Tracie Peterson (39 page)

“It happens to everyone at some time in their life,” Mattie gently told her granddaughter.

“But this particular problem should never have happened. I knew gambling could be a problem, and even when I saw early on that there was one, I thought I could control it. I just kept thinking that if I could only get one more win, then I’d have enough money to pay back the money I’d taken. But I could never get enough.”

“But that’s no reason for Dave to kill himself,” Mattie stated seriously. “I know he loved you a great deal. There had to be something else.”

“That’s what he said in his note,” Deirdre replied. “He said I wouldn’t understand until later, but that I wasn’t the problem. He told me he didn’t really care where the money had gone or what I’d used it for, but that there were things in his life that he had done
and now he couldn’t live with his own guilt.” She shook her head and stared at the blank black screen of the television. “Imagine him thinking that there was something he couldn’t live with.”

“He didn’t say what it was?”

Deirdre pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees. “No, and the police kept asking me if I had any idea what he was talking about. They suggested an affair, but, Grammy, I just don’t think Dave was cheating on me.”

“No, I don’t think he was either,” Mattie agreed quickly. The last thing Deirdre needed to worry about was whether or not her husband was being faithful. “It was more likely something to do with his job. He probably felt he’d made some poor choices. You know how seriously he took being a lawyer. He wanted justice for all. Maybe when he couldn’t get justice for all, he felt he’d failed.”

“I suppose you’re right. That would be just like him,” Deirdre admitted.

“I guess the really important question is—where do you go from here?”

“Well, it won’t be back to a casino, I can tell you that much.”

Mattie nodded. “I hope not, for your sake.”

“No, it’s not for my sake. I don’t deserve any consideration at all. It’s for Morgan’s sake. She hasn’t spoken a word since I told her that Dave was dead. She was traumatized at the police station and now I’m worried that it might cause some permanent trauma for her.”

“Give her time, Deirdre,” Mattie suggested. “This can’t be easy for her. Maybe there’s a bereavement counselor who can help. Maybe after the funeral you can look someone up.”

“Maybe,” Deirdre replied.

“Speaking of the funeral, you’re going to have to make plans. After all, Julie and Mike are leaving tomorrow morning to come here.”

“I know. Too bad Mavis can’t handle the details like she did for Rachelle’s funeral.”

Mattie smiled. “I suppose we could all use a Mavis in our lives
from time to time.”

“I don’t have the first idea of where to start.”

Mattie nodded and reached out her hand to touch Deirdre’s cheek. “I do.”

Deirdre scooted across the couch and leaned against Mattie just as she had done when she was a child. Mattie held her close and stroked her arm ever so gently.

“This can’t be happening. Dave can’t be gone, Grammy. I need him too much. I love him—I’ll always love him.”

“I know,” Mattie said, remembering a time when she had felt those same things. “And it hurts down deep inside,” Mattie whispered, “in a place where no one but God can reach.”

Deirdre nodded, tears running down her cheeks. “Why did this happen? If God loves me like you’ve taught me to believe, then why did this happen? I know I did a bad thing, but this punishment is too much to bear.”

“Deirdre, Dave’s death is not God’s punishment for your addiction to gambling. I don’t believe that for one moment. You have a great many responsibilities in life, but Dave’s choice to take his own life was just that.
His
choice. You aren’t responsible for his action and neither is his action a punishment for yours. You need to get your life together. You need to see what is real and what is important.

“Morgan needs you now, more than ever. She needs you to be strong because it’s your witness and example that will show her that everything will be all right. She’s going to be an emotionally scarred child for a long time. She’ll probably carry some portion of this with her throughout her life. She may even blame herself for what happened. After all, you told me that she’d interceded on your behalf and told Dave he wasn’t . . . what was it she said?”

“That he wasn’t a nice daddy anymore.” Deirdre was barely able to speak the words.

“See what I mean?” Mattie questioned, knowing that Deirdre would quickly understand if she allowed herself the chance.

Deirdre wiped at her eyes. “This isn’t Morgan’s fault. There is
no portion of this that is her fault.”

“But you may not be able to convince her of that unless you find a way to convince yourself. Dave had a problem—obviously a very serious one. None of us realized the extent of that problem, but by your own admission he’d been troubled for some time. You tried to be supportive and loving and you did the very best you could. You can’t go back and relive those days, and you can’t bury yourself alive in ‘What If’s.’ Morgan needs to see you act in a way that assures her that you will survive this and that you will trust God to see you through, despite the fact that it makes no sense.”

“I just don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Deirdre said, looking up at Mattie.

“That’s why you have your family,” Mattie replied. “God put us here for a reason, but we can only help you if you let us. The days to come are going to be hard. There’s no doubt about that. But if you shut us out, we can’t do a single thing.”

“It seems too much to ask. Too much too expect.”

“Love is never too much to expect,” Mattie replied, taking hold of Deirdre’s hand. “And love is the rock on which you rebuild your life—and Morgan’s life. When everything else fades away, love is all that endures.”

“Love wasn’t enough to keep Dave alive. It wasn’t enough for him,” Deirdre said, seeking Mattie’s face with eyes that seemed to plead for her to prove Deirdre wrong.

“Sweetheart, do you remember your old Bible verses? ‘God is love.’ And God is enough. He is sufficient even when we think He’s somehow forgotten us. Love was enough for Dave, but somewhere along the way he decided otherwise. We can’t know what Dave was thinking—not really. But love was there for him all along. He simply made another choice. And now all the choices are yours.”

“I don’t want the responsibility,” Deirdre answered, her voice raw with emotion. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Mattie hugged her close again. “When the way is darkest, even the tiniest point of light can be seen as a beacon. Let your family be a beacon for you. Let us love you through this, and when it's all said and done, maybe you'll do the same for one of us one day.”

Chapter 34

Connie woke up in Erica’s guest bedroom, and for a very few moments she couldn’t remember where she was or why she was there. Then, like an unwelcome intruder, the memories flooded her conscious thoughts and Connie longed for sleep to overcome her once again.

Slipping out from the comforting warmth of one of Grammy’s log cabin quilts, Connie pulled on a borrowed robe and padded down the hall to the living room. Seeing that Erica was nowhere in sight, Connie went to the sliding glass door and quietly opened it.

The humid day greeted her without offering any comfort. Connie sighed and leaned against the balcony rail, wishing against all hope that she could find a way to make things different. Was it wrong to plead with God for mercy in your hour of need? Especially when you hadn’t given Him much consideration when things were going okay?

“I’ve done this to myself,” she murmured. “I let myself get away from God. I put a wall between us and now it’s time to tear it back down.”

“I thought I heard you get up,” Erica said, joining her sister on the balcony. “Did you sleep okay?”

Connie nodded and smiled. “Considering everything, I slept very well. Thanks.”

Erica quickly left the pretense of chitchat behind. “I still can’t believe that Dave is dead.”

“Me either.”

“I probably knew him better than you or the others. After all, I
lived close enough to see them two or three times a week, if I had the time,” Erica said, running her fingers through tangled auburn curls. “I thought he was such a great guy and now he’s gone. It just doesn’t seem real.

“This whole thing got me thinking about Rachelle again,” Erica continued. “I suppose it’s silly.”

“How so?”

Erica turned and gave Connie a brief smile. “When I was little, I used to pretend that Rachelle really wanted to be my mother, but that she only wanted me and not everyone else.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. “I know that sounds awful, but that was how I rationalized her absence. I told myself that she couldn’t be my mother without explaining to the rest of you that she didn’t want to be your mother. And in my mind, I was just positive that she was too kind to hurt you all that way. And I loved all of you too much to tell you my theory on her absence. It was sort of like bearing some awful burden alone because you knew it would cause those you love too much pain if you shared it.”

Connie felt a sensation akin to an electrical current run through her body. Erica could have been talking about her. Wasn’t that exactly what she was feeling just now?

Erica moved away from Connie and plopped down on a plastic lawn chair. “I suppose we all rationalize things in a way that makes sense to us. At nine years old, that scenario made sense to me. At twenty-five, it sounds ludicrous.”

“No, it doesn’t. I used to pretend things like that too,” Connie admitted. “Only I pretended that she really loved my father and that she had run away with him and one day would send for me to join them. Then we would be a family.”

Erica looked rather shocked. “You too?”

Connie shrugged. “Guess it was just a good way to deal with the pain of being deserted. It was hard to admit that your own mother left you by choice.”

Erica nodded. “But you know, with Rachelle’s death, I felt a
sense of closure. I didn’t feel sad or empty. I didn’t want to cry and mourn her. I just felt that finally I knew the truth. Finally I knew she was never going to call and ask me to join her. She was never coming home to declare what a horrible mistake it had been to leave us all. It was simply over and done with.”

Connie couldn’t have put it better had she tried. She had felt that same sense of completion. It was as if Rachelle’s death had stamped the words
The End
on a page of Connie’s life.

“But then her letter came,” Erica said softly. She stared out across the landscape. “That letter was something I never expected. I never, ever would have thought Rachelle would need to clear her conscience that way.”

“No,” Connie admitted. “Me either.” She thought of her own letter and the way it had touched her frozen heart. Connie, who had vowed her mother would never have any power over her, had broken down at the idea that her mother shared the same sense of longing and desire for forgiveness that Connie had for herself.

“I guess the letter really settled things. It’s the only thing Rachelle has left to us of herself.”

“Grammy would say you’re wrong on that account,” Connie replied. “Grammy would say Rachelle left us one another and that through each other, we have a part of Rachelle that the world can never have.”

“But we’ve never seen it that way—never considered having anything of Rachelle.”

“No,” Connie admitted. “We were just angry and bitter and hard and unforgiving. And all the while Grammy had given us her life and love. How it must hurt her to see us fight and bicker when she’s given her all.”

Erica’s eyes filled with tears. “Connie, I know I haven’t been a good sister to you. But I really want to be. I want to stop being so selfish and I want to be there for each of you. We must stay strong—together.”

“I agree,” Connie said, opening her arms to embrace her
younger sister. “I’m so sorry for my attitude.” They held each other close, crying and then laughing at their reunion.

“Please just tell me that you forgive me,” Connie finally said, breaking away. “I need that more than ever. I’ve sought it from God and really tried hard to clean up my life. But now, especially in the wake of Dave’s death, I need your forgiveness as well.”

“Of course you have my forgiveness,” Erica said, wiping her tears. “I hope I can count on the same thing from you. I feel so stupid—so undeserving.”

Connie nodded. “Me too. Gram would say that none of us deserve to be forgiven, but that’s what makes it so sweet. Mercy is a rare and precious thing and forgiveness is like a cold drink on a hot day.” And for the first time in her life, Connie knew exactly what Grammy had meant.

Chapter 35