Sunday, August 3, 2003
SUNDAY dawned far too early to suit Tara. She pulled the covers over her head. Maybe she could stay in bed and avoid church. Conviction jabbed home. You can’t hide forever. You have to face everyone, including Jack, eventually.
Can’t I put it off just a little longer? Someone was bound to get nosy enough to ask about the sudden distance between her and Jack. She dreaded the inevitable questions. She had no idea how to respond. Should she admit they’d had a disagreement, or feign ignorance?
Might as well get it over with. She threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. She forced herself to go through the habitual motions of showering and dressing. Tara glanced at the slacks and blouse she’d put on to make sure they weren’t a glaring mismatch. Good enough.
Her family and Jack’s mother were likely the only ones who knew about what had happened, and then only if Greg or Jack had told them. That was more than enough people to suit her. She hadn’t talked to her parents all week. She continued to ignore the answering machine.
Greg had tried to call, apparently not content to leave things alone as he’d indicated the last time they’d spoken. His name and number had popped up on her caller ID multiple times over the past week, along with a couple of calls from her parents. No calls from Jack, and that reality was most abysmal of all.
She arrived in time for Sunday school. Since she and Greg were in different classes from her parents, she didn’t have a chance to see any of them before class started. She thought she’d seen her brother’s car in the parking lot, but Greg wasn’t in the men’s class when she walked past the room. She must have been mistaken about seeing his car. He must be working today after all.
Tara paid only half-attention to what was said in class until she realized what the topic was. Forgiveness. She bristled then opened her Bible to read the verses Agnes Miller referenced for the lesson. Matthew 6:14-15.
“For if you forgive men for their transgressions, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.”
As she absorbed the words and their straightforward, blunt message, discussion drifted around her. She didn’t participate. She just listened and then wished she could crawl under the table and cry.
Debbie Phineas, a pretty, young woman who usually sat in complete silence and didn’t socialize much at church, admitted softly that she struggled to forgive one person in particular. As she told the class about her father’s verbal and physical abuse, Tara felt smaller and smaller. Debbie struggled to forgive a father who’d battered her for most of her life, and Tara struggled to forgive her brother for what? Trying to protect her? See to her happiness? Sure, he hadn’t handled it very well. Very poorly in fact. But his heart had been in the right place. He’d only been concerned for her.
A gentle hand touched Tara’s shoulder. She looked at Sally Caldwell, an older woman sitting at her side. Sally’s eyes filled with concern. Tara wiped away tears she suddenly realized trailed down her cheeks. Pain built behind her eyes as she fought to regain emotional control.
She gathered her things when class ended, pushing unsteadily out of her chair. She wanted to go home, escape all she’d just heard. She leaned her hand on the table for a moment until a wave of dizziness passed.
Sally’s hand grasped her shoulder again, this time steadying instead of merely offering comfort.
Tara looked up and focused on Sally’s face, forcing a weak smile.
“Are you all right?”
“Not really.” She looked away. “I need to go home. I don’t feel so hot.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“No, I think I’ll be okay to get home.” She wasn’t certain that was true but hoped it was. “I don’t live very far from here.” Once certain the dizziness had passed, she headed for her car.
She fumbled for the keys as pain came in ever-increasing waves like the tide rolling in. Then she dropped them. Wanting to cry, she knelt to retrieve the keys from the hot asphalt. Just then a sound in the distance caught her ear. She scrambled, fighting desperately to get the door unlocked.
The siren grew louder and louder. I’m not going to make it. She dropped into a sitting position with her back against her car and threw her hands over her ears, everything in her hands falling to the ground. Even then, the sound pierced her skull, feeding the angry beast residing there. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sun coming out from behind the clouds. The whole world conspired against her.
She barely noticed the person who knelt in front of her or gentle hands on her upper arms. Then her brother knelt by her side. She didn’t see Greg, but she recognized the timber of his voice as he spoke to someone. He pulled one of her hands away from her head so she could hear him. She squinted at him, the pain intensifying even with that much extra light allowed in.
“I’m taking you home.” His voice was soft as he put his arms under to lift her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face into his chest.
~~~
Greg gently deposited Tara on the front seat of his car and closed the door, careful not to slam it. He turned to Sally. “Thanks for letting me know she got sick.”
“She didn’t look good at the end of class. I’m glad I kept an eye on her.” She handed him Tara’s things. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Greg hesitated then looked toward the church with resignation. “Have you seen Jack Carlton this morning?”
“I believe I saw him a few minutes ago heading inside.”
“Can you find him, let him know Tara’s sick and I could use his help at her place.” The last thing he wanted was that man’s help, but Jack knew better than he did how to deal with Tara’s migraines. She’d mentioned in the past that he’d often helped her.
“I sure will.” Sally hurried toward the sanctuary building.
Greg got into the car and pulled out of the parking lot. It took only a few minutes to reach Tara’s apartment and get her inside.
“I can walk.” She fussed with a halfhearted and weak tone.
No way he’d risk her taking a header down the stairs or off the balcony. He waited until they were inside to put her down. With a steadying hand on the wall, she made her way to the bedroom without turning on lights. The door drifted closed.
He gave her a few minutes to change clothes. Double digits flashed on the answering machine. No wonder it no longer picked up. When had she last checked the thing?
When he thought enough time had passed, Greg tapped lightly on the bedroom door.
No answer.
He knocked a bit louder.
Still no answer.
He slowly opened the door and peeked in. Maybe she’d gone to bed and fallen asleep. The bed sat empty. The clothes she’d worn to church lay discarded and scattered on the floor.
“Tara?”
He stepped into the room and headed for the open door to the connecting bathroom. Then he heard it. Retching. No mistaking that for something else. He quickened his steps and found Tara kneeling at the toilet in sweatpants and a t-shirt, losing whatever she’d eaten that morning. He flipped on the light without thinking, but she protested, clearly in pain, so he turned it off and used the night light plugged into the wall over the vanity to see.
Greg knelt at her side and held her hair out of her face. He tried not to panic at his ignorance, wishing he’d paid more attention over the years. He hated dealing with things he knew nothing about. He tried to imagine what his mother would do.
He hopped to his feet and went in search of a washcloth and a glass. He filled the glass with water and dampened the washcloth under the faucet, wringing it out as best he could. He returned to Tara’s side with both in hand. When she settled back on her heels, he offered the glass of water. She rinsed her mouth and spit out the water, handing the glass back to him. He set it on the counter and gently wiped her face with the wet washcloth, hoping the coolness would help.
Someone knocked on the front door.
Greg was torn between answering it and staying with Tara, who looked like she might be sick again. The knocking grew louder and more insistent. He went to answer it, leaving Tara sitting on the bathroom floor. He yanked the door open to stop the incessant banging then frowned.
“How bad is it?” Jack stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
Greg stifled instant annoyance and tried to pretend he didn’t feel quite so happy to see Jack. “I don’t have a basis for comparison, but it’s bad to me. She started throwing up a few minutes ago. I have no idea what to do, and our parents are out of town.” He led Jack to the bathroom.
Tara had lain on the floor in the fetal position, her head cradled on one hand, the other hand flung over her head to block out light and sound that might sneak in.
Jack pushed past Greg into the bathroom and knelt down, lifting her arm away from her head, touching the side of her face.
~~~
“Tara, honey, I’m here,” Jack assured her softly. Putting aside the hurt, anger, and confusion of the past several days, he focused entirely on concern for the woman he loved. At first, he didn’t think she’d heard him, but she finally reached for him and tried to sit up. He settled into a seated position by her and helped her up, cradling her against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered and started to cry. “I messed everything up. I never should’ve doubted you. I didn’t want to… I never wanted to believe anything bad about you.”
Jack’s heart broke over the sobs erupting from her. He fought tears of his own and pulled her closer, gently resting his cheek against her forehead and cradling the back of her head with one hand.
“Shh. It’s okay,” he whispered around the knot in his throat. He held her tightly until her sobs eased. He cleared his throat and looked at Greg. “There should be two boxes in the lower part of her nightstand. Get them.”
Greg did as he was told, returning moments later with two small boxes.
“They contain sealed packets. Take one packet from each box and give them to me.” Jack kept his voice soft and low so he didn’t exacerbate Tara’s pain. He waited while Greg used dim light from the nightlight to get what was requested.
Greg handed him two sealed packets.
Jack glanced at them, squinting in the nearly non-existent light, to make certain they were different then ripped one open.
“What are those?” Greg kept his voice low and knelt in front of the vanity.
“Emergency meds,” Jack said simply at first. He pulled a patch out of one packet and applied it to Tara’s upper arm. Then he reached for the other. “One is pain medication. The other is an anti-emetic. It stops the vomiting.”
“I’ve never seen medication in patches like that. They look like nicotine patches.”
“Same principle.” Jack nodded, applying the second patch to Tara’s neck. Then he settled back and simply held her, waiting for the medication to take effect. “I got the local compounding pharmacy to convert Tara’s emergency medication to patches a while back. It’s easier to get the meds into her system when she’s vomiting. Otherwise she tends to throw up the pills and ends up in the emergency room. The patches have helped us avoid the E.R.”
~~~
Greg silently watched the man he had for years perceived as the enemy cradle his baby sister so gently. For so long, he’d chosen to believe Jack had no redeeming qualities, and yet he couldn’t deny the tenderness he witnessed now.
Guilt dug at him even more than it had as he’d talked to Pastor Samuel that morning during Sunday school. As much as he hated to admit it, Eric and Pastor Samuel were right. He’d handled things all wrong, starting the day he’d broken Jack’s nose for kissing Tara.
And despite the horrible things he’d thought about Jack over the years because of rumors and innuendo, he could no longer deny that Jack truly and deeply cared for Tara. Why else would he have gone to the trouble of getting those patches to help her with the migraines? Why would he rush over after what had happened and harsh feelings surely still remained simply because Tara needed him?
Tara’s words to Jack and the sobs that had followed tore at his heart, too. He’d only wanted to protect her.
Unable to bear the sight anymore of Jack and Tara huddled in the darkness facing a demon he couldn’t help battle, Greg returned to the living room. He paced, struggling with the knowledge that Tara hurt deeply, and it was his fault. The lyrics from an old song about good intentions paving the road to hell ran through his mind, and he finally understood. The best intentions were meaningless if they weren’t exercised according to God’s will.
If he had handled the situation God’s way, he’d have approached Jack with love and concern for Jack’s relationship with the Lord, not pounced on him with hate and anger in blind defense of his little sister. He would’ve talked to Tara about his concerns without being so heavy-handed and taking charge of a situation when he had no right to do so. He dropped into a chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Well, I’ve certainly mucked things up.”
“You won’t hear any disagreement out of me.” Jack came into the room and pulled the bedroom door closed very gently.
Greg sat up, uncertain how to respond. He hadn’t meant for Jack to hear what he’d said.
Jack went into the kitchen without further comment on what he’d overheard. “Tara’s resting. I put her to bed. She’ll need something to eat when she wakes up. Soup is best. It hydrates her as well as getting nutrients into her.” He rooted through cupboards.
“Will she be okay?”
“It may be sometime tomorrow with one this bad, but yeah, she’ll be fine.”
Silence fell between them, soon growing awkward.
Greg swallowed a hefty helping of pride and took a deep breath. “Jack, I… I owe you an apology. I acted like a jerk, and I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling as though he’d aged ten years in the last week.
Jack looked at him for a few seconds then hunted through the fridge.
“This is all my fault. Tara didn’t have doubts until I planted them in her mind. She tried to defend you. I assumed her feelings clouded her judgment, but it’s more than that. She knows you, really knows you. I don’t. I never even gave you a chance.” He scoffed at himself. “All because of locker room chatter.”
“Locker room chatter? What are you talking about?” Jack looked puzzled, his search momentarily forgotten.
“A lot of stories circulated about you back in high school.” He caught the frown on Jack’s face. “Surely you knew that?”
“I didn’t pay attention to that kind of stuff.” Jack glanced away, busied himself digging in a lower cabinet. “What does that have to do with all this? That was well over a decade ago.”
“I believed the stories.” He held up a hand to still an argument when Jack turned to face him. “Stupid, I know. Basing your first impression of someone on teenage gossip. Then you and Tara became friends, and I heard stories about the two of you, and I hated it.”
“Except for that one kiss”—he rubbed the bridge of his nose—“nothing happened between me and Tara in high school.” Jack’s gaze was direct, unwavering. “If anyone said otherwise, they lied through their teeth.”
“I know. I should’ve known then. I didn’t trust you, but I should’ve trusted her.” Greg leaned his elbows on his knees again, his hands dangling between them. “Instead, I overreacted and acted like a Neanderthal. Tara was right. I’m sorry about the broken nose.”
Jack stared at him for a few moments then sighed. “I probably deserved it.” The admission was slow in coming. He dropped into a chair at the dining table, facing Greg. “Not all the stories were lies. I didn’t accept Christ until near the end of my sophomore year. Your senior year. I did some things before then that I’m not proud of. Tara doesn’t know. I’m sure she heard stories, but I never talked to her about it. I just let her believe they were empty rumors. So many times, I’ve wanted to make a full confession, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want her to be disappointed in me.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, tears filling his eyes. “She is anyway.”
“No, Jack.” Greg went to the table and pulled out the chair closest to Jack, dropping onto it. “Tara believes you’re a man of principle, and she’s right. We’ve all done things we’re not particularly proud of, both before and after accepting Christ. We can only pray we learn from them and don’t make those same mistakes again.”
“No, we just go and make new ones.” Jack mouth twisted wryly.
“Like the women you’ve been seeing since then?” Greg ventured cautiously.
“Yeah.” Jack sighed heavily. “Just like that.”
“So you haven’t been… involved with any of them.”
Jack shook his head, his gaze meeting Greg’s with no hesitation, no guile.
“Then why, Jack?”
~~~
Jack leaned back in the chair, resting his head against the high back. Answering why would require complete honesty. Could he give Greg that? Should he? How would Greg respond to the truth? He studied the other man, seeing none of the hate, anger, or accusation ever-present in the past. He took a deep breath. Might as well confess fully.
“Her.” He nodded toward Tara’s room and leaned an elbow on the table. “She had me with that first kiss.” He frowned, thinking back. “Maybe even before then. I think that’s the only reason I let her talk me into it in the first place.”
“What do you mean ‘talk you into it’?” Greg frowned, his expression reflecting total confusion.
Jack hesitated. “I guess she never told you why I kissed her.”
Greg shook his head.
Jack chuckled then told Tara’s brother everything that had led up to Jack lying sprawled in the front yard with a broken nose. He waited for a long time afterwards while Greg processed the information, his gaze locked on the other man’s face so he could gauge his response.
Finally, Greg rubbed both hands over his face and laughed. “That has to be one of the most ridiculous things Tara ever came up with.”
Jack relaxed. “You don’t know the half of it.” He grinned. “You want to know how you ended up catching us in the park this summer?”
“Was that Tara’s doing as well?”
“Yes, and no.” He shared the story of the second kiss. He’d never expected to have such a conversation with this man.
Greg shook his head and laughed. “I always knew she was a terror. From the day she was born, I knew. Mom said I couldn’t pronounce her name properly because I was only four, but I think it was a prophetic warning.”
Jack returned his grin, his thoughts going to some of the other misadventures he and Tara had had over the years. She’d lived up to her nickname often during their friendship, that was for sure.
Silence fell, Greg’s gaze speculative.
Jack waited for him to voice the thoughts flowing through his mind and tried not to squirm under the other man’s penetrating, probing-cop stare. The longer the silence lasted, the more tempted he was to fidget. If that was how suspects felt facing Greg, Jack pitied them. Well, almost. They deserved it. He didn’t.
“There’s something I still don’t understand, Jack.”
“What’s that?”
“You said you dated these women because of Tara.”
“It was a distraction.” He tried to figure out how best to explain. “I haven’t wanted to be with anyone but Tara since that day, but… I was… am terrified, to be quite honest. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to make a mess of things and possibly lose what we have. So I came up with a solution. Keep myself distracted and at a safe distance. As long as I was seeing someone else, I didn’t see Tara as much. When I wasn’t dating someone, I saw her more. It’s gotten harder and harder over the years to keep myself from just blurting out the truth whenever I see her.”
“Do you have any idea how stupid that is?” Greg gave him a lopsided grin and a soft chuckle.
“Yeah,” Jack replied sheepishly. “Well, I never claimed to be a rocket scientist, you know.”
“So how long do you intend to keep it up?” Greg pinned him with a much more intense look. “You realize it hurts Tara. Right?”
“I never intended to hurt her, in any way.” Jack wanted to assure him of that more than anything. “I’m done. You were right. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but it didn’t look good. I never thought about it, but now I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t keep going like I have, especially now that I know how it appears to other people.”
“Does that mean you’re finally going to tell her the truth?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “I just don’t know. I don’t want to ruin everything, and the very last thing I want to do is hurt her.”
“You really think the truth would ruin everything?”
“I don’t know if it would or not, and I’m afraid to find out. Cowardly, I know.” Jack ran a hand through his hair and kneaded the stiffness at the back of his neck. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.
“Why don’t you crash on the couch for a while?” Greg pushed to his feet and went into the kitchen. “I’ll put something together for Tara to eat when she wakes up. Maybe scrounge something up for us later, too. I’ll listen for Tara while you grab a nap.”
Jack considered refusing, but several nights with virtually no sleep had left him exhausted. Greg could handle things. So he surrendered without argument. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture Tara owned, but he fell asleep in short order, scarcely noticing discomfort from thinning cushions and springs starting to protrude.