Space

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

I dedicate this book to all the families who have, like the Stowes, faced seemingly insurmountable odds in the substance addiction recovery of a loved one. Who have, inside their own home and beyond, for the sake of family or friend, sacrificed their own space for the rescue of a loved one.

 

To the ones who, through either tough love or the gentler kind, never gave up on the addict. Whose love helped the “beaten down” one to experience the soul nurturing and hope that only family and unconditional love can give.

 

To Karen Aho, a precious, courageous friend. And to Angel Callahan, my faithful assistant.

 

To Leland, my husband and greatest supporter, whose unreserved love ever buoys me to greater heights than I ever thought possible.

 

To Father God, the one who “don't make no junk” and is always there to finish lifting the willing, healing one to full redemption and helps them see that, like with the American eagle, after the excruciating pain of renewal, life is more beautiful than ever.

Space
is work of fiction, one that was not easy to pen. I have the passion for it, but the subject matter many times veers readers into dark, desperate places where one is reluctant to enter. In this setting the characters feel real emotions and cry out in pain and confusion and anguish, often grasping at the will to even live. Not a cheerful scenario by anyone's standards. Yet the story is provocative because all around us, behind closed doors, many seemingly normal, happy families live this drama. It has become all too familiar. The tribulation inside those walls is staggering.

 

I took the liberty of using fictional South Carolina settings, such as Brattsville and other locales. The characters are composites of many folks I've known and some I haven't personally known. Most are purely figments of my zealous imagination.

 

My insight into dealing with this timely challenge came from both personal and second hand experiences. Those who allowed me to use their own occurrences to weave into this tale are many, some of whom I will not name for obvious reasons. You know who you are, and I am eternally grateful for your transparency and unfailing generosity.

 

Bright family moments weave together the Stowes' story. A special thank you to Michael and Susan Cooper and their beautiful “miracle” children: Caleb Michael (“Faithful”), Rachel Gabrielle (“Little Lamb”), Moriah Jordan (“God is my teacher”), and Danielle Isaac (“Laughter”). This wonderful family was divinely put together and inspired the groundwork for the Stowes' odyssey.

 

Thanks to both Susan Cooper and Jean Scroggs for their invaluable adoption status input. And heartfelt gratitude to Dr. David Barnes, counselor and friend, a genuine, present-day Good Samaritan. And to the Rev. Bob Roach and wife, Pat, whose medical expertise helped flesh out the story's coronary crisis.

 

Thank you, Rita Allison and Doug Brannon, SC State House Representatives and friends, for your wise counsel and input during the creation of this book. Two other Good Samaritans!

 

And finally, much gratitude to those former addicts who generously shared experiences of stolen lives, utter despair, and finally the climb from the pit and back up to the mountaintop of redemption. Who want to encourage others on the same path from destruction to learn to fly with the Eagles.

 

Above the storm.

 

Be blessed, dear reader and enjoy triumph in its purest form.

“Don't be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. If you can dream it, you can make it so.”

— Belva Davis

 

 

“Now, let's go through this area. I think the space we're interested in leasing for a restaurant is right through here,” my sister Lexie said, uncharacteristically businesslike for her, the family joker. She and her husband Adam continued to guide Dan and me through a maze of back rooms in this business plaza section.

“This is a short cut,” she explained. “Quicker.”

Dan and I cut our eyes at each other, wary yet curious. Lexie had, all week, enthused about her new interest in opening a restaurant on the outskirts of Greenville. In suburban Taylors, actually, a perfect, according to Lexie, South Carolina setting for the Ma and Pa establishment she'd “always dreamed of.”

Strange. I'd never heard of this particular dream.

Short and athletic, freckle-nosed, spiked red-haired Lexie was known for her sense of adventure. Her wiriness and strength could have made her a star gymnast. Her balance and physical prowess always left her older sisters, Priss and me, behind in a blinding dust storm. Yet,
she'd migrated toward marriage and motherhood and it fit her like tight leather pants.

So today, when she asked Dan and me to come along and give our opinion on her choice of a future business site, we agreed. Mainly because we enjoyed Lexie and Adam's company. Never a dull moment. I also liked that she trusted our opinion on such an important matter. Besides, she threw in a bonus.

“We're gonna treat you to a scrumptious meal,” she gushed.

“Where?” I ventured.

She grinned, her nose tilting becomingly. “It's a surprise.”

So, as we made our way past the stockroom paraphernalia to yet another door, she knocked.

Then Lexie said, rather loudly, “This must be it.”

I scowled at her volume and halted as she opened the door and stepped back for Dan and me to enter. The room was pitch dark.

“Where's the light switch?” I asked, slightly irritated at all the drama, fumbling inside alongside the door frame. My fingers contacted it and …

“SURPRISE!!” screamed a room full of lively, raucous humanity.

“
Aaii!”
I nearly jumped into Dan's arms.

“What the heck?” I shrieked, glaring at them, shaking from the trauma, certain we'd wandered into the wrong room.

Dan stood there beside me, slack-jawed and rather pale from the jolt.

“Happy anniversary!” yelled a familiar voice. My sister Priss' beaming face honed in, and her husband Earl's. My knees, by now, warbled like Jello.

I spun in a wobbly circle to face Lexie. “
Liar
! I should have known.” Lexie's face- splitting grin was pure Cheshire. “There is no restaurant deal, is there?” I accused.

“If I ever talk seriously about opening a restaurant, please take me out and shoot me,” she said, laughing uproariously.

Adam, a bit more sensitive to my frustration, stepped forward and murmured, “Sorry, Deede. That's the only way we could get you here without you suspecting something.”

“Am I forgiven?” Lexie implored, still grinning and holding out her arms to me.

“Of course,” I snapped good-naturedly and hugged her hugely, swaying to and fro. And when she released me, Priss grabbed me for her bear hug.

Then my little white-haired mother Jean Eagle ooched in for her hug. “Congratulations, honey,” she said. “I'm so proud that your and Dan's marriage made it when so many others didn't.” She kissed both my cheeks and released me back to Priss, who, in the throes of celebration, took me by the shoulders and then, impulsively, embraced me again.

“We wanted to celebrate your and Dan's thirty-fifth with you. We knew you two romantics would rather do something alone so we had to resort to treachery,” she gushed, breathless with excitement.

I turned to the gathering of family and friends and laughingly scolded them. “So this is why nobody remembered, huh? Not a soul has even
mentioned
our
anniversary.” Our family, the Eagle clan, made a big to-do over everything, so to ignore such a significant event was totally uncommon.

After a big round of applause, as one, the throng morphed into team-mode, escorting Dan and me across a portable dance floor to a platform where two white easy chairs — which I recognized as from Lexie's house awaited us. Red roses and vibrant English ivy, from both Priss and Mom's gardens, bedecked the entire setting. I felt like Queen for a Day. I was grateful that Lexie had suggested Dan and I dress sharp-casual “for the fancy restaurant we're gonna take you to.”

As Dan and I were ceremoniously seated by nephew and niece, hunky Jensen and pretty Betty, I realized the chairs were arranged so Dan and I could hold hands, comfortably maintain eye contact and chat throughout the evening. Their thoughtfulness impressed me to no end. A local disc jockey did the honors of keeping music streaming.

Kool and the Gang shot things off to a boisterous start with
Celebration.

I gazed at the youthful mass pulsing to the music and smiled. My other nieces Chloe and Ginger gyrated uninhibitedly alongside Jensen and Betty, and I thought how dancing had changed since my younger days. Among the dancers, I recognized high school friends of theirs, as well as our daughter Faith's.

Faith, our twenty-four year old, recently divorced daughter was not the greatest social mixer in the world, but she would certainly be here for this event. Yet, since her divorce, we never knew exactly what to expect.

I motioned Priss over and whispered. “Does Faith know about this?”

Priss nodded. “I called her personally and invited her. Said she was coming but would probably be late. She asked me to pick up Maddie at her Daddy's and bring her, and there she is.” She pointed out our little five-year-old granddaughter, now bug eyed at the teens' exuberant twisting and pivoting and posturing.

“Faith will probably be along any minute.” Priss squeezed my shoulder and returned to sit with Maddie.

Be here any minute?
I seriously doubted that.

Faith was becoming an island unto herself.

I had, I felt, made peace with that. I turned off negative thoughts.

Tonight was our night. Dan's and mine.

Thirty-five years together. Our gazes connected then and that magical flash of excitement shot through me and I thought how it had never diminished. Not one smidgen. Those green eyes held mine with as much magnetism as the day we met in USC College English class. He'd asked me to help him study for an upcoming exam.

“Was that not a brilliant maneuver?” he asked me later, preening. I had to agree it was indeed brilliant, as was everything else about Dan Stowe. He was working his way through college by doing weekend construction work, a thing that prepared him for his future asphalt business. The business degree he earned enhanced his economics savvy.

It also molded his slender frame into something I called streamlined strapping.

Dan never said ‘I can't.'

Me? I was head-in-clouds Deede, a classic writer, with all the melancholy and artistic temperament attached.