A Family for Luke Page 15

  “I think so, too.” Luke brushed the sawdust off one of the cupboards. “I’m still trying to decide if I should go with laminate flooring or tile in here?”

  “Tile can be hard on the knees,” Janie said.

  “Laminate it is.”

  Janie looked around, trying to imagine it finished. “You’ve done a lot with this place already. I’m impressed.”

  “That’s good. I was going for amazed, but I’m happy with impressed.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Did you just pick up your mail?”

  Janie glanced down at the envelope she was holding. “No. Actually, I just got this from your mom.”

  His smile was replaced by a frown. “When did you see her?”

  “Just now. She was standing in front of the house. Like she was trying to work up enough courage to come in.”

  Luke’s expression grew tight as Janie handed him the envelope. He tossed it on the countertop without a second glance.

  “You’re not going to look at it?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “She seemed sad, Luke. I think she wants to see you again.”

  He simply shrugged.

  “Don’t you want to talk about her?”

  “No. I don’t. She doesn’t matter.”

  “How can you say that?” Janie felt uneasy at the bitterness in his voice.

  “They’re simple words for a simple truth. She messed up. She had a chance and she ruined it.”

  “How?”

  Luke sighed and shook his head. “You’re such a good mother. Such a caring person. I don’t think you’d understand her.”

  Janie could have left everything alone, could have taken his word for what he said. But her relationship with Luke was shifting. She didn’t want any surprises. “Try me,” she said, touching his arm as if to encourage him. “Tell me about your relationship with your mother.”

  “The truth is, she didn’t want me, Janie. I was an inconvenience to her. You wouldn’t understand that. Not you.”

  The unease clenched as his words pried at the box holding her own particular guilt and shame.

  “How do you know?” She eased the words past lips that had grown stiff.

  “Because of who you are. What your kids are like. You have a strong relationship with them. Something I’ve always wanted from my own mother but never got.” He touched her cheek. “In spite of your difficult marriage, you desperately wanted and cared for each one of your kids. But my mother? To her I was something to be discarded.”

  Each word dug deep into old scars, old secrets.

  “Was she alone when she found out she was expecting you?” Janie asked.

  “Why are we even talking about her?”

  “If she was alone, maybe she was afraid.”

  “Why are you defending her?” Luke’s eyebrows came together in an angry V. “She doesn’t deserve to be defended.”

  “She could have gotten rid of you before you were born, but she didn’t do that, did she?”

  “Things might have been better if she had. As it was, I experienced her precise feelings toward me every day. And every day I felt less and less worthy. And even when I was put in a foster home, she kept ruining things. Again and again.”

  The words fell between them, like heavy stones. Stones that, it seemed to Janie, slowly accumulated, added to by his anger and her guilt. She pulled her hand away from his, lowered her head.

  “She didn’t want me, Janie,” he continued, the anger still tingeing his voice. “I can’t seem to get past that. I can’t let go. What kind of mother can even feel that way?”

  “Can you forgive her?” Janie kept her focus on the dust on the floor.

  “I don’t know.”

  Janie swallowed the bile in her throat, her own past darkening the discussion. Her heart hurt, and she could feel the pain of her past easing, once again, into her life.

  He couldn’t imagine being with someone like his mother.

  She was like his mother.

  “I have to go,” she said quietly, trying to slip past him. She couldn’t be here anymore. Couldn’t listen to his angry words condemning a woman she could have turned into.

  “Why?”

  “If you feel that way about your own mother…”

  Luke shook his head. “No. Don’t you even go there. What I feel for my mother has nothing to do with us.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Luke. It has everything to do with us.” Janie couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face him.

  “What are you saying? Why won’t you look at me?”

  “I have to go,” she added, though the words cut her even more deeply than his. “I can’t be here.”

  “Because of my mother? Because of how I feel about her? Because I don’t want to let myself get hurt by her yet again?”

  The pain in his voice was almost her undoing. But if he found out, if he knew, she couldn’t face his disappointment with her.

  “Now you’re hiding behind my relationship with my mother,” he continued. “Just like you were hiding behind your relationship with your kids. You’re looking for excuses. Why don’t you admit it?”

  Janie heard his words on one level and felt them on another. She felt the secret she had harbored all these years, pushing to be given shape, form. She had kept it to herself so long, she wondered what it would feel like to let it out.

  Janie shook her head. “It isn’t an excuse, Luke.”

  “Then what is it?” He threw his hands out to the side in frustration.

  Janie threw her arm up to protect her face, but as quickly as she reacted, she corrected herself.

  Just in time to see the absolute devastation her reflexive action created in Luke’s expression. He took a step away from her, as if to give her the distance he seemed to think she needed.

  “Janie. No. I would never, ever…”

  She felt suddenly foolish. “I know that. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got to believe me, Janie.” The anger in his voice had dissipated and was replaced with anguish.

  She reached out to touch him, to reassure him.

  And he caught her in his arms, holding her close. “I shouldn’t have been so angry with you, Janie. My mother is just a side road. I don’t want to talk about her. She’s out of my life. She’s not important.”

  And that’s where he was wrong.

  For a moment, Janie allowed herself the luxury of leaning on him, of feeling his arms surrounding her, of clinging to his strength, of allowing a few might-have-beens into the emptiness that had been her life before Luke and his goofy dog burst in. Then she reluctantly drew away.

  “Your mother is important, Luke. At least how you feel about her is important.” Janie focused on the third button of his flannel shirt as she spoke, on the specks of sawdust sprinkling his shirt. “You need to understand where she is coming from. I think you need to take some time to talk to her.”

  Now it was Luke’s turn to be silent. She felt his arms drop away from her.

  “Why do you say that?” He almost growled the words out, and for a moment Janie wished she hadn’t said anything, but she had felt an urge to explain, to help him understand

  “She’s a mother. I know what that feels like.” She kept her eyes straight ahead as she prayed for strength to tell him. “And being a mother never changes. I’m sure she loves you and wishes she had done things differently.”

  “You don’t know anything about my situation, Janie. Don’t presume to tell me what I have to do.”

  “I heard the same sermon you did, Luke. If you believe, as you told me you did the other night, then as a Christian you have to forgive her, don’t you?” Janie put out this appeal on a whisper.

  His silence seemed to push at her, to create a distance between them. She held his eyes, trying to find even the smallest spark of forgiveness in them.

  “Mothers don’t abandon their kids, Janie. You know that better than anyone.”

  He reached for her again, but she stepped awa
y.

  “We’re not perfect, Luke. We’re not this wonderful, magical family. We’re messy, and we have secrets and problems.” She threw her arguments out trying to plug up the cracks in her defenses. If he knew…

  “What problems?” He looked genuinely baffled. “You go to church, you have a sincere faith. Thanks to you, your kids are some of the best-behaved kids I’ve ever seen.”

  “No, Luke, it’s not thanks to me. It’s only God’s grace. I love my kids, but I don’t deserve them.”

  Luke frowned, as if what her words were finally registering. “What do you mean?”

  They stood across from each other as an expectant silence filled the room.

  She finally broke it. “You may think you want what I have, but what you are seeking is only an illusion, Luke. It’s just a dream that you’ve foisted on my family. And when you find out the truth, the dream will die. We’re not the family for you, Luke. We’re not.”

  Then she turned away from him and walked out of his house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She had done the right thing, Janie reminded herself as she sat cross-legged on her bed, the Bible open on her lap. She had been right to stop what was growing between her and Luke.

  She couldn’t have borne to see his reaction when he found out the truth.

  He might have been able to deal with it.

  On the heels of that optimistic thought came the sound of Luke’s voice when he spoke about the woman who had given birth to him. And how he spoke about her. As if they were two completely different entities.

  Oh, Luke, she thought, you were embracing a dream, not me. And if he were to find out the mess that really was her life, she would be a disappointment to him, too.

  And that, she simply couldn’t bear.

  She turned to Isaiah 49:15.

  “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?”

  Janie had heard the passage in church when she was expecting Suzie, and it had haunted her. Each time she opened the Bible, she caught herself turning to it, as if picking at a sore.

  The second part of the verse and verse sixteen had given her some small comfort, “…Though she may forget, I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.”

  Against her will, her mind skipped back to the first moment she found out she was expecting Suzie. How she had wanted to sweep her own child out of her life. When she knew she couldn’t do that, her next thought was adoption.

  She hadn’t wanted her own child either. And she knew she couldn’t tell Luke that. She preferred that he nurture this idea of a perfect woman with the perfect family, rather than see his expression when he would find out she was no different than his mother.

  Luke wiped the last bit of drywall dust off the wall and dropped the sander into the box on the floor. He had worked late into the night, as he had for the past week, and he was finally done.

  Tomorrow the plumber was coming to install the sinks and hook up the water, and the day after that, the linoleum and carpet people would arrive and then the house would be finished.

  Luke walked the length of the house, then turned through the arched doorway into the kitchen, his booted feet echoing in the emptiness of the house.

  When he moved from the trailer into the house, he felt as if he had made a huge step toward settling. Toward creating a home.

  He’d made up some silly dreams about this place, he thought, as he walked into the kitchen. Dreams that had included a few more renovations to the upstairs bedroom and the master bedroom downstairs. A housewarming party that included the family next door. The family he had pinned his hopes on. The woman he had grown to love.

  I love you.

  The words, spoken in this very room, seemed to mock him now.

  What was he thinking? Janie had her standards and her life, and there wasn’t room in it for a man who had flotsam and jetsam from his past floating around.

  He heard the tick of claws behind him and turned to see Cooper drop onto the floor. “I haven’t been a whole lot of company lately, have I?” Luke said, crouching down to stroke his dog’s head.

  Cooper’s only reply was a lift of one eye, which gave him a quizzical look.

  He stepped out onto the back deck, and against his better judgment, he glanced over at Janie’s house.

  A light shone out of her bedroom window. It was eleven o’clock at night and she was still up.

  He wanted to look away, to act as if he didn’t care that she was going to be tired when she got up tomorrow morning in time to get the kids ready for school. He didn’t need to be involved in any part of her life; she didn’t want him there.

  But what she wanted and what actually happened seemed to be two different things. He wanted to brush her out of his life, but he couldn’t.

  Each time he walked past the window looking out over their yard, he checked to see if the kids were playing outside. And each time his cell phone rang, he hoped that it might be her. Each time he went to town, he slowed down by her coffee shop. Yesterday he noticed the closed sign. He heard, via other townspeople, that she was letting it go, and he yearned to talk to her about that.

  “Well, I guess it’s bedtime for us, mister,” he said to Cooper, rubbing the dog’s head. “Tomorrow is a another day.”

  He walked through the kitchen, then down the hall to the master bedroom. Good thing he hadn’t bought out his partner as soon as he’d hoped. Now they could sell the place and he could move on.

  Cooper dropped onto his dog bed and laid his head on his paws, watching as Luke picked up a pile of papers he had just gotten from the bank, outlining his most recent scheme.

  He glanced them over, then dropped them back on the chair he was using as an end table.

  As he did, he caught sight of the envelope his mother had given him. He had thrown it aside, and in the busyness of pushing his neighbor aside through overwork, he had forgotten about it.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking of what Janie had said, recalling the sermon he had heard a few Sundays ago.

  Forgiveness. Janie thought his lack of forgiveness toward his mother had something to do with her. He couldn’t make the connection, but at the same time, ever since the sermon he heard on Sunday, ever since his confrontation with Janie, he kept thinking about forgiveness.

  He pulled his Bible off the end table and turned to the concordance. There were a lot of verses written after the word forgive. So he turned to one. Colossians 3:13. “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”

  The words lay heavy on his conscience. He knew he had been forgiven much. His foster father had reminded him of that daily. The sermon he heard on Sunday underlined it.

  But this wasn’t a mere grievance he’d had to deal with. His legacy from his mother was flat out rejection again and again.

  Then why does she keep coming back? Keep calling?

  That was easy. Every time she called, every time she came, she wanted money. But even as he answered his own question, doubts remained. Doubts built upon the very slim hopes he had nurtured as a child. That someday she would come back into his life.

  Would want him.

  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

  Luke dropped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  I don’t know if I have the strength for that, Lord. I don’t know if I can.

  My grace is sufficient for you.

  As the words seeped into his mind, he thought of his accusation to Janie. Was he any less independent? Was he any less proud?

  He thought he didn’t need to forgive his mother. Thought he could live his life without her. But, as Janie had told him, mother and children are inextricably bound.

  Luke dropped his head in his hands, mourning the loss of the day, struggling with what he had to do.

  I want to do this for you, Lord. Not for Janie.

 
; My grace is sufficient for you.

  He opened the envelope and, along with a letter, a wad of one hundred dollar bills fell out.

  Frowning, he unfolded the letter and began reading.

  “I wanted to do this a long time ago,” his mother wrote. “I never spent all the money you gave me. I just used it as an excuse. I was hoping I’d have a chance to tell you that I’m sorry whenever you transferred the money, but you never talked to me. I don’t blame you. I know I’ve said it before, but I want to try again. I’m not strong, but I don’t want to mess up. I have a job now, and I’ve been sober for two years, one month and five days. I don’t want to mess up. Every day I pray God will help me. He has so far. If you don’t want to see me, I get it.”

  Luke read and reread the letter, his old hurts, disappointments and pain weaving through the words. He put the letter down, read Colossians again, then began to pray. Help me, Lord. Just like her, I can’t do this on my own. I need Your help. And, Lord, please be with Janie. Comfort her. I’m sure she’s having a hard time with her business now, too. He stopped wondering if he had the right to add that last bit.

  But in spite of what she told him, he still cared about her. Still thought of her. Still hurt each time he did.

  Half an hour later he was out of town, headed to Kolvik where his mother was staying with an old friend.

  When he pulled up in front of the house, he felt a mixture of fear and anticipation. As he walked to the door, he was surprised to feel his heart in his chest.

  When he rang the bell and his mother answered the door, the first thing he did was look at her eyes. They were clear and held a faint spark of hope.

  She didn’t smell like beer or weed, and her smile was tentative. She looked as if she had no built-in expectations.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said.

  “Hello, son,” she replied, her voice thick with sorrow. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he said.

  “I can’t see why we can’t have Melody babysit at the house,” Suzie grumbled as Janie pulled up to her parent’s house.

  Janie didn’t even bother trying to follow her child’s convoluted reasoning. A few days ago she complained that Melody was bossy and before that, how much she liked going to Grandma and Grandpa’s place.