Times and Seasons

CHAPTER

One

I’m telling you, Mark, it’s a sorry idea."

Mark Flaherty turned from his bedroom window and glanced back at Daniel. His best friend still wore his church clothes from this morning—a button-down blue shirt neatly tucked into khakis. The clothes made Daniel look older than fifteen as he stood with his arms at his sides, preparing to fight him if he tried to push past. You always think my ideas are sorry.

You’ve already been arrested once, Daniel said.

Mark turned back toward the window with a clear view of Cedar Circle, in full summer bloom. His mother was next door, revving up for the wedding shower the neighbors were giving her. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan had been talking about it for weeks, and Sylvia Bryan had come all the way back from her mission work in Nicaragua to host it in her home. It griped him that his mom had insisted on the men in her life being there. Showers were for women, and he had better things to do. It was only early June, and the wedding wasn’t until July 4th. The shower was just a lot of trouble for nothing, in his opinion.

I’ll be back before anybody knows I’m gone, Mark said. I’d have to be crazy not to do this. It’s easy money. He turned back to his friend and reached for the small bag of marijuana he’d bought from a friend at the baseball park last night. Chill out. I won’t get caught, okay?

The words sent a little jolt of memory through him, for he had said them before. Just over a year ago—months after his mother had freaked and got Miss Brenda to home-school him. He had sneaked out of his dad’s house in Knoxville and gone joyriding with a kid—in a car he didn’t know was stolen. They’d been caught spray-painting graffiti on the side of a school building. Mark had been charged with car theft and vandalism, both in one night. The judge, who’d had a fourteen-year-old kid of his own, had let him off with probation.

But this time was different. He had turned fifteen last week, and he wasn’t following the crowd anymore. He was in control here. He had this figured out.

You’re just mad because you won’t be able to buy a concert ticket, Mark said. But I’ll be there in the front row. I’ll buy you a T-shirt.

Your mom will go ballistic, Daniel said. She won’t even let you go to that stupid concert, and you know it.

She won’t know, Mark said, stuffing the bag into his pocket. He heard a horn honk and looked out the window. Ham Carter and some other guy waited in his jeep at the end of the driveway. Gotta go. He’s here.

Daniel’s cheeks were blotched pink as he tried to block the way. Man, I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake.

I have to go, Mark said. Though Daniel was a little taller, Mark knew he could take him if he had to. Move!

Daniel stood there for a moment, then finally moved aside. Mark pushed past him to the stairs and bolted down, Daniel right behind him.

Eighteen-year-old Annie stood in front of the wall mirror at the bottom of the stairs, dressed like Barbie’s evil brunette twin. Rick, his twenty-year-old brother, waited by the front door, tugging at his collar.

Mom said to wear a tie, Annie told Mark. Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late.

I have to go somewhere, he said. I’ll just be gone a few minutes.

"Gone where? We’re supposed to be there!"

I have to run an errand, Mark said.

What kind of errand? Rick asked with that tone he got when he tried to be the man of the house.

Daniel didn’t wait for Mark’s answer. He shot out of the house, leaving the screen door to bounce shut behind him. Mark watched him cross the street, ignoring the two guys in the jeep. That was just as well.

If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, Mark said, go on without me. Just tell Mom I’m coming.

No way! Annie cried. Mark, you’re going to get her mad at all of us. I was counting on her being in a good mood later when I hit her up for concert money—

Mark grinned. He didn’t have to hit her up. She will be, he said, pushing open the screen door. He took off down the driveway, smiling at Ham and his friend. As he jumped into the backseat, he patted his pocket.

Hey, guys. I’m kinda in a hurry, okay?

Sure, man.

Mark grinned as they pulled out of Cedar Circle. This would be the easiest money he’d ever made.

CHAPTER

Two

Cathy Flaherty kicked her pumps into the corner of the kitchen and wondered why she’d gone to the trouble of getting her hair done this morning. Her blonde strands were already wisping out of the French twist, and the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. She should have come in her jeans and lab coat, the veterinarian’s garb she wore every day. She would have been more comfortable with her hair in a ponytail and sneakers on her feet.

But that would have disappointed the friends who were throwing this shower. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan, her neighbors on Cedar Circle, had been working on this for weeks. And if that weren’t enough, Sylvia Bryan had left her mission work in Nicaragua to come back and host it. It was as if Sylvia had to see it to believe it, Cathy mused.

Hold still and I’ll fix your hair, Brenda said, coming at her with a comb.

I’m not used to having my hair up, Cathy said. Shoulda known not to go fu-fu.

Brenda moved a bobby pin, catching some of the escaped wisps. Tory, does that look okay?

Tory turned back to them with her fifteen-month-old daughter, Hannah, asleep in her arms. Her body rocked from side to side, as if she swayed to some imaginary beat that only a mother could hear. Looks good, Tory said in a voice just above a whisper. I think I’ll run home and put her down. Barry can watch her if she’s napping.

When your hands are free, you can help me put out these flowers, Sylvia said. She had several vases of fresh flowers, probably cut from her garden. Cathy had trouble growing weeds, yet Sylvia still had beautiful blooming jasmine, impatiens, petunias, periwinkles, and a dozen other floral varieties around her house, when she didn’t even live here to care for them. But Cathy knew Brenda and Tory weeded and watered Sylvia’s yard. In March, Brenda had taken her home-schooled children over to plant new annuals in the front garden. She’d considered it a science project. Cathy’s son Mark, who was home-schooled with Brenda’s four children, had taken great pride in his green thumb. Now, in June, the yard overflowed with blooms, showing evidence of their care.

The Gonzales family had done a good job of caring for the home while the Bryans were on the mission field. In early May, they had finished Carlos’s seminary training and returned to Nicaragua, so the house was empty again. It was clear Sylvia had enjoyed being back in the home in which she’d raised her children and that she loved launching Cathy’s new life with this shower.

Tory was on her way out the front door when Annie and Rick burst in. Steve’s in the driveway, Annie said. He and Tracy are on their way in.

But Mark is AWOL at the moment, Rick said.

AWOL? she asked, going to the door and waiting for Steve and Tracy. Tracy was all dressed up, and her hair had been braided with little white flowers. Steve had taken her to get her hair done this morning.

She switched her thoughts back to Mark. So where is he?

Went to run an errand.

An errand? In what?

In Ham Carter’s jeep, Annie said. He said he’d be back in a few minutes. Right.

Steve came up to the porch, dressed like a financier, and grinning like an Oscar winner. Cathy matched that grin and reached up for a kiss. So we’re gonna go through with it, huh? he teased.

I wouldn’t get too excited, she said with a wink. It’s just a shower. They had postponed the wedding two other times. One was after Mark’s arrest, the other after they’d realized how hard it was to blend parenting styles. This time, they had sealed their plans with work—building an addition onto her house. She let Steve go as Rick grabbed a monstrous handful of peanuts, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved them into his mouth. Rick, please. They’ll think you haven’t eaten in a week!

Sylvia came over and gave him a hug, and Brenda bent down to pick up the fallen peanuts. It’s good to see a healthy appetite, she said. Besides, who cares what we think?

That’s what I was thinking, Mom, Rick said with his mouth full. You’ve just got to get over this constant worrying what other people think. Are you going to wear shoes?

Cathy tried to remember where she had left them, then hurried to slip them on. Annie was right behind her. Your hair looks funny, Mom. It’s falling on one side. Looks kind of like somebody jabbed some pins in trying to hold it up.

Okay, so I’ll never be able to work as a hairdresser, Brenda said, throwing up her hands in mock defeat. Annie, help her.

I’ll help! Tracy shouted, bouncing up and down. I can fix your hair, Cathy! The eleven-year-old was already reaching for the bobby pins.

Tell you what. Cathy started pulling pins out and letting the hair fall around her shoulders. Forget the fu-fu do. I’m coming as me.

Steve grinned and stroked the silky hair. Suits me fine.

Me, too, Brenda said. Just run a brush through it, and you’ll look like a catalogue model.

The front door came open, and Cathy turned hoping to see Mark. Instead, Tory stood just inside the door, looking tired and slightly out of breath. Okay, let me at those flowers, she called to Sylvia.

Sylvia handed her two vases, and the women began placing them. The smell of white roses and lilies wafted on the air. Cathy looked around at the house full of memories—gold gilded photos of Sylvia’s children on the walls, an eight-by-ten of her new grandbaby, and multiple pictures of Sylvia and Harry with the children they loved in Nicaragua. A dried vine wound over and between the pictures, creating that thread of life that had never been broken. Not in this family.

Cathy wished her vine wasn’t broken. There was something strange, unnatural, about having a wedding shower when you were forty-two years old. But the events of her life had not always been her decision.

So where’s Mark? Steve’s question turned her around, and she thought of lying and saying that she’d sent him to get something. She didn’t want to see that look of he’s-at-it-again pass across Steve’s face, and she didn’t want to start him down the are-we-doing-the-right-thing road again, either. She’d been down that road enough herself.

Besides, she wanted to be free to hear Mark’s reasons for being late, before she lambasted him. Her reaction to the children was different when Steve was around. She found herself responding the way she knew he would want her to, with consistency and discipline—all the right things, but for all the wrong reasons.

But the truth would come out soon enough, anyway. Mark seems to have disappeared with Ham Carter. We’re expecting him to be back soon. She turned to Annie. This Ham Carter. How old is he?

At least sixteen, I guess, Annie said. Can you believe his parents are letting that loser drive? They ought to announce it on the evening news or something just to give everybody a chance to get out of his way. Cool! Cake.

Annie, don’t touch that. We’re not ready to cut it.

Annie looked insulted. So what do you think I’m gonna do? Just grab a handful?

Cathy glanced at her son, who had just about finished off the bowl of peanuts. She thought of pointing out to Annie that the only thing she could expect from her children was the unexpected. She stepped into the kitchen, where Brenda and Tory were busy decorating plates of pastries. Steve followed her in and leaned against the counter. He reached for a pastry.

Sylvia slapped his hand. The guests will be here soon, she said. Just a few more minutes. Then, after you and Rick and Mark make your introductions, you can go watch football until we need you to help carry everything home.

Might be a long wait, then, he said. When did you say Mark would get here?

Few minutes, Cathy said.

Steve looked at his watch. Mark knew what time the shower started, didn’t he?

Oh, yeah, he knew. In fact, I even picked his clothes out for him and told him to get dressed before I left. Annie, he was dressed in those clothes when he disappeared, wasn’t he?

Annie shrugged. Not his tie. Not yet.

Steve stiffened, and that pleasant look on his face was replaced with concern. Why would he do this today of all days? Do you think this is some kind of psychological plea for us not to get married? Because every time we’ve set a date, something has happened.

No, he’s not lashing out. He’s just being thoughtless.

"Cathy, any psychologist would have a field day with your youngest child running off today."

Well, thank goodness no one’s analyzing it. She took a brownie and bit into it. Come on, this is not a crisis. Mark’s been disobedient, and I’ll take care of it when I see him. But I don’t want it to ruin the party. So let’s not mention it again, okay?

Steve locked looks with her, threatening to say more, when Tory walked up between them. Why’d you take your hair down? she asked. Cathy, it was beautiful up!

Grateful for the change of subject, Cathy handed her the brush.

When Tory had finished lacquering Cathy’s hair, they emerged from the bathroom in time to see Tracy barreling for the door.

Grandma’s here! she shouted, and Cathy looked out the window to see Steve’s mother and sister getting out of the car in the driveway. Let me get it! she shouted. Please, can’t I?

All right, Cathy said. Have at it. She turned to Steve and struck a pose. So give it to me straight. How’s it look?

A gentle smile softened Steve’s features.

Like cool water in hundred-degree heat. As usual. He leaned down to kiss her. How’d I get so blessed?

Tracy threw the door open, and her grandmother and aunt came in with a flourish of gifts and hugs. Sylvia turned on some piano music on the old stereo system Harry had left behind. As more guests arrived, Cathy greeted each one as if they were her old best friend. It bowled her over that anyone had actually taken the time to come. When there was a lull in the number of women arriving, Cathy went to look for her children, who had retreated into the kitchen. You guys come out here and be polite now, she whispered. Speak to every guest, and when I open gifts, ooh and ah over everything. And no cryptic comments about what I get.

Do you believe this? Annie asked Rick. She’s asking us to lie.

I’m not asking you to lie, Cathy said. I’m just asking you to be polite.

So what are you going to do to Mark? Annie wanted to know.

I’ll deal with him when the shower is over. One thing at a time, okay?

The doorbell rang again, and she heard more guests coming in. Come on, now. We have to get out there.

The smell of fruit punch and sugar icing hung on the air, along with that of melon balls and a dozen different pastries that Brenda had concocted. Cathy owed them big-time, she thought. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to move out a couple of rooms of furniture to get all the gifts into her house.

She and Steve had thought of moving to his place, but she hadn’t been able to stand the thought of leaving her little neighborhood. Sensing her reluctance, he had offered to move into hers and build a couple of extra rooms, so they would have a little more square footage in which to spread out. The foundation had been poured last week, and the contractor said it would take a couple of months to get the rooms up—not in time for a July 4th wedding. But that hadn’t bothered them. They would go ahead with the wedding and move Steve and Tracy into her house, as it was. That way they could put Steve’s house on the market while they waited for the new master bedroom and the extra family room to be finished, and they could take their time decorating Cathy’s room for Tracy.

The doorbell rang again, and Tracy flung it open. Her excited face changed to surprise, and she stepped back and called over the crowd, It’s a policeman!

Everyone got quiet and turned to the door, and Sylvia rushed to the foyer. May I help you?

Could you tell me if there’s a Cathy Flaherty here? the officer asked.

Cathy started to the door, not certain whether this was some kind of prank her friends had played on her, or something more serious. She glanced at Tory and Brenda and saw that there was no amusement in their eyes.

I’m Cathy Flaherty, she said. Is something wrong?

Mrs. Flaherty, I need for you to come to the police station as soon as possible.

If she hadn’t still been standing, she would have been certain her heart had stopped beating. Why? she asked. Something told her she didn’t want everyone to hear this, so she stepped outside. Steve followed her out, then Annie and Rick bolted to the door.

It’s your son, Mark, the police officer said. I’m afraid he’s been arrested.

A wave of uncertainty and denial washed over Cathy, and she took a step back and bumped into Steve. His arms came around her, steadying her.

For what, officer? he asked.

The charge was drug distribution.

Cathy couldn’t get her voice to function, and she felt Steve’s hand squeezing her arm. Tears blurred her vision, and she thought she might tip right over and collapse on Sylvia’s front porch.

No way, Rick said, finally.

My brother was selling drugs? Annie asked, as if to make sure everyone in the house had heard.

He was picked up on Highland Avenue, the officer said, after he tried to sell marijuana to a plainclothes officer.

The world seemed to grow dim. Cathy was going to throw up. Her head was going to explode. Her heart was going to give out. Her knees were going to buckle.

But she just stood, letting the words sink in like some kind of toxin, seeking out every vulnerable cell in her body.

She heard Steve taking charge, finding out where they were holding Mark, asking Rick to get the car, telling Sylvia to call off the shower. For a few moments, her thoughts remained scattered. Only one seemed to motivate her to action.

Her son needed her.

CHAPTER

Three

What was he thinking?" The shock etched itself on Cathy’s face, making her look older and less like a bride-to-be. She had given up on her hair and pulled the pins out again, and now it was in her way. She swept it behind her ears.

Steve clutched the steering wheel with both hands. He had been quick to get his mother to take Tracy home, as if hearing about Mark’s rebellion would influence the child somehow. Cathy wondered what he would do when they all lived together. How would he shelter Tracy from Cathy’s kids then?

In the backseat, Rick and Annie sat with their arms crossed, staring out opposite windows. She didn’t remember their ever being this quiet before. But she wanted answers.

Where did he get drugs to sell, for heaven’s sake? I tried to separate him from all the kids who were leading him in the wrong direction. He’s home-schooled! He must have gotten it in Knoxville when he was with his dad last weekend.

Mom, he could get it anywhere, Annie argued. You don’t know if he got it in Knoxville.

But that’s where he got in trouble before! Hanging around with car thieves. He could have gone to prison!

Mom, he didn’t steal a car, Rick said. His friend took his stepfather’s car, and the guy pressed charges. Mark didn’t even know he didn’t have permission.

"My son was charged with car theft—and vandalism of that kid’s school. It should have been a wake-up call, but your father didn’t wake up. I told him not to let him hang around with them…and now he’s selling drugs! Her face tightened, and she felt the arteries at her temples throb. She slammed her hand on the dashboard. I thought once you got your life right that things were supposed to fall into place! But they’re not falling into place! How can my son be selling drugs? He just turned fifteen last week. He’s just a child!"

Mom, he’s not a child, Rick said. He’s mobile now. His friends have cars.

And he’s not the little angel you think he is, Annie added.

"I never thought he was an angel, Cathy said, turning around in her seat. Believe me. I’ve known for years that he was far from an angel. When I was taking him to his probation officer once a week, I knew he wasn’t an angel! When Steve and I canceled our wedding twice last year because of Mark’s behavior, I knew he wasn’t an angel! But I didn’t think he was a criminal, either! She shifted in her seat and turned her accusing eyes to her children. Why didn’t you tell me what he was doing? This doesn’t even seem like a surprise to either of you."

Mom, we didn’t know, Rick said. Don’t you think we would have told you if we knew our brother was selling drugs?

Then why did Annie say that about him, that he wasn’t an angel?

Because he’s not, Mom, Annie said. I mean, I’ve known for a while that Mark was headed in the wrong direction. Even with the home-schooling and everything, he’s just a bad kid.

"He is not a bad kid! Cathy said through her teeth. I will not let his own siblings label him like that!" She turned back around and glared out the windshield.

Steve reached across and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She wondered when he would jump in and agree with the kids.

I’m just saying that he doesn’t pick the greatest guys in the world to be his friends, Annie said.

They’re trouble if you ask me, Rick said. All except for Daniel.

"I could have stopped him from seeing them! Cathy shouted. I could have made him quit going to visit his dad if his father wouldn’t control him. Why would you keep something like that from me?"

Mom, it wasn’t Knoxville. It was here, too. At the baseball park…

So I was wrong to let him keep playing on a baseball league? I thought he could be home-schooled and still be athletic. I thought he could be trusted at least that far.

Guys like Mark can get into trouble no matter where they are, Rick said.

Cathy breathed out a bitter laugh that only resulted in tears. I will not accept that. I…will…not… Her voice broke off, and she pressed a fist to her mouth. Maybe he’s innocent. Maybe it’s all just a stupid mistake.

Steve didn’t respond, and she knew he wasn’t buying it. Everyone in the car knew Mark had probably done exactly what he was accused of. Everyone except Cathy. She still held out hope that this would all be cleared up by the time they reached the station.

Mark had been such a pure, happy little boy. He had been the one who skipped everywhere he went. He hummed a lot, little kid songs from nursery school. He brought stray animals home and nursed them back to health. She remembered the turtle he’d found dead in its bowl. He had cried for hours, then arranged a burial and a solemn ceremony, in which they’d all crowded around to pay their last respects.

Was this some sort of burial ceremony for his future? Were they all supposed to gather at the station with solemn faces and mourn the loss of the child who could feel things so deeply?

What had happened to that little boy?

She would not believe that he had turned bad, that there was no hope, that he was destined to go down the wrong path for the rest of his life. She would not believe that he had hardened into a criminal who would break a law just to make a buck.

It had to be a mistake.

CHAPTER

Four

She found Mark sitting in an interrogation room with swollen red eyes, as if he’d been trying to cry his way out of this. It had worked when he was four, when one forbidden match had resulted in flames swallowing up the yard. She remembered that Jerry had lambasted him at the top of his lungs, and Mark had cried and cried until Cathy’s focus had shifted from punishment to comfort.

But he wasn’t four anymore.

She came into the room alone, because they wouldn’t allow Steve, Rick, or Annie to accompany her. Instead, they sat in the waiting area waiting for her to come back.

When she saw Mark, she followed her first instinct to pull him out of his chair into a crushing hug. He clung to her as he hadn’t in years, and her mother’s heart melted at the fear she felt in his embrace. Mark, what’s going on?

Mom, I didn’t mean to, he said. I swear I didn’t mean to.

"You didn’t mean to what?"

Sell drugs, he said. It’s not like I’m some kind of dealer standing on the corner looking for little kids to mess up. I just trusted Ham Carter. You know, the catcher on my team. He called me and told me to meet him. And all he wanted was a bag, Mom. It’s not like I keep an inventory or something. I thought I could make a few bucks so I could go to the concert next week. I knew where to get one for him—

Mark! The word yelped out of her mouth, shutting him up. Had he just admitted that he’d done exactly what they said? Had he really bought drugs so he could sell them to someone else? She grabbed a chair and shoved it under the table, as if it was in her way. Trembling, she made herself turn back to him. Where…did you get it?

Never mind, he said. I just got it, okay? And the reason I was going to sell it to him was because he was going to pay me real good. You know, if you gave me a decent allowance, I wouldn’t have to do stuff like this.

Her finger came up level with his gaze, and her eyes snapped caution. Don’t you dare blame me for this. Her voice broke, but that finger kept pointing. Through her teeth, she whispered, Allowance?

The sad humor in that word made her feel suddenly weak, and she dropped her finger and turned away. Her hair seemed too hot against her forehead, so she pushed it back and held her hand there. How could this happen? The words came in a whoosh of emotion. "How could you? Selling drugs? They put people in jail for that."

But I didn’t think I’d get caught. I thought I could trust him. I didn’t know he had some cop with him when he came to get me. The guy looked young. They set me up, Mom. They tricked me.

She dropped her hand and turned back around. He was still wearing the khaki pants and dress shirt she had ironed for him this morning. The tie was probably still hanging on his doorknob. The coat was probably on his bedroom floor. Today was supposed to have been a good day.

She leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. That’s what they do, Mark. That’s how they catch criminals.

"But it’s not fair. I’m not a criminal."

Depends on your definition. The words didn’t come easy.

Come on, Mom. I’ll make this up to you. I promise I will. I’ll work every day this summer at the clinic, and you don’t have to pay me or anything.

Suddenly she realized that Mark just didn’t get it. He was standing there looking at her, pleading, as if she had a decision to make. "Mark, don’t you understand? You’ve broken the law. You’re sitting in a police station. I’m not the judge! It’s out of my hands."

"It’s not out of your hands, he said. You can get me a lawyer."

Of course I’ll get you a lawyer, but that doesn’t mean you’re going home.

But you’re my mother. They can’t hold me here. I’m only fifteen. It’s not like I shot somebody and have to be tried as an adult.

Mark, don’t you understand what you’ve done? This isn’t like when you broke a rule at school and got suspended. This is the law. You broke it, and you’ve been arrested. They have evidence.

But it’s practically my first offense.

"It is not your first offense. It’s your third offense. There were those little matters of car theft and vandalism."

But I didn’t do those things, Mom. I didn’t steal Craig’s old man’s car, and I didn’t so much as pick up a can of spray paint at their school. I just got run in with them. I was practically an innocent bystander.

She wanted to break the closest thing she