Rosie had dropped her bombshell on Monday night. Danny lived in a red haze through the following days.
Daylight hours were spent in the water surfing, nighttime ones at the desk researching domestic terrorists. He forgot to eat, forgot to work, forgot to listen for God’s voice. His prayers became tirades against loggers and environmentalists alike, warmongers and antiwar demonstrators, the whole entire unfair world at large.
The anger never went away.
Friday morning his roommate, Hawk, got in his face and said Jenna had called him at the store because Danny didn’t answer his phone. Hawk said that probably had something to do with Danny’s phone being turned off.
Jenna sounded off. She needed to see Danny at the rental house now.
He picked up his cell phone, saw ten missed calls from Lexi and would have headed to the surf if Hawk weren’t blocking the door. In their many years as friends, Danny still wasn’t sure if the guy was a curse or a blessing.
His twin would have to wait. He only had energy for one sister at a time. He called Jenna back and learned nothing more than what Hawk had told him.
He drove to the rental house, thinking of how Kevin e-mailed less often these days. His references to increased fighting weighed heavily on Danny. Jenna’s pleas had broken through the roar in his own head.
Jenna opened the door.
“Why aren’t you in school?” he said.
“I got the house.” Her face didn’t reflect the gladness he figured would accompany that announcement. “I took the day off to get started on the move.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You look like you’ve got prerecital jitters.”
She shook her head. “I’m not asking your permission to move in here, but aren’t you the least bit happy for me?”
“Did you tell Kevin?”
“Not yet.
“Jen—”
“How am I supposed to tell him if he doesn’t call? I’m not doing it in an e-mail, thanks to you. You convinced me he’s going to be upset. I need to tell him face-to-face. So to speak.”
Danny slowed himself down. Agitated vibes fairly hummed off of Jenna. There was something different about her. Eye contact wasn’t happening. She didn’t stand still. Her hands flittered in nervous gestures.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m sorry about Skylar. How are you doing?”
“Let’s change the subject. Why did you want to see me?” he asked.
“Mom’s coming. She hasn’t seen the house. She’s in the city interviewing a chef at Dad’s old office. Do you want a juice or soda? I brought a cooler.”
“Sure.”
They took cans from a cooler in the kitchen. He noticed boxes on the floor as well, marked in her neat handwriting. A coffeemaker sat on the counter, two mugs next to it.
He followed her through the patio doors. They sat on lawn chairs.
“So Mom’s coming,” he prompted.
Her eyes darted around the small yard. “I can’t handle her by myself. You always know how to handle her. That’s why I called you instead of Erik.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by ‘handle’?”
“Sometimes it’s not like she’s your mother. She’s just another person.”
“Why don’t you want a mother?”
“Because she makes me feel responsible and accountable.” She swiped at her eyes. “Like I should be able to deal with Kevin’s absence better.”
“Jen, did you forget? Mom left Dad because she didn’t want to deal anymore with his absence.”
“But then he made this huge sacrifice for her and they’ve been like honeymooners ever since. She gets this dose of religion and sounds more adamant than you and Nana put together about living by faith and getting through the tough times with flying colors.”
Danny sensed that Jenna talked around what was really going on inside of her, but had no clue how to zero in on it. “Do you want me to pray before she comes, like I did before your recitals?”
“No! I just want you to run interference. I mean, life is just really, really hard for me right now. I’m dealing with it the best I can, okay? I don’t need anybody’s advice.”
Even in the midst of his own confusion and hurt, he heard hers. A renewed fear for Kevin emerged, and for their marriage.
He didn’t need his sister’s permission to pray.
Lord, please take care of Jenna and Kevin. Preserve their marriage.
Unlike Danny, Claire oohed and aahhed in all the right places over Jenna’s house find.
He watched the women. Jenna’s complexion carried a shade of their dad’s Native American heritage, but there was no mistaking a resemblance between mother and daughter. Perhaps it was a touch of the musician’s personality, an obvious bent toward detail, toward dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s.
“It’s great, Jenna,” Claire said as they sat again on the patio. “Are you sure you don’t need your dad to help the movers tomorrow?”
“I’m sure, thanks.”
Danny listened as they discussed mundane details of moving. Jenna crossed her legs; they bounced with nervous energy. Their mom was obviously worn-out. She had hired two women to help with that weekend’s guests, but the loss of Skylar in the kitchen multiplied her distress.
When she had arrived, Claire reported there was no new news. Her car, discovered at a train station Wednesday, was still impounded by the police. They presumed she got on a train. There were a zillion directions she could have taken.
Skylar had not called. Like that was going to happen, he scoffed to himself.
“Danny?” His mother eyed him in a distinctly motherly way.
“No, I’m not doing so hot.” He answered her unasked question. “I’m like Jenna. Life is just too hard to talk about today.”
“Are you both giving yourselves permission to feel that to its fullest extent?”
He and Jenna exchanged a surprised glance.
“I mean,” Claire went on, “to let yourselves feel tired, hurt, violated, hopeless, all that junk? To grieve? Fighting it doesn’t help. Or pretending that it’s not there, eating away at your insides.”
He said, “You’re supposed to smile and tell us it’ll be all better soon and that you’re praying. And maybe take two aspirin while we’re at it.”
“Well, you both know I’m praying. I pray that you’ll trust that God is carrying you through. I pray that you’ll be able to extend forgiveness to Skylar and Kevin for the choices they made that hurt you. That as you stumble in your pain, you will not be hurled headlong off the path.”
“Psalm something or other.”
She nodded.
He gave her a sad smile.
Jenna had grown still as a statue. “What’s the path exactly?”
Claire tilted her head back and forth. “Of going in the right direction, I suppose.” She stood. “I have to go. Jen, I can help you unpack next week.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re taking off all next week?”
“Monday and Tuesday, anyway. Cade said to take more, but I’ve spent too many days out of the classroom already. It’s like you said, Mom. I’m giving myself permission to quit pretending that life is normal.”
Danny tuned her out. He’d heard more than he wanted. There was an odd tone, almost a false note, in the way she referenced Cade.
In her pain, had his sister stumbled so badly she’d hurled herself right off the path?
How could she?
And how could Skylar run off without a word? How could she have committed even a fraction of what she was accused of ?
An ache pierced him, so sharp it nearly took his breath away. He suddenly saw himself as a legalist consumed with the black and white of rules, with no space in his heart for grays.
Grays? Maybe it was grace.