Joy Comes in the Mourning

PROLOGUE

Horror hath taken hold upon me because of the wicked that forsake thy law.

Psalm 119:53

Mount Tarry, NC

The Attic Bedroom

Twelve Years Old

Shocked out of a deep sleep, Janie’s scream is stifled into a tearing moan. Large hands clamp tightly over her face cutting off her breath. With bursting lungs she gasps against a rough palm, as scratching and clawing, she manages to tear away from the painful grasp. By sheer instinct, she quickly squirms over onto her stomach and wiggles down toward the foot of the bed, just like a slithery crawfish backing into its hole.

Finding her mouth freed, she tries to cry out, but finds she can’t. Struggling to scoot farther away, her bare feet accidentally strike against the bars at the foot of the iron bedstead, causing them to rattle. Frantically, she begins kicking the bars, raising a terrible racket; a cacophony of clanging, hollow, banging noises that echo loudly off the low, slanted ceiling. She silently pleads,

Hear me, please, somebody hear me!

Suddenly, the old springs creak and groan, sagging under the heavy weight of someone unknown, someone monstrous, whose hot lips whisper against her ear a harsh, hushed,

Shh, shhh, Janie, it’s just me.

The winter cold hits her back as the weight of the quilts is stripped away, and hard hands grope her small body in the darkness, trying to pull her back up into the middle of the bed. Groaning and straining, she fights the huge hand pushing on the back of her head, smashing her face into the suffocating mattress. The sharpness of a knee, and then a full body’s weight, press her harder and deeper into the old feather bed.

Noooo!

The mattress swallows up her anguished cry, that having finally burst free seems only a strangled croak coming from someone else. The covers tangle around her legs, binding and weakening her, still, she persistently kicks at the foot of the bed, making a dull, muffled banging.

A grunted, muttering cursing, and a hard whack upon her head precedes the lifting of the suffocating weight, followed by a loud thump as her assailant trips in his hurried flight.

The aged wooden floor squeaks in protest as strange feet shuffle hastily across it. Her heart pounds in her ears, magnified by the stark heavy silence.

Fearing to make a sound, lest the monster still be there, she eases quietly, painfully, over onto her back. Her long dark hair strings across her face and gaping mouth like a tangled, tear-wet web, and her eyes strain widely against the blackness, searching out the corners of the attic room, revealing nothing but the looming shadows.

Suddenly, the petrifying stillness is broken by a seemingly far away voice calling her name. As if in a stupor, she realizes its Uncle Claude. His voice drifts grumpily up from the bottom of the long narrow staircase.

Janie? Janie, you all right up there? Try t’ settle down now and get some sleep. You know you got school tomorrow, an’ won’t none of us be able t’ get up if we don’t get some sleep. Whatever you’re doin’ up there can wait till th’ mornin’. G’night now, get t’ bed, Janie.

Panicked, she manages a dry, breathy, Wait…

The staircase door closes with a tiny, hollow click.

1

They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.

Matthew 9:12

Raleigh, NC

Twenty Years Later

Wait, wait . . . .

Jane! Jane, honey, wake up! You’re having another nightmare.

The bedroom light glared blindingly into Jane’s frightened, confused eyes.

You’re having a nightmare, honey. Jake soothingly repeated, while gathering her tightly against him.

The cold hard fear slowly receded, as she began to realize she’d been asleep. Another horrible nightmare of when she was only twelve years old. At least it wasn’t about the faceless baby this time. I thought I’d die after that last one.

Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry. I know you have to be up early. What time is it, anyway?

It’s only two, but don’t worry about that, it’s you I’m worried about. I can’t stand to see you suffering like this, even if it is only nightmares. Don’t you think it’s time you saw someone about it—a professional counselor or something? Maybe that would help.

I don’t see how. The things I dream about happened so long ago. I can’t understand it Jake, just when I thought I was getting better, they’ve started coming more often than ever, and they seem so real, like when they really happened! I was so terrified!

Would it help to talk about it?

No! That would only upset me more than I already am.

I know, I know, honey, he whispered, gently patting her shoulder.

But he really doesn’t know, she reminded herself, shivering. He thinks my nightmares are about my mama and daddy’s deaths, that fateful accident, and I’ll never tell him any different. I hate to deceive him, but I can’t bear for him to know the awful things that have happened to me; the terrible things I’ve done. I’m afraid he’ll think less of me. I know he would! How could he help it? But I feel so guilty.

If I could only tell him I’ve already seen a counselor, it would make him stop pressuring me about it, but if I do, that will only open another can of worms; I’d have to lie about why.

Anyway, the counselor said it was all the fault of my circumstances. I’m not really to blame for any of it, not even the baby.

Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the baby.

No! I can’t take that chance, I can’t ever tell him.

Bless your little heart, let me hold you for awhile, murmured Jake, I’ll watch you till you’re sleeping soundly. Do you need a drink of water or anything?

No, I just need you to hold me. Goodnight again, honey, I’m really sorry for waking you. I love you.

Don’t worry about it, he replied, pulling her protectively against him, I’ll get back to sleep in no time. I love you too, angel, you try to sleep.

The coffee was cold in her mouth, but she’d already had enough. Jane sat at the kitchen table, trying to enjoy the quiet after getting Jake off to work, but the truth was, she felt so lonely when he wasn’t home. He had such a vibrant, carefree personality, and she drew from it to complete her own, more careful one.

As she absent-mindedly pushed the remains of her toast around on her plate, she thought about the Bible passage Jake had read for their morning devotion. It was from Ephesians 4:32. And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

Last Sunday morning, the theme of the preacher’s message had been forgiveness. She figured that was probably why Jake had wanted to continue on it. He did that sometimes; wanted to dig deeper on the sermons.

Jane had wanted to get up and leave right in the middle of the preacher’s message. Preacher Jenkins had said that God expected us to forgive, and he’d used a scripture that said if we didn’t forgive others, God wouldn’t forgive us. Her thought’s had simmered with resentment, Well, he’s obviously never had much of anything that he needed to forgive; certainly not like I do.

Even though Jake had expounded on the verse this morning, she still didn’t believe it was possibly to forgive as God does, because we’re only human beings.

Jake had explained that the verse meant something like, When we fully realize what God’s Son did for us on Calvary’s Cross, and all that God has forgiven us because of His Son’s sacrificial death, how can we possibly withhold our forgiveness from others? But, Jane knew it was very possible; because she could never, ever, forgive the wicked man who had assaulted and terrorized her as a child; or her former boyfriend, Paul, the two-timing jerk! Not even all the others.

Jane suddenly dropped her head into her hands, and blurted, I’ve tried to forgive it all, God, if you’re there, you know that I have, but I just can’t; I can’t even forgive my own self! Hot tears sprang up, stinging her eyes, but she harshly wiped them away on the kitchen towel.

Rising quickly, she firmly scolded herself aloud, using the same stern words her father had always used when she’d cried. Dry it up, girl, ain’t no use crying over spilt milk, it don’t change nothing! She straightened her back, gave a great sigh, and forced the troubling thoughts from her mind.

Well, these dishes aren’t going to wash themselves, she spoke aloud again. Funny how much I talk to myself lately. She tuned the radio to her favorite country music station and was soon flying through her chores to the energizing rhythm.

After the few breakfast dishes were washed, Jane threw herself into straightening up the bathroom, and as she gathered up Jake’s towel, she pressed her face into it and smelled the clean, lingering scent of his favorite spicy soap. Her heart swelled with love, and she felt that little warm glow she always got when she thought of him. How can you miss someone who has only been gone an hour, she wondered, softly smiling.

Caring for the apartment didn’t take up much of Jane’s day, and she was left with lots of idle time. She was a pediatric nurse, and was used to working long hours, but her gynecologist thought perhaps the stress of her nursing job might have been keeping her from conceiving. She and Jake had both been checked out, and all was physically okay. But although her doctor could find no physical problems, Jane had reluctantly, confidentially, confessed about the abortion she’d had when she was younger, lest that be the cause she couldn’t conceive. The doctor had assured her all was well, and she should just forget about it. It was the past, he’d said, and she should look to the future. Many, many young women have abortions each year without complications, he’d assured her.

But she and Jake had been trying to start their family for several years now, and nothing had happened. Jake was eager to be a daddy, and although he had never pressured her, she knew he was happy that she had taken Doctor Habberman’s advice and was taking a break from work.

At thirty-two years old, she was afraid she would never become a mother, and she could hear her biological clock ticking louder and louder. Lately, it seemed to be gonging like Big Ben, but a baby just didn’t seem to be in the cards.

They had even considered fertility drugs, but nixed that idea after a couple they knew had triplets after using them. That was a little too much! Jane wanted to keep working for a few more years, and felt that she could do that with one, or maybe later, two children. Jake’s mom had eagerly offered to baby sit, so that would be no problem. But time was running out, and no luck.

Now, after several months of relaxation time, in which she couldn’t seem to relax, for her own sake and sanity she felt that it was time to go back to work. She missed the busyness and excitement of the nursing profession, and the feeling that she was helping children had subconsciously eased her guilt. Also, she had about worn out the furniture, rearranging it. There were only so many ways to place it in their small apartment.

She sort of missed her co-workers, too, although she’d made no lasting friendships among the other nurses. She seemed to have trouble getting close to them, not having much in common apart from work. All of her friends had children, and their worlds revolved around them. It would be nice to have a close friend though, she often admitted to herself.

Before she knew it, six o’clock had rolled around, and Jake would soon be home. What can I fix for supper, she wondered. I know, some good old-fashioned cornbread and milk will hit the spot tonight. The kind Jake’s mama makes. I’ll make pintos, too, and sweet iced tea with lemon.

He’ll love this, and maybe an apple pie, she spoke to herself, smiling, while hurrying to get the beans out of the freezer.

She always cooked a big batch of dry beans, or anything that took several hours, so that she could just pop them into the microwave as needed. She’d learned to do this when she was working. She loved her modern appliances, and placed the microwave at the top of her list. It’s great to live in the days of microwave ovens, she thought, I don’t think I could live without one now.

2

—and deceive not with thy lips.

Proverbs 24:28

Umm, umm, what do I smell? Jake asked, as he breezed into the kitchen, and paused, giving Jane a happy hug and kiss. Smells like a beautiful wife’s trying to please her hard working husband, to me!

I’m glad it doesn’t take too much to please you, she laughingly replied. I’d thought of wearing a belly dancing costume to serve you, but since you’re already so happy… she swayed her hips around widely, and teased him with her eyes, then quickly returned his kiss.

You’ve had a good day at work, I hope?

Yep, I think we’ve about wrapped up that Charlotte deal. I should get a nice bonus for this one if it goes through. Think of something special you’d like to have, you deserve a treat for putting up with all my neglect. I’ve been walking, eating and sleeping this account, but it’s finally paid off.

You’ve never neglected me, Jake Houston, as if I’d ever let you, she laughingly protested, but now that you’ve mentioned it, there is something I’d like, something I’ve been meaning to ask you. She spoke hesitantly, because up until now, she’d only toyed with the idea.

Go on, he urged.

"Well, when your vacation comes around this summer, I think I’d like to go home for a visit. It’s been years since I’ve seen Mount Tarry, and even if its changed, I’d still like to see Aunt Elsie and Uncle Claude. They haven’t come for a visit in several years now.

In her letters, Aunt Elsie writes of how they’ve been slowed down by arthritis, and other elderly related things. They might not be around too many more years, and they’re the only family I have left. Also, they did halfway raise me, and since they don’t have any children of their own, I’ve been thinking, maybe it falls to me to see that they’re okay." Well, that is partly true.

You’re absolutely right, honey, Jake said, but she’d already drifted back into a daydream of past memories. That’s a great idea, he continued, we’ll do just that, the good Lord willing!

Jane’s thoughts were pondering over the real reason she wanted to return to Mount Tarry, the reason she’d sworn never to tell Jake; that ugly thing that crawled around in the corners of her mind all the time like a dirty little worm, tormenting her. She hoped if she could confront her aunt and uncle about the assault and abuse she’d suffered while living with them, she could lay it to rest, and finally have some closure and peace. Then maybe the nightmares would cease, at least that part of them.

She could never understand how they couldn’t have suspected it. But had they really, and just not said anything to her? If Uncle Claude didn’t know about that horrible night of Ralph’s assault, why would he have chewed Ralph out so? She hated to think it, but now that she was older, and since talking to that counselor years ago, she sort of felt like they must have known about Ralph’s tormenting her. Why, she had even been afraid to go outside when he was there. Thank goodness he’d soon broken his probation, and was sent back to prison. Only then could she really enjoy her years at Mount Tarry, but still, the sadness of losing her parents so young, and the traumatic memory of Ralph always crept back between the happy times.

She’d first sought a counselor way back during college, when she’d experienced a breakdown stemming from a broken relationship. She’d thought herself in love, and had been deeply involved with a young law student, named Paul Gandy. The counselor she’d seen explained that her grief and trauma were probably the reasons she’d been so gullible in her many relationships with men. She was stuck in a victim’s mode, she’d told her, and that her feelings of being alone and unloved were why she’d fallen for Paul so hard in the first place. He had broken her heart into a million pieces, and caused her to live with guilt and shame ever since.

Of course, she’d always reminded herself, that according to the counselor, she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about; nothing was her fault, and even the abortion was for the best at that stage of her life.

Although she was seeing the counselor about her depression over Paul and the baby, during the course of their sessions, that old childhood abuse trauma had also surfaced. The counselor had said that it was highly likely that her uncle and aunt had known about it, and perhaps they were afraid of Ralph themselves. But, although she hadn’t said so at that time, Jane believed that her uncle Claude had never been afraid of Ralph. She based this on a heated argument she’d overheard between them, and let her memory roll back over it.

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Ralph was married to Uncle Claude’s baby sister, Louise, and they, along with their daughter Becky, a girl about her own age, had lived on a nearby farm. Ralph had been on probation from prison, and because he’d needed a job, Uncle Claude had hired him to help out with the farm work.

Jane had been only twelve years old, and had only been there for a few weeks, following the automobile accident that caused the sudden deaths of her parents.

It was the morning following Ralph’s mid-night assault on her, although she hadn’t yet realized it had been him. She was on her way to gather the eggs, one of the daily chores that Elsie had given her.

Even though she’d dreaded it, she’d planned to tell her aunt and uncle about the awful thing that had happened to her. She’d thought breakfast would be best, when they all sat down together.

She’d been worried, going over and over in her mind about the right words to use, when she’d caught sight of Ralph and Uncle Claude just outside the barn door. Jane could hear them arguing and she’d pressed herself back into the shadows of the chicken coop, listening. Their angry words were burned into her memory. Uncle Claude was waving his arms and heatedly yelling.

You sorry scoundrel, you ain’t worth th’ salt goes in your bread! I caught you sneakin’ down late last night an’ I figured right off what you was up to. I better not catch you up there again, you understand me? This here is th’ last straw!—No more! Just do th’ outside work like I told you to, where I can keep my eye on you. You try that business again, and sister or not, you’re fired. You can mark it down, your help don’t mean enough for me t’ put up with that kind a ungodliness, not t’ mention th’ law breakin’.

Ralph clenched his fists, and came back with a stream of foul cursing that Jane had never heard the like of, telling Claude to mind his own business.

Your Parole Officer finds out about it, he’ll make it his business all right, warned Claude. "He’ll rake you right up again, don’t you know, and it’ll be back in the prison with you.

It’s like I’ve tried t’ tell you over, an’ over again, your sins are gonna catch up t’ you one day! You need th’ Lord in your life. If you don’t make some changes, I look for you t’ end up dead an’ bustin’ hell wide open! Th’ good Lord could change everything around for you, if you’d just let Him. You know your ways are killin’ Louise, anyhow! You’ve ’bout worried her t’ death!

Ha! You just gotta put th’ Lord in everything, don’t you? Th’ Lord ain’t interested in what I do, He’s too busy with th’ goodie goodies, like you an’ Elsie—an’ Louise, too, an’ you sure fire, better leave Louise out a this. She’s my wife, an’ what she don’t know won’t hurt her, an’ you better not even think a sayin’ nothin’ t’ her about it!

How my godly sister ever married up with you I’ll never know, answered Claude, shaking his head, but regardless a how much I love her, I’m a gonna tell her on you! No matter how much I don’t want t’ hurt her, I’ll tell her, and that’s a promise! She’s got a right to know that you ain’t even tryin’ t’ make a change for th’ better. Th’ good Lord knows how hard I’ve prayed for you, and I’ve witnessed, and tried t’ help you. Matter a fact, I’ve talked till I’m plum blue in th’ face, but I ain’t a talkin’ no more! This is th’ last straw. I’m through! At that, Uncle Claude had wheeled on his heel and stomped off to the house.

Ralph had cursed him loudly, spat a big stream of tobacco juice on the ground, and stomped back into the barn.

Jane had stood quietly, not wanting to be spotted. She’d trembled at the thought that her uncle knew what had happened to her the night before, but was going to keep Ralph on anyway,