Squaring her shoulders, she left the bathroom and walked down the hall to her old bedroom. Her parents hadn’t changed it much since she’d left. Her bed and dresser were still there, but they’d taken down the various posters. Her bookcase held her trophies, but Mom had added a few small bins of craft supplies. They’d replaced the study desk with a sewing desk, where her mom made prayer blankets and other items.
Mom sat at the desk, and Tynley was perched on the edge of the bed. They waited for her to speak without rushing her to share.
She sat cross-legged on the bed. “Do you remember that Trey also went to Georgetown?”
“Vaguely,” Mom said.
Tynley didn’t answer. She’d been consumed with her own affairs at that time.
“We shared many of the same classes, the ones most college students have to take regardless of their major. College life had a lot going on and kept us busy with our separate paths, and somehow, that helped us forge a friendship because weren’t competing all the time. We even worked on a group project together.”
“That’s good.” Mom nodded approvingly. “I’m glad the two of you worked out your issues.”
Alexis scrunched her face. “Not exactly.”
“Do tell.” Tynley leaned forward, always eager for a good story.
“We didn’t see each other over the summer, but we shared a class again in the fall of our sophomore year. The weeks went by, and we hung out often. He asked me to the harvest dance.”
Mom’s eyes spread wide. It was hard to surprise her, but Alexis could see that’s she’d taken her off guard. “But you didn’t go to the harvest dance. I remember clearly because you seemed so stressed around that time, but you assured me it was school related.”
“The night before the dance, he came to my dorm. I thought we were going to see a local band.” She didn’t tell them everything. How he touched her face, warming her cheek. How she thought he’d been about to kiss her, not end their relationship that had barely started. “Instead, he told me he couldn’t see me anymore.”
She caught them up on the long saga with Trey, ending with their dinner two weeks ago. She was careful to tell the hurtful parts in a way that would least hurt their feelings. To her surprise, neither Mom nor Tynley seemed upset.
“I’ve learned I can’t hold to my shame. Yes, I made lots of mistakes in my life, but God has freed me from those. Ultimately, it’s only His opinion I care about.” Tynley frowned. “I’m only sorry that I caused you more trouble than I even realized.”
Alexis shook her head. “You’re not responsible for Trey’s actions, nor his father’s.”
Her mother reached for her hand. “Your father and I are secure in who we are, and more importantly, who we are in Christ. You can always come to us about anything. That’s what we are here for, even if you think it will upset us. I’m sorry you held all this in for so long.”
“I thought I was doing the best thing for you.” Her jaw dropped as soon as the words left her mouth. She sat there silent for a minute, as her mind processed it. “I’ve been struggling the two weeks with what Trey told me and trying to reconcile the past with the present. In my mind, if he had cared enough about me, he would have told me the truth then. But I did the same thing to all of you. It didn’t click until just now, but he did care.”
Her mom squeezed her hand. “It sounds like he still does.”
She pulled free and pressed both hands against her cheeks. “What do I do? He probably thinks I hate him. The only contact we’ve had in the last two weeks has been strictly shelter related.”
Tynley’s eyes sparkled. Romance was definitely on her mind. “You go to him.”
Mom, more rational, met her gaze. “Do you care for him?”
Leaning against the footboard, she sighed. “I do. I always have.”
“Then your sister is right. You need to go to him and be honest with him, as he was with you.”
The ball of emotion returned to her throat, reminding her what had begun this conversation. “His dad. Trey doesn’t know about the cancer. I can’t explain how I know he doesn’t, I just know. What do I do?”
“Be his friend. He’ll need true friends when he finds out, but Alexis, it’s not your place to tell him,” Mom said solemnly. “As difficult and unfair as it may seem, that’s between Trey and his father.”
“He has a right to know.” The tears threatened to form again. Now she understood why she’d cried. It hadn’t been for Thomas Kaplan, but for Trey. “For better or worse, his father is all the family he has left.”
“Be his friend,” Mom repeated, “but do not interfere. Trust a mother’s wisdom in this, please.”
“I won’t.” She needed to see him. Now. It began to feel as though her life depended on it. But Tynley and the wedding.
Her sister must have read her mind. “Go to him. I can send you an email with all my ideas and we can discuss them over the phone. You have somewhere to be.”
“Thank you for understanding.” She jumped up, gave Tynley a hug and kissed her mom on the cheek. “I’ll call later.”
