Crossroads Page 4

  “She won’t ever want to see you once she knows the truth,” he told his reflection in the mirror. “Your father killed her parents. She’ll never want anything to do with you.”

  He hung his head and gripped the counter. “Who could blame her?”

  His anger was surging anew. His own likeness to his father didn’t help much, and soon the image in the mirror blurred into a reminder of his dad. It was like some kind of a psychological warfare was being fought within him. I am my father’s son, he thought, and this truth caused him even more pain.

  He pushed down thoughts of the past and buried his pain deep within. “I may be his son,” he reasoned, “but I’m not like him. I’m not a killer!”

  FIVE

  Leslie sat rigidly on the pinewood chair of one of the many dinette sets positioned around the coffee shop. Her coffee shop, she remembered painfully. Hers alone. Yet another responsibility. Yet another worry. But there would be plenty of time to think about all of that later.

  Right now, she had to figure out a way to deal with Travis. She still hadn’t told him the reason for her rush-rush trip to Texas. Nor had she offered any real explanation when she told him that he’d be spending the day with the next-door neighbors, the Richmonds. He was happy enough to comply, as their twins, Kyle and Laney, were his best friends, and the reality of a day at play with them left Travis without any need of the details.

  Wearily, she brought her gaze to meet that of the haggard-looking woman who only slightly resembled her aunt. They exchanged glances for several minutes. Both gripped steaming mugs of flavored coffees, as though deriving strength from the heat. Leslie brought her cup to her lips and gingerly sipped. Anything to buy time.

  She scanned the interior of Crossroads. In two hours, it would be open for business. In two short hours, she would have to face the real world again. Sighing deeply, she tried desperately to compose her thoughts.

  “God was with them,” Margie murmured, as if sensing Leslie’s renewed apprehension.

  Leslie’s head snapped up.

  “No, really, Les. He was good to take them home so quickly.”

  Leslie’s emotions surged like water escaping a dam. “I’m so confused! I know that all things are supposed to work for the good of those who love God, but where is the good in this? Where is the justice or the reason? How do you explain to a five-year-old boy that God saw fit to take his mommy and daddy away, but that it’s really okay because everything will work out if we trust in Him? You can’t, Margie. You can’t! I can’t even find the strength to believe it.”

  “There are mountains of problems we haven’t seen, let alone tackled. There are social norms that must be abided by, all the while maintaining faith in God who robs babies of their parents for no reason at all! And I’m left to pick up the pieces, just as alone and scared as Travis. But I don’t get the sugarcoated version. I am left with facts and figures and explanations and bills and fear and anger and –”

  Her voice abruptly stopped, and she looked down into the creamy tan of her coffee. When she looked up, she felt a cross between shame and utter defeat. Aunt Margie’s tender eyes, glistening with tears, never left Leslie’s face.

  “Les, you’re not alone. You have me, and like it or not, you have God. A God who cares very deeply for you and for what has happened to your parents. A God whose plans, while no doubt mysterious and vexating to us, are surely unfolding as they should. He knows you’re hurting, but He can’t help you until you allow Him to.” Aunt Margie’s soft, yet stern voice filled Leslie’s head, but it couldn’t manage to push out the questions or the pain.

  “If He cares so much, how could He let this happen?” She knew she sounded more like a little girl demanding answers about a runaway cat than a twenty-four-year-old woman, but she couldn’t help herself. The hurting was too intense, and her need for understanding burned inside her mind. She needed reassurance, yet wasn’t willing to accept the promises being offered.

  Margie shifted forward to scrutinize her niece. “Leslie Heyward, do you really believe that God killed your parents? You know better than that! My sister raised you to know the truth. Now this is painful and this is hard for us to comprehend. Well, guess what? We don’t have to! The world will not end just because you do not fully understand why God has allowed certain things to happen. I know you’re hurting, Leslie. I’m hurting, too! But you cannot allow that pain to blind you from what is real. If you give up on God now, what good are you going to be to Travis? What is he going to think when his big sister doesn’t even buy the rhetoric she’s offering as an explanation? He’s not stupid. He may be young, but often the young are the first to figure things out, especially when it comes to honesty. I don’t believe for one second that you could look that boy in the face and lie. And that’s just what you’ll be doing if you tell him this and don’t believe it.”

  Her face seemed to soften a bit as she relaxed against the back of the chair. “Oh, Leslie. Look inside your heart and inside your soul. There lives a God who is merciful and loving, a God who longs for you to return to His arms, and a God who desires to comfort you, not alienate you. Don’t abandon your faith just because He didn’t run things by you first. It doesn’t work what way. Now is when you need Him the most. If you push Him away, what are you left with? Bitterness? Resentment? What kind of guide will those feelings be? Where will they lead you? How will they comfort you in the deepest darkness of the night, when your soul is bared and your defenses are shattered? Think about that before you blame God for what has happened.”

  Leslie sat in stunned silence. She knew the truth. It didn’t erase the pain, but had she really expected it to? Well, actually, yes. She had. Even though she was a grown woman, she still believed in the Santa Claus God. If you were good, He would bless your life with wondrous things. If you believed, you would be spared pain and suffering. Bad things happened only to bad people. Injustice was punishment, not an everyday occurrence. Not to real Christians.

  But what had just happened?

  Bad things had happened to good people. No one could believe fervently enough or pray hard enough to avoid tragedy. Not her, not her parents, not anyone. What was she left with? A God who allowed His people to suffer at the hands of a cruel world, with nothing more than this concept of “faith” to comfort them.

  But she was also left with a God who had blessed her in many ways. He had given her loving parents and a secure home. He had surprised her and her parents with the gift of a blond, blue-eyed tornado of a boy. He had allowed her to be brought to the truth at a young age and had kept her from harm’s way for the better part of her twenty-four years. And now, now that she was being tested and tried, she was going to give up? Just because the presents stopped coming and the party was over?

  This is real life, she scolded herself. There is pain and suffering at every turn, and I can’t explain it or stop it. But I am forced to deal with it and to help those around me by being strong. Am I so confident that I don’t need God? Hah! I’m anything but confident. But still, it is so much more difficult when the pain is your own.

  “Leslie?”

  Margie’s words brought her back to the coffee shop and away from her troubled thoughts. She slowly shook her head and fingered the handle of her mug.

  “Margie, I’m sorry. I know that what you say is the truth. I know this even in the deepest, most secret parts of my heart. I know that I’m being weak and letting my anger rule me, but this hurts so much! I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Travis because I’m not sure how to explain it to myself.”

  “Then don’t. Accept that it has happened, acknowledge that it cannot be changed, and go on living with the faith you had before, when everything was beautiful and all was right with the world. Leslie, either God is God, or you are. And I think we both know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the answer to that one.”

  The older woman smiled. “I will be here for you when you need me. I will listen to you and I will comfort you, but I will not let
you lie to yourself and blame God for what has happened. I will not let you use that as an excuse to give up and go your own way. I love you, and God loves you. And don’t forget that there’s a five-year-old whirlwind at home who thinks the world of you, too. Search your heart, read the Bible, and pray. There’s nothing more you can do. In time, you will find peace in those things. No peace comes from harboring bitterness and pain.”

  Silence filled the shop. Leslie’s thoughts churned endlessly. They always returned to one central theme. Travis. What was she going to tell her baby brother? How was she to explain this random tragedy? How could she possibly word it so that a five year old would understand?

  “Margie? How am I going to let Travis know?”

  The older woman shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Leslie. All I can tell you is, don’t lie, but don’t offer any more than is necessary. He doesn’t need to be let in on all the gory details, but this shouldn’t be written off, either. This is a very important issue. It may well come back to haunt you someday, no matter how you tell him. Above all, be honest with him.”

  “But do I say, ‘Okay, Travis, we need to talk about Mommy and Daddy. They are not coming home because they now live in heaven’? Or do I say, ‘Travis, something really bad has happened to Mommy and Daddy, and I need you to be a very strong boy about this’? Should I start positive and work my way to negative, or start negative and end with something optimistic? Margie, there are thousands of books written on this subject. How can I be expected to figure something out that psychologists are still arguing over?”

  “Pray for guidance, Les. Let God give you the words to say. I am not fool enough to believe that there is any one right way to break this to him. Just do your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”

  “No, Margie. They can, and often do, ask for a lot more than ‘your best.’ Your best is never, ever good enough, especially in instances like this. There will be friends, family, church members, and whoever else you can think of who will have a recipe for success when it comes to helping Travis cope. All of them will have ideas that merit consideration, but they can’t all be abided by! My best in this situation is going to be someone else’s “Avoid at All Costs’ scenario. This isn’t me running a race or writing a paper. This is a child’s well-being – his life – at stake.

  “If I don’t do the right thing, my best isn’t going to matter much at all. That’s why this is so scary. Helping a child deal with the death of his parents is not something you can learn from a book or a television special. It may help, but in the end, you’re on your own. I just don’t feel strong enough to deal with this.”

  “I know.”

  Margie offered no other word, and soon the silence threatened to destroy Leslie’s sanity. How could she just open the coffee shop with business as usual? How could she smile and serve and pretend that a cup of espresso could solve any problem her clientele might have on their minds? She slammed the mug down harder than she’d intended.

  “It just isn’t fair,” she said getting to her feet. “And please don’t counter with ‘Life’s not fair.’ I think I’ve learned that lesson well enough.” She paused, knowing that she had inflicted wounds with her words. “Look, I know we need to be strong together in this, but I feel so angry. Down deep inside,” she said, pounding a slim fist against her breast. “Right here, I feel as though a hard, black lump of hatred and anger is threatening to explode. That man, that drunken fool, killed my parents – your sister.”

  Leslie whirled around and stared at the homey, hand painted menu that was affixed to the wall behind the counter. “He stole them from us. He chose to drink too much. Then he chose to drive his car in a drunken stupor. He had the final say, and he took my parents away from me.”

  “Moving the blame from God to that man isn’t going to bring them back,” Margie whispered softly.

  Leslie turned and stared in disbelief. “What do you want from me? First I’m angry at God and you tell me not to be – that He’s still my best bud and He’ll never leave me. So I try to rationalize that a loving God allows hideous actions to take place while He’s ultimately in charge of everything, and you admonish me not to refix the blame? I’m sorry, but that man did make a conscious decision, and that decision ended the life of my parents. No, blaming him won’t bring them back, but it does help to keep my mind on something other than my questions for God.”

  Margie got up and came to Leslie. Gently, she put an arm around her niece’s shoulders. Leslie could feel a bit of the anger fade, remembering times when her mother had done the exact same thing. “Leslie, we have to go forward. Sitting here, wallowing in our self-pity is going to accomplish very little. You are angry. I am angry. It’s something we must deal with, and I’m certain that each of us will have to deal with it in our own way.”

  Leslie felt tears come to her eyes. Why was it just when she figured herself to be all cried out, something would come along to prove her wrong?

  Margie squeezed her shoulders. “Les, God knows you’re mad. You don’t have to feel guilty or try to hide it from Him. Take it to Him and talk it through.”

  Leslie looked quite seriously at Margie. “They’ll still be dead,” she whispered.

  “Yes. Yes, they will.” Margie’s reply came accompanied with her own tears. “But they wouldn’t want this for you, and you know that full well. If that’s the only thread that you have to grasp onto, then take it. Do this in honor of them, even if you can’t find the strength to do it for yourself. Do it for Travis. He’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re literally his only link to them. Oh, I know, I’m his aunt and his mother’s sister, but it isn’t the same. You’re the one he will depend upon. Remember that.”

  “But don’t you see,” Leslie said, pulling away, “that’s all I can remember. He’s going to look up at me with those huge eyes and say, ‘But how can I believe what you says is true anymore? You said they’d come home and they never will again.’ Believe me, Margie, I’ve played this thing over and over in my head. He’s not ready for something like this.”

  “Neither were you, nor, for that matter, me. But he’ll deal with it, just as we have. Hiding here at the shop isn’t going to make matters any easier.”

  “We have to keep Crossroads open,” Leslie answered curtly. “We aren’t made of money, and the funeral is going to cost quite a pretty penny in spite of the face that they. . .” Her words faded. She didn’t even want to say the word cremation.

  “Les,” Margie came to stand directly in front of her, “we will get through this, and we will either fall completely apart or we will be stronger. Part of it is up to us. Our choice.” She paused and once again placed her hands on Leslie. This time she tenderly touched Leslie’s face and held her fast. “I’ll stay here and open the shop, but you need to go to Travis. What if one of the Richmond kids overhears their parents talking and says something to Travis before you get a chance to speak to him? He’s going to need to hear this from you, not from neighbors or friends.”

  Leslie swallowed down the painful lump in her throat. “You’re right.”

  Margie nodded. “I know you would avoid this forever if you could.”

  “I wish –”

  Margie put her finger to Leslie’s lips. “I know. But what has happened has happened. And what you have to do now won’t go away. Travis needs you. Will you leave him behind? Leave him in the same way that he will probably believe his parents left him?”

  “No – never.” Resignation washed over Leslie. What was it Thoreau had said about resignation? OH, yes, ‘What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.’ That was exactly how she felt. Desperate. Desperate to see this thing over and done with. Desperate to know that Travis would survive the loss of his parents. Desperate to know that she would survive their loss as well.

  ❧

  Leslie sat comfortably in the chair that had always been called Daddy’s chair and cradled Travis in her arms. He didn’t understand, nor had she expected him to.<
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  “But why did they go away?” he asked, his voice strangely void of its usual rambunctious delight.

  “Because it was time for them to go,” Leslie offered, knowing it was a question she hadn’t answered for herself. “We can’t know all the answers, Travis. It’s kind of like we’re reading a big, big book called Life. We can only know what’s happening on one page at a time, and we can’t skip to the end to check on how things turn out.”

  “Is it like when Samson died?”

  Samson had been their tabby cat. A year ago, Samson had lounged lazily under the family care in order to avoid the stifling heat of a Kansas summer sun. Their mother hadn’t realized he was positioned just behind the front wheel of the car when she backed out. She ran over him, killing him instantly, and then spend the next few weeks ridden with guilt.

  “In a way,” Leslie began, “It’s like when Samson died. That was an accident, and no one wanted him to die. Mommy and Daddy died in an accident, too, and no one wanted them to die.”

  “Does it hurt to die?” Travis asked, his voice now starting to quiver with emotion.

  “It didn’t hurt Mommy and Daddy when they died. It happened so fast that the police say they didn’t even know anything bad was going to happen.”

  “And they’re never coming back?”

  “Well, not on earth, anyway. But we’ll see them in heaven when we go to live with Jesus,” Leslie answered softly. She prayed that he could somehow take in the information and make sense of it.

  “Can we go to heaven now?”

  Leslie felt her eyes fill with tears. Oh, if only they could just go to heaven now. If only she could press a button and announce that God could send a celestial chariot anytime. Or better yet, request to be beamed up as those science fiction shows did all the time.