The Heart of Memory (15 page)

And when she did, flanked by the other women and refusing to take the hint that Savannah didn’t want to talk, what was she going to tell them? The Old Savannah had been characterized by her faith in God, her passion for ministering to women, and her energetic extroverted personality. They’d never believe her if she admitted she couldn’t bear the thought of crowds, couldn’t care less about how other women handled their lives, and didn’t believe in God.

I don’t believe in God …

She froze before the mirror where she was washing the makeup from her face. It was true. The concept of God meant nothing to her now. She’d been telling herself it was just the depression, the baseless anger, that was clouding her love for God. But if she was brutally honest, her faith was gone.

She scrubbed her face clean and went to her laptop to log into the transplant forum. She started searching for posts about when people started feeling more like themselves. She scanned entry after entry, her heart sinking with each one that touched on the waning of the emotional rollercoaster. This was when most people started to improve, to emerge from the fog of depression or at least notice the depression coming in shorter, less intense spurts. The same seemed to be true for the anger some felt—and their anger was often easily traced to something.

Unlike hers. And hers was not only growing, it was ruling her life.

Savannah shut the laptop and pulled a notebook from her desk drawer. It was the journal where she’d recorded her prayers during the tour. Lists always brought order to her internal chaos — maybe a little self-examination would give her some insights. She flipped a few pages past the last entry and titled the page
Personal Inventory.
It was time to figure herself out.

Anger — why???

God— who is that? I don’t even care.

She looked at what she had just written, eyes wide. She never thought she’d think such a thing. And it wasn’t just an isolated thought. She hadn’t been to church since coming home from the transplant, hadn’t cracked open her Bible, hadn’t prayed — well, except for that one afternoon with Marisa, but that had been coerced and not at all heartfelt. Frankly, she’d felt ridiculous doing it, as though Marisa had asked her to pray to a stuffed animal.

She took a deep breath, not quite ready to address the implications of revelation, and continued.

Introvert— and it’s not that I just don’t want to be with lots of people.

She tapped the pen to her chin. She wasn’t sure how to end this sentence. It
wasn’t
just classic introversion, feeling drained by groups but energized with people one-on-one. It was different somehow. She doodled on the page, letting her mind wander, then had a thought and wrote it down to see if it resonated with her or not.

… it’s that I just don’t feel like I can trust anyone.

This not only struck a chord, it was the one thing that made sense. Her husband’s double-speak to the staff and the way he fired Nick really hurt and worried her. Plus she knew he was hiding something. And who else on this earth was she supposed to be able to trust the most besides her husband?

She stared at the list. It was short, but its effect on her life was both profound and terrifying. What was her life without A&A? Without writing books and doing speaking tours and creating women’s ministry curriculum? Without A&A, her life collapsed like a house of cards, and so did Shaun’s, and so did the lives of the staff that worked for her. Her faith was the linchpin in a lot of people’s plans. And sometime in the last month, it had been pulled.

Panic began to bubble in her gut. She couldn’t possibly admit this to anyone. She couldn’t let herself be found out, or everything would fall apart. How would they pay their mortgage, Jessie’s tuition — heck, how would they put food on the table? Their paychecks were dependent on her now-missing passion for God.

What would she do with her life? What purpose did it have outside that ministry? Surely she was good at something else. But even her college degrees reflected the faith she’d once had. She couldn’t very well get a job with a master’s in Christian education if she didn’t actually believe anything she was teaching.

Would they stay here in Colorado Springs, where you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting someone who knew Savannah or A&A in one way or another? How embarrassing would it be to run into Mary, or Brenda?

Would Shaun even stay with her?

What would Jessie think?

She stuffed the notebook back into the drawer and shut it hard, as though the list might come flying out after her. She was tense with fear. Her palms were damp. Her mind was a mess of what if’s, each one more desperate and frightening.

And there wasn’t a single person in the world she could tell.

S
AVANNAH PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT
at A&A and popped another Rolaid. Ever since the night she’d taken a hard look at her new self, she’d had a bout of nervous stomach that she couldn’t shake. Having to get back to work wasn’t helping.

When Shaun had finally come home that night, he’d laid out a plan that the Old Savannah would have loved. A book launch party at the local bookstore they often partnered with, followed by a ten-city tour starting a week after the book’s release. “We’ll schedule them four days apart so you have plenty of time to rest,” he’d said. “Five in a row, then a break, then five more. You’ll be back by December and can take that whole month to rest. Then after that we’ll schedule some smaller events with bookstores and churches, just a handful of dates in January and February, then a big push in May. You’ll be fine by May, don’t you think? The travel won’t wear you out; you won’t be high risk anymore. So, what do you think?”

He’d looked so excited, so proud of the idea. She’d mustered as much enthusiasm as she could, excusing the lack of effusiveness with how exhausted she was from writing nonstop and not sleeping well. She’d hoped to put off the planning until … well, until Shaun forgot about it, which she knew wouldn’t happen. Really, she’d hoped something would come along before plans could be made that would render the whole scheme impossible. But no such luck. Their travel agent agreed to meet them at A&A two days later to plot out the tour.

So here she was. She sucked on the chalky tablet with her head bowed against the steering wheel, knowing no one would interrupt her if it looked like she was praying. In reality she was giving herself a pep talk, psyching herself up for the meeting.
You don’t have to look thrilled. Just don’t look sick over it. It’s time to start contributing again and get your life back. Think of all the people who are depending on you. What other choice do you have?
She sat up straight, checked her hair in the mirror. She could do this. She had done it enough in the past, surely some kind of mental muscle memory would kick in and she’d be able to sail through the whole meeting —
and
the tour.
Don’t think about it too much. Just do it. This is your job. It’s what you do.

And this wasn’t the time or place to debate just who that “you” was.

Savannah walked into A&A and faked a smile for Brenda. The office repulsed her even more than the first time she’d come back. She walked quickly to the back where the agent was standing beside Marisa’s cubicle as they chatted. “Hello ladies,” she said, pasting the smile back on. “Why don’t we take this down to Dazbog Coffee? I’ll treat for lunch when we’re done.”

It was the kind of thing the Old Savannah would have done, and she could see the light in Marisa’s eyes as she agreed.
Yes, that’s right, Marisa. I’m back!
What was the saying—fake it ‘til you make it? Well, she wouldn’t fail from lack of trying.

Once they had their beverages in hand and calendars spread on a coffee shop table, Savannah was able to sit back and let Marisa and the agent do most of the work. Her input was only needed to ensure she had enough time between gigs to relax and that she was in town to meet with her doctors when appointments rolled around. She was glad the details were up to someone else, because even this small amount of planning was making her wish she could pop a handful of antacids. She kept spacing out, distancing herself from the discussion until Marisa would call her back to reality to ask her opinion on something. She tried to be more engaged, but then the panic would begin to rise and she’d have to shut herself down or else risk throwing the calendars to the floor and calling off the whole tour.

They finished just before lunch, and the agent declined the dining invitation in order to prepare for another meeting. “Just you and me, then,” she said to Marisa, secretly hoping she’d bow out as well.

“Sounds good. Where to?”

After that morning, she was desperate for something soothing, and her new favorite comfort food was calling her name. “This might sound silly, but how about Village Inn? I’m dying for a slice of strawberry pie.”

Small talk held them over until their orders were taken, but then Marisa ruined things. “Confession time, Savannah.” Her expression put Savannah on the defensive. “I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you so unfocused before. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She knew she’d been spacey, but she hadn’t realized it had been bad enough to cause concern. How would she ever keep up the facade through the tour if her own assistant kept questioning her?

She decided to let some of the simmering anger that burned daily beneath the surface work for her. “Yes, I was unfocused. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since before the surgery and the medication I’m on makes it hard to focus. Why does everyone seem so convinced something is wrong with me? I don’t think anyone understands just how life-altering a transplant is. Of course I’m not the Old Savannah. I’ll never be who I was, but that doesn’t mean the new me is somehow worse. And it certainly doesn’t mean something is
wrong.
This is who I am for now, and who knows how that may change as time goes on. But I really need for everyone to just be okay with that and stop being so blasted concerned all the time.”

Marisa blinked, her face a mask of surprise. “I — I’m sorry, Savannah. I didn’t know. I never thought of it that way.”

Savannah took a deep, calculated breath and sighed, schooling her features to convey weary remorse. “I’m sorry, too, Marisa. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

“No, no, I understand. Of course you’re different, that’s to be expected. I should have been more considerate of you and how difficult this must all be.”

Savannah waved a hand, as though to erase Marisa’s guilt. “Never mind. It’s in the past.” She smiled. “I think we need some pie, don’t you?”

She worked hard to bring some normalcy back to their conversation, to foster the same sense of camaraderie she used to feel when she and Marisa were working together. It would be a very long and uncomfortable tour if she didn’t feel comfortable with her traveling companion. She was already going to be miserable from forcing herself to perform for the thousands of women who would show up.

But by the time she finished her pie, she was itching to be alone again—away from people and especially away from Marisa and her concern. Claiming she had a doctor’s appointment she needed to get to—a foolproof excuse she was cautious not to overuse — she took Marisa back to A&A rather than lingering over their coffee. “Give me your receipts and I’ll file them for you,” Marisa said when they pulled in. “That way you can just get going to your appointment.”

“That’s alright, I need to talk to Shaun a minute anyway. I’ll go write them up myself.” She followed Marisa in and turned into Shaun’s office, which was empty. She poked her head out into the hall and glanced around. “Brenda, is Shaun in?”

“No, I’m sorry. Do you want me to call him for you?”

“No, that’s alright.” She’d been planning on asking when he’d be home that night, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

She pulled her receipts from Dazbog and Village Inn from her purse and sat down at his desk to hunt down a reimbursement form. She was about to start checking his drawers when she saw one of the forms on top of a pile. Her name was at the top.

“Oh, handy.” She pulled it off and took a pen from the cup to write in the details, but then her eye caught a line item that looked unfamiliar. Then another.

Why are these under my name?
She looked again at the form and wracked her brain. Maybe they were from her and she just didn’t remember. Maybe memory loss was also a part of the new Savannah.

She gave up trying to place the expenses and wrote down the day’s totals, then paper-clipped the receipts to the form. She’d ask him when he got home. If she was able to stay awake that long.

CHAPTER 8

S
HAUN STOOD BESIDE HIS CAR AND TOOK A PICTURE OF THE
building so he’d remember it. The Mountain View property was the second office suite he’d looked at that afternoon, but this one gave him a good vibe. It was only two exits further south on the freeway, so it wouldn’t require a much farther commute for his staff, and the neighborhood wasn’t nearly as sketchy as the first he’d visited. It would shave nearly three hundred dollars off their rent, which was as good as he was going to find. It was quite a bit smaller than their current location, but if he gave up his office for a cubicle, removed the sitting area in the reception space, and doubled up a couple people, they’d be fine. Or he could fire someone else. There
was
someone who wasn’t really pulling her weight these days, but unfortunately it was the same person around whom the whole ministry was built.

Another positive was that it was only half an hour from Jessie’s campus, and the halfway mark boasted a decent shopping area where they could meet. It was where he was headed now.

He shook hands with the Realtor again, then got back in his car with a smile on his face.

Jessie was already at the Caribou Coffee when Shaun pulled in. He ordered his drink and then joined her at the table she’d chosen by the window. “Well, this is fun, seeing you during the week,” he said after giving her a hug. “Good classes today?”

“Totally fascinating, yes.” He listened as she told him about her child development lecture. “And I had this huge revelation,” she said, her eyes shining. “I just kept thinking, motherhood is so much more than just housework and babysitting. You’re a mentor, you’re a teacher, you’re a nurse, you’re a psychologist. And it totally hit me—I don’t have to have a career just because I
can.
Being a fulltime mother is a huge responsibility; you’re responsible for shaping and teaching a person for their whole life. Sure, I’d be able to shape and teach if I taught elementary school, but my influence would be so brief compared to the influence you have as a parent. It really is okay if I want to stay home and be ‘just’ a mom.” She raised her eyebrows, looking uncertain. “Right?”

He chuckled. “Of course. If that’s what God is calling you to, then it’s absolutely okay. And I’m really happy for you that you’re figuring this out. I think you’ll make a fantastic ‘“just” a mom’.”

“Thanks.” She sipped her drink and rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad
you
get how important this stuff is to me.”

“Of course I do.” Then he caught her meaning. “But your mom, it’s not like she doesn’t see the value —”

“No, she just thinks I should be doing something else. The stuff I want to do is never what
she
wants me to do. It’s like she has this idea of who she thinks I’m supposed to be, but rather than just come out and say, ‘I think you’d make a great XYZ,’ she just shoots down everything I like and expects me to read her mind or something.”

Shaun winced, knowing how accurate the description was. “There’s a reason for that, Jessie.” And he really wished Savannah had just come out and explained it to Jessie years ago—it might have saved them all a lot of heartache. “Your mom was raised in a culture that had a very narrow idea of what women should do and be. Anything outside of that was supposedly unbiblical. And she sees you moving toward teaching, which was the only career option she was allowed to consider outside of motherhood, and she’s afraid you’re going to short-change yourself; with your skills and talents you could go so many other directions.”

“But I’m not short-changing myself if that’s what I’m meant to be, right? So why can’t she see that?” She took a sip of her drink, then set it down with a look of worry. “Oh, my gosh. She feels short-changed because she had me, doesn’t she? She didn’t want to be a mom, is that it?”

“Oh, Jessie—no, that isn’t true at all. A&A was born out of her experiences as a mother; she never would have had the ministry without you.”

Jessie let out a snort. “That’s a bit twisted, given how much that ministry short-changed
me
out of a mom.” She gave Shaun a small grin. “You should have at least given me a sibling so I would have had someone to commiserate with—and someone else to help bear Mom’s expectations.”

“Well, we tried.”

“Eww, Dad. Gross.”

“No, no. I mean, your mom was pregnant, two other times. But she miscarried both times.”

Jessie’s eyes got wide. “Seriously? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me this?”

“Your mom took it really hard. She was absolutely devastated. I don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it.”

Jessie’s face fell. “Well now I feel bad.”

“Don’t, honey. You couldn’t have known. Anyway, that’s when she started writing her first book, to help her process the grief of that second loss. And things just took off from there. It’s not like she woke up one day and thought, ‘I’m going to build a nationally known ministry!’ She just had this idea for a book and wanted to use it to reach out to all the other women who were dealing with the same frustrations and confusions and fears that she had. And when it got bigger and bigger, she had no role model to look to for how to balance a job and motherhood. It just wasn’t done in her family, or in the culture she grew up in. So she did the best she could, and she screwed up, because that’s what parents do. She didn’t want to push you toward teaching and motherhood the way she was pushed, but she went too far in the other direction and tried to push you into a big career so you wouldn’t think teaching and motherhood were your only options. That’s parenthood for you: you learn from the mistakes of your parents and try not to pass those on, but then you end up making other mistakes instead. The best you can do as a kid is recognize your parents aren’t perfect and realize that you do in fact have your own opinion and destiny.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment, stirring her blended mocha with her straw. “So what mistakes did your parents make?”

Shaun chuckled. “My dad was an absent professor type, minus the intellect and education. Frankly, he was a bit of a laughingstock. He’d dream up all sorts of schemes and try to patent them or sell them to companies, rather than apply himself to a steady job. So we were poor and our family was looked down on, and I grew up wanting to make sure my own family never felt like that.”

Jessie smiled. “So, off I’ll go into my own life to screw up my own kids in my own unique way.”

He laughed. “Yes, exactly.”

“Maybe I ought to charge you for the therapy I end up needing.”

“Hey, if the money’s there I’ll gladly pay it.” His heart ached as he said the words, knowing the chances were slim to none that he’d be able to pay for the rest of her semester, much less therapy.

They talked for a while more, but Shaun was only half there, his thoughts having been turned once again to money. He called the Realtor the minute he was back in his car. “I know we had other places on the list to look at,” he said, “but I don’t want to waste any time. I’ll take the Mountain View suite.”

S
AVANNAH HAD BEEN HIDING OUT
at home for the last few days. She knew it was silly—what were the chances, really, of running into David? — but since she had no real reason to go out anyway, she let herself cater to her irrational fear. But it had been four days already, and even a now-raging introvert had to get out of the house some time. Besides, she needed new clothes.

Once parked at the mall, she cinched one of Shaun’s hats to a smaller size and pulled it low over her eyes, just to be safe. She headed on auto-pilot for Nordstrom’s, then found herself balking as it came into view. She had grown fond of the comfortable long-sleeved T’s and jeans she’d been borrowing from Jessie. The thought of going back to pantsuits made her twitchy.

She found a directory and scanned the list of stores, then found what she wanted and made her way to the next floor. She smiled when the Eddie Bauer came into view. The first rack of women’s clothing she came to had thick wool sweaters that beckoned to her. She went slowly around the store, selecting things on a comfort scale rather than by the look it created. By the time she was ready to check out, she had enough clothing to last her a week.

She got in the line, which was moving slowly; soon there were people behind her. Suddenly she heard, “Savannah Trover? Is that you?”

Every muscle tensed. She turned and saw a woman she thought she recognized from church — what was her name again? “Oh hey, hi there.”

“I thought that was you. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty well, thanks.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. We were all so worried about you when all that heart business happened.” She leaned in and her voice dropped a couple notches. “You know, I heard the other day that things weren’t going so well for you and Shaun. Is everything alright? Is there anything we can do for you?”

Savannah hoped her fear wasn’t plain on her face. She and Shaun were hardly out together anymore; who would have witnessed the way they could occupy close quarters without even interacting? “Not going well? What do you mean?”

“Well …” The woman looked uncomfortable and Savannah’s irritation grew. “I’d heard you were out on the town with someone—”

“Oh, good Lord.” The woman’s eyebrows shot up, but Savannah was too mad to apologize. “I was
not
out on the town with anyone. I went out to get some dinner, I was by myself, and I got into a conversation with someone because it was more pleasant than sitting alone. That was it. And you can tell whoever you heard that from that they should be more careful about how they talk about other people.”

“Next please.”

Savannah turned her back on the woman and set her clothes on the counter, thoughts spinning. What if Shaun got wind of this? Who else had seen her that night? Colleen wouldn’t have been the one to spread such a rumor — would she? Or was it the work of some busybody who happened to be in the right place at the right time?

She took her bag and headed for her car, her head not even turning to check out the window when she passed Ann Taylor. Divorce rumors — just what they needed. It looked like, one way or another, she was going to be responsible for the downfall of A&A.

She got in her car and pounded a fist on the steering wheel. How could she have been so stupid? What had she been thinking, going out alone like that? She hadn’t dined out alone once since getting married, and this was one of the reasons why. She had to be above reproach for her ministry; she had to get back out there and be as normal as possible so people didn’t get any ideas. It didn’t matter if she thought God was a joke; she had a family to support, employees depending on her to bring in their income, and she had to do whatever it took—like the book tour — to make sure she didn’t let them down.

She heaved a sigh and stashed her bag in the backseat, then headed back to the mall. She was going to need some new pantsuits. And after that she was going home, getting her laptop, and going to a coffee shop to work on her book tour talk. She was going to give her audience what they were expecting, even if it killed her.

S
AVANNAH DROPPED HER LAPTOP BAG
to the floor and allowed herself to collapse on the couch. Shopping and writing had drained her—yet another reality she never would have expected to encounter. Even though writing had always been difficult, doing it in public had always made it fun, and the conversations that broke up her time were always energizing. And shopping? Once upon a time it had been like a hobby. Now she felt like she could crawl into bed and not come out for a month.

After a catnap she brought her bags upstairs, then sat on the floor of the closet and cut the tags off her new clothes, frowning at each one. When was the last time she’d purchased anything larger than a size 8? Or anything that didn’t say “Dry Clean Only” on the care label? Only her new blue pantsuit required that. Shaun would be glad to know her new wardrobe would need less maintenance. He was so edgy about money these days.

She was craving a piece of strawberry cake.
Who would have guessed chocolate would ever be replaced?
Yet another little quirk that separated her from her old self. It seemed that every day revealed yet another change that made her stop and wonder, or brought a new thought she never would have come up with before. At this rate she’d be a completely different person by the time her transplant anniversary rolled around. Either that or she’d be committed somewhere as being insane.

These were the weird little things no one told you about when you got a transplant. She didn’t even see people on the forum talking about it. And because of that, she was afraid to bring it up. What if the surgery had triggered something psychological? What if she really was going crazy?

Or what if she truly was becoming another person? Could that really happen? What would that mean for her marriage, her relationship with Jessie? She chuckled to herself as she dropped another tag into the trash. That was the one relationship that might actually benefit from her being someone else. She and Jessie had nowhere to go but up.

But Shaun … he’d married the Old Savannah. He hadn’t banked on that woman waking up one day and being fundamentally different. Could she really expect him to stay with her? Could anyone fault him for wanting out?