Chapter One
Judgmental
"Jane Lucille!" My mother's voice only rang louder as she smoothed the rough edges of her anger. I hesitantly pushed the front door closed and followed the noise of a ripped envelope in to the small original yellow kitchen. As I entered I saw her eyes sliding from one side of the soft edged paper to the other. Her eye brows rammed into one another and she began to shove her fist onto her hip. This is that same cheerleader pose I see at school when they get aggravated with their team mates. My first thought was she had taken a regretful glance at my grades, but as she let the paper gently fall upside down I could see familiar hand writing.
"This is," Her voice cracked and she dragged her eyes away from me. "There is no need for this anymore Jane. You know that." She said inaudibly. Standing on the other end of the table the envelope sat in front of me. It read "Linda Johnson." I gasped in fear that I was caught.
"We, I mean I just went to bring her something." My voice was soft and careful. My mother's lips became a thin line. I knew she wasn't happy with me going to visit Mrs. Johnson, but I had done it anyway.
"I told you to stay away from that," She stumbled "that place." She spoke with her words in disgust at "that place". I wasn't a fan of that hospital either, but for a completely different reason. My dad use to tell me all the time that those people in that hospital are people just like us with a simple misguidance. Adults, teens, and even children spend nights there under some special supervision. I could sense my mom feared that place ever since it came here with its secret "mental hospital" title.
I can't remember one time where she ventured with dad and I there. This may be why she doesn't know that this particular "mental hospital," has suicidal or troubled patients not crazy ones. Her deep sighs interrupted my thoughts.
"Tutoring? Really? I should have known." Her bottom lip curved up as she shook her head. "Should have known." She said to herself.
"Mom, don't blame yourself." I spoke in guilt. I was taking the fall to what I believed was her own problem. She knew after the hundredth time of asking me not to go that I would in fact continue going.
"Blame myself?" My mom chuckled for a moment and then began raising her voice. "You lied to me young lady. I have told you time and time again that place has no room for a brilliant fourteen year old girl like you!" My heart pounded at the sound of "young lady". I felt as though I was being pressed, piled with rocks till I told the truth.
"Mom, I" but she wouldn't let me speak. She just kept on with the whole "you will do as I say," speech. Annoyance had begun to build up inside me. "Do as I do! Isn't that what they teach from the bible? Isn't that a message dad had once preached on?!?" I yelled. "I'm only doing what dad did; did he not do as much as he could?" I began to cry. "He gave these people a gift a mom."
Madness sprung across her face. Though she seemed angry her voice was puzzled. "What gift Jane?" Her hand was pulled out reaching for me as though I was supposed to place something in it. She stood there for a while as I composed my words. Thinking she had come out empty handed she dropped her hand hopelessly. Before she finished getting on to me I finally spoke boldly.
"A gift that no one else seems to give them, the one thing people like them, people like us need." I answered the question poured onto her face. "Someone who listens, something you refuse to give me." I could see my words were hitting her like a bullet. They were bouncing right back to me.
"Promise me you won't go back." She demanded. Before I could respond she repeated herself. "Promise me!"
"I can't." I said swiftly. Hoping the conversation could end I began trotting off to my room. I could hear a sniff or two and my letter I never got to read crumpled in the empty air.
"Jane Marie Lucille! You are not your father, his child and nothing more!" I could hear the tears in her voice. A twisted smile glided across my right cheek. How ironic that she had said my full name.
"Dad's name was Reverend J.R. Lucille, was it not?" As the cold hard silence proceeded I entered my room. I sat behind my tightly shut door with tears of my own traveling down my face. I can see how doing dad's work brought only fainted memories to my mother. I know how this hurts her, but the ugly truth is I don't care. I will continue what dad had started. I just can't desert these people after bringing them this far. I couldn't and I won't. Dad didn't waste his time and I know I'm spending mine as wisely as he did.
I whispered to Maralah sinking into my wilted, full sized bed. "Dad wouldn't keep me from doing what I love would he Maralah?" My words were confident, yet I still looked for a reaction. She just blinked and curved her body to meet my eyes. While I wondered if that meant anything I heard the front door creak open. As far as I know neither mom nor I expected any company. I quickly stood tall in my round mirror, wiping the tears off my pale cheeks. Drying my eyelashes I strived to find any pink in my retina. If there was any it was faint and not at all noticeable. With that note I trampled over my own feet to the living room.
Grandma leisurely sat down knowing someone would be there eventually to greet her. I breathed in little by little. In no rush at all I approached her. "Oh my dear!" she said in worry. "Has my baby been crying?" I didn't say a word. Mom finally came in with a fake smile as if nothing had happened. "What have you done to my poor baby?" grandma asked my mom nicely.
"You know Jane, always finding trouble." She joked. My grandma smiled and played along. "Do I need to send her to your house with you to help with anything?" My mother sounded happy to get rid of me, but who cares? I know I don't.
"Well sure. Come on Jane lets go." She waved her hand for me to guide her through the door. When I did she turned to me just as we left mom's hearing range. "What happened this time my dear?"
I looked down unable to begin. It's the same thing that always happens. What do I say without boring my fragile grandmother? "Well," I started "You remember Mrs. Johnson?" I got a simple "Mhmm." And then I explained. "She wrote me a letter. I believe a thank you letter. I never did get to read it, but anyway mom got to it before I did. You can imagine how that turned out." She wobbled her head in an understanding. I let her think of what to tell me and finished our path up the drive way. I opened the door anticipating what she was coming up with.
"My son," she paused. "I mean your father had a lot of passion for people and I can see that you too possess that. But, my dear, your father also loved your mother very much. He showed that with every ounce of his being. You seem to have forgotten what a blessed young lady you are."
"Grandma!" I interrupted.
"I know I know." She said calmly. "You love your mom and realize how lucky you are, but when is the last time you let her know that?" I stumbled upon her words. It may be true, but my mother does not support what I do. Mother's are suppose to support their daughters, how can I let her know anything when she won't listen?
"I'm sorry, my dear, your dad taught you well and I know you will learn in time." She ended the conversation still winning me over with her sweet "I only care" look.
We walked in and dropped ourselves on the coach. "So what do you need me to do?" I looked around noticing the house was as neat as I had left it two days ago. Grandma shrugged her shoulders with a mischievous fleeting look.
"Just thought I could use your company is all." I zoomed in closely as she peeked in over at her shiny black piano. I knew exactly what that indicated. I skipped happily to the rectangular hardened seat already pulled out from under the piano. My fingers rolled diligently across the keys. They flowed to the rhythm of a beautiful melody grandma had already laid out for me. She loved to hear me play; she is also the only one who knows of how well I do. My mom knows I play the piano, but never has she heard me.
I completed the song and leaned over to see if my grandmother had fallen asleep yet, but to my surprise I found her writing something. I cleared my throat to warn her as I strolled in. "You writing someone a letter?" I asked suspiciously. Guarded, she closed her notebook.
"Just empty paper, my dear." She searched for approval to drop my apprehensiveness. I nodded and a small laugh escaped. She changed the subject. "How's your friend Katy these days?" I sighed in response. Did I not tell her?
"She moved to Ohio a few months ago. " I was a bit upset, but I was happy for Katy more than anything. She was finally getting the chance to stay with her mother and her step father. Grandma was pleased with my answer and moved on.
"You should get home before dark. I can't afford to lose a grandchild." She teased. I giggled with her and dragged my feet out the door. I was in no hurry to get home. I gave her a big hug and started down the street at a steady pace. Waddling down the street I saw a tall man with an old navy blue backpack. As my feet stirred I became nervous. He was getting closer, but his face had no resemblance of anyone I know in this small town.
I realized my danger and slyly moved to the opposite side of the dirt path. His face becoming clearer had a red scratch across his right cheek. The man seemed friendly but his rough short haired beard gave off a different vibe. I tried going as unnoticed as possible and drew my head to the side. I ignored his rambunctious whistle and picked up my pace to pass him. The moment he was no longer in my sight he was silent. Had I disappointed him by not acknowledging he was there?
I immediately turned around and found nothing. No sound, not even a trace of him was left behind. If he had ran I would have heard his rumbling feet, and if he hid behind the bushes there would still be the rustling sound of the leaves from the branches. Here I stand hearing nothing and seeing no one. I called out but not a soul had heard me. I finally yanked myself forward with faith that I was now safe.
Returning home I lugged my body to my bed and let myself fall into the depths of its cushion. I stretched over and opened Maralah's cage to let her mingle with the fresh air. She hopped over to my lamp to contact her reflection in my mirror. This is something Grandma said was very common with Cardinals. A timid knock came to my door as I observed Maralah. I grasped the flimsy red bird and placed her back in the wooden cage. My impatient mother knocked again.
"Jane? Your aunt Tina and your cousin Cheyenne will be here tomorrow morning before school." I could hear her breathing behind my door. She was waiting for my response. I thought about the whole situation at first. Why are they coming on a school day? Normally Aunt Tina doesn't let Cheyenne miss a day of school just to visit us. My curiosity sprang out into question.
"What why?" I said opening the door between us. Then something dawned on me. "Are they moving back?" She seemed eager to hear me talk. I assume because our argument from earlier was now behind us.
"Yes indeed. Cheyenne should start school with you on Friday. She will be happy to see you." I tried to remember the last time I had seen Cheyenne. It's odd to be thinking of it when we use to be so close. Mom looked down for a brief moment to mention one more thing. "They'll be living with us for a while." Before I could ask how long she went on. "And if you don't mind Cheyenne will be staying with you in your room. You two will be roommates!" She said colorfully. I nodded to give the ok that of course I didn't mind.
"Mom," I said as she initiated to walk away. "Is there someone new in town?" She was a little baffled by my question.
"Not that I know of, why?" I bit my lip not sure of what to say. I didn't want to mention I saw a man, but that he had vanished. "Could just be someone's family or friend just visiting." My head automatically swayed in disagreement.
"He was homeless." Mom's eyebrow shifted up and her eyes widened a bit. "I think, I mean I saw him carrying a back pack and he had some smeared dirt on his face." I could see her in deep thought.
"Why would a homeless person travel way out here? I've just never heard of there being any in this small town my entire life." Her words left me feeling somewhat judgmental. I never actually talked to the guy, but here we are referring to him as the "homeless guy".
"I don't know mom, but I'm tired." I yawned. She grabbed a handful of huge brown curls in her hand leaning against my door way. I felt bad ending the conversation when for the first time in a while mom actually paid attention to what I was telling her. I really was tired though. She hesitated to close my door.
"Good night mom." I said tenderly. I yawned again. She took the hint and finished shutting my door. I sat up in my bed ready to pray, but as I meshed my hands together and closed my eyes I couldn't find the words to say. I had almost drifted off to sleep when I finally forced myself to speak.
"Dear God, thank you for this wonderful day." I began. "ummm," I wanted to pray for the man I saw today, but I wasn't sure what to pray for. I became prepared for sleep. This thinking process was draining my energy. Some rest finally found me.