What She Left for Me (36 page)

Thirty-two

Eleanor felt as though a heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders. Confession was indeed good for the soul, but now that she’d confessed, it was like having a painful, raw sore to deal with. She worried that her impromptu declarations could be used against her at a later time—thrown back in her face to prove her the disgusting, wretched creature that she truly was.

Taffy seemed to sense her dilemma. “Eleanor, do you remember when we decided to seek out God in London?”

Eleanor immediately thought back to those days. “Yes . . . I remember how loving the people were. I remember thinking that if this was how it was to be a part of God’s family—and not like what those foster parents had been—then I wanted to have it.”

“And what happened?” Jana asked.

“Cal’s attack happened. I figured why bother with all the rules and regulations of God’s law if even when you were following them bad things still happened to you.” She’d never talked about this with anyone, but that was the crux of the matter in plain English. God should have kept her safe, and when He didn’t, He failed to be worthy in Eleanor’s eyes.

“That’s how I felt about Rob’s adultery,” Jana said. “I was doing what I was supposed to do. I was on the mission field, for pity’s sake. I was there serving God, loving the chance to share the Gospel message with people who’d never had a chance to hear it, and I came home to my life falling apart.”

Taffy said nothing, seeming only to take it all in. Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder what she thought. Taffy always appeared to have the answers—she was always so confident of God’s power.

“I just don’t understand,” Jana said, shaking her head. “I’ve tried to figure it out, but it doesn’t make sense. God could have interceded and kept my life intact. He could have prevented the affair. He could have prevented the murder.”

“He could have prevented the molestation . . . the rape,” Eleanor added quietly. She looked to Taffy, not knowing how to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. “Why didn’t He? Wasn’t He powerful enough? Didn’t He care?”

“Oh, darlings, you are asking the age-old question of why bad things happen to good people. Goodness, but folks have been tossing that one back and forth throughout the ages. Why didn’t God keep Adam and Eve from sinning and nip all of that nonsense once and for all?”

“I’ve wondered that too,” Jana said. “I mean, God is all powerful, so why didn’t He just keep Satan out of the mix altogether?”

“Because He wanted us to choose,” Taffy said softly. Her tone was almost bittersweet as she continued. “He didn’t want to be a heavenly puppet master. He wanted to interact with His creation. He wanted to be a Father to His children, and He wanted His children to willingly love Him and obey.”

Eleanor studied her aunt for a moment and considered her words. Taffy had never offered her anything but love and acceptance. She had never imposed her will on Eleanor—she had never demanded love in return. Taffy had tried to keep Eleanor safe from harm. It wasn’t Eleanor’s fault that Cal had raped her—it was Eleanor’s fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My fault.
The guilt again washed over Eleanor.
It was all my fault. If I had done things differently . . .
But even as she thought this, a spark seemed to ignite somewhere deep inside.
But I was trying to do something good. I was trying to help Taffy.
She shook her head. It was too confusing to sort through forty-some years of chaos. As she had always done in the past, Eleanor began to systematically sweep all the pieces under the rug of her subconscious mind.

Stop!
a voice inside cried out against her.
Don’t just push it all aside!
Eleanor thought maybe she was losing her mind. She looked at Taffy as if to ascertain the truth of the situation, but her aunt said nothing.

She looked to Jana . . . Jana, the daughter she had so wronged. How could she have been so cruel—so neglecting? Eleanor looked away quickly. The very sight of Jana was as painful as it was good. She loved her daughter. She had always loved her. Eleanor remembered the first moment Jana was placed in her arms. There in the privacy of her hospital room, Eleanor had cuddled her infant child to her breast and had known what it felt like to truly love another human being. And she had thrown it all away—terrified of the cost that would have to be paid if she gave her heart.

“I wish I could understand it all.” Jana’s words pulled her mother back to the present.

“So do I,” Eleanor said. “I wish I could explain my part, but the words never seem to come. How can you possibly understand my decisions and choices when I don’t understand them myself?”

“But I think I understand us better than I did,” Jana told her. “I can see now why you wouldn’t want me around. I couldn’t help but remind you of a horrible experience. I can’t even bear to think what it must have been like for you. You must have dreaded my very presence.”

“No! That’s not true. I dreaded the lies between us. I dreaded realizing the pain I had caused you. You have to know this, Jana: I have always loved you, but that love was overshadowed by my fears for you—my fears
of
you. I pray you won’t do the same thing to your child.

“I know I’ve ruined a chance to have a good life with you,” Eleanor continued. “I know that so many painful things have forever damaged the relationship we might have had. I truly wanted the best for you, however. I wanted to protect you and keep you safe from all the bad things that had happened to me. But I failed, and again, it’s the guilt that I cannot bear.” She felt the tears come. “I wanted to save you, Jana, and instead I managed to plunge you right into the heart of betrayal.”

“You didn’t cause my marriage to fall apart,” Jana protested. “That was something I did to myself—something I did or didn’t do.”

“No,” Taffy said, shaking her head. “You’re both missing the important point here.”

They turned and looked at Taffy. Eleanor had no idea what she might offer to make sense out of this mess. Still, Taffy always managed to speak with wisdom, so Eleanor was ready to listen. “Go on.” She wiped at her tears and waited for the answer.

“Girls, life is difficult and full of hardships. Jesus even said in the book of John that ‘In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’ ”

“But He’s God. Of course He’s overcome the world,” Eleanor said, feeling a bit angry. “How hard can it be for God to overcome?”

“But, Eleanor, if we are in Him—if we’ve given our hearts to Him and are trusting Jesus for direction in our life—we’ve overcome too. Because of His victory, we also have victory. What you two need to see is that sin has made our world imperfect. We will have trouble. That’s a fact. That’s life.

“We will also make mistakes,” Taffy continued. “Hideous mistakes. Mistakes that sometimes are completely irreversible and others that can be mended. We are fallible. We are imperfect. But we needn’t stop there.” She looked at Jana. “Your marriage is over. Your husband is dead. You are about to bear a child.”

“Yes and all alone, just like me,” Eleanor murmured.

“But she needn’t be all alone,” Taffy countered. “Jana has a choice to make. She can choose to accept our help and love or reject it. She doesn’t have to walk this part of her life alone, because we love her and are willing to be there for her. However, if Jana decides to reject our love, how can we force it upon her? How can we protect her if she refuses to be protected?”

“And how can God protect us if we refuse His protection?” Jana asked. “Is that it? If it is, I’m back to being completely confused. I don’t understand any of this. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do. God didn’t protect me, Aunt Taffy. He let me get hurt. He let this horrible thing happen, just like He let Mom be molested and raped.”

“And does that mean that God stood by and did nothing? Does it mean He was too busy to be bothered?” Taffy asked.

Eleanor and Jana exchanged a glance. The uncertainty was clear in the eyes of her daughter, just as Eleanor was certain it was evident in her own look.

Jana shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess if I did, I wouldn’t still be feeling alienated from Him.”

“And I would have never walked away,” Eleanor said. “If I had answers to these questions—answers that made sense—I would be a much happier woman.”

Taffy chuckled. “I used to believe the same thing. Sometimes understanding the reason behind something does help a bit, but it still doesn’t change what’s happened.”

“But if I could have understood why my father did what he did or why Cal raped me,” Eleanor interjected, “I might have gotten over it—I might have been free of the past.”

“Okay. Cal told me he was horribly drunk. He barely remembered the rape, but in his mind it wasn’t rape at all, it was a game he always played with the maid.” Taffy’s piercing gaze drove home her next point. “So there. You have the answer of why; you can now understand that Cal never intended to rape you. He thought he was playing a game in his drunken state of mind. Does that make it better? Are you free?”

Eleanor let the words sink in. They offered no comfort or liberty. “No. Knowing the reason behind the rape doesn’t change the fact that it happened.” She shook her head. “I thought it would help.”

“Look, sometimes we don’t get the answers, but God urges us to trust Him, to walk on in faith. Can you do that? Can both of you put aside the unanswered questions and trust that God is bigger than anything you can ask Him? That He’s more powerful than problems that seemingly have no solution?”

“That’s asking a lot,” Eleanor said. “At least in my book.”

“But what’s the alternative?” Taffy asked. “To live in misery and defeat, continuing to be alienated from God? Do you want that void in your life forever? You’ve both asked me at times how I can be so happy. Eleanor, you know you’ve commented on it constantly since coming here.”

“It’s true, I suppose. I figured if you knew the truth of my past, you’d never be as happy as you seemed to be. But now that I know you’ve always had the truth, it takes me by surprise. It’s impossible to get my mind around the kind of peace you have in your heart.”

Taffy was silent a moment before responding. “You know, as Cal lay dying, he told me he envied my ability to bounce back from adversity. He confessed a lifetime of infidelity and corruption and begged me to tell him that he could have that same kind of peace. He wanted very much to die knowing that God could wipe the slate clean and welcome him home.

“I told Cal that God was able to forgive him his sins. I told him that I was able to forgive him as well. He was more surprised by the latter than the first.”

“So if Rob asked God’s forgiveness as he was dying, then just like that”—Jana snapped her fingers—“he gets a clean slate, a ticket to heaven.”

Eleanor frowned. “And my father and Cal get the same thing?”

“Do you begrudge them forgiveness?”

“I find it hard to see justice in a molested child having to share all of eternity with her molester.”

Taffy’s expression softened. “My darling, we are all sinners. You. Me. Jana. Rob. Allan. Cal. We all choose our sins, and to God, they are all ugly. Sin is sin. Now granted, some sins cause greater consequences. They ripple farther and touch more lives. If you get caught up in neighborhood gossip and tell lies about Stanley, for instance, you will hurt several people—but mostly you will hurt yourself and Stanley. The consequences are there, although they pale in comparison to those of your father’s actions against you.” Taffy eased back against her chair and closed her eyes. “You see, I had to come to an understanding myself that my sins were just as bad in the eyes of God as Cal’s infidelity.”

Her confession shocked Eleanor. “But you couldn’t possibly have ever done anything as bad as what Cal did.”

“Couldn’t I? You don’t know that. My sins separated me from God in the same way his did. We are fallible and we will sin. But Jesus made a sacrifice so that all of those sins could be covered. It starts in seeking forgiveness—in repentance.”

“But my father never repented,” Eleanor pressed. “Cal may have told you how sorry he was for what he’d done, but I’m convinced my father never saw anything wrong in what he did. Why should I forgive a man who’s never even acknowledged the wrong he’s done?”

“Forgiveness is as much for the one doing the forgiving as for the one who is forgiven. It’s a freeing and liberating act that takes off the shackles and enables you to walk unfettered. When I forgave Cal his adulterous affairs—his rape of you, Eleanor—I was at peace . . . I was free from the past. Of course, it has been my choice to leave those things in the past. Just as it’s your choice to leave your miseries there as well.”

Eleanor wanted to believe her aunt, but it was so hard to accept that sin was sin in the eyes of God. That child molesters could be forgiven as easily as liars and adulterers. She understood that some sin had worse repercussions, but still it seemed unfair that God didn’t have some kind of grading system when it came to sin.

The doorbell rang, startling the three women. They all jumped in unison, then laughed nervously at their reaction.

“I guess we’ve been a little intense,” Jana said, struggling to rise.

“I can answer it,” Eleanor said, beating Jana to her feet. “You just rest.” She crossed the room before Jana could protest.