Showers in Season

by Beverly LaHaye

  “Tell us what’s going on, Brenda,” Steve said calmly.

  Brenda met Cathy’s eyes without any anger. “Yesterday I had a terrible time with Mark. Cathy, he didn’t want to do anything. He went back to bed after you left for work, then Daniel had to go get him, and he came over barely awake. He kept laying his head down trying to sleep. Every time I gave him an assignment, he refused to do it, and he was disruptive and disrespectful all day long.”

  Cathy’s face fell by degrees. “Oh, no.”

  “By the end of the day I was very frustrated with him,” Brenda went on, “and I gave him an ultimatum. I told him that if he didn’t finish his science assignment within thirty minutes, that he wouldn’t be going with us on the field trip today.” She leaned forward, locking in to Cathy’s eyes. “I only dreamed up this field trip as incentive to make him finish. I thought I’d give him something positive to work toward, instead of a threat of punishment. I wanted him to go with us.” She reached across the picnic table and took Cathy’s hand. “Cathy, I love you, and I love Mark, but I’ve got to teach him that I mean business, and he called my bluff. I really wanted to take him to the lake. But when he refused to do his work, I had no choice but to follow through.”

  Cathy covered her face. Steve began to stroke her back, trying to calm her down.

  After a moment, she looked up at Brenda over her fingertips. “Brenda, I’m so sorry. I should have known.”

  “I know you’ve been busy and I thought I could handle it. I thought if I could just teach Mark this lesson today, that tomorrow he’d come back and he’d know that when I said to do something, he had to do it, that there were consequences if he didn’t. He’s going to have to learn that sometime.”

  Cathy felt attacked. “I guess that implies that I haven’t taught him consequences. I know I’ve done an awful job, but I’ve tried…”

  “I know you have,” Brenda cut in quickly, “but you’re just one person. He just needs some authority. Some discipline.”

  Cathy groaned. “So what happens now? Are you going to keep teaching him?”

  “Of course I am,” she said. “Mark’s going to be fine. Probably by tomorrow, if you’ll just go home and reinforce what I’ve done today. Let him know that he’s not going to get away with treating David or me with disrespect, that horsing around with Daniel in the classroom is not going to be tolerated, that he’s not going to smart off to me, that when I tell him to do his work, he needs to do it. I need your help with that.”

  Cathy realized that Tory was standing back, still waiting for Spencer and pretending not to listen to the whole scene. Cathy was embarrassed, humiliated, and wanted to do worse to Mark than make him learn carpentry. “I could just die,” she whispered.

  Steve touched her hair. “Cathy, don’t. You knew Mark was having problems. That’s why you made this move. This isn’t new. You’re doing fine.”

  “Steve’s right,” Brenda said. “And the bright side is that he made a really nice bookcase today.”

  Steve began to chuckle and Cathy shot him an unappreciative look. “It’s not funny,” she said.

  He quickly wiped the smile off of his face. “Sorry.”

  Cathy moaned. “All right, Brenda. You did the right thing. I’m sorry I jumped on you. I’m just so sensitive about my kids.” She wiped the wetness under her eyes. “I’ll do my best to reinforce what you’ve done, and he’ll be back bright and early tomorrow. And, trust me, he’ll be wide awake and ready to work.”

  Brenda nodded as if she knew that would be the case. “One more thing,” she said. “Try not to teach him Scripture when you’re mad at him.”

  Cathy met Steve’s eyes. She really didn’t want him to hear this, but the damage had already been done. “What do you mean?” she asked in a weak voice.

  “I mean every time I try to teach him Scripture, he thinks he’s being punished,” Brenda said. “He says you only make him memorize it when you’re mad.”

  Cathy’s head was beginning to throb. “I guess that’s true. Whenever they smart off to me or get me flustered, I start to remember how much catch-up I need to do in their spiritual education.”

  “But the Bible isn’t something that’s negative and angry,” Brenda told her. “It needs to be treated like it’s critical information, pertinent to their lives. They need to be shown how it applies, and if you only do it when you’re mad, they won’t ever want to learn it at all.”

  “She’s right,” Steve said.

  Cathy covered her face again. “But when do I do it, then? I only seem to have power over them when I’m mad at them.”

  “You have a lot more power than you think,” Steve said carefully.

  Looking defeated, she got up. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’d better get home and take care of this.”

  Brenda came around the table and gave her a tentative hug. Cathy was stiff as she returned it. “I do appreciate what you’re doing, Brenda. It’s just going to take a little adjustment.”

  “I know,” Brenda said, “and I’m willing to do whatever I can. I’m a pretty patient person, you know.”

  “That’s why I picked you.”

  As she and Steve crossed the street again, Cathy was thankful for his silence. She hated the fact that he had witnessed this whole thing. Now he knew just how bad things were. She wondered if she would ever get Mark through this stage.

  Rick and Annie were pulling into the driveway just as they reached the house. “I need to go in and talk to Mark,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said, grabbing a bunch of hangers out of a box. “I’ll just work on these clothes.”

  Cathy went in and stormed up the stairs, and found Mark sitting on his unmade bed with dirty laundry all around him, eating a bag of potato chips and watching his television.

  She leaned in his doorway with her arms crossed. “Mark, I got the real story of what happened today, and Brenda was absolutely right to make you stay home.”

  “Oh, right. I should have known you’d take her side.”

  “Not only am I going to take her side, but as of this moment, you are grounded from the computer and the television until further notice.”

  “Mom!” he cried.

  “When Miss Brenda tells me that you’re behaving properly at her house, then I’ll consider giving you back your privileges.”

  “This is just plain child abuse!” he screamed. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me! I haven’t done anything wrong! I smoke one stupid joint in the bathroom and you rearrange the rest of my life!”

  “Mark, stop raising your voice to me right now!”

  “I have to raise my voice to you!” he screamed. “I have to yell to be heard over you!”

  She knew that Steve could probably hear from the garage. Part of her knew that she should close the door and do this quietly, but the other part of her needed for Steve to know that she was taking care of this, that she did crack down on her son when he needed to be cracked down on, that she did have some measure of authority over his life.

  Mark was the only one who didn’t realize it.

  She pulled the plug on the television and marched down the stairs as Annie and Rick came in.

  “What’s going on up there?” Rick asked.

  “What did Mark do now?” Annie piped in, grinning with delight. “Has he already been thrown out of the Dodds’ homeschool?

  “No, he hasn’t been thrown out,” Cathy bit out, “and please pick up your backpacks and take them to your rooms.”

  “Well, hello and welcome home to you, too,” Annie said.

  Cathy saw Steve through the open door, shaking his head. He had heard everything, and he did not seem amused.

  “Don’t talk to me that way, Annie,” she bit out. “Just do what I say.”

  Rick was at the refrigerator perusing the contents. “There’s nothing in this house to eat. There’s never anything.”

  “Then you’re welcome to go to the grocery store for me,” Cathy said.

>   “Well, if you weren’t always so busy with that clothing drive.”

  “Excuse me?” Cathy yelled. “Are you seriously telling me that I’m wasting my time collecting clothes for people who’ve lost everything they own?”

  Rick shrugged. “No, all I’m trying to tell you is that there’s nothing to eat in this house.”

  Cathy fought the urge to sit down and cry like a baby, but she knew that wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “Rick, take your things upstairs now. You, too, Annie.”

  Annie got her backpack and slid the strap over her shoulder. “You know, Mom, I think it’s great that you’re doing this to help the Nicaraguans.”

  She wondered what Annie was buttering her up for, and braced herself for the extended curfew question or an advance on her allowance. “Annie, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you’re smart, you won’t pick now to ask for boots, clothes, later curfews, or money.”

  As if the garage provided refuge from the madness inside, Cathy went back to the clothing table, letting the screen door bounce shut behind her.

  Steve appeared to be lost in deep thought as he sorted the clothes by size.

  “What?” Cathy asked, finally. “Just go ahead and say it.”

  He turned to her, his eyes serious. “You’ve got to get a handle on those kids.”

  She bit her lip and furiously hung a dress on a hanger.

  “Now you’re mad at me,” he said.

  “I’m not mad. I’m just a little worn down.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’d be worn down, too.”

  She started pushing the hangers furiously, one by one. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing the very best that I can. I know that’s hard to believe from your position with only one child. Tracy doesn’t have a disappointing relationship with another parent every other weekend, where she has no authority and no discipline at all. From your perspective it looks like I’m just being dragged along by a runaway train.” Her voice broke off and she choked back tears. “But let me tell you something. It’s not easy with three kids and no father to help. You don’t have any right to judge me.”

  “Judge you?” Steve dropped the clothes he was folding. “Who’s judging you?”

  “Everybody, okay? Brenda and Tory and you…and even my kids.” She covered her eyes with her hands and tried to stop crying. “Oh, great! This is about the worst dating rule I can break. Start crying because there’s not a father in the home, and then the date thinks that you’re building a case for marriage, as if he can come in like the knight in shining armor and fix all the problems!” She stopped, stunned that she had uttered the M word at all. “Well, I’m not looking for marriage, okay, Steve?” she lied. “This is not a buildup for any kind of relationship. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

  His face had softened. “I know that, Cathy.”

  “Because marriage is the last thing I’m looking for, you know. It’s completely out of the question. It wouldn’t last two months, not with my kids in the house and some guy who wanted authority in the home, especially if he had raised his differently. Hypothetically, I mean.”

  Again, he nodded. “I know.”

  “Do you?” she asked. “Well, how do you know, because I probably look like some wimpy little single mom who’s constantly on the prowl for somebody to rescue her. Well, I don’t need rescuing.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “And my kids don’t need rescuing. I can lay down consequences just like I’m supposed to. I can take care of them. I can change things.”

  “Sure, you can.”

  She was sobbing now, and her lips curled in an emotional sneer. “I don’t need any help from their father or from you or from anybody.”

  The pronouncement seemed to shake him, and for a moment, he just stood staring down at her, as if he didn’t know whether to pull her into his arms or run for his life. She turned away from him, hating herself for losing control like this.

  This was probably the end of them, she thought dismally. He’d never want to speak to her again. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she know better than to throw fits in front of Steve? To snap and scream and yell, then act like a dysfunctional, heartbroken dishrag?

  “You haven’t broken any dating rules,” he whispered, stepping up behind her and setting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re just having a bad day. It’s okay. I understand.”

  She drew in a deep breath and wiped her face with both hands. She didn’t want him to see her like this. “I need to go in,” she said. “I’ll just work on the clothes later. The pilot doesn’t need them loaded until tomorrow. I’ll get them ready.”

  She hated dismissing him that way, but he accepted it and dropped his hands.

  “So, when can I see you again?”

  She breathed out a laugh and turned to look at him. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said. “Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?”

  She almost laughed. “Are you crazy? You really want me to bring my kids to your house to be with your mom and dad for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes,” he said, “I told you I did.”

  “Still, after all this?”

  “Yes,” he said. “They’re looking forward to it. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She wiped her face with her fingertips. “Well, I guess so then. Might as well hammer a few more nails in my coffin.”

  He grinned slightly. “Cathy, you and I are okay. Okay?” He bent down and pulled her into a hug, and she sucked in a sob. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered.

  The words warmed her, but they seemed like a wobbly promise built on nothing more than sand. She wondered if things ever really could be all right again. Suddenly, she wanted to drive to Knoxville to lash out at her ex-husband, beat her fists against his chest and kick him in the shin and tell him how destructive his actions had been in their family, how torn her children were, how his absence in the home had turned them into different children than they might have been. She wanted to tell him that no one else would ever be able to take his place in their eyes, not in a real way, not even if Steve stepped in. But he wasn’t here, and he didn’t really care, anyway.

  But Steve was, holding her and whispering that it was going to be all right. And she wanted to believe it. He kissed her forehead, then bent down and kissed her lips. Warm comfort seeped through her anxious, angry heart.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, then went to his truck.

  As he drove off, she stood staring after him, perplexed that he would even give her the time of day when things were so complicated. She couldn’t imagine that their relationship was worth it to him.

  Sooner or later, he would see things as they really were. And then they would be history.

  CHAPTER Forty-One

  Barry was late for supper again. Though it didn’t surprise Tory, it made her angry. She told herself she was angry for the children, who missed their dad and didn’t understand why he was behaving this way. She paced the kitchen back and forth, back and forth, ready to lambaste him the minute he came in. When she finally gave up, she fed the kids, and fought the headache bearing down on her.

  After supper, she got Brittany and Spencer busy making Thanksgiving turkeys out of construction paper, and set about to clean the dishes. As she scrubbed spaghetti off of the plates and table, a vengeful thought came to her mind. The children had a right to know about their little sister. They had a right to understand why their mother’s stomach was getting bigger, and they had a right to pray for the sibling who needed their prayers.

  She stopped scrubbing and regarded the two children at the kitchen counter, elbow deep in glue. Spencer had made fangs for his turkey, and Brittany was trying to convince him that turkeys had no teeth. They were innocent, she thought. Completely innocent of the fact that children were born imperfect, that there were “options” in the world, that parents ever stopped loving each other. Should she burde
n them with this?

  And how much longer could she keep it from them? She knew Brittany’s teacher would start questioning her about her growing stomach soon. She hadn’t forgotten the comment she’d made to her about being pregnant just a few weeks ago. She was sure the teacher hadn’t forgotten, either. She didn’t want her children to overhear teachers or neighbors talking about her condition.

  No, they had a right to know. And since Barry wasn’t here to consult, she had to go with her own feelings. Both Sylvia and Brenda had warned her not to tell them without Barry’s blessing, but they both had husbands who came home for supper, who slept next to them in bed, who loved all of their children like fathers should.

  “You can’t put a hat on a turkey!” Spencer was saying. “Turkeys don’t wear hats.”

  “That’s a pilgrim hat,” Brittany threw back. “Thanksgiving turkeys wear pilgrim hats.”

  “They do not. Do they, Mommy?”

  “Hey, if yours can have teeth,” Brittany said, “then mine can wear a hat.”

  Tory bit her lip as tears pushed into her eyes. How should she say it? Should she sit them down and break it like important news, or just throw it out with matter-of-fact nonchalance? Should she tell them there was something wrong with this baby?

  No, she thought. That was more than a mother could break to her children alone. Tonight she could only tell them there was going to be a baby.

  “Mommy!” Spencer insisted, and she turned to look at him. “They don’t wear hats, do they?”

  She tried to smile. “We can pretend they do. Britty, why don’t you help Spencer make an Indian headdress to put on his?”

  “Okay,” Brittany said, grabbing more construction paper.

  “No,” Spencer said. “I don’t want an Indian. I want it to be a Titan. I want it to be a football helmet.”

  “Mommy!” Brittany cried, indignant. “Turkeys can’t wear football helmets! I’m not gonna help him with that.”

  “All right,” Tory said. “Then make another turkey with the Indian headdress, and Spencer can do the football helmet himself. Can’t you, Spencer?”