Seasons Under Heaven (16 page)

That night, after a talk with Barry about organ donation, Tory had trouble sleeping. She got up, went to the laundry room, and turned on the computer. She hadn’t touched it since the day she’d seen the book in the library that was so much like hers, and now she fought the feeling of defeat and failure that spiraled inside her as the computer booted up and the cursor began to flicker.

There was something more important than her own goals, she reminded herself. Joseph’s life was at stake, and there were people who thought she had the skill to do something about it.

She thought about what to write in her appeal to the local churches, and as her fingers began to type, she found that it was liberating to not worry about publication or fame and fortune. Tory simply began to tell the story of the little boy whose heart was failing. The little boy who needed a heart transplant and couldn’t afford it. The little boy whose family was willing to do whatever was necessary to get him the help he needed. And she told them how much that family needed the financial help of anyone willing.

She finished drafting the letter at three o’clock in the morning. She printed out a hundred copies for starters, and decided to address the envelopes tomorrow.

By the time she crawled back into bed, she felt the thrill of accomplishment, the peace of knowing she’d done something no one else on their street could have done. She fell into a deep sleep next to her husband, knowing that dawn would come too soon. Her brain would be weary tomorrow, and she would move slowly, but that was all right. The knowledge that those letters were on their way to people who could help would give her all the energy she needed.

By Thursday night, Cathy had convinced herself that Sylvia’s church fellowship hall would be packed with parents who’d gotten her letter and were concerned about their children’s education. She had even made copies of Tory’s letter about Joseph, planning to pass them out.

She got to the church thirty minutes early and tried to organize her thoughts and her notes. At quarter till, no early birds had straggled in. At five till, she looked at her watch and began to panic.

At seven, two women came to the door. “Excuse me…where is the meeting about the public schools being held?”

“Right here,” she said, too exuberantly. “Come in.”

They stepped into the room and looked nervously around. “Where is everybody?”

“I’m afraid you’re the first two here.”

“Really? No one else came?”

She hated to admit it. “Well, I haven’t given up yet. You know people. You tell them seven and they show up at seven-fifteen.
And of course, since it’s a Baptist church, they figure we’ll be having food and fellowship for a while before we get down to business. We have to allow for that.” Instantly, she wondered if she’d offended them, and decided to amend that statement. “Of course, I’m sure other denominations eat a lot, too. Not
too
much, but…you know…”

The two women nodded skeptically and looked as if they might escape through the bathroom window. An awkward silence fell over the room as they took two seats, and Cathy pretended to be busy organizing her handouts. After a moment, she heard footsteps and looked up to see a pleasant-looking man. “Hey, I’m Cathy Flaherty,” she said, her voice echoing in the near-empty room. “Are you looking for the meeting about the schools?”

“That’s right,” he said, hesitating at the door. “Am I in the right place?”

“This is it,” she said.

He crossed the room and shook her hand. “Steve Bennett,” he said. “I got your letter, and I was pretty outraged. I didn’t know if I should come because I only have one child and she’s just in elementary school. But I figure in a few years she’ll be in those classes.”

“Everybody is welcome,” she said. “Even people who don’t have kids. We’re all paying taxes for those schools. Will her mother be coming?”

He shook his head as he took a seat in the front row. His face reddened slightly. “My wife died. I’ve been raising Tracy alone for the last three years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She could have kicked herself, for she could see from the look on his face that he wasn’t quite over it. “Well, I’m really glad you came. I was hoping we wouldn’t just have mothers here.” She glanced at the two women. “Not that there’s anything wrong with mothers. I’m one, myself. I just meant…”

Her voice faded off as she realized what a mess she was making. She heard voices, and a half-dozen more people straggled in. She tried to greet them more intelligently. She was glad she’d
brought finger sandwiches so that everyone had something to do as they waited for the meeting to start. Finally, at twenty after, she decided that everyone who was going to come was here. Counting her, there were ten people.

Ignoring the microphone she had set up, she sat on a chair facing the room and told them the story of how she’d found the condom in her son’s pocket. She related her meeting with the principal and the indifference she had encountered from the superintendent. They each gave her their full attention.

“I’m not the most articulate person,” she admitted. “I’m used to dealing with animals and teenagers. But my intention for tonight was to educate the parents of this community about what they’re teaching our kids, and hopefully get us mobilized so that when school starts, we can all show up at the school board meeting in huge numbers.” She looked around at them and gave a disappointed laugh. “Well, as many as we can get together, anyway. I’m hoping that we can go there and demand to be notified before they have this talk with our children. I think the least we could ask for is the opportunity to view the videos our children will be watching, review the material they’ll be studying, and have approval rights as to what they give our children and what kinds of demonstrations they show them. Really, the line has to be drawn somewhere.”

The other parents agreed, and Cathy felt validated. “For those things to happen, you’ll need to tell everyone you know about this. I sent the letter to as many people as I could, but I know how it is. You get a lot of letters. If you don’t know who something’s from, sometimes you don’t open it. I’m afraid some of the parents may have just thrown my letter away without reading it. But we need to get the word out somehow. We need dozens of parents there when we face the school board in September. We need to tell them that we won’t stand for this, and that this issue isn’t going to go away until something is done about it. We have to protect our schools.”

She hadn’t expected the applause she got from the tiny group. When it died down, she went on. “I know that the number of
parents in this room tonight is not a fair measure of the number of parents in this community who care about their children. It’s just that we live in a very busy culture, and a lot of parents opted to be with their children tonight, instead of coming here to talk about them. So I’m not blaming them. Heaven knows, I’ve missed plenty of meetings myself. So I’d appreciate it if you could talk it up, then meet me at the school board meeting on September 16, so we can make sure they understand our point.”

She felt good about the meeting as it broke up and people began to go home. At the door, she handed out flyers about Joseph and his problem. Steve Bennett lingered to help her pick up the dirty paper plates and cups that had been left behind on chairs.

“Tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “My little girl plays soccer. I’ll work something up to give to the soccer parents. And I’ll do some talking, too, at the games. Give me a stack of those heart-transplant sheets, too, and I’ll pass them out while I’m at it.”

“Good idea,” she said, getting two stacks to hand to him. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

He paused, looking down at the sheets. His hair was cut too short, and his skin looked weathered, as if he worked outdoors. But he had a kind face. “I really appreciate what you’ve done, calling our attention to this,” he said. “If you hadn’t, I might never have known. I’ve tried to be real protective of my daughter, and I can’t stand the thought that these educators can do anything they want to with her when she’s in their building.”

“I know,” she said. “Kind of scary, isn’t it?”

“Let me help you get your stuff, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

A gentleman, she thought. A gentleman who cared about his child. Would wonders never cease? She looked at him from the corner of her eye as they walked outside. She wondered what was wrong with him. Something, no doubt. There was something wrong with all of them. They just didn’t make them the way young women dreamed they did.

He helped her get her papers into the car, then shook her hand again. “It was nice meeting you, Cathy.” There was nothing flirtatious or suggestive in his tone. It was a welcome relief.

“You, too, Steve. Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.” She got in the car, locked it, and watched him walk to a pickup truck that was a few years old. Not a midlife crisis sports car. Again, a welcome relief. She wondered if he dated much, then quickly chased away the thought, reminding herself that she had sworn off dating. Besides, tonight was about changing school policy, not meeting men.

She started her car, and as she drove home, she thought that things might be looking up. Maybe there was a chance, after all, that they could turn the school board around.

Sunday morning, Tory and Barry took the Dodd kids to church with them. Brenda had been grateful for the offer, since David wanted to be at the hospital with Joseph and Brenda—and had already announced unequivocally that he did not intend to go to church under any circumstances. That wasn’t like David, Tory thought. He was normally a sweet, gentle man. His distaste of church seemed unreasonable and out of character.

Brittany and Spencer were excited as they picked the older kids up and headed for Sunday school. “I want Daniel to come to Sunday school with me,” Spencer said.

“He’s a little old for your class, Spence,” Barry said. “They don’t generally let twelve-year-olds in the four-year-old class.”

Daniel’s smile was forced. “I have to go to my own class, Spencer.”

“What about Leah and Rachel?” Brittany asked. “Can they come to my class?”

“No, we’re going to send everybody to their own age-group,” Tory said. “You all okay with that?”

The three Dodd children sitting on the backseat of the Caravan nodded complacently, but she could see that they were nervous about attending a new church. She remembered being the new kid once when she was a child. She’d hated it. And she couldn’t even offer them the hope that they would run into school friends, since they were homeschooled. Their circle of friends was much smaller than hers had been at that age.

She took them in and walked them each to the classroom they belonged to. “This is a big church,” Leah said quietly. “Our church is a lot smaller.”

Tory was proud of the size of her church. “Yeah, God has really blessed us,” she said. “When we first started, it was the size of your church, but we’ve grown over the years. There are all kinds of things to do here now. Brittany and Spencer take art classes here on Thursday mornings, and they go to Mom’s Day Out, and I take aerobics three times a week and a parenting class on Sunday nights…”

The kids seemed to listen with polite interest. She took them each to their classrooms and watched them go in. Leah and Rachel would be fine, she thought, because they were twins and could lean on each other. But she felt sorry for Daniel. It was tough for a seventh grader to go into a roomful of kids he didn’t know and try to fit in. She could see how awkward he felt, and almost considered taking him to her class with her. But she didn’t know how often she and Barry would be bringing them. If it was every week, Daniel needed to get to know the kids his own age.

After Sunday school, she retrieved all five children, and they sat in a row on the pew in the sanctuary. Occasionally during the service, she glanced down the row at them. Brittany and Spencer were drawing on the program, but the three Dodd children sat silently, very still, looking miserably at the preacher. Next to her, Barry began to nod off, and she nudged him. “Wake up,” she whispered. “You’re setting a bad example.”

After church, they took Daniel, Leah, and Rachel to the hospital to have lunch with their parents. Barry waited in the lobby with Brittany and Spencer as Tory walked Brenda’s kids up. Joseph was sitting up in bed. Tory was thankful to see that the color had returned to his face, though he still seemed tired and lackluster.

Brenda threw her arms around each of her gowned and masked children as though she hadn’t seen them in a week. “Leah, look at you. You’re walking like a beauty queen. Have you been practicing with that book on your head?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s working, honey. Look how straight that backbone is. And Rachel, darlin’, your hair looks just beautiful in that braid—and to think I wasn’t even there to help.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Oh, Daniel, you’ve grown since yesterday. Look at you, you’re almost as tall as I am.” She tested his biceps. “Have you been pumping iron at Mark’s house again?”

“Not lately.”

“Good thing. If you get any bigger, I’ll have to buy you a whole new wardrobe. Look at him, David. He’ll be wearing your clothes soon.”

With all three children beaming, Brenda finally turned to Tory. “Thanks for taking them to church, Tory. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It was our pleasure,” Tory said, staying back at the door for fear of bringing germs in, despite her own mask and gown. “How are you feeling, Joseph?” she asked.

“Good.”

She doubted that was true, but it didn’t surprise her that, being Brenda’s son, he put the best face on things.

“He’s just blossoming,” Brenda said, walking to the bed and combing her fingers through Joseph’s cowlicked hair. “And his disposition is unbelievable. Most kids would be whining and fussing, but he’s as good as gold. I’m the lucky one, getting to spend all this time with him. So kids, how did you like Miss Tory’s church?”

“It was fine,” Daniel said without much enthusiasm.

“Did you make any new friends?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It was kind of boring,” Rachel blurted.

“Oh, I’m sure it was fine,” Brenda said, shooting Tory an embarrassed look. Tory just grinned.

“Mom, can’t you take us tonight?” Rachel asked. “We’ve been working on the musical, and I have a solo next Sunday night. I’ll lose it if I don’t go to practice tonight.”

“And Daniel and me have speaking parts, so we—”

“Daniel and I,” Brenda said, cutting into Leah’s plea.

“I had one, too,” Joseph interjected. “Now I have to quit. If all four of us quit, they’ll have to call the whole thing off.”

“We can’t let everybody down,” Rachel said. “Mom, please! Daddy, couldn’t you just drop us off?”

“No,” David said. “I need to stay here.”

Tory saw the struggle on Brenda’s face. She wasn’t ready to leave Joseph yet.

“Look,” Tory said. “If the kids want to go tonight, I’ll take them. Really, I wouldn’t mind.”

“
Really?
” It was the most animated Tory had seen Rachel all morning.

Brenda shook her head. “Tory, you’ve done so much already.”

“What could it hurt? I’ll drop them off so they can work on the musical, and then we’ll all come back for the service and we’ll bring them home afterward.”

“I really appreciate that, Tory.”

Tory waved off the thanks. “Okay, guys, what time do you need to be there?”

“Four-thirty,” Daniel said, his eyes brighter now.

“Okay, then I’ll pick you up at your house at four-fifteen and run you over.”

Finally, David got up. “No, that won’t be necessary, Tory. I’ll drop them off at the church. If you’ll just go to the service and bring them home.”

“Sure, that’ll work out fine.” She glanced at Brenda and caught her look. She knew how much Brenda wished that David would be the one to attend the service tonight.

“I’ll take that time to come back and spend with Joseph,” David said. “I don’t get much time during the week.”

Tory wondered if he would come to see the kids perform in the musical. She couldn’t imagine a father as diligent as David missing something like that.

Finally, she discarded her sterile clothes and headed back down to find her family waiting patiently in the lobby. Thankful to have them all healthy and happy, she gave them each a kiss and led them back to the car.

Brenda’s church was a small building with no frills. It had about fifty pews—twenty-five each in two rows—plain windows, and a simple cross at the front—so unlike their own church, which had a huge mortgage, beautiful stained glass windows, and a sanctuary that made them all proud. Tory, Barry, Brittany, and Spencer slipped in just before the service and sat near the back. Leah and Rachel found them and ran up the aisle to scoot into the pew next to them. Daniel waved from his place up front where a handful of youth were sitting.

They started the service with praise music, and the congregation clapped their hands and sang out without inhibition. Tory saw joy on the faces around her as they sang and praised God. In her church, everything was somber and reverent, and she didn’t know quite how to take this new form of worship. Brittany and Spencer were on their feet singing along, instead of seated and marking up programs.

The preacher, a less-educated, less-polished man than their own pastor, began to preach. He had power and authority, and his words cut right to her heart. She saw that Barry, too, was wide awake, riveted on every word. The sermon about sharing
one’s faith seemed so relevant, so directly from God, so challenging and uniquely designed for her.

When the service was over, family after family introduced themselves, shook their hands, and praised them for being faithful in helping the Dodds. They left feeling uplifted and happy, instead of tired and irritable, as they often did on Sunday nights after their own church services.

They dropped the Dodd kids off at home where David waited. As they pulled into their driveway, Tory looked over at Barry and smiled. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I think he wrote that sermon just for me.”

“Nope. Couldn’t have.” Barry grinned. “He wrote it for me.”

She laughed. “Seems like the Holy Spirit was really alive there. No wonder Brenda’s the way she is.”

“What way is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Just real spiritual. Real in tune with God.”

“It’d be hard to be a member of that church and not be.”

They got out of the car and led the children in, and for a while she busied herself getting the kids bathed and put to bed.

Later, as she was preparing for bed herself, Tory paused and leaned against the bedpost. She gazed down at her husband, who was lying on the bed in a pair of gym shorts, reading a magazine. He felt her eyes on him and looked up at her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Do you ever think about changing churches?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t think about that,” he said. “I’m a deacon. Deacons don’t just up and leave.”

“Why not?” She touched his feet. “What would be wrong with that?”

He dropped the magazine and sat up. “Tory, how can you talk like this? We’ve been going to that church since we were married.”

“I know. It’s just that I’ve never felt the Spirit move quite like He did tonight.”

“It was nice,” he agreed. “But at our church…we worship differently. It doesn’t mean the Holy Spirit isn’t there, too.”

“How do we worship?” she asked Barry. “By falling asleep in church? By letting our kids color and draw and ignore what’s going on? By mumbling through the hymns while we check our watches to see how much longer we have to sit there?”

“So maybe our worship methods aren’t perfect,” he said. “Maybe we need to work on taking worship more seriously.”

“Maybe.” She let it go and crawled into bed next to him. But in her heart, she wondered.

The next morning over breakfast, Spencer asked her if they could go back to that church again. “Well, don’t you like our church?” Tory asked.

“No. Their church was fun.”

“What was fun about it?” she asked.

He thought that over for a moment. Finally, Brittany came up with the answer. “I liked the songs.”

“They’re the same songs we sing.”

“Yeah, but they sounded different when they sang ‘em.”

She smiled. “They did, didn’t they? Maybe we will go back.”

“Can we go Sunday morning?” he asked. “Their Sunday school rooms looked cool, and me and Britty would be in the same class, Leah said.”

Tory knew that was true. Since the church was small, they divided the age-groups differently. “Maybe we’ll do that just until Joseph gets better and their mom can take them again.”

She knew that Barry would agree to go temporarily for the sake of the Dodds, but she decided not to bring up the subject of changing churches again. Barry was right. They were committed to their own church. For now, that was where they would stay.