Song of the Brokenhearted (9 page)

“I don't smoke,” she said, which seemed to make Doug even happier.

“I'll show you how,” he said, lighting her cigarette.

They arrived home with Ava smelling like smoke and Clancy still fuming but without another busted nose or black eye. To their surprise, Grannie came out of the house and met them on the front porch.

Before they could say hello, she said, “Your daddy is in jail. You're gonna have to live with me for a while.”

Guilt washed over her as if smoking had sent God's judgment. If their grandmother caught wind of it, she'd think just that, and Ava would get a licking despite being in high school.

“Why?” Clancy asked, and Ava realized she'd been more distracted by Grannie's arrival, the horror of having to stay with her again, and the fear of being caught smoking. Grannie's words sunk in. Her father—arrested?

“The devil is making his move. They have him up on charges of manslaughter and embezzlement.”

“Manslaughter and embezzlement?” Ava asked, looking at Clancy.

“They say he's been stealing from the church 'cause he's breaking something in the bylaws. It's all hogwash. The manslaughter, well, he got tempted by the drink and got behind the wheel . . .”

The memory came to mind as the family drove home from the football game. Jason wasn't going to be arrested like Daddy. There was no Grannie to be terrified of now. No one was being bullied. But something about this stirred the memory.

Dane drove with his hands gripping the steering wheel. Jason sat slumped in the backseat beside his sister, not uttering a word.

Replaying that night, Ava wanted to rewind the entire game and hide under a hat, or better yet, just remain at home. It felt as if the entire crowd of parents, community acquaintances, and old friends had all known about Jason before them. Of course, not everyone knew, but news did travel like a wildfire in Dallas circles. Yet her family had spent the game as if nothing was going on, because they didn't know. What fools they must have appeared to everyone.

Ava's initial concern was about how this looked to the people in their church and among their friends—instead of the fact that her son might be doing drugs. The truth was, she was more embarrassed than angry, more humiliated than worried. And this disgusted her.

The worry was there. He'd failed a drug test. Her son, the athlete, the God-lover, the baby of the family . . . he'd failed a drug test? Maybe it was a mistake. She'd heard poppy seeds in muffins could make a false positive. There might be other foods as well. Or perhaps he'd been slipped something. What kind of drug had it been? She wished someone could tell her that.

“When did you find out?” Dane asked with a stern voice.

“Right before the game,” Jason murmured. Ava couldn't believe the news had traveled through the parents that fast.

“When we get home, go straight to bed and we'll talk about it tomorrow. You are obviously grounded from everything,” Dane said in a severe tone as if trying to keep the volcano of fury from exploding.

Ava wanted to address it tonight, not tomorrow. But she decided to wait until they were alone before talking further to Dane about next steps and appropriate punishment.

As they pulled up to the house, Jason practically leaped from the car and raced for the front door. Sienna followed more hesitantly, pausing to see if her parents were coming, then went inside when neither moved from their front seats.

“I can't deal with this tonight,” Dane said after the car door shut. He didn't turn off the key.

“You can't deal with this tonight? What does that mean?”

“I'm sorry, but I have to go to the office again. I told you I had to.”

Ava realized her hands were shaking. “I would remember if you told me you were going to the office in the middle of the night again. Didn't you say we were drinking wine on the balcony tonight?”

“That was yesterday. I'm sure I mentioned it this afternoon.”

“It doesn't matter, though you didn't tell me. We need to be united about this.”

“I can't tonight.”

“And so what am I supposed to do?”

“Let him go to bed or talk to him if you want. I almost didn't go to the game with everything that's going on. You don't realize what I'm dealing with, Ava.” He enunciated her name in a way that sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.

“I don't realize because you don't tell me. You just disappear at all hours.” He didn't turn from where he stared out the front window. “Just go then.”

Ava hopped out of the car and shut the door hard as if to shout her anger. But Dane didn't shut off the engine. He didn't get out of the car and follow her. He didn't even roll down the window.

Instead, her husband pulled out of the driveway before she reached the front door. Ava stood in the cold of the night watching the red of his taillights disappear around the corner and down the street.

Jason was in bed with the covers pulled over his head and his football cleats sticking out from the bottom of the blankets. She wanted to tell him to change his clothes. Instead, she leaned down and unlaced his shoes one at a time and then covered up his stinky socks with the blanket. The rancid smell dissolved her anger and put her on the sudden verge of crying for him. This boy was what mattered, she chided herself. Her son was in pain, humiliated, and was going through something that she'd been completely unaware of. He didn't move from beneath the covers.

“I love you,” she whispered, bending down to kiss his thick hair. At the door she added, “We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“K. Love you,” he whispered back.

Sienna waited in the kitchen with the kettle already bubbling on the stove.

“Where's Daddy?” she asked with a frown.

“Office,” Ava croaked out, trying to rein in her tempest of emotions.

“What?” Her eyes narrowed and she bit the edge of her lip just as Ava always did. It brought a smile, even as Ava tried to reconcile her thoughts. Jason and drugs? Sienna at home for no reason? Dane and work? When had her husband not addressed an issue with the kids, ever? Something was undoubtedly going on, and she needed to quit hiding her head. Obviously her family wasn't as healthy and flawless as she believed.

“Mom, it's going to be okay.” Sienna hopped up onto the end of the counter.

“I'm sure it will,” she muttered half-heartedly. “I just can't believe everyone at the game knew before we did.”

“Why do you care?” Sienna asked defiantly.

Why did she care? Ava had never considered herself to be vain. Her childhood was enough to slam humility into her any time she thought of herself or their family with anything other than gratitude. Sometimes in the middle of a social event, she had the sudden awareness of the child she'd been. Tangled hair, hardened feet from running around outside without shoes, dirt on her sunburned cheeks, a stained homemade dress handed down from a woman in church with older daughters. They'd clean up for church, Daddy insisted on it, but on all other days, she and Clancy lived the life of ragamuffin orphans.

Once when she spoke to a group of women at a country club, she had a momentary flash of panic with all of them arriving in luxury cars and sitting at their linen-covered tables wearing designer suits. There were women from old money, oil families, and Texas society. Would they see her true self? Would they turn away as if they saw her standing with matted hair and skinned-up knees? Yet they always surprised her by being full of broken people. Perhaps these women had grown up wearing expensive brands, but inside they were so much like her.

Ava rarely spoke about her childhood, and even then it was mostly hints and snippet stories to get a point across. Few people knew what it had been like, and those who did didn't have the full impact of what had occurred.

So why did she care if her family had looked like fools? Was it the attention? Was it the props she'd built that created an illusion of perfection? She'd wanted to be real, transparent, and open to the people around her . . . except for the full image of her extended family. That was a past she hadn't processed herself. It was like bread dough that rose and needed pounding down. Someday she might let it rise fully, she might take it in her hands and knead it into a dough that could be baked, sliced, buttered, and shared with others, nourishing them by the story she'd endured. But Ava wasn't ready for that.

“It's normal for kids to experiment a little,” Sienna said, interrupting her thoughts.

“That's all it is, you think? Wait . . . you did stuff like this?”

Sienna's eyebrow rose as she bit back a grin. “A little, but nothing to worry about.”

“What?” Ava pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the counter. “We don't know how bad this is. He could be kicked off the team. College scouts are coming next week. Sure, he's only a freshman, but they groom them early.”

“Oh,” Sienna muttered as the full weight of the possible consequences rolled over her.

“How could I have missed it?” Ava said to herself. Was the ministry distracting her from knowing that their own son was falling apart before their blinded eyes?

Jason was the one who could never keep a secret from them. He told on himself about things they would have never found out, like the time he stole a pack of gum at the grocery store or when he'd started a small fire at church. So why did her kids need to keep secrets now?

“What if he has a real problem?” Ava said, following Sienna toward the living room with a cup of tea in her hand.

“No way, Mom. I'm sure you experimented a little, or did a few rebellious things as a kid.”

Ava stared at her daughter. She'd never told Sienna about her high school or college years.

“I wasn't a Christian then. And there're so many chances for problems, big problems like drug addiction, accidents . . .” She had dozens of real-life cases she could present from her experiences with Broken Hearts.

Sienna pursed her lips to hide a smile. “Mom, I know. I'd rather this didn't happen either, and I wish I could have listened to everything adults told me so that I didn't make mistakes. But isn't life about messing up and hopefully learning and growing from it?”

Ava smiled while staring at the ceiling. “Listen to you, trying to calm me down. But I'm a mother, I want my kids safe. Mistakes mean the possibility of something that can't be easily fixed—or fixed at all.”

“I'm just a big sister, but I can appreciate those fears. And I've also seen how you trust God with our lives and with your own. It's been the best example, and I'm seeing the value of that more and more.” She bit her lip and Ava waited to hear the rest. “I need to do that more. And Jason probably does too. You've put that into our lives, Mom. You should trust that.”

Ava wanted to argue with her daughter and explain how it never felt like enough. Too many good families had lost their children to the world; she couldn't just sit back and trust. Instead, she kept it inside. Her daughter would understand when she became a parent some day.

“I promise to try,” she said, smiling at her daughter.

“Great, then let's make some kettle corn and stay up late without the guys around.”

“You have a deal.”

The weekend should have been baked French toast casseroles and time spent with their daughter and son.

Dane called from the airport. He'd taken an unscheduled trip to New York. He hadn't come home at all, but said he'd be home late Sunday. He promised Sienna that he'd fly out to California soon to make it up to her.

Ava's indignation twisted with a sense of helplessness. She couldn't force him to come home. She could try tears, shouting, insisting, stating his wrong, or she could not be home when he arrived—but those tactics had never helped in their early years of marriage, and they surely wouldn't help now.

Mostly, Ava simply couldn't believe this was Dane.

Ava and Sienna sat at a little table in the corner of their favorite café, cradling cups of coffee in their hands. Jason was on restriction until further notice, but he didn't want to talk to anyone yet. Ava and Sienna had left him at the house and ventured out for breakfast.