Part II of a deleted scene from "Heartache of Promise."
JoAnne lay on her bed. Her arms held her legs, doubled up, close to her body. Her matted hair lay strung across the pillow like seaweed washed onto sand. Except for her heaving chest, she didn’t move.
Rose-Marie touched the dampness of JoAnne’s thin, cotton dress. The musky odor of sweat wrapped her in a film too dense to penetrate
“Jo, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“I’m okay.” It was a weak reply.
“But you’ve been crying.”
Rose-Marie recognized the glazed expression peeping through JoAnne’s brown eyes. It had been a long time, but she’d seen this somewhere before.
“Look at me, JoAnne.”
JoAnne closed her eyes. “Don’t worry. Really, Rose-Marie, I’ll be okay. Just give me time. I’ll be fine.” She buried her face in the pillow.
Rose-Marie tiptoed down the hall. “Momma,” she whispered, motioning. Mom left the stove. “Something has happened to JoAnne. She’s on the bed all crumpled up and crying.”
“Really?” Concern clouded Mom’s face. “I’ll go check.”
At the bedroom, Mom put her finger to her lips, slipped into the room, and closed the door behind her. Rose-Marie waited. Her teeth tugged at her lower right lip. From the yard, her younger brother and sister’s laughter drifted in. The bedroom door opened.
“Don’t worry,” Mom whispered. “She’s just had a bad day. I think she’ll be fine. Go call Freddie and Chante. They need to wash up.”
In slow motion, Rose-Marie made her way back through the house with a lump rising in her throat. Uncle Rector was still on the sofa. He lifted his eyebrows and stared, daring her to speak. Rose-Marie slipped across the carpet where the front door offered freedom.
Outside, her fuzzy brain began to clear. She should like Uncle Rector. He was Dad’s older brother. He taught at a Christian college. He had been a missionary. She should like him. But she didn’t. She shuddered. I just don’t.
Down the lawn, the swing set squeaked. She made her way toward Conrad and Dorothy. JoAnne wasn’t talking. Mom didn’t know anything, at least, if she did, she wasn’t talking either.
Rose-Marie would keep the peace. Didn’t Jesus say that peacemakers were blessed? She had done it before. She would keep her mouth shut too. She would make sure everybody else was okay. She reached the swings down below the drive next to a stand of Mamosa trees.
“Come on to the house, you two. Supper is almost ready.”
Yeah, I know…. It’s not a satisfying ending. There’s no resolution. Mom does nothing. JoAnne suffers in silence. Rose-Marie is left to pretend nothing happened and to deny her own trauma–even if it was “only” second-hand. Really? That’s it?
Yes, dear reader, that’s what happens far, far too often even in more traumatic situations.
Fortunately for Rose-Marie and for all of us, nothing is hidden from God. Nothing can surprise him. And he loves anyway.
He has no interest in playing hide-and-seek with us. He offers an answer to the shame. He longs for an open, vulnerable relationship.
Rose-Marie finally found that relationship and it made all the difference. In the meantime, the culture of silence and repression affected her choices for love.
Fortunately, this is just one (albeit, deleted) scene. You can read the rest of her story in my book, “Heartache of Promise – A Prison of Silence Unlocked.” It’s on Amazon in Audible, Kindle, and, tomorrow, Print Versions. Here’s the link:
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