The Best We've Been
Page 18
“I didn’t start the conversation, Jillian, but you can’t say something like that and not explain yourself.”
Now she had a choice between a half-truth or the whole truth, so help her God. Why, why wasn’t she asking God for help with this?
Because it was so hard to trust Him when she chose faith and still didn’t get what she wanted.
Now that was the whole truth.
Geoff hadn’t moved closer to her. Hadn’t reached for her hand. He couldn’t because she was twisting her engagement ring around and around her finger.
She could change this. Maybe if she reached for his hand . . .
But maybe not. Maybe he needed space.
“Brian came to see me.” Her words were barely more than a whisper.
“What did you say?”
She cleared her throat. Raised her voice. “Your brother came to see me yesterday.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked me to ask you to meet with him.”
“Great. Now my brother is using my wife—”
Jillian rested her hand on Geoff’s forearm. “It didn’t feel like that, Geoff.”
“How would you know? You don’t know Brian—”
“And you do? The last time you saw him, Brian was seventeen and you were fifteen.”
“He left home because he had problems.”
“And he also said he’s changed. That he’s worked through those problems. You don’t think your brother deserves a second chance?”
“This is not about a second chance.”
“It’s not?” Jillian kept her hand resting on Geoff’s arm. “Then what is it about?”
“It’s about . . . it’s about the fact that I’m fine with how things are now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m used to life without Brian . . . or Kyler.” Geoff bent forward, his hands clenched together behind his neck. The action broke their connection. “Just let it be.”
It was as if Geoff’s feet were cemented together, holding him in place. The pain of his past—the losses—held him fast, so he couldn’t move forward.
His shoulders were hunched as if he was protecting himself.
How could she convince him that he wasn’t alone anymore?
She wouldn’t push her husband. Couldn’t force him to talk to his brother. “What am I supposed to tell Brian?”
“You don’t tell him anything.” Geoff’s voice lashed out. “I’m your family, not Brian.”
She said nothing.
“I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”
“I know.”
“This is why we’re not getting involved with my brother. He always causes problems. He gets people riled up. My parents. Me. And then he walks away.” Geoff pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I’m not doing this again.”
He stood, moving toward the stairs.
Was that it, then? Geoff’s no ended the conversation?
“I—I think you should talk to Brian.”
“What?” Geoff pivoted.
“Talk to him, Geoff. He leaves this weekend. We don’t know when he’ll be back. If it goes badly—”
“It will.”
“—then you don’t ever have to talk to him again. You’ll know you’re right. Suspicions confirmed. But maybe you and Brian can start over.”
“That’s a little too optimistic for me.”
“Geoff, come on.” Jillian rose, took a few steps toward Geoff. “Why won’t you give him a chance?”
“Give him a chance? You don’t know how many chances he’s already had! Why should he get another one?”
“Because it’s like Pepper said—sometimes you have to forget everything else and remember you’re family.”
A paraphrase of her sister’s words, yes, but it was still true.
Geoff inhaled and exhaled as if he were struggling to breathe. “Fine.”
Jillian froze, not daring to move. “Fine?”
“I’ll talk to Brian.” He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “But I don’t think I can do this by myself. Will you go with me?”
“What? No. This is between you and your brother.”
“Please, Jillian. We can meet for breakfast. Would you set it up? I assume you know how to contact him.”
“Yes, but—”
“Can we just go to bed, Jilly? Try to get some sleep?”
“You go ahead. I’ll turn out the lights and be right up.”
The echo of his words rang in the silence.
“Please, Jillian.”
She should have tried to convince him to talk to Brian by himself.
No. She needed to let him be. If she tried to talk to him now, they’d only argue. And then he’d change his mind about talking with his brother.
She’d send Brian a text and wait for him to respond—at a reasonable hour.
Her Bible and journal still sat on the table beside the couch, neglected for weeks after she’d forgotten them when she’d gone to North Carolina. She picked them up, the weight of them in her hands almost foreign.
She’d never imagined choosing faith . . . chasing hope . . . would be so hard.
She turned to her last journal entry, written all the way back in March, when she’d discovered the passage in James about being blessed if you persevered under trials.
I don’t know anything about receiving a crown . . . except it sounds like I only get it if I pass this test.
Okay. Fine.
But if You could make “passing the test” easier by having Geoff decide he wants to adopt, that would be great.
So much for God hearing that prayer. Life had only gotten harder, not easier.
But she didn’t care about some far-off crown she might receive someday.
She wanted hope now. For today.
“Please, God. If I’m doing this wrong, just tell me.” Jillian’s whispered plea broke the silence in the room. “Show me what to do. How to handle things when we get together with Brian. And if You could do something so it goes well, please? And help me to keep believing in You.”
Jillian paused as she remembered something Harper said to her right before she left.
“I don’t know anything about faith, but could it be a different kind of more than what you expected?”
Maybe Harper was right. Maybe she was overloading her relationship with God with her expectations: If she did this—believed in God—then He’d give her what she wanted. He’d change Geoff. He’d give her a baby.
Was faith less about what she wanted and more about discovering who God was and what He wanted for her?
But what if God’s idea of more ultimately meant less than everything she hoped for?
21
CRACKER BARREL was the restaurant from family road trips. Jillian liked the food, but the experience was the best part. Sitting in the wooden rocking chairs lined up along the porch outside. Playing checkers while they waited for their meals to be delivered—always debating about whether she and Johanna played first or whether Payton and Pepper played first. Browsing the store with its shelves filled with an ever-changing assortment of seasonal knickknacks, clothes, toys, and an eclectic assortment of sodas and candy. And they’d always left with old-fashioned candy sticks of their favorite flavors. Green apple for Johanna. Orange for Pepper. Blueberry for Payton. Lemon for her.
Jillian doubted candy sticks were an option for today.
“Since Brian wanted this meeting so badly, you’d think he could be here on time.” Geoff shifted in his chair next to her.
“Come on—”
“What?”
She reapplied her ChapStick. “You agreed to do this. The least you can do is try to have a good attitude.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. And you’re acting like this is a trip to update all your vaccinations and have your wisdom teeth extracted.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Did you come here planning to fight with Brian?”
“Look at yourself.” Jillian motioned at Geoff’s rigid posture.
“What?”
“Body language speaks louder than words . . . or something like that. You want to unclench your fists?”
Geoff relaxed his hands, accompanied by a slow exhale. “I’m nervous. I’m not sure what to say.”
“Brian’s probably just as nervous as you are.” Jillian scooted her chair closer, taking Geoff’s hand and entwining their fingers. “We’ll take this slow. Start with hello. Don’t go looking for a fight—” Geoff’s jaw tightened—“not that I’m saying you are. I’m on your side, no matter what.”
“I know you are. And thank you for coming with me. It means a lot.” Geoff rolled his shoulders, moving his head from side to side like a prizefighter prepping to enter the ring. “Let’s just look at the menu while we wait for Brian.”
A few moments later, Geoff’s brother approached.
“I’m sorry for being late.” Brian settled into the chair across from Jillian, offering them both a smile that, for just a moment, reminded her of Geoff. “It took me a little longer to pack than I’d expected.”
“Pack?” Jillian opted not to wait for Geoff to respond, unsure if he would.
“Yeah. I’m heading back to Minnesota right after breakfast.” He opened the menu. “Cracker Barrel. Haven’t eaten here in ages.”
“Me, either.” Again Jillian spoke first. “Your family must be excited that you’re coming home.”
“We’re all ready for me to be back home. It’ll be a long drive—”
“You’re driving?” If she kept talking, maybe Geoff would jump in sometime.
“Yes. It’ll be a long day.”
And Geoff finally joined the conversation. “You’re going to do it in one day? That’s crazy.”
“I did it in one day coming to Colorado. I can do it going back. But thanks for your concern.” For all the changes in his life, an air of rebelliousness still clung to Brian. The leather jacket. Longer hair, same color as Geoff’s.
The arrival of the waitress to take their order interrupted the two brothers, who seemed all too ready to argue about anything and everything.
Jillian knew her position well. She was the buffer between two opposing forces. Only this time it wasn’t the familiar struggle between Johanna and Payton. She was stuck between her husband and his prodigal-returned brother.
She had to be vigilant this morning, no matter how tired she was. It didn’t matter that she’d had her typical night of interrupted sleep, using the shower to wash away the lingering effects of exhaustion. Jillian couldn’t quit on this meeting. She had to track the conversation, try to defuse the tension. She could collapse later.
“Are you waiting for me to start this conversation?” Geoff pulled the plastic pieces out of the triangular peg game that sat on every table at Cracker Barrel. Orange, yellow, blue, and white pieces piled in front of him.
“Geoff!”
“It’s okay, Jillian. You don’t have to try and smooth things over.”
Brian didn’t understand how things worked—what her role was when it came to complicated family dynamics.
“Geoff.” Brian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, waiting until Geoff made eye contact with him. “I want to apologize for how I handled everything.”
“Everything?” Geoff placed a single white peg into the center of the triangle.
“Okay—I can’t apologize for everything. Or maybe you think I should. Can I start with saying I’m sorry for showing up here without any warning? Bad move on my part. I talked with Jenny about it and realized I should have avoided Mom and Dad altogether. I should have just contacted you.”
Geoff added another peg to the board. “What do you mean, you should have avoided Mom and Dad?”
“The odds of them changing after all this time? Not gonna happen. But you and me? We’re adults now. We’re our own people. We don’t have to do what they tell us to do.”
“Figures.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re still playing the rebellious son.”
A sigh shifted Brian’s shoulders. “That is not what this is about.”
“Really? Sounds like it to me.”
“I haven’t had the chance to tell you everything—haven’t gotten past apologizing for one thing. And I’m not too sure you even heard that.”
The conversation was like a car stalling out. A few noises, sounding like it was going to start, and then it sputters and the engine dies.
Geoff wasn’t even looking at Brian. Instead, he jammed game pieces into the small holes drilled in the wooden triangle. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have to pay for a bunch of broken plastic pegs.
And Jillian wasn’t going to be able to defuse this situation. She could only sit there and let it run its course. Hope the waitress delivered their breakfasts soon to give everyone a little bit of a breather.
“Look, Geoff. I left home because I was a troubled kid. Wanted my own way. I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t just getting into trouble—I was looking for it every chance I got.”
Geoff crossed his arms over his chest with a “Tell me something I don’t know” look on his face.
“But once I got sober, I stayed away because I wanted to stay healthy. And I knew I couldn’t do that if I reconnected with Mom and Dad.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know how they are. You’re a Hennessey. Everything has to be done their way—Mom’s way—and that’s true whether you’re thirteen or thirty. What kind of parents don’t talk about their son when he dies?”
“It was better that way—”
“For who?” Brian’s words were tossed out just as the waitress arrived with the tray of food. She wouldn’t get a tip based on her timing. Silence reigned as she arranged plates on the table, asking if they needed anything else. Refilled their white coffee mugs. As she left, Brian spoke up. “And don’t say it was good for us. Mom and Dad decided that.”
“That’s what parents are for. You certainly never had a problem showing your anger—”
“Fine. I was an angry kid. But Mom and Dad never wanted to talk about why I was angry. I think they were glad when I ran away from home for good. Life was easier without me. At least then, their problems weren’t staring them in the face, yelling at them.”
“You were the biggest problem.”
Jillian forced herself to not interrupt. To not apologize for what Geoff had just said. And it would be a waste of time to mention that everyone’s food was getting cold.
“Mom and Dad had problems long before I started acting out, Geoff. But like everything else, they didn’t talk about any of it. They invoked the ‘Hennessey vow of silence’ and moved on.”
“Things were good once you left.”
“Geoff!” Jillian’s fork clattered against her plate.
“Don’t worry about it, Jillian.” Brian shook his head, his smile twisted. “That’s the way the vow of silence works, little brother. They cover up the hurt and guilt and grief until you can’t hear it screaming at you. I used alcohol. Mom and Dad turned their backs on whatever they didn’t want to deal with. A dead son. A rebellious teen. You? You were the good Hennessey son because you didn’t have the gall to die or drink. You behaved.”
It was as if she were ringside at a boxing match where the opponents were mismatched. One was a pro. One had never been in the ring before. Geoff tried to stand his ground with Brian but couldn’t.
Geoff sat back, his breakfast ignored, the game pieces scattered.
“I gave up wanting to have a relationship with Mom and Dad a long time ago because it meant sacrificing too much. Sacrificing myself.” Brian’s words were rough. “But I always had this dream that maybe . . . somehow . . . you and I could be brothers again. I knew it would take time. We’d have to be willing to get to know each other again. I never forgot about you . . . or Kyler. I
wasn’t running away from you back then.”
“You left the family.” Geoff swiped his hand across his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. “You left me.”
“I’m sorry, Geoff. Really sorry. I may have left, but I never forgot you.” Brian shifted in his chair, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, opening it as he talked. “I didn’t take much with me when I left. A few clothes. But I made sure I took this.”
He slid a laminated photograph across the table. Geoff traced the edge with his thumb and forefinger. Jillian had only seen the three Hennessey brothers together in the photos Geoff had shared with her last Christmas, but she recognized them easily enough.
“I couldn’t be the son Mom and Dad wanted me to be—or the brother you needed. It hurt too much to ignore everything. To pretend Kyler didn’t die. To wake up every morning and realize I wasn’t going to be enough for them. Again. At least once I left home, I would only fail myself. And I got really good at failing—until I couldn’t fail anymore.” Brian’s eyes filled with tears. “I had to face all the bad things in my life. Deal with them. I’m far from perfect, but I’ve got an honest life. A good life. And if you can figure out a way to forgive me, I’d like to get to know each other again. No—get to know each other for the first time. That’s it. That’s why I’m here. Because I never forgot you.”
Maybe Geoff wasn’t hearing any of this, but Jillian was. She knew what it was like to wake up every morning and feel like a failure. But she was trying, again and again, to understand, to believe, that her life was good, even if it wasn’t perfect. Maybe that’s where faith came in. Maybe faith bridged the gap between perfection and failure.
Geoff’s chin quivered as he struggled to respond.
She couldn’t answer for him. This was his brother. His choice.
“I don’t know . . .”
The silence stretched between the two brothers as Jillian held her breath, willing Geoff to say something more. To say yes.
“Well, that’s not a no.” Brian retrieved the photograph and then removed some bills from his wallet, tossing the money on the table. “I’ll take it. Breakfast’s on me.”