“We would be the last to know,” Robin said slowly, not bothering to conceal his astonishment. “Tracy Beal was a stalker. She was going to be tried for making a serious attempt to kill Roe. She came in our house uninvited, in the night. Into the room of our daughter.”
Aubrey was clearly troubled. “I understand your … dislike of this woman,” he said. “But try to find it in your hearts to forgive her. Or at least, to have compassion for her mental illness. I realize wanting to feel those things doesn’t guarantee it’ll happen overnight, but it’s a goal to work towards.”
I glanced up at Robin. We both nodded cautiously. We weren’t buying into this, but we could let Aubrey know we’d registered his advice.
I was sure he was about to leave, but Aubrey had more surprises to pull out of his ministerial hat. “Roe, I wonder if you’d go with me to see the mother of Virginia Mitchell.”
“Why?” I couldn’t think of a single reason this would appeal to me.
“She’s frightened for her daughter’s safety.”
“You know this how?”
“I called Mrs. Mitchell to tell her we were praying for the safe return of her daughter.”
Robin’s eyes met mine and he shrugged, leaving it up to me. He didn’t look happy, though.
“How far away does she live?” I said, playing for time.
“About a twenty-or thirty-minute drive away, if it’s not rush hour,” Aubrey said.
I hesitated, dreading the additional wear and tear on my emotions such a visit was sure to cause. But this was my priest asking. I hadn’t thought of what Virginia’s mother must be enduring, and I felt bad about that. But it was more a dull, dutiful guilt than a sharply felt pang.
“All right, Aubrey,” I said, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “We’ll have to coordinate it with Sophie. If we leave right after I feed her, we’ll need to be back in two hours.”
Aubrey looked pleased. Not at all to my surprise, he said he was ready to go anytime I was. “This morning would be okay,” I said. “I think she’ll be up in half an hour, at the most.” The sooner to get it over with, I thought.
Sophie woke up grouchy. I could tell from Robin’s face he’d been hoping to get a little work in today, since he’d missed so many hours this past week. I suggested, hesitantly, that I might take her with me.
Aubrey didn’t look unwilling, though he also didn’t look enthusiastic, but Robin balked. “Roe, you won’t want a crying baby on deck for a conversation that’s sure to be uncomfortable,” he pointed out.
So after I’d given Sophie my all (in the way of milk, at least), Aubrey and I drove away. I was preoccupied. Sophie was still acting mad at the world. I was brooding about her unprecedented mood, and about dumping her on Robin. Could she have had gas? Maybe she’d started cutting a tooth (though surely it was too early for that)? Oh, gosh, maybe she’d caught the flu. But she hadn’t felt hot.
There were too many possibilities to count.
I kept telling myself that Robin had promised he’d call if she didn’t calm down. Up until this morning, she’d been a reasonable baby. Now I knew how lucky we’d been.
I made myself have a conversation with Aubrey as he maneuvered through the traffic. We talked about John, and how soon he might be able to come back to church. We talked about the very strong-willed lady who was the head of the Christmas bake and craft sale, and wondered who’d cry this year when she bore down.
Aubrey had heard that John David was dating Lizanne, and he wished them well. Maybe the same elements that had made John David’s marriage to the volatile (now deceased) Poppy so unstable would make a solid relationship with the immensely calm Lizanne Sewell?
Aubrey never said anything bad about anyone, but he was realistic about human nature.
“How does being a mother compare to what you thought it would be?” Aubrey asked. We were at a stoplight. The kids in the next car were staring at Aubrey’s collar, and seemed to be having a heated argument about what my presence in his car might mean.
“I don’t know that I ever tried to imagine it,” I said slowly. “I was so sure I couldn’t be a mother, I didn’t think about it. I can tell you that my whole view of the world changed.”
“How so?”
“There are things that will be good for your baby, and things that will not be good. Just two categories. There are people who mean no harm to your baby, and people who might hurt her. Just two kinds. Then there’s the moral things you have to teach, and that’s a lot harder. I’m working on a policy. I bet Robin is, too.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Well … do you teach her to defend herself, or do you teach her that striking other people is wrong? Do you teach her to keep her thoughts to herself, or do you teach her to speak up for her beliefs, and maybe get hurt in consequence? If Sophie is gay, do we teach her to be open about it? Or do we warn her that some people will want to beat her or kill her for being who she is?”
Aubrey looked a little taken aback. “I haven’t ever thought about the world in those either/or terms.”
“Though I’m simplifying, those are the choices. You can raise your child to be strong and outspoken … which is brave and honest. But the consequences of being brave and honest can be dire.”
Aubrey smiled in a wry way. “Or you can teach your daughter to keep her own counsel and lay low. She’ll live a life that may be unhappy and untrue. But probably she’ll be safe.”
“Exactly. So that’s the kind of thing I worry about now. Before I held Sophie for the first time, I’d never thought about any of that.”
“So your biggest surprise is how much thinking you have to do—about the effect of your words on Sophie?”
“No. My biggest surprise is how primal I feel about her. I would die for her. I would kill for her. Without a doubt. Without hesitation.”
“Strong statement,” Aubrey said, trying to sound less startled than he was.
“You adopted Liza, but it’s like she’s your own,” I said. “Don’t you feel that way, too?”
“Well … no. I would defend her to the death.” Aubrey spoke deliberately and carefully. “Aside from that, I let her know what my faith tells me I should do, what every Christian should do.”
“And then you just see what happens?”
He nodded. “Liza has already had a lot to contend with. Emily says she told you about her first husband.”
I nodded. “I had no idea. It’s great that she survived it, and she’s still a good person.”
“Emily’s a very strong woman. We’re not sure how much Liza remembers, but she saw some things she shouldn’t have seen. Then there was the problem with Liza’s reading disability, which she overcame…”
I hadn’t known about that.
“And then the bullying at school. I knew, at least theoretically, how cruel children can be, but I have to say at first I found their inhumanity beyond belief.”
“Did you want to whop them one?”
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “Some days. But I couldn’t decide if the venom came from their parents or was … well, natural to them.”
When I’d talked to Liza’s bullies and their parents, it had disturbed me, too. I wondered how a mother could bear to realize that her child was naturally cruel.
I couldn’t even imagine.