38. The Dam Breaks
Chapter thirty-eight
The Dam Breaks
Maggie
When my alarm blared, I stretched and immediately the memory of yesterday flooded me.
I was overwhelmed by the response of the community to my efforts to help with the fire.
Remembering all of those who hugged me, thanking me for helping, I felt good to be part of the community and have their support to be back home.
It made me feel like even if Mom said things she didn’t mean and Father was gruff, and this whole thing was a nightmare, that being here wasn’t a mistake.
After I sent a quick text to Suzie to see how she was doing, I dressed quickly, putting the large skirt over my shorts, and drove to my parents’ house.
I knew this was going to be tough, so I vowed not to take it personally and live in whatever world Mom wanted today.
If she thought I was young, we’d talk about young things.
I’d already planned to get a few books from my bookshelf in my old room to read to her if that was what she wanted.
When I arrived, Mary was just leaving.
“How is she today?” I asked as I walked up the driveway.
She winced a little. “Well, she’s feisty. I’ll give her that.”
“That’s good, right? That she’s fighting?” I asked, feeling hopeful.
Mary took my hand, giving it a little pat. “In my experience, it usually means that my patients don’t have much time left. Personalities change at the end of life. I’m sorry to say it, but with the way she’s progressing, it might not be long now. You should prepare yourself.”
I swallowed hard, feeling that tightness in the back of my throat and a deep sadness I couldn’t shake. How did a person prepare herself for something like this?
With a strained voice, I thanked Mary for her help and braced myself for what I’d find. I went inside, avoiding Father grumbling at the breakfast table and took the route straight to my bedroom. After pulling a few young adult novels from the shelf, I went to the sunroom.
“Good morning, Mom,” I said with the lightest voice I could fake.
She huffed. “What are you so happy about this morning?”
I gestured to the view. “It’s a beautiful day now that we got all that rain. It really greened up the grass, didn’t it?”
With a scowl, she turned away from me.
I pointed behind me. “I picked a book from my room to read to you today. Would that be okay?”
She looked up at me with a smile. “Oh, Maggie. I didn’t know you were home. Would you read to me?”
I tried to hide my shock at the change in her demeanor. “Of course.” I held up a few choices and let her pick. She chose a young adult book, so I got started. However, throughout the next half an hour of reading to her, emotions crashed into me in waves.
My voice wobbled a few times, making me misread a few words until Mom snapped at me. “Who taught you to read? Do you need summer school, missy?”
I forced a shy smile and continued, trying to be unfazed by her cruelty, but it just kept coming. One comment after another until I couldn’t read two words together without her sharp-tongued comments.
Closing the book, I smiled. “Maybe we should just enjoy the day instead. The flowers out there are sure pretty.”
But my suggestion angered her, making her scream at me. Then she coughed. Over and over. Father ran into the room, his eyes accusing me of something terrible. As I filled her water glass and offered it to her, she batted it from my hand, throwing the glass and shattering it on the floor.
“Get out!” Father demanded. “Get out of our house. You’ve done nothing but upset your mother, and I won’t have it. Leave and don’t come back!”
I couldn’t hold my tongue another minute. “I’ve done nothing wrong. She’s unhappy with a version of me I don’t even know. But instead of understanding that, helping me to work with her and make her feel better, you’re just over there judging me.”
He pointed his index finger at me. “You’re the one out there having relations with a man outside of marriage, and you’re upset with me for not helping you relate to your mother?”
“Yes, I did. I waited until I was an adult and chose a good man who was good to me. So, yes, Paul and I have been together. There, I said it. And I’m not ashamed.
Mom even encouraged it. She wanted me to be with Paul.
But now, I don’t recognize her. She’s become a totally different person, and since you spend all day with her, yes, I thought you could shed some light on things.
But you never bring light to a situation, do you?
You spread hellfire and damnation to your parishioners, scaring the hell out of them instead of teaching love and kindness.
Why is that, Father? Why can’t you be with them when there’s trouble and comfort them in their hard times? Why can’t you do that for me?”
He scoffed. “Life is a struggle, Margaret. Every moment is a choice: to choose the Lord’s path or fall into the clutches of the devil.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s true because you’re assuming that people are genuinely bad, making it your job to scare them into doing the right thing.
Is that what you believe? That you have to scare people into making good choices?
If you just saw what happened yesterday when there was a fire by Suzie’s place, you’d see the good in the people who live here.
Those who donated materials and sacrificed to come together to help save Suzie’s house.
The people who live here are good people.
Why can’t you see them the way I do? Why can’t you see me for who I really am? ”
When there was a soft snort, we both looked down to see that Mom had fallen asleep during our argument.
He sighed. “Because I see the world as it is, and I see you for who you are, too. For some reason, you see the world as it should be, but your idealism will never serve you, Margaret. It can only break your heart.”
My heart pounded furiously, the truth hitting me too hard.
“I don’t need idealism to break my heart, Father. You already have.”
I couldn’t get to my car fast enough. The sob that escaped my lips also seemed to make my feet move faster as I raced for the driver’s seat. Jumping in, I swiped away enough tears to drive, but I ended up in the last place on earth I ever thought I would go, The Community Parish.
I practically grew up in the halls of this church. I knew all the hiding places, where everything was located, and how to slip inside unnoticed with the spare key hidden under the flower pot.
As I entered through the back door, I noticed it still had that musty scent.
The church was built fifty years ago, taken over by Father and the elders twenty years ago.
That was the reason for moving here to Buena Vista.
Father thought he could make something of it, spread gospel to the people here, and make a good life for us.
At least, that’s what he’d said, but I didn’t think he was ever happy.
He never smiled. He never comforted. His method of spreading his word was focusing on the consequences of not following Biblical teachings as he and the elders interpreted them.
As I let my fingers drift from pew to pew while approaching the front of the sanctuary, I realized that all those years of being scared in this room didn’t help me now.
Mom was an amazing woman, so I wasn’t afraid for her soul.
I wasn’t afraid for mine either, despite Father’s intimation that I should be after being intimate with Paul.
What I feared the most was how to live my life without Mom’s calm voice, easy guidance, and soothing hand. Even when we were apart the last seven years, her love was out in the world. Soon, it would just be gone.
I already knew I wouldn’t get any help from Father.
His demeanor was fierce without her to temper him.
Screaming at me to leave because she was confused.
Trying to shame me for making an adult choice that was right for me.
Any father-daughter relationship we’d had up to this point was just an illusion.
He didn’t love me as his child. What he did could never be considered love.
At best, he had a modicum of respect for me so long as I followed his rules.
Any time I stepped out of line, doing something against his morals, though, I would face his judgment and wrath.
Speaking to the empty room, I unloaded everything in my heart. “How could you do this to her? She deserves a long life of being able to see my firsts. My artwork. My wedding. My children. Why are you taking that from her?”
I paused as a fresh round of tears soaked my cheeks.
“And then on top of the pain and fatigue, despite all her problems with eating and swallowing, now you have to take her mind, too? She couldn’t even be her kind self until the end of her days?
What happened to the loving God I’ve heard about?
I know that isn’t what’s taught within these walls, but I’ve heard one exists.
The kind and comforting God who heals the sick and eases the pain life causes.
Are you really there? Or was that just a story?
Maybe just a justification for the devastation you caused.
Maybe you’re no better than the devil we’ve heard more than enough about.
Maybe you test us and our devotion, making you no better than the evil Father taught me to avoid. ”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” a voice asked, startling me.
I gasped, clutching my chest as I spun around. “I thought I was alone.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I heard you in my office. I’m Pastor Dean, in training to take over for your father when he retires.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
He smiled. “You didn’t know he was retiring? He’s not very open, is he?”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
Pastor Dean took a few steps toward me. “I’ve noticed the congregation has dwindled over the last few years. Do you think the others in town feel the way you do? That all they’ve heard is how bad things are and never receive God’s comfort?”
“Father isn’t big on providing comfort of any kind,” I stated, crossing my arms. “After listening to his sermons, hiding in my mother’s side due to his imagery, I’m certain people will grow tired of those lessons and seek a message of hope and light.”
He gazed down, wetting his lips. “I really am very sorry about what’s happening with your mother. I’ve not been allowed at your home to offer my well-wishes, so maybe you could let her know she’s in my prayers.”
My voice came out in a whisper. “I’d be happy to.”
“Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?” he asked softly.
My chest felt tight, emotions wrapping my heart in a cinched knot. “Will this grief ever get better? Will I ever get through losing Mom and, with her, Father?”
He leaned on the pew across from where I stood.
“In time, wounds heal, both physical and emotional. But healing is a painful process. Seek comfort from those who love you. Tell your truths in your own time. And be patient with yourself. Grief is a grueling process that comes in waves.” He paused.
“If I could be so bold, I hope that you and your father can mend this rift in time. Without your mother, the two of you are all you have left. If there’s anything I can do to help, I hope you know my door is always open. ”
“We’ll need you for the funeral service,” I said tensely, not even knowing where to start thinking about mending a relationship with Father. “From what the hospice nurse says, it won’t be long.”
Leaving the church, grief washed over me as the sun went under the clouds, making me shiver.
Nothing about the home where I grew up felt like home anymore.
A place that was a second home to me felt foreign, Father was retiring, and, as I drove through town, no one waved.
Maybe it was from exhaustion after the fire or the way the decorations for the Summer Festival fell from their ropes in tatters, but nothing felt right here anymore.
Spent from the morning’s events, I went back to my hotel room to hide from the world with one thought running through my head: maybe Buena Vista wasn’t the place for me after all.