Hidden Scars (26 page)

“There they are,” Mom announced as we stepped inside. She rushed through the crowd of family and others paying their respects, her arms extended. “It’s about time.”

Marsha and I glanced at one another. My sister’s eyes widened. Her mouth flew open in silence.

I backed away, trying to make sense of our mom’s peculiar behavior. But when she reached for Rachael and cooed, “Come here to me”, it all made sense. She played the role of the doting grandmother well.

Rachael clung to Marsha’s neck and began to wail.

Mom recoiled and huffed, “What’s the matter? Is she sick?”

Marsha hugged Rachael close and rocked while whispering softly against her ear, “It’s okay. You’re okay, now.”

“She’s been a little fussy,” Bob responded. “She’s getting her first tooth.”

My sister’s calming whispers stopped as she gave her husband a scathing look. “She’s not fussy. She’s scared.”

“What’s going on?” Dad approached, his gaze shifting between Marsha and me.

Mom lifted her chin and glared at Marsha. I suspected feeling more sure of herself with Dad at her side. “Spoiled is more like it.”

“You really want to go there?”

I held my breath at Marsha’s words. She’d never back down from either of them again.

Without another word, Mom whirled and retreated.

“I didn’t think so.” Marsha then turned to Bob. “Would you mind getting the diaper bag out of the car? Rachael needs changing, and she’s hungry, I’m sure.”

“I’ll go,” I insisted.

Dad walked out behind me, but said nothing until I’d made it back up the steps with bag in hand. “We need to talk,” he demanded and didn’t wait for a reply. “The problems you’ve caused between your mother and her brother were unnecessary and uncalled for.”

What did he expect me to say? Obviously not the truth.

“Do you realize that could be your mother lying in there?” He nodded toward the house.

“But it’s not. It’s Gram.”

“When I die,” he stuck his finger in my face, “so help me God, if you so much as shed one tear, I’ll roll over in my grave.”

At that very instant, the depth of Dad’s hate and contempt for me sunk in. Then just as quickly, Chuck’s face came to mind. I knew love—what it looked like and what it felt like. And this wasn’t it. For the first time in my life, I really studied my dad’s eyes and saw the man behind them.

I had more than five months to go without Chuck by my side to protect me. But somewhere along the way I’d found courage. And courage came with a price. There was no winning, only accepting what had to be.

“Good-bye, Daddy.” No longer afraid, my heart ached as I walked past him.

God, help me to forgive them both.

With each announcement of arrivals and departures, I pulled my attention from the Life Magazine in my hands and listened carefully. I’d arrived two hours earlier, too excited to wait anywhere but here…the place Chuck and I said our last good-byes.

“Family or friend?” the thin elderly woman sitting next to me asked.

“My husband,” I eagerly announced.

“Oh my.” Her smile widened. “You don’t look old enough to be married.”

“It’ll be three years in two months.”

“Any children?”

“No, ma’am. Not yet.”

“Well, you’re young. There’s still time.”

Time? Mine and Chuck’s life had been put on hold for the past eighteen months, thanks to the Army. And if not for troop withdrawal that actually began in 1970, he would’ve been another thirty-three days in Vietnam.

“Today I finally get to meet my first great grandbaby. I’m told she looks a great deal like me. Poor thing.” She swallowed a deep raspy giggle. “Of course, I’ve been told I was quiet the looker in my time.”

I could see it, her flawless rosy complexion, beautiful smile, doe eyes. “You still are.”

Her face flushed. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. Really. Simply repeating what my husband used to say. Has your husband been gone long?”

Seems like forever. “I haven’t seen him for three-hundred and thirty-three days.”

She cocked her head sideways. “Goodness!”

“He’s been in Vietnam.”

“Oh!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?”

I took a deep breath hoping…praying Chuck’s flight had not been delayed.

“There it is!” The woman sitting next to me pointed toward the wide glass window to the left.

People crowded around a narrow roped off area as soon as the attendant opened the corridor door.

The elderly woman gathered up her purse and sweater. “Good luck to you and your husband.”

“Thank you.” I watched as she joined others trying to get the first glimpse of their loved ones.

My heart galloped. My lungs couldn’t keep up with its pace. This was it. Would he still feel the same way about me? His letters said so. But there were so many things his letters didn’t say. Not one time had he shared the horror of taking a life or the fear and close calls of losing his. Kyle in the park flashed into my mind. His lifeless eyes. His lack of desire to be around family and friends.

The chatter of voices, along with squeals and laughter, increased. I stood on my tiptoes but still couldn’t make out more than the top of someone’s head. I worked my way out of the waiting area and moved to a clearing several feet away. People pushed in front of me, crowding in, making it difficult to see everyone who passed by.

Then I saw him. “Chuck!” I fought my way upstream, against the flow of people, trying to find him again.

A hand snagged mine, pulling me forward until I stood studying the face I’d etched in my mine almost a year earlier. Only this time his complexion was more tanned. And tiny lines outlined the outer edges of his eyes…his bright eyes that danced with life as he smiled and took me in his arms.

“I’ve missed you.” The warmth of his breath against my ear sent longing chills through my body.

I rested my head against his chest and, for the first time in almost a year, completely relaxed. He’d made it. I’d made it. And when he captured my lips with his, there was no doubt,
we’d
made it.

After Chuck completed his two-year stint with the Army, he and I pursued our dream. We left the Mississippi Delta and headed west. The beauty of the Rockies near Colorado Springs, with their sculptured peaks and pristine water, pushed us onward, as it must have early explorers, eager to see what lay ahead. The bear, elk, and moose of Yellowstone walked fearlessly, allowing us to admire their strength and beauty. Chugwater, Wyoming gave us our first taste of trout and the best cherry pie we’d ever eaten. Montana skies offered more stars than we’d ever imagined existed. Mount Rushmore proved dreams can come true. But after touring twenty-two states, God led us to Lewiston, Idaho. The place we now call home.

Thank you for choosing Hidden Scars. Abuse is an ugly word, which knows no boundaries. Often the victim is left with physical and emotional scars that can only heal with time and by God’s love. The why questions may never be answered. Our inability to change the past or to know if there’ll be a tomorrow is the reality we must face. When we hang on to the past and refuse to accept God’s help with forgiveness, we continue to allow the abuser to inflict pain, even if from the grave. Forgiveness doesn’t come easy or overnight, and it doesn’t always mean forgetting, but with God, all things are possible. So rather than dwelling on what might have been if loved by a parent, a spouse, a child, or mankind as a whole, be reminded of the people God placed in your life who love you for who you are.

I’d love to hear from you. A review on the site where you purchased the book would be extremely helpful, or you can visit me at my website,
amandasueking.com
.

Sincerely,

Amanda King

Hidden Scars might have remained tucked away in my computer, in its very rough form, if not for my sister, Marion. Your persistence helped me have the courage to take that first giant step.

To all my writer friends and family whose input kept me humble and the story moving forward with purpose, thank you—B. Noyes, N. Kimball, K. Freeman, C. Regnier, B. Steury, F. Lamb, D. Dulworth, K. Broomes, G. Engel, T. Wainwright, A. Trent, D. Zellman., B. Lowe, J. Foster

And to my editor and coach, from Brilliant Cut Editing, I will forever be grateful to God for bringing you into my life. What a blessing you’ve been. Your wisdom, patience, drive, and faith amaze me.

My husband and best friend, when you said early in our marriage that we’d pull this wagon together, you truly meant it. I couldn’t have written this book without you.

A native of Mississippi, Amanda and her husband—childhood sweethearts—now reside in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee.

At the age of eleven, Amanda decided someday she’d be a nurse. A career that not only allowed her to help others, but also introduced her to people whose strength and courage, lives and deaths—and faith—would forever change her.

Some of her favorite things are: chocolate anything, antique dishes, new socks, quiet times with her husband, reading a good book, and making people laugh.

Amanda describes herself as loyal, simple, and country through-and-through. She never tires of her peaceful, safe lifestyle or playing with all the newborn farm animals. Even most of her chickens have names.