While in prison I’d gotten out of the habit of wearing makeup, which I couldn’t afford, but for graduation I used a bit of eyeshadow and lip gloss. When I’d finished I put on the pretty dress I’d found at Goodwill. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I thought about the Taylor Swift song with the lyrics that mentioned standing in a pretty dress and looking into the sunset. While the melody ran through my head, my thoughts drifted to Drew. I wondered what he would think when he saw me. I immediately put the thought out of my head. I wouldn’t let myself hope that he’d show. I’d been disappointed before and didn’t want to set myself up for another letdown. It would mean the world to me if he came, but I wasn’t counting on it. As I looked into the mirror I realized I wanted to look pretty for Drew…
Stop. My musings screeched to a halt.
Not happening.
I put an immediate end to those thoughts. No way was Pastor Douglas romantically interested in me. The sooner I accepted that he was off-limits, the better for my mental health. Letting myself even consider romance as a possibility between us was setting myself up for a painful shot of reality. My goal was to be a wise woman, and letting myself fall for Drew would be foolishness in the extreme.
Still, as I walked into the room where the graduation was being held, I couldn’t help searching the audience. When I saw him with Sarah and Mark at his side, I couldn’t swallow back a smile. It was big enough to make my face hurt. My heart swelled with joy, an emotion I hadn’t experienced in such a long time that I was barely able to identify it.
He’d come. I should have known he would, and, even better, he’d brought his children.
As soon as Sarah saw me, she clapped and clapped until her father leaned down and whispered in her ear. Only then did she stop.
Mark looked bored. He wore a suit and tie like his father and shuffled his feet as if he would rather be anyplace in the world than here. Can’t say I blamed him. Later I’d let him know how much I appreciated that he’d come to witness my big day.
Dr. Kevin Forester, the director for Hope Center, started the ceremony with opening comments. Then two of the counselors spoke. My name was mentioned twice as someone who had worked hard to make the most of this opportunity. I couldn’t have been more proud. Because I’d given up the chance to graduate with my high school class, this ceremony was as close as it would get for me. I savored every minute.
When it came time to receive my certificate, Dr. Forester called out my name, “Shay Benson, a wise, confident, and trusting woman.”
My gaze shot to Drew and the children and I watched as Sarah slid off the folding chair and applauded as hard and loud as her tiny hands would allow. Drew did nothing to contain her enthusiasm. Even Mark smiled and straightened in his chair to get a better look at me as I stepped forward to accept my certificate.
As I returned to my seat, I looked into the audience. My eyes locked on Drew and he smiled and nodded, letting me know he was proud of me. There it was again, that feeling of joy, real joy. It had become an elixir, an emotional high and strongly addictive.
Following the graduation ceremony, the center had a small reception for the graduates and their guests. Drew and his children were the only ones I’d invited. Actually, they were the only ones I knew to invite. No way would I ask anyone from my past life to come.
As soon as we were free, Sarah raced to my side. “Shay, Shay, you look so pretty,” she cried, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
“Thank you.” I was surprised Drew wasn’t with her. “Where’re your dad and brother?”
“They went to the car,” Sarah explained as she hugged my middle.
I placed my arms around her and hugged her back. “Would you like some juice and a cookie?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Sarah said, grabbing hold of my hand. “You need to stay here until Dad and Mark get back, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, wondering what this was about.
Within a couple minutes both Drew and his son returned. Mark carried a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. He approached me with them. “These are for you,” he said, thrusting it toward me.
For one wild minute I was afraid I was going to tear up. I rarely cry. I’d learned it was a sign of weakness, and when my father beat me, any show of pain fed into his abuse. Blinking, I held back the wetness that gathered in my eyes and stared at the flowers in his hand.
Mark kept holding the flowers with sprigs of holly tucked into the foliage and looked to his father as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Take them,” Sarah whispered. “We got them for you.”
I managed to croak out my appreciation and took the bundle from Mark, laying them across my arms like a beauty queen. “No one has ever given me flowers before,” I told the thirteen-year-old.
“Dad bought them,” Mark explained, his face reddening with embarrassment.
“They’re from all of us,” Drew explained.
“Dad went to Costco because they have the biggest bouquets there for the same money as the grocery-store flowers. They’re especially big because of Christmas.”
“I’m nothing if not practical,” Drew whispered.
We shared a smile and then I noticed Mark glancing longingly toward the table where the cookies and juice were being served. “Would you care for some refreshments?” I asked.
Mark nodded eagerly, so I escorted the children to the table. They each took a small plate and we all sat down together.
Once we were seated at one of the tables, Sarah looked at her father. “Daddy, see Shay’s braids? That’s the way I want you to do my hair.”
“Pumpkin,” Drew muttered and motioned helplessly with his hands. “That’s a bit fancy for me. I’ll try if you want me to, but I don’t know that I can do yours nearly as pretty as Shay’s.”
Sarah’s head fell.
“I could fix your hair for you,” I offered, eager to do something to show my appreciation for Drew’s support. I laid the floral bouquet on my lap and couldn’t help glancing down at it. The flowers meant more than he would ever know.
The nine-year-old beamed me a big, toothless smile. “You could? When?” she asked eagerly. “I want to have it done like that for school. Could you come to the house Monday before I leave for class?”
I shook my head. “I can’t, sorry. I work on Monday morning at the café.”
Disappointed, her sweet, young face fell.
“But I could come on Sunday and do it for you and if you’re careful, it would still look pretty on Monday.”
Sarah turned to look at her father. “Can she come, Daddy? After church like last week. Can Shay eat with us again?”
Drew hesitated and frowned.
Rather than put him on the spot, I quickly intervened. “It would probably work best if I did your hair later in the day, Sarah. That way the braids will stay nice and tight until morning. Does that work?”
Again she looked to her father.
“That would be great. This is kind of you, Shay,” he said.
I wished there was some way of letting him know that I was the one who should be grateful.
“Can I have another cookie?” Mark asked.
Drew nodded and his son returned to the refreshment table.
“Kevin tells me you’re taking an accounting class,” Drew commented after he sipped his coffee.
“Yes.” I was surprised he knew about that. Lilly had encouraged me to use my evenings to broaden my education at the community college. My job went from five-thirty in the morning until two in the afternoon. I had reservations about taking classes, but I’d always been good with numbers, which was why I’d applied for a job with the bank.
“I’m happy to hear you’re looking to the future, Shay.”
“It’s probably an exercise in futility,” I admitted, “but Lilly says that I can’t let my past define me.”
“Lilly is right,” Drew said.
“Brenda Jordan, my case manager, has contacts, and she says she would highly recommend me for a position once I’ve completed the course.”
Drew nodded. “You’re going to do great, Shay.”