Twenty-Three
The sound of the doorbell pealing had me rushing from my office to the front door. No alert that someone was at the gate had come, which meant someone who had the code was at my door. Tuck would normally knock.
I peered through the peep hole and blinked a few times. Yet with each close of my eyelids, the image before me never changed. There stood Mama on my front porch with a couple of suitcases flanking her.
Lord God, see me through this.
When I’d offered the guest bedroom in my place, I hadn’t actually believed she’d take me up on the suggestion. I figured she and Dad would work through their differences as they’d always done. That was probably the inner child in me wishing for reconciliation versus the grown-up who still couldn’t believe her father was a liar and a cheat—in sports, that is.
Now that Mama stood on the other side of the door, I wasn’t quite sure what to do.
Let her in first, then figure out the next steps.
I twisted the knob and stepped back. “Hey, Mama.”
Her thin lips pursed as she struggled to pull her luggage behind her. “I just couldn’t take another minute in that house with that man,” she snapped. She looked around my living room as if seeing the inside of my home for the first time.
She’d received a tour of my place when I first moved in, then promptly told me all the ways I could decorate the space to make it look the best. I didn’t listen, which was probably why she stood there staring at my rustic chic décor in shock.
More like horror that you didn’t go upscale country.
“It’s so ... so...”
“Cozy?” I supplied, folding my arms across my chest.
“Mm.” A forced smile appeared across her lips. “Will you take my luggage to the guest bedroom?”
“Of course, Mama.” Was it too early for me to ask how long she planned to stay?
I wanted to text an SOS to Tuck and tell him to come over. Only knowing he spent the majority of his days napping and healing kept my cell in my back jeans pocket. Maybe once Mama was settled, I’d text Nevaeh and ask her to pray for the situation.
She’d been sending me encouraging Bible verses every morning since Bolt Brook first made the headlines. Knowing she was praying had bolstered me and gave me direction for my own prayers. Her texts usually came closer to midday—thank you, time zone difference—and gave me the pick-me-up I needed.
With all the commotion arisen from the RMTC’s positive test results, I wanted to spend most of my days with my head buried in the proverbial sand. I was keeping off my socials unless I needed to post something specifically for Maisha Farms.
I’d also ignored all calls that weren’t from someone in my contacts. I didn’t need another reporter trying to ask me about my feelings about Bolt Brook’s guilt. I didn’t know my own feelings. Once I figured them out, it wouldn’t be the local news who got the scoop.
Now that Mama was here, maybe I’d be too busy to think and could let my mind relax some. Comforting her through this season might be the distraction I truly needed.
I pushed the suitcases to the corner of the guest bedroom. Mama would be unpacking as soon as her nerves allowed her to. Good thing I’d had the foresight to change the sheets yesterday. The room rarely got used, but after issuing the invitation to Mama, I’d felt the need to dust and clean up a bit just in case.
I headed back to the living room.
“Piper, sweetie, could you pour me some tea?”
“Yes, Mama.” She followed me to the kitchen, where I pulled the pitcher out of the fridge. “Are you hungry?” It was that awkward time between lunch and dinner, or afternoon tea, as hobbits would call it. I just happened to have the iced and sweetened variety.
“No, dear, just a little weary.”
I handed her a glass.
“A Mason jar glass, sweetie? So cliché.” She shook her head but sipped the drink anyway.
I wanted to ask what was so wrong with the cute glassware. But knowing Mama, she thought it too basic. She was all about flaunting her wealth as an accomplishment. Not that what she and Daddy had managed to achieve wasn’t such.
No wonder she was mad at him. She probably thought it all moot now that Bolt Brook would suffer some type of ban.
“What do you think will happen next?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Her lips flattened. “Your father has his head so far stuck in the clouds I think he’s lost oxygen to his brain. Keeps thinking I’ll pull some Tammy Wynette nonsense and stand by my man,” she scoffed.
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Not because the situation was at all comical, but the country music reference tickled me. Mama always quoted older country stars when she was particularly flustered. Usually it was Patsy Cline.
“What am I supposed to do now?” Mama’s head flopped onto the back of the couch.
I reached out to rub her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mama.” But I had no actual words of wisdom. I felt just as stuck.
“So am I, sweetie. To think of all those so-called wins we celebrated. Knowing what I know now, it sickens me. He altered those beautiful beings. Based our name and brand on deceit.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
I felt the same way, but this was Daddy we were talking about. How could we just sever our relationship? We had a duty to forgive him as Christians, but just thinking about it hurt my heart.
“Will you forgive him, Mama?”
She let out a small sigh. “Eventually. But I may never forget.”
“Will you divorce him?” I asked cautiously.
“I don’t know what to do at all, Piper.” Mama’s bottom lip quivered. “I can’t make my mind believe the headlines or even his own confession. Not to mention I’m waiting for him to be handed over to the authorities soon.”
My stomach heaved. “Do you really think he’ll be arrested?”
I’d seen such a thing in the past, but it had all seemed so fanciful. Not a consequence I’d ever worried over, considering I’d never crossed a line. Now I had to wait to see what charges would be brought against Daddy—and if the word leniency would be part of our new vocabulary.
“Any day now.”
“Goodness,” I muttered under my breath.
“But don’t you worry. I’m sure your operation will be untouched. I read a small caption in the newspaper saying your horse was found clean. Tuck’s horses too.”
“Oh, so someone cared to mention that fact?” Everyone in the media as well as on social media acted like that was a lie. One person’s comment literally stated, “Stop the cap.”
“They did, but I’m not sure if society believes it.” Mama’s mouth turned downward. “A person is reasonable, people are not.”
I hated that the saying made sense. Unfortunately, experience had taught me how true it was.
I had to believe not everything Daddy had taught me was a lie. “All I can do is keep showing up and showing up with integrity.”
Mama nodded. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always been honest.” She winked. “Must have got that from me.”
I smiled, but my heart ached. Was anyone in my biological family honest to a fault? My bio mom? Bio dad? Or some extended family I’d never know? Sometimes I thought of the unfairness of it all. I was so thankful to Mama and Daddy, but I also craved knowledge of my biological family. Yet with one awful accident, the orphanage and all my records had burned to a crisp. Unless both my bio family and I used some DNA kit service, I’d never know who they were.
All connection lost with one flame.
“Well, sweetie, I’m going to lie down.” Mama rose.
“Sure. I’ll probably be in my office if you need me.”
Mama nodded.
“Anything in particular you want for dinner?” Dining out was not an option. We didn’t need to hit the news like Nevaeh was prone to do when she and Lamont went out.
“I don’t have much of an appetite these days. Make whatever you want. If I’m hungry, I’ll nibble a bite or two.”
I nodded, and she left the room.
I dropped my head into my hands. This situation was so overwhelming. I’d been crying out to God ever since I first saw the headlines and doubly so once the RMTC revealed evidence of guilt at Bolt Brook. Now I didn’t know how to pray. Pray for reconciliation between my parents? Intellectually, I could say yes. Emotionally, that felt like choosing sides.
Lord God, what do I ask for? What is Your will?
Because I didn’t want to go outside of His will, not even in my prayers. But I didn’t know what He wanted in this situation. Surely God would choose justice, which probably meant Daddy would need to be arrested. But in my earthly limitations, was that the only option I could see? Was there a better outcome that would glorify God and meet the demands for justice?
I sighed.
I feel so lost, God. Please help my family. Please work on Mama and me. We need to forgive, but hurt runs deep. I swallowed. Please save my parents’ marriage in the way that’s best. Please give justice in Your will. Please just help.
I shook my head, trying to jostle all the confusing thoughts away, then whispered an “Amen” and walked to my office. I couldn’t let anything else distract me. Decisions needed to be made for Maisha Farms, and I needed to ensure I handled it all in a way that honored God.