‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes.’ Her hair was old copper in the rain-washed light.
‘It’s not the sort of thing romantics wish to hear, but I found that in the end, love must be a kind of discipline. If we love only with our feelings, we’re sunk-we may feel love one day and something quite other the next. Soon after he came to live with me-he was eleven years old at the time-I realized I must learn to love with my will, not my feelings. I had to love him when he threw his shoe at the wall and cussed my dog, love him when he called me names I won’t repeat, love him when he refused to eat what I’d cooked after celebrating and preaching at three Sunday services… you get the idea.’
She fixed him in her steady gaze.
‘And so I enjoyed the warm feelings, the stuff of the heart, when it was present between us, as it sometimes was, even in the beginning. And when it wasn’t, there was the will to love him, something like… a generator kicking in, a backup.
‘I learned over a long period of trial and error to see in him what God made him to be. Wounded people use a lot of smoke and mirrors, they thrust the bitterness and rage out there like a shield. Then it becomes their banner, and finally, their weapon. But I stopped falling for the bitterness and rage. I didn’t stop knowing it was there-and there for a very good reason-but I stopped taking the bullet for it. With God’s help, I was able to start seeing through the smoke. I saw how bright he was, like your Bella, how talented, and how possible it was for him to triumph over so much that hounded him.’
He took a sip of tea, and realized he was trembling.
‘To put a fine point to it, Anna-I stopped praying for God to change Dooley; I asked God to change me-to give me his eyes to see into the spirit of this exceptional broken boy.
‘I started talking to Dooley as if he were bright and industrious and savvy and trustworthy. I believed it was already real, that he was already whole and able to love. And all I can say is-it began to work… for both of us.
‘One day he was sent home from school for beating up a classmate. He’d given him a good drubbing. Turns out, he did it because the boy called me a nerd.’ He laughed; he loved this story. ‘Imagine that. I felt twelve feet tall. The little guy had gone to bat for me; it was a bloody miracle. Did I send him to bed with no supper, ground him for a week? No. Right or wrong, I thanked him. I was never so touched.’
‘How good,’ she said, laughing a little, weeping a little. ‘How good.’
‘There’s no quick fix, Anna. It’s all in increments, the same way our roses grow. Winning someone who’s never won anything themselves-it’s a long road, and we don’t always get it right-not by a long shot.
‘When Dooley came to me, he had the hunched look of an old man, his face was set like flint. I remember how much I wanted to hear him laugh. Just getting a laugh out of the little guy would have been right up there with God smiting a rock and water gushing forth. And, of course, one day he did laugh. And then another day, and another. Healing came as little drops of water, and never the mighty ocean when you need it, Anna.
‘There’s just no way to deal with their suffering, except through love. And there was no way I could gouge that kind of love out of my own selfish hide without the help of God.
‘You’re Bella’s mother, and that’s a great power in itself. I have to believe she loves you very much. Trust that, believe that, as hard as it is to believe right now. Act as if it were true, it can change things.’
‘Her father speaks bitterly of me,’ she said. ‘His image of me seems engraved forever on her heart. Dooley’s parents-what were they like?’
‘His mother and father were both alcoholics. She has since recovered; Clyde hasn’t-I’ve had a couple of run-ins with Clyde. He left the family before the last child was born. In any case, Dooley essentially helped raise the kids until his mother gave them away.’
‘Gave them away?’
‘Four out of five. They’re together again now after many years.’
She closed her eyes. ‘There’s a sense in which I gave Bella away when I let her go.’
‘Yes.’
‘She expects me to give her up again, doesn’t she?’
‘I think she wants you to know she’ll give you up, first.’
She covered her face with her apron and wept, silent.
‘I know time is what you have very little of, Anna. But maybe you could look for a way to spend time with her. I kept far too busy as a working priest; it was up hill and down dale for everyone else, but I could easily find an excuse to let Dooley shift for himself. I remember when God spoke to my heart about this-about how he shows his love by being as near to us as our very breath. Bella says she’s lonely here-that’s something to listen to. I feel your time would be the greatest gift you could give her.’
‘How will I reach her, what shall I do to get through her terrible coldness?’
‘Continue going in to her through her music, as you did the other evening with the concert. Go in where there’s common ground. Do whatever you can, Anna, to find common ground, and if you do nothing more, forgive her and pray for her. Whenever she lashes out, whenever she draws away, pray and forgive, forgive and pray.’
‘Is it too late?’ She wept openly now.
‘It’s never too late, please believe this. There’s a scripture in the Book of Joel-I will restore unto you the days the locusts have eaten. He’s fully able to do it, and waiting for you to ask.’
‘What about… Jack Slade?’
‘That’s in the past. If I were you, I’d put it out of your mind.’
‘It was on your mind…’
‘But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is loving her back to you.’
‘I can never thank you enough.’
‘Please don’t try, I beg you. Thank him.’
She wiped her eyes, looked at her watch. ‘Forgive me, I must unload the dishwashers and get the bread in the oven. Maureen’s off with her old aunt for a bit and I’m quite behind. One more thing, if you would. How old is Dooley now? What’s become of him?’
‘He’s twenty-one, and recently took my name as his own. Dooley Kav’na.’ He swallowed hard. ‘A rising sophomore at the University of Georgia. He wants to be a vet, and circumstances have conspired to give him his own practice when he finishes school. A parishioner left him a small fortune. It covers his education and transportation, and leaves something to share with his brothers and little sister. He handles it pretty well. A good fellow, my son.’
‘I’m glad for you.’
‘It may look impossible for you and Bella, but it isn’t. Ask God’s help. He wants to help-it’s the way he’s wired.’
She slipped off the stool and he stood and set his cup on the table.
‘Will you pray for us, for all of us?’ she asked.
He took her hand. ‘I do and I will,’ he said.
He was going up with the tea when the idea struck. He would build such a room for Cynthia, who had for years plied her trade in a minuscule space scarcely larger than her drawing board. He was shamed that his study, in which he hadn’t actually studied in months, was the largest room in the house. And all that to satisfy what?-a need to appear busy in retirement? He was dazzled by the suddenness of such thinking, an epiphany.
His step was lighter on the stairs. The room would adjoin his study and have its own view of Baxter Park. The money would come from his pocket, not hers, though owing to their early agreement of not spending large amounts unless consulting the other, he’d have to get her John Hancock. He could see the room clearly: She was bent over her worktable in the southwest corner, the air smelling of sawn wood, the walls lined with her work.
He couldn’t wait to tell her everything.