sweetheart.”
“Gosh, could it be because you have once again shown that you have no respect at all for me and my choices? I could be the homecoming queen and valedictorian and you’d still think I’m inadequate.” Jessie popped the toast prematurely from the toaster and spread a sloppy layer of peanut butter over the still-soft bread. “I don’t know why I keep trying to show you how wrong you are. You never see what I’ve accomplished, only that it’s not what you’d choose to do. I’m really sorry I didn’t turn out to be a mini Savannah, but I am who God made me to be; and if it’s good enough for him it should be good enough for you.”
Savannah stared at Jessie, shocked. “Look, Jessica, I wasn’t trying to criticize with my comment. My mind was elsewhere-”
“Of course it was. It’s always been elsewhere. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with you where you were fully present. This wasn’t some momentary lapse of focus, Mom. This is an issue ten years in the making. You have no idea what it’s like to be Savannah Trover’s daughter-her
Savannah stared open-mouthed at her daughter. The comment hurt more than Jessie knew. “I’m serious, I’ve never meant to be hard on you. And any criticism I might have made was only to try to push you to consider other options instead of just blindly following what some guidance counselor made you think was your best bet. I never realized you were taking it
Jessie sniffed and rolled her eyes as she pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. “Of course you didn’t. You never think about anyone else. You never notice anyone else’s feelings. You never consider how what you say might hurt someone. You’re totally self-centered, but you excuse it as ministry. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have time for you because I need to work on my book.’ ‘Gosh, I’d love to help you out, but I really need to devote my time to my ministry.’ One excuse after another. Thank God I had Dad.”
The words were a slap in the face. Savannah watched Jessie storm off to her room, heard the door slam shut, and wandered in a daze back to the couch to try to figure out what just happened. She’d been called focused, and driven, and passionate, but never self-centered. Surely this was just Jessie spouting Psychology 101 insights that were completely off-base.
But as the sting wore off, Savannah couldn’t help noticing how accurate Jessie’s accusations were. She’d considered her ministry to be A &A and
And when it came to Jessie… well, she had never meant to come off the way she apparently had. Yes, she did have high expectations for her, but she’d never disapproved of what she was doing-she’d merely thought other avenues might yield more fruit for her.
Though by not explicitly approving her choices, wasn’t I disapproving of them?
Jessie was so smart, had so much potential, Savannah was afraid she’d end up unappreciated in some overcrowded school working for pittance. And, if she was brutally honest with herself, she had to admit she’d often hoped Jessie would want to join Savannah in her ministry to women, helping them to reach out and grab the life God had for them.
It had all been for Jessie, really. For Jessie and her generation and the generations after her. All she’d wanted was to make the Christian subculture a place where women’s contributions were just as valued as the men’s, where the jobs mothers did were held in the same esteem as the pastors and teachers of the church. She’d been trying to strengthen and empower Christian moms to see the worth in what they did-and in doing so, she had checked out of her own mothering role and left her daughter to fend for herself.
She now saw the irony.
Savannah went to Jessie’s room and knocked. She opened the door when “come in” was muttered, and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m… I’m sorry, Jessie.”
“Thanks.” Her daughter’s tone suggested she didn’t think the apology very heartfelt.
“Listen-why don’t we do something this weekend, since Adam is going to be tied up anyway. Why don’t we go somewhere-like a spa.”
Jessie’s breath left her like a deflating balloon. “A spa? Seriously? I never even paint my nails, Mom. Not that you’ve probably ever noticed.”
She was right.
It was obvious Jessie had no intention of letting this smooth over and be done with. Their problems had been a decade in the making; one spa invitation wouldn’t make things right, but Savannah had no idea what to do. She shut the door and went back to her computer to lose herself on the forums.
SHAUN COULDN’T SLEEP. HE’D BEEN staring at the ceiling for over an hour when he finally got up and tiptoed from the bedroom so as not to wake Savannah. She’d told him about her conversation with Jessie, and it had broken his heart to see Savannah so wounded by the realizations she’d come to. He’d been unable to answer her, however, when she’d asked why he’d never said anything to her about her attitude.
“We’ve been doing this for ten years and you never once told me I was turning into a prima donna. Why didn’t you stop me, speak some sense into me?”
He’d squirmed beneath her stare, unwilling to confront his own shortcomings. He already had enough to hate himself for. He’d made up some excuse about not wanting to encroach on her personal approach to ministry, but she hadn’t bought it. Thankfully she hadn’t pushed him for a better answer.
Sure, maybe he should have challenged her more in regards to Jessie’s and her relationship-but what did he know about mothers and daughters? He’d been raised in a houseful of boys. When Jessie had been born, dads at church with daughters had warned him of the teen years. He’d just assumed a rocky relationship was par for the course. And the few times he’d spoken up on Jessie’s behalf, Savannah had countered with what sounded to him like a perfectly reasonable excuse for whatever it was she’d said or done to send Jessie crying to him.
He sympathized with Jessie’s frustration; he just wished she had picked a different weekend to dump all this on Savannah. She had enough on her mind without facing the damage she’d done to her daughter. But trying to untangle it now was not going to make her any more confident in writing that book, and that book
What frustrated him more was that Savannah wasn’t even trying to write the book. Twice he’d snuck a peek on her laptop to see if she’d started the manuscript, but found no new documents in the word processing program. The file for the outline hadn’t been opened in weeks.
He sat in his office with the lights out, staring at the moon and trying to figure out how to get that book done. Maybe he could hire a ghost writer. It would kill him to have to split the advance, but part of an advance would be better than none at all. Savannah could just write out notes, rather than having to worry about crafting them into something readable; maybe she could go through the finished manuscript and add her own touches here and there so it sounded more like her voice. All it really needed was her name on the front to be a bestseller.
And if they arranged a small book tour to promote it -just ten cities, perhaps, to guard her from exhaustion and overexertion – they’d really be in the clear. That would bring in all they needed, certainly. Savannah could sell hamburgers to a vegan if given the chance; she could easily get this book on the top of the New York Bestseller List if she was able to get in front of people. He knew how important a personal connection with the author could be in increasing sales; maybe if they arranged for signings that didn’t include a presentation and held those in other cities -
The light switched on and he let out a yelp of surprise. Savannah stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Shaun rubbed a hand over his face as the adrenaline settled. “That’s alright. I was just lost in thought and didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s two in the morning. You’re not still working, are you?”
“No, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come in here rather than risk waking you up.”
