Page 8 of In This Moment
Janessa was in bed and the others were playing badminton with Landon out back when Reagan finally called back.
“Ashley!” Her voice was lighter than air. “You were right! I should’ve talked to him sooner.”
“What did he say?” Ashley loved that her sister-in-law trusted her. Luke was one of Ashley’s best friends. From the beginning Ashley could say that about Reagan also. A soft laugh came from Reagan. “Well, let’s just say he’sverysorry. He’s going to work less and the two of us are going to date more.” Her tone grew more serious. “Really, Ash. He had tears in his eyes. He’s going to change. I believe it.”
The conversation lasted another few minutes, before Ashley hung up and joined Landon and the kids. She was grateful Luke had so easily come to see things Reagan’s way. It was Luke’s nature to give everything to his job. The balance he was promising Reagan now was exactly what he needed.
Ashley could only pray that over time Luke wouldn’t forget his promise.
3
Anger had long been Cami Nelson’s constant companion. So it was that—and no other reason—that caused her to be one of the first students through the door of Room 422. Not because she was curious about God or because she wanted to know about the praying Principal Quinn had talked about at the assembly. Or even because she had the slightest belief something hopeful might come from attending.
No, Cami was angry. Angry that Principal Quinn was starting something so ridiculous, and angry that some of her classmates were actually interested in the program. Angry for a hundred other reasons.
As if God could possibly make a difference for any of them at Hamilton High.
Besides, Cami was on Facebook. She watched the news. It was illegal to talk about God at school—or in any public place, for that matter. If Principal Quinn thought he was going to get away with this, he was wrong. Cami would call the police herself.
Raise the Bar. Ludicrous. If they were going to raise the bar at Hamilton High, Principal Quinn would have to personally put the families of a thousand kids back together. All the kids Cami knew at Hamilton were like her. Too angry to care about homework or whether they might get pregnant or overdose on drugs. At least those things made you feel alive. School certainly didn’t. And God wouldn’t, either.
Cami didn’t believe God was real. He had stopped being real a long time ago. This was her junior year at Hamilton High, nearly two years since Cami came home one afternoon and found her mother’s note.
I’ve moved on. You deserve better.
What her mom meant was that she’d taken up with some married guy from their church twenty minutes east of Indianapolis, a guy she’d met during a midweek Bible class. Church girl on Sundays, home wrecker on Wednesdays. That’s what Cami’s dad said.
Cami knew the note also meant her mother, Audrey Nelson, was tired of sneaking around, hiding and tricking people into thinking she was a good little church member. Tired of lying that she was at the gym or the grocery store or the library every Monday. That was Cami’s favorite one. The library. As if her mother had been spending her days reading books.
That day her mother must’ve been tired of it all, so she wrote the note and she left. And that was that. Cami and her twin sisters, Ensley and Ellie, hadn’t seen their mother since. Their father saw her a few times at court during the divorce and custody hearing. From what Cami understood it wasn’t much of an ordeal.
Cami’s mother signed away her rights and left the courtroom without saying goodbye. At least that’s what her father reported. Left with no regret, no remorse. No message for the girls. Just signed the papers and left. When Cami and her sisters came home from school their father blurted out the news.
“We’re done with your mother.” He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top and drank down half of it.
Cami would always remember how her heart pounded, how she couldn’t take her eyes off the aluminum can. She had never seen her father drink in all her life. Not until then.
That day her dad’s eyes stayed on the beer, not on Cami and her sisters. “None of you will ever see her again.” He sounded like a zombie. “That’s how she wants it.” Their father slammed the can on the counter. “I say good riddance.”
Anger became Cami’s constant companion that day and it never left. Never gave Cami a day off or any time to herself. Because what sort of mother leaves her three girls? Even at her school, where families were broken to pieces, Cami didn’t know any other kids with moms like that. They had moms who were desperate because they were doing all the work and raising kids. Or moms who were too high to care. Some of her friends had mamas with different men at the house every week.
But at least they stayed.
Cami was the only one with a mom who just left. Who didn’t like her children enough to stay.
So yeah, Cami was angry. Of course she was.
She woke up angry and went to school angry. When Cami sat down to take a test in English literature, anger sat down beside her and whispered into her ear from the first to the last question.It doesn’t matter,anger would hiss. Don’t try. Whatever grade you get, it won’t make your mother come home. You’ll never be anything, anyway. Otherwise your mother wouldn’t have left.
And when Cami sat down in her next class, anger would bombard her with the same words all over again.
Cami wasn’t sure how the last two years had made her younger sisters feel. Ensley and Ellie were still in middle school, and they didn’t look much like her. For all Cami knew, her dad and the twins’ dad were different guys. Given her mom’s track record. It was something she thought about asking her dad, but she hadn’t, for one reason.
If Cami was angry, her father was furious.
He worked as a mechanic at the airport, and even though he acted like he didn’t care that his wife had moved on, that day after the court hearing, something changed. For one thing, after that first time Cami saw a beer in his hand, her dad was never without one. Before her mom left, Dad used to keep his blond hair short and his face smooth. And on the weekends he would constantly be thinking up adventures for the family.
Something in their budget, he would say. A peanut-butter-and-jelly picnic at the park. They’d pack a bag of sandwiches and oranges and spend half the day on the swings or kicking around a soccer ball and eating PB&Js. Other times they’d head to the lake and build sand castles.
