The Heart of Memory (20 page)

She agonized for a few minutes before giving up on propriety.

I know this is out of nowhere, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward, but I’m desperate for some help and you’re the only person I can think of that might understand what I’m going through. If you’d be willing to talk to me — and I’ll understand if you aren’t—please call me.

She ended with her name and phone number, then her email address in case Tabitha couldn’t handle such an intimate exchange. She waited expectantly, watching her inbox for a new message, then chided herself for her impatience and went to the kitchen for tea.

The phone rang as she was stirring in the sugar. Her nerves jangled with each ring as she gathered her courage to answer. She picked it up just before it went to voicemail. “H-hello?”

“Savannah Robertson Trover, is that really you?”

Tabitha’s jovial tone put Savannah at ease. She could practically hear her friend’s smile, and could certainly picture it. “It is. Wow — it’s been too long. And it’s my fault. Tabitha, I am so sorry. So truly, deeply sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Tabitha made a familiar noise of dismissal. “Water under the bridge. Forgiven and forgotten a long time ago.”

“I don’t deserve to be let off the hook that easily.”

“I could call you a couple names if it would make you feel better.”

She laughed, though it made her sad to realize how long she’d gone without the wit and insights and love of the only person, besides Shaun, with whom she’d ever felt a soul connection. “Oh, Tabs. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours, too. Though I’ve got to ask—are you alright? Because your message sure sounded concerning.”

Savannah gripped the phone tighter and begged the universe for Tabitha’s understanding and help. “The very short story is that my faith is … gone.”

“Oh. Goodness.”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“Well, that’s the funny part. I don’t know. I mean, I honestly don’t know. I had a heart transplant—”

“I heard about that. Could hardly believe it given how healthy you always were.”

“I know, right? And ever since, it’s like my spirituality has just disappeared. And I don’t have anyone I can talk to here who understands. I — I thought you might be able to offer me a little commiseration.”

Tabitha’s laughter was sympathetic. “Oh, girlfriend. Can I ever. I’ll bet you’re feeling pretty claustrophobic. Isolated, too.”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Why don’t you come visit me?”

Savannah gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. We’ve got plenty of room. Fly into Atlanta; I’ll give you our address. Just come whenever you want. I’m always here.”

Savannah scanned her calendar, which held nothing but two doctor appointments. “Provided I can get a flight with my miles, I can come the day after tomorrow. Wednesday.”

“Pot roast night; you’ll love it.”

Savannah laughed, a feeling of lightness buoying her soul for the first time in months. “I can’t wait. And I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither. Listen, I have an appointment in ten, so I need to run. Let me give you my contact info.”

Savannah copied the address and phone number into her calendar, and they rang off with a promise to spend many hours catching up. Savannah couldn’t stop smiling as she looked up the number of her primary airline to book her flight.

T
HE SOUND OF
S
HAUN COMING
in took her by surprise. It was only eight-thirty. She briefly wondered if something was wrong, then decided she honestly didn’t care.

It was another twenty minutes before he came up to the bedroom and froze in the doorway. “You’re leaving?”

She set the sweater she was holding into her suitcase. “Not the way you might think. I’m going to Georgia tomorrow.”

“Georgia?
Tomorrow?
What on earth for?”

She set another sweater on the pile. “Believe it or not, I’m going to see Tabitha.”

“Tabitha Vaughn?”

“We know any other Tabithas?”

“Well — I’m just surprised.”

“I know, me too. Surprised but very excited.” She dumped a handful of balled up socks into the suitcase’s corner. “And I didn’t mean for it to be such a shock; I hadn’t planned on going until Wednesday, but I was able to turn in some of my miles for a flight tomorrow, so I figured I might as well. I’m going to leave straight from my clinic visit.”

Shaun sat hard on the corner of the bed. “Okay, just—wait a minute. Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

She shrugged. “Let’s call it a sabbatical.”

“Um … okay.”

She raised her eyebrows as she met his baffled gaze. “You know why I’m going to see her, right? You get the connection?”

“Well, yes — I just didn’t think, after twenty years …”

“I know, me neither.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With her.”

He watched her for another minute as she finished packing away her clothes. “Huh. Well, alright then. Have fun, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

He stood and wandered into the closet, then came out in his running gear and disappeared into the hall. She heard the door open and shut a few minutes later and frowned. He hadn’t seemed particularly broken up about her leaving. She was briefly irritated at his nonchalance. Despite how ugly things had been with them lately, she still would have expected at least a little more interest.

Not that I’ve been a real joy to live with lately.
She forced herself to acknowledge the truth as she folded her sweats. And the more she thought about it, the clearer it became that she wasn’t very sad about leaving Shaun, either. Maybe this trip would solve a couple problems at once: help her get her head on straight, and if she was really lucky, the absence would make both Shaun’s heart and hers grow fonder.

S
HAUN WATCHED
S
AVANNAH WALK INTO
the terminal before pulling away from the curb. He’d never felt so unmoved by her leaving. Actually, unmoved wasn’t quite accurate. In truth, he felt relieved.

Back home, he relished the silence of the house, knowing he had the place to himself, even if it was just for a few days. He could think so much better with no interruptions, no need for careful plotting to avoid running into his wife in the hallway. And heaven knew he had a lot of thinking to do.

He’d checked the credit card statements online the night before, looking for the expenses Savannah was raking up on this little jaunt. She had rented a car, at a total of almost three hundred dollars for the four days she’d be gone, and that was before gas. She’d get something to eat at the airport, most likely—possibly at both of them. Another twenty dollars? Luckily she wasn’t big on doing touristy things; she preferred to talk to people. Or at least, that’s how she used to be. Maybe the new Savannah was a shutterbug who couldn’t wait to see the local claim to fame. He wouldn’t know.

Either way, these were more expenses he hadn’t been expecting. The card Savannah typically used was nearing its limit; he probably should have warned her about that before she left. He’d been avoiding that conversation for a while now, knowing it would inevitably turn into her berating him for answers as to why he had only been paying the minimum balance for so long. But he wasn’t ready to have that discussion.

Shaun tried to look on the bright side. With Savannah gone, the part of his brain that focused so much these days on avoiding confrontation would be freed up to figure out how he was going to get out of this financial mess.
And I might as well start right now.
He headed for his office and stood before the white board he used for brainstorming.
What resources can we produce without Savannah having to actually do anything?
He wrote the thought at the top of the board, then stared at it, waiting for inspiration.

Compilation CD?
Perhaps a collection of some of her talks. Women of the Word owned the rights to the presentations she’d done on tour, but A&A had some recordings of independent events, some of them dating back quite a ways. That was definitely a possibility.

The idea sparked another.
Compilation book?
His marker squeaked over the board as he ruminated. Perhaps — a
Complete Savannah Trover Library
or something similar. Maybe he could add the transcripts of a couple of her more popular presentations, to give readers more incentive to buy it if they already had some of the other books.

Worship CD?
He shook his head as soon as he was done writing it, knowing it was too soon after the release of the last worship CD they’d compiled. Those were expensive to produce, too, and he wanted to put out as little capital as possible on whatever project they did.

He continued to brainstorm throughout the morning, then stopped for lunch and a run. On his way back to the house he picked up the mail, and seeing the bank statement in the pile squelched his runner’s high. Would this be the statement that showed bounced checks? He didn’t let himself tear into it on the street like he wanted to, but waited until he was back in his office before ripping open the envelope and facing the unavoidable. Two of them, and no money in savings for overdraft protection. He breathed deeply to keep himself from vomiting.

He took a three-minute shower and came back to his office to brainstorm. An email from her sat in his inbox. He clicked it, numb to whatever it had to say. The message was simple.
You’re a day late.
“And a dollar short,” he muttered. “Ten thousand of them, in fact. Deal with it, Carlie. You’re not getting any blood from this stone. I’m all dried up.” He was proud of himself for not letting her email get to him. Obviously she was all bark and no bite.

The phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. He was surprised to see Marisa’s number on the caller ID. “Hey, Marisa. Listen, I’m not going to be going in today—”

“That’s fine. I’m not either. Savannah emailed me about her trip and told me to take a vacation.”

Shaun chuckled without humor. “How benevolent of her. So what are you going to do with your free time?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I think we need to talk.”

CHAPTER 11

S
AVANNAH PULLED OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE COUNTRY ROAD TO
double check the address. This
was
the place. The sprawling antebellum mansion was set back a good two hundred feet from the road, and some kind of orchard stretched for a quarter mile away from either side of it. But it was the sign at the mouth of the gravel driveway that had stunned her:
The Refuge ~ A Christian Recovery Ministry.

She’d have understood perfectly if it weren’t for “ministry” tacked on at the end. That made it sound like … well, like a Christian ministry. But Tabitha had left the faith twenty years ago. Why would she be working here?

Now Savannah was torn. If Tabitha had changed her mind about Christianity, then talking to her probably wouldn’t help like she’d thought it would. But what was she going to do now, just turn around and go home? That was the last place she wanted to be.

yes, I would rather be at a retreat center apparently full of Christians than to be at home. How sad is that?

She sighed and turned into the driveway, following it to a circle drive in front of the house where she parked. The house was even more impressive up close. The white columns supporting the second-story wraparound porch looked to be freshly painted, and the brick facade gave the structure a stately, solid feel. She could picture Scarlett O’Hara gazing out of the tall windows from behind the purple velvet curtains, and the image made her smile. Her family had all been city folk, most of them residing in Charleston, but her grandmother had lived in a small plantation home in rural South Carolina that had looked like this one’s little sister.

Savannah tapped the knocker twice on the door and waited, her breath shallow in her chest. When the door opened, it was like being sucked into a time warp. Tabitha looked just as she had twenty years ago, with only a few laugh lines and a touch of wisdom added to her kind face. Her smile was as welcoming as it had been back then, and before her embarrassment at past foolishness could stop her, Savannah fell into the embrace of her friend’s outstretched arms.

“Come on in,” Tabitha said after releasing her from the bear hug. “We’ll get your bags and park your car later. I’ve been so excited for you to come, I feel like a kid. I’ve got spinach dip in the sitting room and all manner of Coke, is that alright?”

Savannah laughed as she followed Tabitha through the warmly decorated foyer. “ ‘All manner of Coke', eh? You certainly have taken to the culture.”

Tabitha grinned. “I fell in love with the South. It’s got its flaws, but I was blessed to fall in with the folks that I did when I moved out from Colorado.” She offered a velvet-backed chair to Savannah beside a table where a tray held a bowl of dip surrounded by crackers. “To drink?”

“Sprite?”

“You’ve got it. Be right back.”

Savannah surveyed the room while she waited for Tabitha to return. The decor was straight from
Southern Living,
and felt like a great big hug from a well-loved aunt. The Southerner in her missed the bright colors and high ceilings and little touches that were hallmarks of the Southern style. She loved her mountain lodge-like home, too, but this place resonated with her roots. It was another remnant of her former self that brought her a grain of comfort.

Tabitha returned, and Savannah accepted the drink she poured for her. “So you’ve been in this house all this time?”

“Oh, no, we moved here about seven years ago. I was in Savannah before that, believe it or not.”

Savannah noticed Tabitha wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “And ‘we’ would be …”

“Oh, the ministry I run, The Refuge.”

Savannah narrowed her eyes and shook a finger at her, though a smile tugged at her mouth. “You didn’t tell me you’d come back to the fold —
or
that you were in ministry, you sneak.”

Tabitha chuckled, her nose wrinkled in the endearing way that had attracted half the boys in college. “I got the impression that it wouldn’t go over well. And I knew if you came out it would be good for you. I didn’t want anything to change your mind.”

“You duped me.”

“I’d like to think I saved you from your own misconceptions.”

“Ooh, think you know me so well after all this time?”

“Oh, honey,” Tabitha said, her words edged with laughter. “Twenty years isn’t so long in some ways. And besides, you and I were always like two peas, and I know myself well enough to know that
I
would have changed my plans, were our roles reversed.” She helped herself to some dip and indicated that Savannah should do the same. “Now, I should warn you that in about ten minutes we’ll be seeing some more people. Everyone’s at the group therapy session at the moment, but after that most everybody will be coming through here on their way to the kitchen.”

“Group therapy? What exactly
is
The Refuge?”

“It’s a place for people who have been deeply wounded by the church, or by anyone, really, in the name of Christianity. I started it with a friend about ten years ago. We’ve had pastors, church and ministry volunteers and staff, missionaries — even people who grew up with spiritually abusive parents who fed them a poisoned view of God. Folks stay here and get counseling, some fellowship, and support as they find their way back to God. The church has a tendency to shoot its wounded — we try to help them heal in the aftermath.”

Savannah found it hard to look Tabitha in the eyes, knowing that she had been guilty of ‘shooting’ Tabitha when she’d begun to question their faith. Instead, she studied the elaborate pattern on the wallpaper. “That’s a really beautiful thing to do, Tabitha.”

“Thank you.”

“How long do folks stay when they come? Is it like Betty Ford, a 28-day program?”

Tabitha chuckled. “No. It’s more of a drop-in setup. They stay for as long as they feel necessary, and some people come and go, using us as a supplemental program to the therapy they’re already doing in their own hometown. Right now we’ve got about ten folks staying with us; two more are coming next week, and three are planning to go home.” She smiled at Savannah. “And now, of course, there’s you, too. But don’t worry,” she added hastily, “I wasn’t expecting you to participate in the program or anything. Though you are welcome to if you want. I’ll give you a schedule so you know what’s going on when. But now you know why I thought it might be helpful for you to be here — besides the fact that I’ve been in your shoes.”

Savannah sighed and forced herself to meet Tabitha’s gaze. “I am sorry, friend. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

Tabitha shook her head. “It’s all forgiven, truly. And don’t think you were the one that drove me away; I didn’t tell you everything that was going on, and you couldn’t have known what I was really going through. That was my own fault. I had no reason not to trust you with the details, but I was young and stupid and hurting and knew a lot of it was my own fault, so it was hard to admit everything, even to my closest friend. So, forgive
me
for not being honest with you and giving you a chance to help me when I needed it.”

Savannah ached for all the years they’d lost because of pride and hastily-drawn misconceptions. “What was it that you didn’t think you could tell me? If you’re willing to tell me now, that is. It’s alright if you’d rather not.”

Tabitha settled deeper into her seat. “No, I don’t mind. Remember Professor Hurst? We had him junior year. He was handsome in a Redford kind of way.”

Savannah thought for a moment. “Oh — Old Testament, right? Yes, I do remember him.”

“Well, we had an affair.”

Savannah nearly dropped her glass. “What!” Tabitha chuckled. “I just … I can’t even …”

“I know, I know. But remember how I started working for the Biblical Studies department senior year? I ended up doing a lot of work for him — research and transcribing and the like. And we were alone together in the department offices quite a lot, because I worked at night and he often stayed late. He was so friendly, and a bit of a flirt, and you remember what I was like back then.”

Savannah did indeed. Lithe and beautiful, with serious smarts, but a penchant for free-spirited fun. Savannah often warned her that men would misinterpret her actions as being flirtatious and welcoming in a sexual way, even though she was just vivacious and friendly. She had been a bit of a rule-breaker, too, which only added to the problem. “Let me guess — he thought you were coming on to him.”

“Yes. Though he certainly encouraged it and responded with his own flirting; it definitely wasn’t one-sided. Anyway, I developed a huge crush on him, and then, because I was heady with hormones and his attention, I fell in love with him.”

Tabitha took another cracker and gestured with it as she spoke. “So I worked with him for the whole first semester, and then after I came back from Christmas break he told me he’d missed me and couldn’t wait until I’d returned. I read into that all sorts of emotion and affection that probably weren’t even there, which I’m sure was his goal, and I admitted that I’d missed him, too, and that I really enjoyed working with him — though I made sure ‘really enjoyed’ was properly annotated with lots of nonverbal communication that made clear exactly how I felt. After that, things became much more serious. He told me he wanted to marry me, but that we couldn’t say anything to anyone because I was still a student and it might look bad. We planned to start publicly dating after graduation and get married at Christmas. But then one night after spring break …”

“Oh no.”

Tabitha nodded. “Yes. And I got pregnant. He freaked out and dumped me, claiming I was a Jezebel, that I’d charmed him—it was all my fault, you know?”

Savannah was heartbroken. “Tabitha, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I was afraid everyone would side with him. You remember how much trouble I got in at that school — no one in administration would have believed me against him. I was afraid they wouldn’t graduate me because I’d broken the covenant yet again, and way more seriously.”

Savannah was grieved to know it was true. Tabitha was the kind of Christian woman that the school hadn’t known what to do with. She hadn’t fit the traditional mold, and had challenged every attempt to stuff her into it. She had adhered just barely to the dress code, had both blatantly and secretively bucked the covenant each student signed upon matriculation to the school by drinking (two shots of Bailey’s over ice on her 21st birthday), breaking curfew (though she was hardly the only one) and dancing (on the Quad, at noon, with her Sony Walkman plugged into her ears, the day she found out she’d made straight A’s for the first time), and often asked the kinds of squabble-inducing questions that professors hated. But she did none of it to try to provoke anyone. She did it because she hated legalism and saw no reason why a liberated woman of the 80's should be constrained by the traditions of the 50's.

Savannah had agreed, but it wasn’t her nature to buck the system. It was one of the few ways in which their personalities digressed, and one of the many reasons why Savannah had loved being roommates with Tabitha.

The significance of Tabitha’s admission suddenly sank in. Savannah chose her words carefully. “So—you have a child?”

The look of sadness that flashed across her face before she answered made Savannah’s heart ache even more. “No. I aborted her.”

“Oh Tabs. I am so sorry.”

Tabitha shrugged as she took a sip of her soda. “I am too. It was an impulsive decision. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel like I could tell anyone what was happening—how could I possibly go home to my parents’ house pregnant? And by a professor, no less? I just went and did it without letting myself think about it too much. I kept telling myself that it was so early on, it wouldn’t really matter. It did, of course, and once it hit me what I’d done I was devastated. That’s when everything started falling apart — my faith included.”

“And that’s when you told me you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Christian anymore.”

“That’s right.”

“And like a fool I didn’t even push you for an explanation. You understand that I couldn’t imagine anything like all of this happening to
you,
right? I mean, it was stupid of me to make any assumptions at all, but I thought it had to do with not getting into the grad school you’d applied to.”

Tabitha laughed. “Seriously?”

“Well, your reactions had always been … big.”

She gave a conceding shrug. “That’s true; they were.”

“And you said something about not believing God cared about your future, or about your pain. I just figured you’d
really
had your heart set on that school.” Savannah shook her head. “It didn’t occur to me that anything else could be going on. I mean, we lived together. I saw you all the time — when would anything have happened that I wasn’t there to see? I never in a thousand years would have thought anything like that was going on.”

Tabitha waved a hand. “It’s all in the past. And God has used it for good. The Refuge was born out of my desire to help other people who had been hurt like I had been. The family I rented from when I moved out here — they were a true Godsend. They practically adopted me. And over the course of five years or so, they loved me back to faith. They helped me get the ministry started; God laid it on their hearts as well as mine. So how can I complain, you know? He redeemed my lost years and gave me a life with more purpose than I could have imagined.” She grinned. “And I’m one of the few people I know actually using my college degree.”