The Breaking Point (4 page)

But most of all, grief for the loss of all those wonderful hopes and dreams born long ago in the purity of childish innocence. Back when she was little. When she knew, without a doubt, that life was perfect.

Because Jesus loved her.

S
PRING
1965

“
JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW
…”

Renee lifted her arms high, hands clutching tightly to the wood, just as Daddy had shown her. Excitement sang through her, and it was all she could do to stand still. She hated waiting. But Daddy said it would be worth it. And Daddy never lied.

“For the Bible tells me so …” She sang the song softly under her breath and lifted her face when she felt the breeze dance across her cheeks. She giggled. It was coming!

“You ready hon?”

Renee looked to where her father stood, as tall as God, and nodded. “Yes, Daddy!”

The grin she loved so much filled his face. “Okay—” he turned away from her—“now!”

With that, she let loose of the kite she held over her head and
jumped up and down, clapping as her father ran. For a moment, Renee thought her precious kite was going to fall, and then—as though invisible fingers reached out and grabbed the bright fabric—it jerked, shivered a moment, and sailed into the sky, its colorful tail of ribbons dancing a merry jig behind it.

“You did it, Daddy! You
did
it!”

Renee raced after him, leaping into the air when she reached him. She didn’t even hesitate. He’d catch her. He always did.

Sure enough, his arm enclosed her and he hugged her close. “Hey, now, small stuff, take it easy! You don’t want me to drop your kite, do you?”

She looked up into his laughing eyes and sighed. Was there any place so wonderful in this world as in her daddy’s arms?

“Okay, hon. You want to hold the string?”

When she nodded, he set her down and knelt to put the spool of string in her hands, folding his fingers over hers. She leaned back against him, her arm resting on his knee, her head tipped back so that it leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s bee-yoo-tiful, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And we
made
it!”

Laughter filled his voice. “That we did.”

“And we made it fly.” Renee puffed her chest out.

Daddy’s arm came to snuggle her close. “Us and God, honey. We made the kite, but He made the wind, and that’s what carries it so high and makes it dance.”

“Just like He carries us and makes us dance, huh, Daddy?”

His arm tightened around her, the pressure communicating as clearly as any words how much he liked what she said. “Just like that.”

The string tugged on her hand as the wind coaxed her kite higher. “Oh, Daddy, it’s the best kite ever!”

“For the best kid ever.” He reached out to tug on her pigtail.

“Of course, you’re only slightly prejudiced,” a soft voice from behind them said.

Renee turned to see Mommy walking across the green grass of the park. She had Renee’s baby brother, Robert, on her hip. Renee’s older brother, Randy walked beside their mother.

“Look, Mommy!” Renee could hardly make the words come out past her excitement. “My kite is flying.
Really
high! Just like Daddy said it would.”

Her mother looked so happy as she leaned down to loop her free arm around Daddy’s broad shoulders. The sight made Renee’s heart smile. Mommy and Daddy were always hugging, always laughing.

“Well, of course, honey. Daddy’s always right.”

Renee nodded in solemn agreement, but Daddy nudged Mommy, grinning like she’d made a joke. He turned his head to plant a smacking kiss on Mommy’s cheek, and Renee moved to settle against Daddy again. This was the best day ever.

“It’s not flying all that high.”

Renee turned to glare at her brother. “It is
so
high!” Randy might be older than she was, but he didn’t know everything. No matter how much he thought he did.

His snort made her want to hit him. Right on his turned-up nose. “What do you know? You’re only seven.”

“Oh, like being nine makes you
so
much smarter—”

“Okay, you two—” Mommy put a hand on Randy’s shoulder—“that’s enough.”

Renee turned back to her kite, but not before she stuck her tongue out at her stupid brother. No sooner had she done so than she felt Daddy tap her on the top of her head, the pressure both gentle and firm.

“Renee …”

She bit her lip and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You need to be nice to your brother, sweetie.”

Renee’s lower lip popped out. “Well, what if he’s not nice to me?”

Daddy’s voice sounded funny when he answered, as if he was trying not to laugh. “Hon, you have to do what’s right, no matter what other people do. God cares about you, about whether or not you do what He says, no matter what. Okay?”

Renee thought about this, then leaned back against Daddy. Her heavy heart let loose with a sigh that seemed to come from her toes. “I like God, but it’s not always easy to do what He says, is it?”

He did laugh at that, and Renee’s heart danced. She loved making Daddy laugh.

“No, Renee, it’s not.” He hugged her. “But it’s worth it. Don’t ever forget that: It’s worth it.”

“Okay, Daddy. I won’t forget.” Renee snuggled back against him and watched her kite dance in the sky. It looked almost as happy as she felt.

Someday she was going to marry a man just like Daddy. And they would have little daughters and sons and take them to fly kites, just like this.

“Jesus loves me, this I know …” She sang the song to God in her very best voice. She loved that song, because she knew it was true. After all, He’d given her the bestest Mommy and Daddy in the world.

She looked up at them. Mommy stood beside Daddy, leaning against him, her hand on his shoulder as he knelt behind Renee. She let her mind take a picture that would last forever, and when she turned back to her kite, she was so full of happy that she almost cried.

Someday someone will love me like that.

And because she knew her song about Jesus was true, she knew He’d make that happen. Because He loved her.

D
ECEMBER
19, 2003

11:30
A.M.

GABE WANTED TO OPEN HIS EYES. HE TOLD HIMSELF
so, told his eyes so, but apparently neither his self nor his eyes were listening. His lids stayed shut, blocking out the sight he wanted to see … needed to see.

Renee. He wanted to see her. See her face. Know she was all right.

Gabe knew something was wrong. Knew they were in trouble of some sort. He could sense it, felt the unease crawling across his nerves like tiny spiders skittering across a web.

Come on; open your eyes!

No such luck. Though his will was strong, his body just wasn’t responding.

Muted sounds came to him then … Bo whimpering … and then
Renee’s soothing tones. Relief so powerful it stole his breath swept him at the sound of her voice, and he focused in on it.

She was talking to Bo. Calming him. Telling him they would be all right, that someone would find them soon …

Gabe felt his brow furrow. Were they lost? He wasn’t sure, but he had the feeling they were. And he had an even stronger feeling that it was his fault. All his fault. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, how he’d messed up—

Then he remembered. The truck. The storm. Going over the edge.

They were in trouble. And it was his fault.

Frustration clawed at his throat, but a heavy cloak of weariness settled over him, keeping him trapped and motionless. With the weariness came the weight of regret. And guilt.

I blew it. Big-time.

Again. Like always.

The ache in his head increased, and he wanted to cry out. But no sound came. Just the inner litany that he’d never been able to stop.

Stupid! Stupid! What made you think you could drive home in this storm? Why didn’t you listen to Renee? You should have waited. Shouldn’t have pushed going home today.

Pain rained down on him, screaming across his nerves, sending flashes of color through his mind. Trembling, he finally gave himself over to the encroaching darkness, but not before one last thought assaulted his dimming mind:

I guess you were right after all, Dad.

W
INTER
1968

GABRIEL ROMAN LAY AS STILL AS POSSIBLE.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move …

His eyes were nearly closed, but he could still see it. The figure. In the doorway. Even if he hadn’t been able to see the man, he’d know he was there. He could smell him. He reeked of stale cigarette smoke. And beer.

Always beer.

The pungent, sickening odor filled Gabe’s room. The form was a shadow in the darkness, shifting back and forth as though listening, waiting for something, anything to propel him forward, to set him off …

Gabe’s lungs burned and his eyes and nose ran, but he didn’t blink, didn’t sniff. He wouldn’t give any sign that he was awake. So long as his father thought he was asleep, he was safe.

Time passed in agonizing seconds until his father’s shadowed bulk finally moved away, shuffling down the hallway to the next doorway Still Gabe didn’t move. His aching, bruised body cried out against the stillness, but he didn’t care. Better to hurt for a moment now, until he was sure. He had moved too soon before and paid the price, knew with each crushing blow that he brought the pain on himself by being foolish. Impatient. Stupid.

Gabe clenched his teeth against the frown that threatened to stir his features.
Don’t move. Don’t move …

He hated being stupid. Hated being told he was stupid. Hated having the word spit at him with as much violence as the fists that punched and punished his face, his back, his arms, his gut—

A small moan broke the silence. When Gabe realized it had escaped, stark fear ripped through him, scraping his raw nerves, jolting him to a new, terrified awareness. No …

He fixed his narrowed gaze on the doorway, waiting. But the shadow didn’t come. Relief hissed through swollen lips. His father wasn’t coming back. He must have gone to bed.

Finally.

Gabe sat up, grimacing. He drew in a breath, then stood, grabbing for the dresser near his bed when a blaze of white agony filled his vision. He stood for a moment, sucking in air, willing the stars out of his head. Each breath brought a new surge of pain, and he shook his head.