you trying to bake yourself out there?”
“No.”
“Did you get something to eat?”
“No.”
“Why were you there, then?”
“I had to leave. I had to go somewhere to think.”
“I know exactly how that feels. Where do you want me to take you? You hungry?”
“Just take me home.”
“All right.”
He drove out of the parking lot and the radio talk overwhelmed her thoughts. Finally Charlie said, “Don’t you think we should tell Miriam? She’s going to wonder where you are.”
“You can call her and tell her I’m okay.”
“Good. Remind me to call as soon as we get home. Did something happen at Desert Gardens?”
“My mother came. From Tennessee.”
“Really? That must have been a surprise and a half.”
“It was.”
“Why did she come all the way out here?”
“To talk to me.”
“About what? Was it something she couldn’t have said back there?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I don’t know what she wanted to say. I didn’t stay to listen.”
“Maybe she feels bad about not contacting you sooner.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“Maybe she wants to apologize.”
“Maybe she wants everything to be okay and happy and she wants to be forgiven and act like nothing bad ever happened.”
Charlie looked at her sideways. “Maybe.” He drove in silence until they came to the subdivision where they lived. He pulled over to the side of the road where the mailboxes were and got out and checked the empty box. He got back inside but didn’t put the car in gear.
“What’s wrong?” Treha said.
“Nothing. I was just thinking. You know, Treha, you coming to live with us, you invading our lives like you did . . .”
“I invaded?”
“Let me finish. Invasion is not always a bad thing. You’ve really changed our marriage. Miriam and I are closer than we’ve ever been. We’re on the same page about a lot of things. And it was you being here that forced us to deal with our . . . stuff.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because God has given you a gift. You are a gift to everyone you meet. And he wants you to use that gift. For others. And for yourself.”
“This has something to do with my mother?”
“It does. What if your mother being in your life pushes you to become what God wants you to be, even if she is a little late to the party? What if she can help you as much as you’ve helped us?”
“I can’t trust someone who doesn’t tell the truth.”
“Dr. Crenshaw didn’t tell the truth about himself and you forgave him.”
“That was different.”
“Maybe. And maybe I’m overstepping. I’ve tried not to. You’ll probably come to this on your own, anyway, but I think you ought to give her a chance.”
Treha looked at him. “Did Miriam talk to you?”
; “No.”
“You haven’t even met my mother.”
“I’d like to.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t.”
“Well, I like to think that people’s lives are like stocks. Some are going up and some are going down, but the numbers don’t tell the whole story. If she came all the way out here to see you instead of just calling or texting, I think that’s a good sign. Maybe there’s an explanation about her lie. Maybe she deserves another chance. Or at least, just to be heard.”
Treha thought for a moment.
“I don’t say much, Treha. You know that.”
“I never thanked you for the card you gave me when I went away.”
“I’m glad it meant something to you. And I meant every word.”
“I still have it.”
Charlie laughed. “That’s good. That makes two, right?”
“Two what?”
“Two written things you’ve kept. My card and your mother’s letter.”
Treha didn’t respond.
“Tell you what. I don’t think I’ll call Miriam. I think you should do that. Tell her you’re safe at home and you would rather not see your mother tonight. It’s entirely your decision.”
“Why can’t you call her?”
“Because it’s not my call. And because I know how long you’ve looked for your mother, and this is no time to walk away from her. Treha, even if she’s a no-good, lying, scheming thief, she’s your mother. There’s something you can learn.”
Charlie drove up the driveway and into the garage. He hit the button for the garage door, but Treha sat in the car.
CHAPTER 34
Paige
That Treha’s father was still out there breathing brought a new set of questions to a table already overflowing with them. Where was he? Was he married? Had he ever looked for me? Had he tried to reach out in any way over the years? Did he have children?
After a phone call from Treha telling Miriam she was all right and that Charlie had taken her home, Miriam invited me to dinner at her house but made no promises about the food or conversation with Treha. I was just glad Elsie wouldn’t be there. She was a sweet woman but a bulldog when it came to Treha’s future and my past.
