Come Home

LEGAL Speak

This is a work of fiction, which means none of it is real. Names, including yours, characters that sound like you, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's screwed-up imagination or used in a fictitious manner. (Who knew it would sound allegorically, metaphorically, and symbolically like your exact situation?) Any resemblance to actual persons (it's still not you), living or dead, or actual events (it really wasn't that one time all those years ago.) is purely coincidental. Swear. I promise.

Copyright © 2017 by Arie Hill.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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Scripture quotations are by New American Standard Bible,

Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995

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PUBLISHED Bibliography

YOUR MESS IS MINE SERIES:

Book 1:

Your Mess Is Mine

Book 2:

Now Is The Start

Book 3:

Come Home

Book 4:

Ravished My Heart

For all of us who don't deserve forgiveness.

~ ONE ~

GRIEF

New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.

~Lao Tzu

Shiloh waited until the clock struck ten after before stepping up to the lectern. He pulled his notecards from his breast pocket and sifted through their order though they didn't need it. Emotion balled into his throat threatening a downpour of tears, and he reached for his tissue swallowing hard. In hindsight, he probably should have brought a sturdy handkerchief that wouldn't leave lint all over his suit. Live and learn. Placing the tissue next to his notecards, he straightened each object on the lectern to perfection. Why did the mind in times of great stress focus on the inconsequential? No one would see this.

The classical music faded out, and Shiloh cleared his throat to get the attention of the people in the pews. The sheer number of attendants surprised him. Never would he have expected so many, yet the church was filled. Holding his head up, the tears rolled down the back of his throat to preserve his dignity.

Thank you all for coming. Shiloh tapped his notecards unnecessarily on the lectern. We are here to honor the life of Harold Shiloh Patterson. Shiloh looked at the portrait of a younger version of his father, blown up for posterity. Bordered in a wreath of flowers, he couldn't remember Harry looking so young.

Harry was born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1957. He met his wife, Norah, in college in Bellevue, Washington. They had one son. I would love to say, 'and they lived happily ever after,' but I can't. I'd also like to list all of the ways Harry made a positive mark on this world. Alas, I can't. The shifting in the pews and uncomfortable looks gave Shiloh more commentary than words could. Harold Shiloh Patterson was a miserable man most of his life. The unmistakable laugh of Evelyn in the quietude of the chapel made Shiloh chuckle in spite of himself. Stars in heaven, he really was. The rest of the mourners picked up on the momentary lightness. Looking up stopped the tears from falling, but the hysteria was building momentum. Swallowing, he shut it down with great cost.

I'm not going to reminisce or romanticize Harry's life. I do however want to talk about heaven. Harry admitted to me before his passing he had no hope, and couldn't give away something he never had. Shiloh switched notecards. He kicked me out of the house the day of my high school graduation to make a man outta me. Who knew my life would become a disaster that found redemption in Jesus Christ? Or that Jesus would ask me to bring His salvation to Harry? Shiloh took another deep breath.

I came home to bring the gospel to a man I didn't believe could be saved. Shiloh straightened his cards, and smiled the first genuine smile in what felt like years. "I have never been more happy to be wrong. Harold Shiloh Patterson came to the Lord a month ago. He was received into heaven a week ago as per the promise Jesus gave in John 5:34, 'Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.'

All because of Jesus, these last precious weeks have been a chance to know my father in a way I never did before. Shiloh replaced the notecards into his breast pocket. For those of you who want what Harry and I have, forgiveness and the promise of heaven, accept Jesus' love this morning. Know that if Jesus could love a man like Harold Shiloh Patterson, He could love you too. Let us pray.

Meitra thought it was a beautiful service until Shiloh shocked everyone with the truth about Harry. Who else could have raised such a thoughtful, generous spirit in Shiloh if Harry wasn't a caring father? She watched him hug another person queued in the receiving line. Resolutely standing tall and dry-eyed, Shiloh patiently held people who cried on his shoulder, handing out tissues from the box next to him. He should have been the one falling apart in people's arms. Instead, he doled out graciousness. Shiloh straightened his shoulders readjusting the invisible load people expected him to bear. He even smiled in gratitude. Meitra shook her head. If the roles were reversed, she would have shut out the world and slept for days knowing she didn't have to care for her ailing loved one anymore. Maybe she should encourage him to do just that, forget the world and grieve.

Meitra allowed her gaze to wander over him. His charcoal suit highlighted his broad shoulders, and showcased his large hands. Clean-cut sandy brown hair styled over grey eyes and a compassionate smile called to Meitra's battle-scarred heart. He looked like the kind of man who loved with patience and a kind word. He looked like the kind of man who had an enduring, quiet kind of love. Meitra's brain hissed at the appropriateness of her thoughts at a funeral. Shiloh was grieving and Meitra was checking him out. It was definitely time to go.

Fixing her purse strap to lay across her chest, Meitra looked around the sanctuary. She grew up chasing her sister in this church, down these aisles, and between pews. She and Eve were consistently part of every youth group and youth event. Meitra sang in the Children's Christmas Choir until she was eighteen, and the Easter Choir until she was twenty. The Hartigan girls grew into adults in this sanctuary, and she felt like a stranger in it.

The church hadn't changed much since her wedding day. She could still picture the room decked out to her exacting specifications, the bridal party lining the altar, but she could no longer feel the joy. Instead, Meitra recalled her heartless treatment of Eve that day. Self-righteous Anger over Eve's Cheerlessness during the wedding festivities drove her to confront Eve during the bridal party pictures.

"Stop staring at my husband like you wish he was yours. Meitra hissed as the photographer showed the groomsmen how to properly stand. Eve dropped her eyes, and Meitra changed her tone. She would not allow her baby sister to wreck her wedding with her pouting. One day, Eve, it'll be you dressed in white with the man you love. Just stop being jealous and start being happy. It's not the same if you're not celebrating with me." To defuse the bite of her words, she enveloped Eve in a hug. Eve's whispered apology tumbled from her lips soothing Meitra's ruffled feathers.

If only she knew then what she knew now.

Now it was Meitra's turn to be jealous. Isaiah was fully devoted to her sister, and she to him. His eyes were for her alone and Eve blossomed under his attention. All because of the love of a good man. Meitra grabbed her coat. After being married for fifteen years, it took looking at her baby sister's fiancé to know how to identify the love of a good man and its effects. Where was the justice in that?

Meitra's Hurt and Pain twisted her sister's Happiness into full-blown Jealousy. Regardless of Isaiah being a good man, what woman in her right mind got engaged before she even dated the guy? A pragmatist till the end, Meitra tipped her nose in the air and gave them a year at best. Straight to the altar without testing the waters, they would never last. What do you know? Meitra's brain rounded on her. She dated Wyatt eighteen months before saying their vows, and they still ended up separated.

Meitra slid between the pews towards the couple regretting how the sanctuary affected her. Her childhood dreams and adult laments chased her through the church like Meitra chased Eve once upon a time ago. With fingers spread, and arms outstretched—

You're not leaving are you? Eve beckoned Meitra to embrace her. Meitra kicked herself for being a jealous, judgmental pragmatist. Let her sister and Isaiah have all the years they could muster, she deserved that much.

Meitra, tell Evelyn she doesn't have to watch Shiloh twenty-four hours a day. Isaiah smiled in her direction. His grin added a spark to his handsomeness, like the star-shaped bling identifying the Good Guy in silent movies. Eve's stalwart gaze focused on her quarry in defiance. Meitra smiled back.

Clearly, you don't know your woman. Isaiah's eyebrow rose in challenge and it was Eve's turn to smile. When Eve cares about you, she's all in. She'll forgo food, water, and bathroom breaks. Meitra put up a hand stalling Isaiah's rebuttal. And before you think you can reason her out of it, she's been an RN for ten years. She does this for a living. Eve chuckled holding up a hand for Meitra to high-five.

So, employing you to help me— Meitra gave Isaiah a pitying look, and he stepped into Eve's eye-line.

You're saying I'm going to have to live with this forever? Eve stood up taller, which wasn't much by comparison.

Do you want to be married to me until death-do-we-part? Isaiah rested his forehead on hers. Meitra wanted to end the moment with a sneeze or a cough. Maybe a gagging noise.

More than anything I've ever wanted before. Gag. Meitra looked away to hide the disgust forming.

Then yeah, you'll have to live with this forever. A point in favor of the RN, Eve played her hand well. Completely unaffected by Isaiah's heartfelt vow, Eve gently pushed him to one side to keep an eye on Shiloh. Make that two points.

As sweet as you are, and as riveting as it is to stare at Shiloh, As if she wasn't doing the exact same thing earlier, I'm gonna go.

You didn't pay your respects.

He won't notice, Eve. How could he? His father was dead. On autopilot, Shiloh's lips twitched in a smile for the person in front of him. He was losing steam, and her heart went out to him. What do I say, Eve? Meitra gripped her purse strap like a lifeline.

What you're supposed to say, Mee-Mee. 'I'm sorry for your loss.' Straightening, Meitra took one step before turning to Eve.

Will I see you at home? Eve looked at Isaiah who nodded.

Yeah, I have to prepare for work tomorrow. Meitra looked between them twice before commenting.

What was his nod for then? Meitra jammed a thumb in Isaiah's direction. You needed permission to get ready for work? Isaiah's smile dimmed, and Eve studied her face.

No, Eve shook her head, we're going to have dinner together after we drop off Shiloh. Awkwardly smiling, Meitra waved as if she wasn't being a hypercritical jerk.

Oh great, see you tonight. Meitra fled to queue up behind the last person in the receiving line. She grimaced as she watched Eve relax into Isaiah's embrace as he whispered in her ear. She didn't trust Isaiah even though he'd done nothing to deserve it. She didn't like how fast Eve's relationship was moving or how harmoniously they worked. Nothing that made as little sense as Isaiah and Evelyn should be so outwardly flawless.

Closing her eyes to Frustration and Turmoil, Meitra gave one last thought to running. Her eyes flicked toward the double-door exit at the other end of the sanctuary with longing. She doubted Shiloh would begrudge her one bit for not sticking around.

Meitra, you came. She looked up at the sound of Shiloh's relief. The charcoal suit made his grey eyes brighter and the dark circles more prominent.

I'm sorry for your loss, Meitra parroted, and bit her lip. Seeing Shiloh up close, her heart snapped. Shiloh's eyes were dead, his smile brittle, and his pallor peaked. That's why Eve hovered. Caught off guard, Shiloh snatched her into a fierce hug. Meitra squeezed back tightly when he trembled hoping her arms could keep him together. His shuddering gasp broke the silence, and Meitra's heart followed suit.

Holding up the sweetest man she'd ever met while life had been cruel to him, made her question what was holding her together in her darkest moments. The betrayal of Wyatt, fear for her boys, guilt over Eve, and the guilt for liking both Josh and Shiloh, overflowed and ran down her cheeks. Squeezing each other tighter created an illusion of Security and Comfort, and Meitra no longer felt alone with Grief and Pain.

Their breaths slowed after a few minutes, but neither let the other one go. One last squeeze signaled the end of their safe haven, and Meitra kept her gaze to the floor as they broke away.

Here, Shiloh handed her a tissue. She wiped away the evidence of her tears before looking at him. His flat grey eyes were now watery and red-rimmed. Thank you for coming, Meitra. He hugged her again before pulling away with a lopsided smile in dismissal.

Shiloh tugged off his tie as he walked into his bedroom. This was the longest day in the history of the world. Unlike God holding the sun for Joshua so he could battle against his enemies, it was more akin to living the lifecycle of every molecule of the body in slow motion. Blinking his eyes was arduous, as they had no desire to open back up once they fell closed. Hardly any air filled his lungs as if his body couldn't be talked into keeping up with the ruse of living. When did unbuttoning his collar become too difficult? After his eulogy, a fog descended over his brain. In some places the murkiness was so thick and slow, it erased whole chunks of the funeral completely from his mind. Except for one.

Meitra was luminous in her navy blue pantsuit. Her creamy complexion against her dark hair brightened the world around her. Where others pitied his brave front, or his lack of relationship with his father, Meitra's eyes were different. She grieved with him. Did she feel that pain for him? Shiloh let gravity drop his suit jacket down his arms. He hung the jacket getting a faint whiff of Meitra's perfume. While Shiloh offered every attendant a hug, she held him instead. Atlas bearing the weight of the sky from converging onto the earth was Meitra cradling his grief without batting an eye.

The hanger clicked on the clothing rack. His burden was founded in Fear, fear of giving Harry the words Jesus put into his heart, fear of rejection, the fear Shiloh would be too late. Pain wrapped the Fear in the activity of caring for Harry. Applying the doctor's instructions and the sounds Harry made were the basis of his sleepless nights. Three weeks without a full night of sleep, and Shiloh felt all of Harry's aches and queasiness like a sympathetic pregnancy. Slippery Loss coated the ball of Fear and Pain like a thin candy shell. Midnight discussions over God's word, teaching Harry how to pray, and listening to his thoughts surrounding the subjects were the sweetness in the Despair. Not once did Shiloh ever consider he would come to like Harry, but those last few weeks, he did. Then it was over.

Shiloh stood before his closet having not changed his clothes. Opting for a shower instead, he finished disrobing and swung the lever on. Under the spray, Shiloh melted under memories. His mom taught him how to test the water's temperature. His mother taught him how to clean his room, and tie his shoes. She taught him how not to be like Harry. What did Harry teach him?

Nothing.

So why was Shiloh's heart as heavy for Harry as it was when his mother died?

~ TWO ~

ADAPTATION

And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what the storm's all about.

~Haruki Murakami

Meitra kissed each son's cheek goodbye before realizing a major difference with one: Hunter's were bristly. Before her very eyes he was becoming a man, and she didn't know how she felt about it. Raising a man as a single mom wasn't a new concept, but definitely one she didn't foresee happening. How would she manage? How could she prepare him for life properly when everything was out of context now? Meitra let the moroseness of her thoughts pass without alighting on another one. Those thoughts only circled in logic, and changed nothing. Brushing her hand over Hunter's cheek one last time, she forced a smile. She was going to blink, and he would be leaving for college.

Meitra watched her younger two animals run to their father who hugged his children with a roar before unleashing them to run wild around the yard. Her thoughts ran the emotional gamut when they packed up to leave with Wyatt. Every time they left, the life of the house bled out like a gaping wound leaving her as a ghost to haunt the place.

Squatting over these thoughts like a hoarder of moldy, outdated catalogues was stupid. Sure you could flip through them, remember how things were, but most likely you were going to be crushed by their weight in one of those accidents where the body is found months later becoming one with the catalogues... Meitra shivered. Her mind was snapping like a twig, or like her body under all those catalogues. It was just a metaphor, you twit. Now be present.

Wyatt swaggered up the pathway. Is this really helping? Meitra ground her teeth to keep from admiring him, but this catalogue was opened to the centerfold of her teenaged dreams. Confident, sexy, it was the walk of a man who knew who he was and what he wanted. At the tender age of nineteen, that swagger turned Meitra's head. Now it was annoying.

Okay, Hunter, head to the car. I need to talk to your mom. Meitra forgot Hunter still stood beside her, lost in her hoarder heaven. Hunter's murky green eyes asked a silent question. Can you handle being alone with him? Meitra smiled lovingly at the man-child. How fragile was she her own son was stepping between her and what he perceived to be harm? She could handle Wyatt, his swagger, and everything that came with it. Wyatt chucked Hunter's shoulder to gain his attention with a smile, but Hunter glared. Facing Wyatt, he stood between his parents. Hunter?

After you, Dad, Hunter waved his hand, I didn't want to leave you behind. Meitra heard the undercurrent of Anger, and saw it reflected in Wyatt's eyes. To defuse the tension, Meitra put a hand on her son's shoulder.

Hunter, please make sure your brothers don't play in traffic. Hunter studied her. Radiating as much calm as she could, he threw one last glare at Wyatt.

What are you telling that kid, Meitra? Wyatt stepped up to her as they both watched the boy. His comment would have triggered her defenses if Meitra weren't wondering the exact same thing.

Nothing, Wyatt, who snorted with derision. I swear.

You've got to be telling him something for him to be acting like that. Wyatt grasped her hand, the frustration of dealing with an angry son momentarily forgotten. You know, Love, if you take me back, this wouldn't be an issue. Wyatt threw a thumb behind him toward the boys, Hunter would act normally and things would level out. Then this would be nothing but our lost year. Meitra watched in sick fascination as he intertwined their fingers with purposeful slowness giving her a vision of each and every one of those catalogues indenting her body.

Lately, Wyatt made a facsimile of his speech when he came to pick up the children. Occasionally he'd add something new to try and entice her: today was stabilizing Hunter's attitude. Last week it was no longer waking up alone. What Wyatt didn't understand was she had a hoarder's paradise of reasons why she could refuse him and not feel guilty. She didn't mind Hunter's attitude, it wasn't pointed at her, and she was used to waking up alone. Those comments only served to make her wonder whom he was waking up next to. Just the other day, Josh told her he saw Wyatt having coffee with a woman. Wyatt clearly hadn't changed if he thought he could have coffee with another woman while he sweet-talked his almost-ex-wife. And that's what she was, a soon-to-be ex-wife. Unlinking their fingers, Meitra stepped back.

I won't take you back, Wyatt. You took something beautiful and you reduced it to ash. Even if I did take you back, he leaned in, nothing would ever be the same. The hope blooming on Wyatt's face died. Go, and enjoy your children. He turned his attention to the two boys racing around the car being refereed by the third.

What have you said to Hunter about me? Since his cajoling speech was now null and void, he was back on point.

Nothing. I've said nothing about you outside of your presence. With a nod he grabbed her chin with his finger and thumb, he positioned her to look at him directly.

I won't stop trying for you, Wife. Meitra recognized the look of determination in his eyes that used to send delicious shivers of anticipation down her spine. Now it was just a sad reminder of the husband she used to have. She let Wyatt walk away without a response.

Meitra watched the car leave, and waved at the little faces pressed against the window. Her heart ached at the separation, but sighed in the silence. Before they were separated, Wyatt's long hours made her an expert at being a single parent hardly giving her a break from the kids. Her days began and ended with them, and on occasion, Wyatt, when he deigned to show up. The consolation of their separation was the boys spent more time with Wyatt than they did before, and she couldn't begrudge them that. She could, however, cry, scream, and eat a carton of ice cream for breakfast when they were gone. Silver lining and whatnot.

Staring into the refrigerator, Meitra thought about Hunter's attitude. Navigating her changing relationship with Wyatt made it harder for her to keep up with how it effected their boys. Milo and Sawyer were a little more rambunctious these days, and couldn't sit still to save their life. Spoiled by both sets of grandparents, Meitra wondered if they noticed they spent half the week at home, and the other with their dad in a completely different house. Hunter was the only one manifesting changes, and not all of them rebellious.

More helpful with the boys, Hunter voluntarily sat at the kitchen table with them to do homework. He eschewed time with friends to do house work. Video games were for after Milo and Sawyer went to bed. She was so taken aback by this positive turnabout in behavior, Meitra didn't want to rock the boat. It was nice to have help for a change. Meitra shut the fridge. If Hunter was only mistreating Wyatt without taking it out on his mother or brothers, the question remained, what did Hunter know? And how much should she stop it?

When she and Wyatt sat the boys down for the spirit-crushing news of divorce, they didn't mention Wyatt's infidelity agreeing the boys needed to have their father. The truth would come out eventually, but now was not the time. Sawyer cried because Daddy wasn't staying home but quickly stopped with the discovery of frequent sleepovers with Daddy. Milo jumped on the sleepover bandwagon, and played his cards to the hilt. What he didn't get from one parent, he got from the other. If that didn't pan out, there were always grandparents who took pity on him. Hunter, on the other hand, was Hunter. Not loquacious in the slightest, Hunter's mind was revealed in his actions.

Her gut told