A Family To Cherish (12 page)

“Yeah, we get the picture,” said Benny. “So how about it? We take the kid now, and you get her back in a week. Fair enough?”

Barbara's mind raced. There was a certain inevitable logic in their reasoning. And surely they had as much right to spend time with Janee as she did. But at the back of Barbara's mind a warning light flashed. “I really hate to uproot the child again, Pam,” she said, trying not to let her rising emotion color her voice. “You know how it is. She's just gotten comfortable here at the cabin.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake, Barbara, children are adaptable. They're resilient. I may not have kids, but everyone knows that.”

Suddenly Janee peeked her head in the doorway and asked eagerly, “When are you going to come outside and see my nesting boxes?”

Benny stood up. “In just a minute, sweetheart.”

“Me and Uncle Trent found the neatest little cave. We put a nesting box in it. Wanna come see?”

“Sure, kiddo,” said Benny. “Hey, where's your, uh, your Uncle Trent?”

“He went home.”

“Smart man,” said Pam. “He knows when it's time to retreat.”

“Hey, listen, Janee,” said Benny. “The nesting boxes can wait, okay? Your Aunt Pam and I have a
surprise for you. Come here, honey, and see your Uncle Benny.”

Janee shuffled over to him, looking shy but curious. Benny picked her up in his arms and bounced her up and down. “Hey, pretty girl, how would you like to come visit your Aunt Pam and Uncle Benny in Oregon for a few days?”

Janee cast a questioning glance at Barbara. Before Barbara could respond, Pam was on her feet. In those deadly three-inch heels, she sashayed over to Benny and clasped Janee's round cheeks in her palms. “You'll have lots of fun, honey,” she purred as she smoothed Janee's flyaway hair. “We'll ride on a big airplane, and when we get home we'll go to the toy store and you can buy any toy you want.”

Janee's eyes grew wide as saucers. “Can I buy a baby doll that drinks and wets?”

Benny guffawed. “Sweetheart, you can buy a doll that dances, juggles plates, and sings ‘God Bless America,' if you like.”

Janee shook her head solemnly. “No, just one that drinks and wets.”

“Janee's not going anywhere,” said Barbara under her breath. Her eyes were shooting darts at Benny, but he chose not to notice.

“Let's see what Janee wants to do,” said Benny with the flashy, inflated tone of a salesman closing a deal. “What about it, Janee? You want to come home with Pam and me?”

Janee's cheeks glowed with anticipation. “Will we go to the toy store and buy my dolly?”

“That's a promise, kiddo. And your Uncle Benny never goes back on a promise.”

Janee looked over at Barbara and a shadow crossed her face. “Can Aunt Barbara come, too?”

“Not this time, baby,” said Pam. “But we'll bring you right back to your Aunt Barbara whenever you want to come. Okay?”

Janee twisted her mouth as if deep in thought. Finally she grinned and said, “Okay.”

“Great! Pam, you go help Janee pack a few of her clothes.” Benny set Janee down and patted her head. “Now, you scoot along, gal.” He looked at Pam. “She won't need much, hon. We'll buy her some new stuff.”

Barbara stepped forward and seized Janee's hand. “Wait just a minute. I don't think Janee's going anywhere. She's better off staying right here.”

“Really?” challenged Benny, fingering his too-wide red tie. “Why don't you ask Janee what she wants to do?”

Barbara stood immobilized for a moment. Benny had her in a corner. No matter what she said now in her own defense, she was going to come off looking like the bad guy. “You two are making this very difficult…”

Janee clasped Barbara's arms and pleaded, “Please, Aunt Barbara, please, let me go! Please, please, please!”

Barbara gathered Janee up in her arms. Janee bounced and rocked and begged, “Please, Aunt Barbara, pretty please with sugar on it!”

Tears welled in Barbara's eyes. She embraced Janee tightly and kissed the top of her golden hair. “You really want to go, sweet girl?”

Janee gave her an exaggerated nod. “Yes, Aunt Barbara. I'm going to get a dolly that drinks and wets.”

Reluctantly Barbara set Janee down. “Okay, baby, go to your room and get your favorite clothes and put them in your backpack.” As Janee scampered off, Barbara turned a withering gaze on Pam and Benny. “I don't appreciate the two of you coming in here unannounced and persuading Janee to go home with you. She's just a five-year-old, and you manipulated her. That's inexcusable.”

“Oh, Barbara, don't be so stuffy,” said Pam, examining one long crimson nail. “For someone who wanted to unload the kid a couple of weeks ago, you're sure acting the concerned mommy now. Besides, it's just a week. The kid will have a great time. She'll be back here before you know it.”

“One week,” said Barbara coldly. She was trembling, but she didn't want them to notice. “I want that child back in this cabin one week from today.”

“Sure,” said Pam breezily. “I'll bring her myself. And don't worry. We'll treat her like a little princess.”

Benny motioned to Pam. “Go help the kid pack,
okay? I want to get back down the mountain before nightfall.”

Before Barbara could quite comprehend what was happening, Janee was traipsing out the door with Pam and Benny. Barbara stood on the porch and watched, stunned and speechless, as they buckled Janee into the back seat and drove off down the road in their fancy rental car.

When their automobile was out of sight, the reality of what had just happened struck Barbara like a sudden punch in the stomach. She nearly doubled over as she stumbled back inside the cabin. “Oh, Janee,” her voice echoed eerily in the empty cabin. “Janee, baby, how could I let them take you?”

She hurried to her cell phone and called Doug at the hospital. “He doesn't answer his page,” said the operator.

“Keep trying.” Barbara was shaking so hard now that her teeth nearly chattered.

After nearly ten minutes, Doug came on the line. “What's up, Barb?”

“They've come and taken Janee,” she blurted.

Doug's voice rang with alarm. “Who took her? What are you talking about, Barb?”

“Pam and Benny.” She was weeping now. “They came here, Doug. Out of the blue. They showed up at the cabin and said they had decided to take Janee. Just like that. They just drove off with her. They're taking her home to Oregon.”

“Barb, I don't understand. They've never wanted
kids. They certainly didn't want Janee. Why on earth would they come and take her now?”

“I don't know,” Barbara said between sobs. “Maybe because I—I called and asked them to take her.”

“You asked them to take her? What kind of fool thing—!”

“I know, Doug. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. But that was weeks ago, before the earthquake. Before we came here. Before I realized how much I want Janee to stay with us.”

“Then why didn't you just tell them no?”

“I tried, but they promised Janee the world, and she wanted to go. What could I say?”

“Okay, calm down, Barb. You know Pam and Benny. A child would cramp their style, they know that. I'm sure they don't plan to keep her for long.”

“They said it's just for a week,” Barbara said shakily. “But I don't believe them, Doug. I have a bad feeling about this. I think they intend to keep Janee for good. Oh, Doug, I don't think they'll ever let us have her back!”

I
n the days that followed, Barbara felt as if she were caught in a time warp and moving in slow motion. Worse, she was slogging through the depths of despair. Each day was longer than the one before. The tedium was nearly unbearable.

She missed Janee. Heavens, how she missed that child. The cabin that had rung with the little girl's laughter and been bright with her smile was suddenly a desolate place. How could it be, Barbara wondered, that she found herself in the untenable predicament of grieving for two children? Her beloved Caitlin was gone and could never come back, of course. But Janee—precious Janee—the child she had almost let slip through her fingers. Janee belonged here with Barbara. Janee had to come home again. Had to!

As the week dragged on, Barbara considered leav
ing the cabin and returning to Los Angeles. She and Doug could rent an apartment until their house was ready, or even stay in a motel. But she couldn't quite bear the thought of leaving this cabin where she and Janee had learned to care for each other. Leaving would break that special connection she felt with the child. Here in this homey cabin they had played and read and sung and prayed together. Here, for the first time, Barbara had discovered she could actually love another child.

But what irony. Now that she wanted Janee, Pam and Benny had decided they wanted her, too. Was God punishing her for her anger and bitterness and resentment over Caitlin's death?

For four long years Barbara had nursed those dark, insidious emotions. Her anger had revealed itself in ways subtle—and not so subtle. Grief had erected a wall between her and Doug, between her and God. After losing Caitlin, she had locked her heart against them both, partly in self-defense, partly as a means of striking back at them.

And yet she was never quite sure why she felt the need to retaliate. Did she believe Doug was responsible for Caitlin's death? Was God responsible? She wasn't sure. She knew only that someone was to blame. The worst moment of her life couldn't have been a random, meaningless incident.

By Friday Barbara was fit to be tied. She had phoned Pam and Benny every day and left messages on their machine, but they never returned her calls.
What was going on? She had visions of them skipping the country, disappearing forever with Janee to some remote island, some foreign continent. What if she never saw Janee again?

How was it possible that she had finally allowed a chink in her stony heart that would allow it to be shattered again by a child she had never meant to care for?

In desperation Barbara finally took out her Bible and sat down to read. So often when she was troubled she resisted reading the Scriptures; she told herself it wouldn't help. She wasn't in the mood; the verses wouldn't be relevant to her situation. But inevitably when she started reading a passage, she would feel the tug of God's Spirit, and she would realize this was what she should have been doing all along.

It was that way now, too. As she thumbed through the Book of Romans, she felt a hunger to make amends with God. She had held her heart back from Him for so long, but He was still there, waiting, ready to shower her with His love. She knew this instinctively, knew it with every fiber of her being, and yet she resisted God, turned from His love.

What was wrong with her that she couldn't give in and let God be God in her life? Why couldn't she simply open her hands and let Him have His way in her heart? Was it too important to nurse her grief, to clutch her anger to her breast?

As she scanned the eighth chapter of Romans,
several verses caught her attention. She read them aloud, hungrily, the very words a balm to her wounded heart. “‘For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us…. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities…. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.'”

Barbara closed the Bible and moved her fingertips over its sturdy binding.
Dear God, if only I had the kind of faith to believe that everything in my life is working together for good. If only I could trust You again—but I can't. I'm so afraid. What if You demand more of me than I can give? I can't bear any more losses. I'm sorry, God, I just can't!

Barbara set the Bible back in the bookcase as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, “I want to love You. I want to trust You. I want to love Doug again the way I used to. I don't want my heart to be like stone. Please, help me! I can't do it by myself!” She sank down on the floor beside the sofa, cradled her head in her arms and wept. As her tears flowed, she had the extraordinary sensation that she wasn't alone, that someone—God Himself—was holding her in His arms, offering His solace.

She cried until her tears were spent, then rested her head on the sofa cushion and savored God's comforting presence. “You are here for me, after
all,” she murmured. “You understand how weak I am. You know I can't go it alone.”

When she had finished praying, Barbara stood up and dried her eyes, then went to the bathroom and touched up her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she felt amazingly refreshed. God had given her a new lease on life. He would see her through, she knew now, whatever happened.

And He would bring Janee safely back to her, for hadn't He brought Janee into her life in the first place? Surely God wouldn't tantalize her with a child, then tear that child from her arms. He wouldn't do that to her again. He knew how much she had suffered over Caitlin. If there truly was a time for every season under heaven, surely now it was her time to be happy.

Barbara was running a brush through her hair when she heard the doorbell ring. Maybe it was Pam and Benny bringing Janee back a few days early. Wouldn't that be a perfect answer to her prayers? She tossed the brush aside and hurried to the front door. Her heart sank when she spotted Trent Townsend through the screen. “Hi,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Come on in.”

“Thanks. Don't mind if I do.” He opened the screen door and sauntered inside. He was wearing a polo shirt and slacks, and looked like he was ready for a game of tennis. “What's up, Barb?” he asked. “You look like you were expecting someone, and I'm afraid it wasn't me.”

“I'm sorry. I thought it might be Pam and Benny bringing Janee back. I should have known better. It hasn't been a week yet.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down. Can I get you some iced tea?”

“No, thanks. I'm fine.” He sat down and stretched out his long legs. “You miss her, don't you?”

“More than I dreamed possible. I never thought I'd feel this way again about a child. I guess I would never let myself. I was too afraid of being hurt again.”

Trent nodded, his gray-green eyes shadowed. “I know what you mean. I wish I could care for someone again the way I cared about Sheila. But right now I can't even imagine it.”

Barbara sat down beside Trent and touched his arm. “Don't lock your heart to the possibilities. That's what I did, Trent. After Caitlin died, I built a wall around myself. I wouldn't let anyone in. Not Doug, not God, not even another child who needed love. But somehow, when I came to this cabin with Janee, God broke through and showed me I could open my heart to love again. He'll show you, too, if you let Him.”

“I'm not a praying man, Barb. I wouldn't even know what to say.”

“That's the beauty of it, Trent. If you just open your heart to His love, He gives you the words. Try it sometime.”

He grinned. “Sure, why not? If it works for you, who knows?”

“It's not just glib advice, Trent. I've spent this afternoon wrestling with God over my own hurt and anger. And He made me realize He really is there for me. The Bible says, ‘If God is for us, who can be against us?'”

“A good motto to live by,” Trent agreed.

“Wait, there's another one. I'm a little rusty at this, but it went something like this. ‘If God gave His own Son for us, won't He also freely give us everything we need?'”

“That does have a certain poetic ring.”

“All my life I've believed that God gave His Son to die for me, Trent, but I rarely think about all the other things He gives us. Maybe I've just never let the simple truth of His love penetrate my heart. I've gotten so used to thinking of God as someone who snatches good things away from us. Like Caitlin. Like Sheila. But that's not the God the Bible speaks of. It says our God is a God who freely gives us all things.”

Trent chuckled. “Keep it up, Barb, and I'll get you your own pulpit.”

She stifled a smile. “I was preaching, wasn't I? And you know I'm not usually one to wear my faith on my sleeve.”

“That's okay. I can use all the good words I can get.”

Barbara shook her head, marveling. “Usually my
attitude is, Live and let live. But today was a real breakthrough for me. And I know you're struggling with the same deep grief.”

Trent raked his fingers through his hair. “I know there's an answer out there for me, too, but it's going to take me a while to find it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You and Janee have been a real help. Just spending time with the two of you these past couple of weeks has helped me see there's still a life out there for me—somewhere…with someone.”

“You'll find it,” Barbara assured him. “Or should I say, you'll find
her,
whoever and wherever she is.”

“Maybe.” Trent stood up and Barbara followed. “Listen, I almost forgot the reason I came over,” he said with a crinkly-eyed smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to run out and grab a bite to eat with me. Nothing fancy. A pizza maybe, or a couple of burgers.”

“I'm sorry, I can't, Trent. Doug will be driving up tonight. I was thinking of fixing him something special.”

“Sure, I understand. You're a great gal, Barb. I never should have let you get away.” He drew her gently into his arms. She resisted for a moment, then relented. After all, it was just a comforting embrace between friends. “Thanks for being here for me, Barb. You've been a godsend.”

“Thanks, Trent.”

He was still holding her when she heard the door
bell ring. Was it Janee this time? She looked over and saw Doug through the screen door. His expression was sullen and his eyes bored through the screen at the two of them.

Trent released her, and she stepped back awkwardly. “Doug,” she exclaimed, “I didn't expect you this soon.”

He came inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. “That's obvious. Maybe I should give you two a little more time. Or maybe I've given you too much time already.” He said it as if he were making a joke, but there was a bite in his tone.

“Hey, ol' man, I'm on my way out.” Trent gave Doug a good-natured tap on the shoulder. “Take good care of our girl here. She's one in a million.”

“You're not telling me anything I don't already know.” Doug walked Trent to the door and pushed it open. “You have a good night now, Trent.”

“I intend to.” Trent looked back and waved, then walked off into the night whistling to himself.

Doug locked the screen door. “That man irritates the life out of me.”

Barbara went to her husband and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You almost sound jealous, darling.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Not jealous. Just…I don't know.”

“Trent is part of my past. You know that. He's just a friend. And after losing Sheila,
he
needs a friend.”

“Does it have to be you?”

“I didn't plan it that way. We just somehow ended up neighbors again after all these years.”

Doug nuzzled the top of her head. “Well, just make sure he doesn't get too neighborly.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You are jealous, aren't you? I can't believe it—my husband jealous of an old boyfriend.”

“Not jealous!”

She looked at him. “Yes, you are. It's as obvious as the scowl on your face.” With her fingertips she traced the line of his lips. He had a full, sensuous mouth she had always loved to kiss. And yet it had been months—no, years—since they had kissed with the passionate abandon of teenagers. Was that Doug's fault? Or hers? “Darling,” she said, tenderly. “If I'd wanted Trent, I would have married him instead of you. It's you I wanted. Only you.”

He held her more tightly. He was obviously pleased with her declaration of love, but he would never admit it. “You're in a good mood, Barbie. Did something happen?”

“Only in my heart,” she murmured. She wanted to spill out every detail of her spiritual journey today—her prayers, the passages of Scripture that had touched her heart, the amazing sensation that God was holding her in His arms and comforting her. But she couldn't find the words. There was no way to explain how God had finally broken through the stony wall of her heart and filled her with His love
and peace. At last she could begin to trust Him with her life, her hopes and dreams. But the experience was too fresh, too fragile to confine with mere words.

“Barbie, we've got to talk.” There was a disturbing edge to Doug's voice. Something was wrong.

She searched his eyes. “What is it? What happened? Is it the house? Not another earthquake. I haven't had the television on, but surely I would have felt something here.”

“Not an earthquake. Not the house.”

“Then what?”

“Sit down, hon.” He led her over to the sofa, and they sat down stiffly, facing each other. His hand moved to her shoulder. He massaged her neck, kneading the muscles with a nervous, repetitive gesture, as if he were concentrating hard on something else, far removed. “It's Janee.”

“Janee?” Barbara's heart stopped. “Is she hurt?”

“No, she's fine. I didn't mean to alarm you.”