Susan

I was extremely nervous as we approached the church. It was long before the Saturday night service, so there were very few people there, preparing for said service. The pastor was most likely in his office, studying and reviewing his sermon for today. Being December 23rd, it was important.

With every step closer to the building, my stomach turned more violently. I could tell Davis felt the same; his face was stone-cold, his eyes fixed forward like security cameras. Both of us knew we were in for a serious conversation.

Ignoring some stares we received from people in the chapel, we went to the back and found Pastor Donovan’s office. Davis knocked, his fist shaking.

The familiar man opened the door and instantly smiled. “Susan, Davis. Come in,” he said. We entered and sat in front of his desk, where Bibles, papers, and notes were sprawled. He quickly gathered them up into organized piles.

“How are you, Donovan?” I said.

“I’m doing good. Excited for the holidays. Christmas is my favorite. The kids want me to pray that Jesus tells Santa they’re good kids.” We chuckled. “So… it’s been a long while since we’ve seen you two. And your sons. How are they?”

“They’re doing fine,” said Davis. “Jack started college this year. He just finished his first semester.”

“Really? That’s great,” Pastor Donovan commented. “What major?”

“Exercise Science.”

He whistled, impressed. “And how’s Kyle?”

“Doing well. He got on the Dean’s List again.”

“That’s awesome. And Tommy and Harry? Tommy’s a senior in high school, right? Is he ready for college next fall?”

“He’s not going to college,” said Davis. “I, personally, would’ve liked him to go, but this is his career, not mine. I trust him. Uh, he and Harry quit the football team recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“A lot of problems with the other boys there,” I answered.

“I see. Well, now that I’ve caught up a bit, I’d like to know how your foster daughter is— that’s the point of this meeting, right?”

Davis and I glanced at each other, unsure where to start. “Okay, um… it was sort of my idea, so I’ll go,” I said. The pastor leaned forward, listening carefully. I gripped my pants as I started telling him the story from the beginning. “We’ve been getting better recently… but there’s been a lot of problems with our family, especially since Diana came. The boys have gotten along with her, thank God, but… there’s a lot of things we can’t ignore. There’s tension, you know? Christmas is coming up, it’s our first Christmas without Amy, and with Diana there, we don’t want to make her feel…”

“Awkward,” Davis finished for me.

I nodded. “It’s still a bit uncomfortable.”

“Have you talked to her about Amy?” Donovan asked.

“Yeah, we’ve told her stories, showed her pictures,” said Davis. “We took her to see her and Julia’s graves. We’ve been more open about it. But there’s still that… feeling.”

“Thing is, we… the reason we decided— I decided— to foster her was because she looked like Amy.”

I told him everything, with support from my husband. How I immediately decided to look into foster care and adoption, how I ignored my sons’ feelings, how I ignored Davis’s advice against it, finding Diana on the site, deciding to foster her, and everything that happened since her arrival. By the time I finished, there was only a couple of hours left before the service. It was getting dark outside. I wiped tears with a handkerchief, overcome by emotion during the story.

Donovan had a serious look on his face, as I expected. He studied us for a while before finally answering. “So far, you’ve improved the situation, I see. She’s not in school anymore. She’s built a relationship with your sons. You’ve helped her feel like a part of the family.” He paused. “But what have you done for the boys?”

We looked at each other. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been focusing on improving Diana’s situation, and that’s good. That’s very good. But— again— you’ve neglected your sons. That’s why Jack didn’t tell you he was interested in a fraternity. That’s why Tommy and Harry were hiding all the bullying at school. They don’t trust you to listen to them anymore. You’re always holed up in your room, working. You’re not there for them. Dinner conversations aren’t enough to get to know your kids. Have you asked them how they’ve felt about Diana? How they’re coping with Amy’s passing? Have you reassured them that your love for them and Diana is equal?”

Silence. I never realized we weren’t doing much for the boys. They never wanted to talk to us… I thought that if we let them be, it would be better. I didn’t want to insist on talking to them if they didn’t want to.

“I understand both of you are grieving,” Donovan continued. “But remember that your sons are still grieving, too, and Diana deals with guilt about Amy, and their likeness, and the situation you pushed her into.”

We were silent again. This was exactly what we feared, but knew we deserved. We knew we were wrong, but we couldn’t see exactly what for ourselves. Someone needed to tell us.

“Now, to know what Diana really feels about all this, I’d have to talk to her myself, but from what I understand about the situation, she has a guilt complex. She blames herself for everything whether it’s her fault or not. As far as she’s concerned, everyone is blameless except for her. Most likely, she developed that after the years of abuse she endured.”

Guilt overtook me, the word itself bringing about the feeling. He was right. We weren’t paying enough attention to our kids or Diana. We were terrible parents.

We failed… again. We failed Amy, and we failed our sons twice, and now Diana. Why did God let me be a mother if I was so stupid?

“Both of you are good people. But you’ve distanced yourselves from God and let grief and regret control you. Amy was your daughter, but she’s gone. She’s gone home. You have to face life without her. Now… I know Diana is probably here for a reason. God works around our free will and adjusts our paths. Sometimes he lets us bear the brunt of the consequences of our decisions, to teach us a lesson. But once we swallow our pride and admit, ‘You were right, I was wrong, please help me’, he does it. You need to talk to him.”

“I feel like we have been really distant from God lately. Prayer’s become routine now.” Davis looked at his hands. “I don’t know. I guess… I felt angry. My baby’s gone.” His voice wavered and tears pricked at his eyes. “I just don’t understand why it had to be this way, and I asked him, and I still don’t know why. It’s not fair.”

“Sometimes I feel like it’s a punishment,” I said. “We favored Amy over all our kids without fully realizing it. Whenever they had a fight, we took her side, even if she was the one who was wrong. It was our fault their sibling rivalry got so bad in the first place. I thought… maybe he took her away from me because I didn’t deserve such a perfect girl.” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “Then Diana came… I thought I’d have a second chance. And I did. And I screwed that up, too.”

“We did, Susan.”

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“You told me not to do this.”

“But I followed it anyway.”

“All of you have a lot of things to hash out,” said Pastor Donovan. “There’s not much I can do except give you advice and pray for you. My advice is to, not only get closer to God, but improve your relationships as a family. I know work can get in the way, but I know you two. You’ve always been workaholics, even worse after the pandemic. You need to make time for your family, and as a family, you need to get closer to God. I know your boys are good eggs, and they’ll be more open to it. I don’t know Diana, or what she’s been through, so we all know we can’t force her into a relationship with God. But you can at least try.”

I nodded. “Yeah, we will. You’re right. We haven’t… been doing enough.”

“It’s Christmas. Pretty good time to start. I know you need to provide for your family, but you can make time. This is the time.”

~~~

Kyle

“Merry Christmas, babe,” I said on the phone.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Nicole answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay… bit depressed, to be honest.”

“I miss her, too.”

“You guys still at RiversLand?”

“Yeah. We’re going to see the fireworks in a few,” she said. “Are you guys going out?”

I shook my head, lying on my bed. “No. We’re going to see our family tomorrow, but we’re not sure if Diana wants to go yet. She said she’d think about it. If not, we’ll drop her off at her friend’s house.”

“She got herself some good friends, didn’t she?”

“Thank God, yes.”

I heard a pop on the other line. “Ooh! They started! I’ll talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Merry Christmas, love you!” She hung up.

I stared at my pants. Downstairs, Mom and Dad were cooking the turkey with Diana. Jack was bringing the tree up from the basement with Tommy and Harry’s help. I was supposed to bring up the presents, which were hidden under a tarp, but I couldn’t leave my room.

It was unbelievable that Amy wasn’t here. She loved Christmas. She would sing carols all day until we got sick of them. She would shake her presents and sneak-eat cookies, downing eggnog like there was no tomorrow.

When we were little, she loved Santa. I stopped believing pretty early, around 6 years old, and the other guys grew out of the belief around 7 or 8. Amy stayed a Santa Claus fan until she was 9. Being 13 at the time, going through puberty, I was a huge jerk to her by making fun of her in front of our friends and dressing up as a ‘monster’ Santa Claus to scare her.

The memory made me chuckle a bit, but guilt reigned more than nostalgia did. It also made me think of Diana. This was probably her first ‘normal’ Christmas since her parents died, and she probably didn’t remember her Christmases with them.

What did the other foster families make her go through during these times? Did she ever get to enjoy little things like believing in Santa when she was a kid? Did she ever leave cookies and milk out and try to stake out the chimney to see if he’d come?

I took a deep, shuddering breath, looking up at the ceiling. “God… I…” Tears were already falling. “I’m sorry, I… I haven’t talked to you in… so long.” I sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish, and ignorant, and… inconsiderate. I’ve been insensitive. I don’t know what you’re doing, or why all of this is happening. I’ve always been taught that everything happens for a reason, that you have a plan for everything, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t get your plan. Why did you…?” Anger rose within me. My door was closed, so I let myself stand up, pacing around my room.

“I get that I wasn’t the best brother or son I should’ve been, but this is just too much, Lord! Taking away my sister, bringing Diana to us, making us go through… all this. Why did Diana have to go through everything she went through in the first place? Why did you take away her parents? She was four years old— why would you do that? I don’t get it! I’m sorry for the way I treated her when she came. I am. But everything… you have to understand. You’re supposed to understand! I don’t get it, Lord.”

I took a breath. I didn’t want to get too riled up right before I’d spend time with my family. A bad mood would ruin everything.

“I want to believe. I want to trust you. But this has been so hard… and I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. You can’t expect me to just… accept that ‘the Lord has given, and the Lord has taken away’. I just can’t. I need a reason. Please tell me… please.” I hadn’t realized I’d fallen on my knees, my forehead touching the floor. “I’m begging you… I’ll do anything. I’ll change. Just make it stop… please.”

After long moments of crying, curled up on my bedroom floor, I suddenly felt this… calm. My tears soon stopped completely. For some reason, I suddenly felt… excited to spend Christmas with Diana. I was still sad about Amy, but there was a certain peace that came with it. I wasn’t sure what this was, but I preferred it over the anguish I’d felt for weeks.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, then went downstairs. Jack, Tom, and Harry had just finished steadying the tree. The boxes holding the ornaments, lights, and train were placed around the living room. Lonnie was patiently sitting in his bed in the corner.

“Thanks for helping us,” Jack said sarcastically.

“Sorry. I was just… you know.”

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine.” I sniffed the air, humming. “That smells incredible.”

Jack groaned. “I’m hungry, man. Mom, is it re-”

“NO!” all three shouted from the kitchen. We laughed at Jack as he quieted, a peeved look on his face.

“Set up the music and start on the train! We’ll be done by then,” said Mom.

Harry put on a Christmas carol playlist on TV while I opened the familiar box, sighing. Amy loved the train. When we were kids, she’d always imitate the train and run around, shoving one of us every time she passed us. It used to annoy the life out of me, but now, I wished it could happen again.

We took out all the train tracks and looked at the space around the tree. “Small circle?” Jack asked.

“No, an oval,” said Harry.

“It’s a circle. We always did a circle.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever!”

“Yeah, it’s a circle,” said Tommy.

“I’m pretty sure it’s an oval,” I countered.

“It’s a circle. We always put the presents around the train,” Jack argued.

“No, we do an oval and put the presents inside,” said Harry. “We can’t see the train if there’s presents around.”

“Then how come I remember a circle?”

“‘Cause you’re a dumb-butt.”

Jack punched at him, but he dodged in time. “I’m not a dumb-butt.”

“It’s an oval. It’s always been an oval.”

“Circle.”

“Oval.”

“Circle,” Jack and Tommy said.

“Oval!” I said with Harry.

“Boys!” Dad said from the kitchen. He walked up to us, wearing a frilly, pink apron with ‘Cutie Cook’ stitched in purple. Little cupcakes flanked the words with cute faces, holding spatulas. “What’s the problem?”

Without a word, all of us burst out laughing at his apron. He looked confused at first, but soon realized and rolled his eyes. “Your mom’s early Christmas present,” he said. “She made me wear it.”

“It’s adorable!” Mom shouted from the kitchen. I heard Diana laugh.

“Can I help the boys instead?” Dad asked childishly.

“Okay, but if I call you, you’re coming straight here.”

Dad shook his head, taking off the apron. “I’m 48 years old,” he muttered.

“And leave the apron on!”

We laughed while Dad groaned. “Susan!”

“Okay, okay. You can take it off.”

Dad folded it and placed it on the sofa, then bent over and took some train tracks. “Alright. We’ll need a lot of the straight tracks; it’s an oval.”

“HA! Told ya!” Harry pushed Jack.

“It’s always been an oval.”

“Dad, I was sure it was a circle.”

“It hasn’t been a circle in 10 years.”

Harry and I high-fived while Jack and Tommy sulked.

Once the train tracks were set up, Mom and Diana came out with Christmas dinner. We said a grateful prayer and ate heartily. All the tension that used to surround us during dinner was gone. Joy somehow filled the room, putting irremovable smiles on our faces. Lonnie made it better with his dog-smile. Sometimes, I wondered how his tongue didn’t feel dry after constantly hanging out of his mouth.

“Can I… ask something?” Diana said as we ate.

“Go ahead.”

“Um… what did… Amy usually do on Christmas?”

There was a short pause— it wasn’t awkward, rather, it was all of us picking a memory to tell her about.

“A lot of things,” said Dad. “She got really hyper on Christmas.”

“She would run around, push us, sing carols… most of the time, she’d sing them in our ears, loud,” said Jack.

“She loved to bother you.” Mom pointed at us with her fork.

Harry spoke, but his mouth was too full. We groaned in disgust. “Swallow, bruh! Geez.”

“Harry, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed, sticking his tongue out at us. “She bothered us less when we were kids because she believed in Santa Claus, so she would try to be nice. After she stopped, though… God, she was annoying. Cute, but annoying.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nah, she still bothered us— after Santa would ‘bring the presents’. When she woke up Christmas morning, she’d go to each of our rooms and scream us awake. Remember?”

“That’s so mean,” Diana laughed. “What did you guys do?”

“We chased her. And if we caught her, we’d throw her in the pool in her PJ’s.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s mean!”

“Hey, she started it.”

“Mom and Dad made us stop, though,” Harry sulked.

“It was freezing out there. You guys almost gave her pneumonia,” said Mom.

“She never stopped screaming at us, though.”

“That was something she wouldn’t stop, even when we hollered at her,” said Dad.

“What else would you guys do?” Diana asked. I thanked her for the timing; resentful thoughts towards my parents were already building up. I tried to keep them away, focusing on the happy times.

“Sing carols on the piano, watch movies, the usual. We had a… prayer time, too,” said Dad. “And when the kids were younger, they’d do their own play about Jesus with the rest of the family.”

“That was, like, twice. It was cringe,” said Tommy.

“No, it wasn’t!” Mom lightly smacked his arm. “It was adorable.”

“Are you guys okay if we still have our prayer time here?” Dad asked.

We looked at each other, shrugging. “Yeah, sure,” Jack said sincerely.

“What about you, Di?” I asked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She looked at us, unsure, then smiled. “Okay. I’m up to it.”