The First Ninety Days Ch. 14

"I don't think we should," her mother said. "Sometimes it takes a good hard lesson before someone learns." Caitlyn knew then that they had discussed this issue beforehand, and were playing from a script. "I mean, there's always Starbucks."

"I didn't say we should just give her the money free and clear," Dad said. "It would be a loan, an actual loan, with interests and monthly payments. With collateral as insurance. You've always been paid well for your services as a harpist, and that should be even easier now that you're not so occupied with your so-called husband."

Why, again, had she ever thought that coming here would be a good idea? She should have turned herself on the mercy of the Pendletons, who had three kids, or the Larsons, who had two. Mrs. Sellitz, maybe. Even living in a box on the sidewalk might've been better.

The dig about her husband goaded her into careless speech: "You know, we wouldn't be having this problem ifyou hadn't forced us to buy the harps from you in thefirst place. They'd still be legally yours and we could just go in and seize them."

"Howdare you criticize us!" her mother snapped, her voice dropping an octave. "After we were kind enough to take you in! After how thoughtless and disloyal you've been! We could have turned you out on the street! We are your parents, who have fed you, clothed you, sheltered you despite your horrendous behavior! The least you could do is be grateful to us!"

And there it was.

She realized that her relationship with her parents had been irrevocably altered. Getting out of the house, living with the kind of independence she'd long dreamed of—it had spoiled her; she was now more willing to question, to think outside the patterns her parents wanted her to follow. (And as far as they were concerned, she'd been too full of questions evenbefore she'd left.) And now, after the conversation she'd had with Meredith and Christa, after the light they'd thrown on the way she'd lived... She could not stay here. Even if she wanted to (and she didn't), that would require submitting to her parents' rule, and that was something she couldn't do anymore. Inevitably, she would fight against it; inevitably, she would rebel; inevitably, her 'tainted' ways of thinking would come to light; inevitably they would kick her out. Her days here were numbered.

And yet what did that leave? She couldn't move out on her own; she'd used all her resources to support her erstwhile marriage, and there they remained. Could she remand herself to the mercy of those others? Perhaps, but not for any meaningful length of time, not long enough to actually get back on her feet. Could she live on the street, or hide out on the Shellview State campus? Not without incurring grave physical danger; she had no idea how to survive alone, and doubted her ability to learn. Could she go back to Jon?

That, she wasn't as ready to answer. She wasn't sure what the right answerwas. She had come to see that her own behavior had been un-Christian in its own way, but so was Jon's, and there was no indication that he intended to fall back into line. It was right there in the Bible that it was a sin for a Christian to marry outside the faith, and Jon certainly qualified. She could not, in good conscience, return to him. All the things that she valued about him—his humor, his touch, his wisdom; his willingness to challenge her, his sense of self; his dreams of the future, his unflinching support of her goals, the children they had planned to raise; the breadth of his shoulders, the laughter in his brown eyes, the tenderness in his body as he made love to her—all those things, she would have to abandon.

That was perhaps the hardest thing of all.

She couldn't stay; she couldn't go; she couldn't return. What, then, was left for her?

"Well?" her mother snapped, and suddenly Caitlyn realized that this whirling kaleidescope of thought had kept her immobile at the table for long seconds. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Caitlyn felt hysterical sobs welling at her throat. She didn't trust herself to speak. What could she say? What could she say that wouldn't get herself killed? What could she say that wouldn't cause an explosion? How was she supposed to navigate this mess? What was she going to do for herself now??

But as she cast about in confusion, that single central question fell sharply into place:What would Jesus do?

"...That I resent being manipulated this way!" Caitlyn said.

"Caitlyn Claire Delaney, howdare you speak like that!"

"Fairly easily, as you can see," she said, deciding to keep her temper in check as much as she could. (Butoh!, how good that outburst had felt!) "Mom, I do appreciate what you've done for me, and I know you didn't need to take me back in. But that was something you chose to do, for love, out of the goodness of your hearts. Wasn't it? Or was it something that you intend to barter for? Is thisanother loan, with interest and monthly payments?"

"It could be," her father said in his grumpy, gravelly voice. She and Nathan had often joked that her father sounded like a mountain. "Don't make the mistake of thinking we owe you anything, Caitlyn."

"Fair enough," said Caitlyn. "I won't. But don't make the mistake of thinkingI owe you anything either."

"We gave youlife," her mother said in a voice tight with anger.

"For which I am grateful," Caitlyn said. "Mom, believe it or not, I'm glad to be here. But that doesn't extend to allowing you to control me like this."

"And how, precisely, do you see our requests for respect as controlling?" said her father in a voice she recognized as being dangerously calm.

"Because it's not just respect. You guys imply that, unless I do things your way, you won't love me."

There was silence at this proclamation, as they worked through it.

Surprisingly, Dad was the first to speak; surprisingly, he didn't deny it. "Well, Caitlyn, that just means you're growing up. Because that's the way the worldworks. Either you do what people tell you to, or you get kicked out."

"Really," said Caitlyn. "Then how come my friends love me just the way I am? Gramma? Grampa? Mrs. Klein and Mrs. Sellitz? How comeJon loves me just the way I am? I don't have to earn their approval; I don't have to follow their directives. All I have to do is be who I am."

"If that's what you think, then you're in for a rude awakening," her father said.

"No, I'm not," said Caitlyn, "because they prove it. Because when they say it, I believe them because I know it's true. And hey, look at this: isn't this whatJesus calls us to do? To love unconditionally, and not judge, and not be selfish?"

"You're not going to claim that... that...That man is a better Christian than we are," her mother thundered.

"I shouldn't have to," Caitlyn returned. "What precisely does Scripture say about love? 'Love is patient, love is kind...' "

"First Corinthians, chapter 13," said her father.

"You don't need to quote the Bible tous," said her mother.

Evidently I do, Caitlyn thought. "Tell me, then: where precisely in those verses does it say that love is withheld if the person you love doesn't obey you? Where is it said that love is only to be given out as a reward? Where does Christ command us to collect our rightful rewards for the love we bestow?"

"That's not what we do," her mother said in that same tight voice. But now there was a tinge of fright behind it. "That's not what we do."

Caitlyn shrugged. "Maybe it isn't, but it sure comes across that way."

"Maybe you need to open your eyes," her father growled. "You think just because you went out and sinned a little that you know anything about the world? You think that you understand parenting better than we do?"

This was such a ridiculous attack that Caitlyn laughed. "Dad, I'm not claiming to understand anything. All I'm telling you is what I see."

"What you see doesn't matter!" her mother thundered.

Caitlyn just looked at her.

"There is a difference," said her father, "between your opinion, and the truth."

"I agree," said Caitlyn. "Are you willing to admit that there's a difference betweenyour opinion and the truth?"

"Why should we?" said her father.

"Because it's true?" said Caitlyn. "Or is reality one-way? You are the final arbiters of fact and truth in this family? What you say, goes?—End of story!"

"Yes," said her father. "End of story."

"And that's how I know you don't love me," Caitlyn said. "Because, when I tell you that I am in pain, that I am hurt, that I don't know what to do, you don't listen to me, or seek to understand my viewpoint. You don't extend the compassion and sympathy love implies. You run me over with a steamroller."

"When do you ever tell us those things!" her mother retorted. "You've kept your little secrets foryears. You barely talked to us any more than Nathan did!"

"Yes," said Caitlyn. This was true as far as it went. "Do you know why?"

"Oh, am I going to be told that I madeanother mistake?" said Mom with contempt.

"Yes, actually, you are," said Caitlyn. "Jon said—"

"Why do I care about—"

"Mom, you are going to have to accept the idea that people other than you know things," Caitlyn snapped.

"He doesn't!" Mom cried.

"In point of fact, he does," Caitlyn said, "but why trust me? Why don't you let metell you what he thinks, and judge for yourself?"

Mom had no answer for this, though her eye twitched.

"Jon once said that real friendship only starts with moments of vulnerability. It's when you go to somebody and tell them that you're in pain, or tell them something that they could use tocause you pain. For instance, if Nathan were to come to me and say that he had a crush on Nicole Stather." This was a historical incident; the poor girl had had to turn him down, as politely as possible, in the middle of a home-school lesson. "Under those circumstances I have two possible choices. The first is that I can accept his overture of friendship, keep his secret and give him counsel. The second is that I can use this information and hurt him—for instance by running straight to you guys and blabbing about it. That would shame him, and he would feel, rightly, betrayed by me."

"What does this have to do with us loving you," Mom snapped.

"Just this," Caitlyn said. "You say that I never came to you with anything. That I never extended overtures of friendship. In light of what I've just said, can you imagine why?"

Mom was silent, but Dad said, "There is a third option. Maybe you never gave us the trust we deserve."

Mom rallied to this. "Regardless of what you might think, Caitlyn, you havenot been a good daughter."

"Then I haven't," Caitlyn said. "Again, I ask you: where is the part of Scripture that says you are allowed to deprive me over this? Whatever happened to, 'Love the sinner, hate the sin'?"

Her father growled, "Maybe you're too sinful to love."

"Maybe I am," Caitlyn said, trying not to flinch. Her father—probably without knowing it—had just said the thing that, in her secret heart, she most feared was true. "I know quite a few people who disagree with you. This is a democracy; majority rules, doesn't it? But when did Christ ever say that someonewas too sinful to love? When did he ever meet anyone he couldn't find time to love? When did he ever neglect someone when he could have stopped instead?"

"What's your point here, Caitlyn," her mother said, sounding impatient. "Just tell us what you're getting at."

"What I'm getting at?" Caitlyn said. She sighed. "What I'm getting at is, simply, that I don't think you love me. Not in any way that matters. Now, obviously, you have chosen to feed and shelter and support me for twenty-one years. And I thank you for that. But that's not love. It's not... It's not about emotions, or heart. And even though you feed and shelter and support me, I have never once—not once—felt that you approved of who I am."

"Wedon't approve of who you are," her father growled.

"Does that stop love?" Caitlyn said. "Love the sinner, hate the sin? I don't approve of what you do to me, but I love you anyway—as Jon has lamented, time and time again."

"It's not your place to disapprove of us," her father said.

"And that's how I know you don't love me," Caitlyn said, her anger bucking under her. She had kept her temper in check for far longer than she'd thought possible, but now even this supernatural patience was beginning to wear thin. "Because when I tell you that you've hurt me, you deny it. You don't care about how I feel. All you care about is just... just defending your petty little position. You only care about beingright."

"And you don't?" her mother retorted. "Look at all this mess we've been talking about—you just going on and on andon about howwrong we are—"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT BEING RIGHT!" Caitlyn bellowed. "I JUST WANT TO STOP HURTING ME!"

The force of it seemed to blow her mother's hair back. Caitlyn felt deafened. It was the loudest she'd ever yelled in her life. The neighbors must have heard.

"Don't you guysget it? Youhurt me! When you take this attitude, when you try to control me, when you bludgeon me with your arguments instead oflistening, youhurt me. Love isn't about that! Love isn't about twisting someone's arm until they obey you, and neither is parenthood! It's aboutnurturing someone and letting them grow and helping them be who God intended them to—not to mold them into the shape ofyou! If you love me, you shouldlisten! You should respect my words and my self-worth and... Well, God, I don't even know if youdo love me." She had believed it this morning; now, she wasn't so sure. "You've been kind of denying it all night if it makes your arguments stronger. Do you evenknow?" There were tears at the corners of her eyes, just hovering there, but she couldn't afford to acknowledge them now.

"Jon says I have trouble letting myself be loved. So does everyone who knows me. And they say it's because of you. They say you guys never loved me the right way, and now I'm scarredfor life. They worry about whether I can be a good Christian!—because Idon't know how to be loved! That's the foundation of our religion, that's the overwhelming message Christ came to give us—and Ican't let myself experience it! Because I keep expecting someone to come in and yank it away, to tell me that I have to earn it, that... Well, you know what? Idon't! I deserve to be loved.I deserve to be loved. I'm Caitlyn Delaney Stanford, and I'm a wonderful person, and people should love me because of that. I deserve to be loved. And so doyou!

"And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is, I know that you can't stand it." She was definitely crying now. "I know you can't bear to be wrong. Your egos are more important than your own daughter. So you'll kick me out tonight, and probably never speak to me again. I lost my parents tonight: the last people on earth who were willing to take me in, and I just turned them against me. And when I'm there on the sidewalk with no jacket and no money, you know what? I'll still love you! That's the worst part! Because you're Sam Delaney, and you deserve to be loved, and you're Linda Delaney, and you deserve to be loved, and no matter how awful you are to me, you're my parents, andI love you!"

Definitely crying now. Somehow she made it up the stairs without breaking her neck. Then she fumbled at the sliding door for long minutes before she could close it. Rex slid in at the last second, and she lay on the sleeping bag with her arms wrapped around him, muffling great, wracking sobs with his fur.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there. Maybe she fell asleep. Or maybe she passed out, exhausted from the long rigors of the day—of the week. This had been the longest week of her life. But she woke up to a gentle knocking on the door. The lights were still off and it was still dark outside.

"What is it," she said. She had meant to say, 'Who is it.' Maybe 'what' was more apt a description.

"It's... Your mother."

Caitlyn said nothing. There didn't seem to be anything to say. She felt drained, wrung out; hollow inside, as though everything had been poured out already. Either her mother would tell her to pack and leave, or she wouldn't.

"Your father and I... We had a long talk." Her mother's voice was muffled through the door. "What you said..." Her voice firmed. "What you said, Caitlyn... Was hateful."

Of course it was. Caitlyn said nothing.

"It also... Explained a great deal," said her mother. "So many things that... Your father and I never understood. We could never... We could never make sense of... Of certain events—your brother moving away, primarily, both some other things too; your moving away; the way certain people treated us. We had never understood... And now you've told us these things, and they don't sound right, and we don't like them, but... We may have to accept them, because they're the only thing that makes sense.

"We, umm... We're going to try and change. We. Umm. We have never... Been faced with something like this, and, we... I don't know if we... Have what it takes. But, if we are in fact actually... If we are in fact actually hurting our children..."

There was a silence at this point—a longer one than her mother habitually left. Caitlyn, curious, let go of the dog and opened the door.

She was surprised to find Linda Delaney still there, crying silently.

"I don't know how you can still love us, Caitlyn," her mother said. "We are such sinners..."

She went into her mother's arms. "Because there are more important things than whether you're a sinner," she said. "That's why."

"Not in Christ," her mother said bitterly.

"Yes, even in Christ," Caitlyn said. "Remember what he said to the people trying to stone that adulterer? 'Let he among you without sin...' If love were only for the perfect, there'd be none in this world."

"But then how do we judge?" Mom gasped.

"You don't, Mom," Caitlyn said, hugging her tight. "You don't. You just... Love. No matter how flawed the person is. You love."

Mom said, "...Isthat what you get from Jon."

She wasn't sure if it was a slight or not. "Yes, Mom. That's what I get from Jon."

Her mother sighed. "I guess... You'll have to bring him here. If he can do a better job of loving you than we can... Well. We're your parents.That can't be allowed."

There were several reactions that flashed through Caitlyn's mind. One was pleased affection that her mother was beginning to regain her pride. Another was the thought of what she and Jon did together when they loved, and how inappropriate it would be for her parents to try the same thing. And the third was...

"Am I going back to him?"

Mrs. Delaney put Caitlyn away from her to look her in the eye. "Aren't you? I can't imagine you'd stay here. I mean... Clearly this is... Not the best of places for you."

Caitlyn was silent for a moment.

She didn't know what he was doing; she didn't know what he was thinking. She didn't know if she could bring him around to her way of thinking. She didn't know how he felt, if he would be willing to take her back. She didn't know what kind of compromises she might need to make. All she knew was that she had sworn, in sight of god and man, to be at his side forever.