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Maybe That’s Whyby |
Allison snapped her suitcase shut and scooted it under the bed. By the time her dad had hobbled to her bedroom door she was sitting on the bed, strumming her guitar softly. Her fingers flew over the strings, but inside she was trembling and her palms were damp.
"This room is a mess, Allison. Clean it up and fix me another cup of coffee," he growled.
She leaned the guitar against the wall and picked up the shoes she had just kicked off. Big deal! One pair of shoes on the floor and my guitar case open doesn't make my room a mess, she thought.
"Uncle Abb's taking me to the doctor so I'll be gone a while. Don't you or Eddie leave this house, you hear?"
"Yes, Daddy." She hurried to the kitchen and started the coffee.
The "tap, tap" of the crutches moved toward her younger brother's room. Allison listened angrily at her dad's demands.
"Eddie, you didn't clean the dog pen good enough. Get out there and do it over. And get it done before I get home!"
A few minutes later Uncle Abb burst through the front door and called to Allison. "And what did you say your name was, young lady?"
Allison just smiled. "You want some coffee, Uncle Abb?"
"No thanks, Sis," he answered.
She and Uncle Abb had been playing this game since she was two years old. Every time he asked the question, she proudly answered, "My name is Allison with two l's after my daddy, Allen."
From now on I’ll be Gretta, after my dad, the Grouch. Oh, well, eleven is probably too old to play that silly game anyway, she thought.
Everyone said she was just like her dad- tall and dark with an easy smile. Both of them had slim fingers that could race over the strings of a guitar with lightning speed. But since his accident her Dad had grown pale and thin and there were grey hairs growing in over his ears. He never smiled or played his guitar any more.
As soon as Uncle Abb's truck roared out of the driveway Allison rushed back to her room and grabbed the suitcase. Now was the time to go. She hurried to Eddie's room. "Are you ready?"
"Just about." He was stuffing clothes into last year’s backpack.
"Hurry," she pleaded. "We've got to catch a ride soon. It's a long way into town."
"Where are we going?" Eddie asked.
"We'll go to Grandma's. She'll know what to do. One thing’s for sure, we’re not staying here any longer," Allison pushed Eddie through the front door.
"Are you sure we should do this? Did you talk to Mom?" Eddie hesitated at the front gate.
"You know Mom doesn’t understand. She always clamps her mouth shut when Dad starts raging. When I try to talk to her about how mean he is she just says to pray for him." Allison set off quickly while Eddie puffed behind.
For a while the only sound was the crunching of their feet on the gravel road. A car passed and Allison stuck her thumb up. Mrs.Phillips, one of their neighbors, smiled and waved as she drove by.
"She thinks we're just playing," Eddie said.
"Maybe the next person will be someone we don't know."
The afternoon sun blazed down.
"Sis, I'm tired. Let's rest," Eddie begged.
"Not now, Eddie. We have to catch a ride before Dad comes back."
"But he said he might be gone for a while."
"We can't take a chance. You know what will happen if we get caught." She was getting nervous. Where were all the cars?
They had walked only a little farther when they heard a familiar roar.
"It's Uncle Abb! They're back already," Eddie yelled. "What are we gonna' do now?"
Allison looked around quickly and saw nothing but woods on either side of the road. "We'll just have to hide until they pass. Follow me."
She ducked into the underbrush. Eddie came crashing and puffing behind her. She scrambled and tore her way through briars until she reached the trees below. Then, just as she was ready to stop and catch her breath, she tripped over an exposed root and pitched forward on down the steep slope. Over and over she tumbled. Her suitcase flew out of her hand. Rocks and dead limbs scratched her arms and face. When she finally came to a stop, her right foot was wedged between two logs and a terrible pain was shooting through her ankle.
The next few hours were a blur of hands lifting her, the anxious faces of her mom and dad, nurses and X-ray technicians. Finally, the doctor assured them it was only a badly sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises.
By evening she was back in her own bed with her bandaged ankle resting on a pillow. Dad's really going to be mad at me now, she thought. Those crutches will be tapping down the hall any minute.
She glanced at her own crutches leaning against the wall. Those thick sponges at the top had felt weird in her armpits, and she had almost fallen twice trying to get to her room. Her ankle throbbed. The scratches on her arms and face were still stinging, and she was thirsty.
"Eddie," she yelled, "bring me a can of soda!"
A moment later Eddie entered. "Sis, you sound just like Dad."
"Well, maybe I do. But it's because I'm hurting so bad."
Eddie set the can of soda on the bedside table and shrugged as he left the room. "So, maybe that's why Dad is so grouchy."
Allison lay back against her pillows and thought about what her brother had just said. Eddie was right. She looked at her Bible that lay on the bedside table. She hadn't read it since last week. With trembling hands she opened it at the ribbon marker and read the words that were underlined. Her mom had shown her those verses when her dad first came home from the hospital.
"Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."*
Her dad entered quietly and stood his crutches beside hers. She held her breath. When he had seated himself at the foot of her bed, he picked up her guitar and began strumming a few chords. Then the notes of her favorite childhood song came floating gently from the strings.
She let her breath out silently and began to sing softly. "Jesus loves me this I know . . . . "
A few minutes later the front door slammed and Uncle Abb rushed into the room. In one hand was a large balloon shaped like a teddy bear and in the other was a box of chocolates. "And what did you say your name was, young lady?"
She giggled. "Allison with two l's --after my daddy, Allen."
*Matthew 18:21,22, NIV
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