30

 

Nila tried to find a comfortable position, but every part of her ached. She wanted to sleep. She needed some rest. But sleep brought nightmares, not rest.

The house was quiet. Hayley and her parents were on their way home to Ontario, and everyone else had gone to the Christmas Eve service.

She eased out of bed, padded upstairs, and pulled out the dinner Lydia had left warming in the oven. She lifted the foil and inhaled wonderful aromas. Ham, scalloped potatoes, and green beans beckoned. Nila picked up a fork and took a bite. So good. She swallowed, and immediately, her stomach rebelled. She dropped the plate onto the counter and bolted to the bathroom.

Nila rinsed out her mouth and trudged back down the stairs. She lay on her bed, and the heaviness that had taken up residence in her soul compressed without mercy. Of course she couldn’t eat. She didn’t deserve sustenance. She was a killer. A danger. A mistake.

Moisture filled her eyes, but she shut her eyes tight against it. She didn’t even deserve the relief tears would bring.

A whisper startled her. “My child.”

Eyes wide, she lifted her head and scanned the bedroom. No one was there. Not visibly, anyway. Who said that?

“God, is that You? If it is, please leave me. You are holy, and I’m no good.”

She lay face down and pulled her pillow over her head. All she wanted was sleep. Without nightmares. Maybe forever.

 

****

 

Low, gray clouds made Christmas Day almost as dreary as Will’s mood.

Jessica and Tommy had been up for hours, and their happy laughter as they played with new toys grated on his nerves.

He sat at the kitchen table, coffee mug cradled in his hands.

In the living room Tommy pounded his new drum and squealed.

Will jerked, and coffee splashed onto his fingers. He yelped, jumped up, and stuck his hands under the tap.

Faith rushed into the kitchen. “What happened?” She grabbed a towel and handed it to him as he turned off the water.

“Spilled my coffee. It burned my fingers, but I’ll live.”

“Glad to hear it. You seem pretty grumpy today. Something bothering you, or are you worn out from working at Nila’s?”

Will topped up his coffee and sank into the chair. He stared into his coffee cup. “Tired and disappointed, I guess.”

More pounding and shrieks came from the other room.

“Never again,” he said as he shook his head. “Now I know why you told me not to get noisy toys.”

Faith sat across from him. “Glad you learned your lesson. And I’ll hold you to that promise. But does your mood have anything to do with a certain young woman?”

Will sighed. “Yeah, I thought we’d do the big reveal at her suite tomorrow. But I talked to Lydia, and Nila seems to be hiding. She hasn’t come out of her room since yesterday afternoon. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone. She’s not eating.”

“So you’re worried, as well as disappointed.”

“Yes, I am.”

The racket from the living room escalated, and Faith pushed herself away from the table. “I’d better check on my noisy little darlings. Good thing we get to move back home this weekend.”

Will couldn’t agree more. He’d miss his sister and her family but not the pandemonium. He touched Faith’s arm as she passed, halting her. “I’m going for a drive. Maybe do some more over at Nila’s. I’ll have my cell if anyone wants me.”

Faith patted his shoulder. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

 

****

 

“Nila, are you OK?” Dave’s deep voice called through her bedroom door. “We’ve been invited to Daniel and Melody’s for Boxing Day brunch. Do you feel up to joining us?”

Christmas Day had passed in a blur of misery, and she’d survived by hiding in her room. She felt guilty that Lily and Lydia had taken turns bringing meals down, especially since she couldn’t eat. She couldn’t do anything. Except cry. Now it was a new day, and she still hadn’t run out of tears. She pulled the pillow over her head, but it couldn’t muffle her racking sobs.

The doorknob turned partway. “May I come in?”

“I…guess,” she said, each word punctuated by a shuddering gasp.

Dave’s bushy eyebrows met in a V as he entered the room. He closed the door and leaned against it. She knew he wouldn’t come closer without permission.

Nila grabbed the pillow and clutched it to her chest. “I—I’m sorry. I…can’t seem…to stop…crying.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

She pushed herself to a sitting position and winced at the pain. “I don’t…know. But come in…sit.”

Dave crossed to the desk chair and lowered his solid form onto it. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped. The love radiating from his face brought a fresh rush of tears. “Is your pain worse? Do you have a fever?”

She plucked a tissue from her nightstand, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes. “No. This isn’t about my injuries.”

He waited.

“I heard you all upstairs. Your laughter, the kids’ excitement, your family’s celebration.” She blew her nose again and released a deep, gasping sigh. “It made me think about my past. Everything I missed.” She shook her head. “I don’t like to feel sorry for myself. It just… overwhelmed me.”

Dave cleared his throat. “Have you ever talked about it?”

“Not everything. Not much, really.”

“In that case, dear heart, I have a suggestion.”

 

****

 

The house was still. Everyone had left for the celebration at the newlyweds’ home.

Nila carried her laptop to the living room. It was time.

She lit the tall, cinnamon-scented candle on the coffee table and inhaled its spicy aroma. It mingled with the scents of the evergreen garlands and clove-studded oranges woven around its base. “M-mm. That smells like Christmas. Happy belated birthday, Lord Jesus.” She took another deep breath. “You know I’ve given you my heart. I’ve just been told I should give you my past. It seems like the worst birthday present ever, but Pastor Dave said you’d want it.” Would that assurance help her get through this?

She settled on the couch and opened her laptop. The blank screen stared back at her.

Dave’s encouragement echoed in her mind. “Write it down, dear. Get it all out. Give it all to Jesus.”

She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Her misery weighed heavy on her heart. If not now, then when? She eased back on the couch into a more comfortable position. She took a deep breath and prayed for strength.

Where should she start? She considered that. Might as well start at the beginning. She settled her fingers on the keys and let her mind drift back. All the way back to her earliest wounds.

 

Dear Mother,

What made you decide to give me away? Why couldn’t you love me? Did you care at all? Do you ever wonder about me? Who are you? Do you live nearby? Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder if I look like you. But you never gave me a chance to know…

 

Once begun, her heartache poured out through her fingers. She finished that letter, sent it to the printer in Dave’s office, and continued. She wrote to the owners of groping hands under her blankets, others who blamed her and called her a liar, and the ones who tossed her aside at a moment’s notice.

She wrote to teachers who failed to notice and social workers who didn’t have time to care. Page after page, she released a lifetime of neglect and abuse. Each anguished letter pried loose another link in the chain of guilt and sorrow she’d worn all her life.

The clock in the den chimed.

Nila looked at her watch in shock. She hit “print” on the final letter, the one to Nick, and closed her computer. She felt freer, lighter—and completely drained. She had run an emotional marathon. Nila half-rose to empty the wastebasket full of used tissues at her feet, but the sound of voices halted her.

The front door opened, and Dave and Lydia’s family burst into the house.

Gracie ran to Nila and danced in excitement.

“Hi, Nila! Did you miss me? We were at Melody’s. Why didn’t you come? Are you better yet?”

“I…”

“Enough, Gracie,” her mother said. “Leave Nila alone. Give her some space.”

The little girl stood, shoulders slumped. Her lower lip protruded. “But Mommy, I love her.”

Nila held her arms wide to her small friend, and love flowed from her tenderized soul. “I love you, too, Gracie. It’s OK, Lily. Maybe Gracie and I can read a story together. Would that be all right?” She grabbed another tissue and wiped her face.

Lily tilted her head. “If you’re sure.” She looked at her daughter. “But you have to sit still so you don’t hurt Nila.”

Gracie had already retrieved a picture book from the shelf. “OK, Mommy.” She climbed onto the couch and handed the book to Nila. “Here, this is one of my favorites. It makes me laugh.”

She snuggled close, and Nila breathed in the baby-shampoo scent of her lustrous, dark hair. She wrapped her uninjured arm around the little girl and drew her even closer. Then Nila read the title of Gracie’s chosen storybook.

Are You My Mother?

She tried to stifle a gasp, but it escaped as a sniffle.

Gracie looked up at her, questions in her big, almond-shaped eyes. “Are you all right? Why aren’t you reading?”

Nila closed her eyes for a moment. She could do this. She was free to live and love. She smiled through tears at the little girl, kissed the top of her head, and opened the book.

 

****

 

The next day Will climbed the steps to Dave and Lydia’s home as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He paused to admire the brilliant sunset as it bid farewell to another day.

Christmas was over, and now a new year loomed. What would it bring?

He inhaled a deep breath of crisp air and extended his hand to ring the Harris’s doorbell.

Before it connected, the wreath-decorated door swung wide.

“Welcome, Will. Come on in. Mighty cold outside.” Pastor Dave ushered him inside and shut the door behind him. “I saw you pull into the driveway. Nila’s waiting for you in my office.”

The pastor’s voice was warm, but his expression was one Will had only seen at funerals.

“Thanks.” He had to ask. “Do you know what this is about? Are we still on for, you know, the surprise?”

The compassion in Dave’s eyes seemed to warn him. “Go see Nila. We’ll see about the rest later.”

Will swallowed a lump of apprehension. Would all his efforts be for nothing? Had the woman he loved decided to reject him? He walked on unsteady legs to the closed door to Dave’s study. He paused and looked back at his pastor.

Dave nodded his head, turned, and went into the noisy kitchen to join his family.

Will opened the door without a sound.

Nila stood facing the window with her arms wrapped tight around herself as though chilled.

“Nila?”

She whirled, nearly losing her balance. She grabbed the edge of the desk and winced.

Will reached her in two steps but didn’t touch her. He took in her tear-streaked face and fistful of crumpled tissues. Fear punched him, nearly taking his breath away. “What’s wrong?”

She nibbled her lower lip before answering. “I need to talk to you. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Another blow.

She seemed to give herself a mental shake and forced a weak smile. “Belated Merry Christmas. How was the celebration with your family?”

“Fine, thanks. Now what is this about?”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

He raised his eyebrows, afraid to say anything. He needed to know. He didn’t want to know.

“When I told you to leave…at the hospital…I wasn’t thinking straight. I wish I hadn’t done that.”

Will whooshed out a breath. “Is that all? No big deal. I was pretty messed up, too. I figured I deserved it after I left you defenseless.”

She put up a hand. “No, you didn’t. God was there. But that’s not all.” She touched his face with a gentleness that thrilled and frightened him. “Maybe you’d better sit.”

His backbone stiffened. “I’ll stand. Lay it on me.”