Dave, come on in…please. It’s okay.” Joan pulled Dave back into the kitchen from the back deck.
“Here, honey, sit down. I’ll put on the kettle, and we can have some tea and talk, okay.”

By now, Dave’s sobs had subsided, replaced by a grimace caused by his clenching his teeth. Joan sat down and put her hand on his arm.

“What’s so bad….I’ve never seen you like this before.” She actually had, but then she was seven and he was nine, and someone had just punctured the front tire of his bike in a cruel prank. “You cried when Lauren died, but you never pushed me away. Why now, honey. What did I do? I’m so sorry, Davey, please tell me…I am so sorry.” Joan apologized for something of which she had no knowledge and held no blame.

“I…I’ve been seeing a counselor….she’s great….helping me.” Dave started to cry once again, feeling hopeless. He had no way of knowing how much his sister would understand, but they shared secrets. One a nice secret, the kind that makes you feel like you belong; like when you know you have someone or something in common; a sweet and almost amusing secret; one that would bring them together. But they also shared another secret; a brutal ugly secret...an evil secret; a secret neither should have been asked to keep, but one that when shared would be the means of healing for both.

“I see a counselor myself, honey. There’s no shame in that.” She stroked his arm before getting up to pour the tea. She looked back and smiled, looking more like the older sister than the kid sister she was. She returned with two cups of Green and Blueberry tea and sat down once again.

“I’m sorry about before…I really wasn’t teasing, and after I tell you more, not only will you understand, but I think you’ll really understand.” She reached over and grabbed her purse, pulling out her wallet.

“I think this might help explain things.” She smiled and produced a wallet-sized photo of her with three other women. “I think you’ve seen this picture before.” She pointed to the woman in the photo directly to her left.

“Yeah…I think I still have a copy of this; your two friends and Marta.” Dave recalled meeting Marta months ago when he had stopped by their home in Virginia Beach after a meeting he had attended for his job. He dropped in unannounced to find Joan and Marta looking at wedding invitations. He wasn’t sure about how things worked in Virginia, but in Pennsylvania, it still wasn’t legal for two women to marry, so he figured that they had a symbolic ceremony. He left only minutes after he had arrived, uttering cruel words of rejection as he stormed out. He was mistaken on several levels, and he was about to find out just how much he had misread his sister.

“Now here’s a photo I know you haven’t seen before.” She produced a picture of her and a nice looking man. They were standing next to each other, holding hands. The picture looked much more intimate than what he would have expected, given her long relationship with her girlfriend. She pushed the photo in front of him so he could get a better look.

“Marty Collier…my boss at the time; the picture was taken a couple of years ago.” Dave knew that she had changed jobs that year, staying in accounting, but moving to another firm. He looked again at the picture, and while he was certain he had never met the man, he nevertheless looked familiar.

“Is that Marta’s brother…I don’t recall everything about her, but he looks familiar. Is that who that is?”

Joan smiled sheepishly, like when they were little and she had got caught in her mother’s bedroom putting on makeup and making a big, but predictable little-girl mess.

“Sort of.” She paused and put her hand on Dave’s arm once again. “I said I wasn’t a lesbian, didn’t I?” She smiled and put the two photos side by side. She waited as Dave’s eyes focused first on one then the other; back and forth until he smiled and cocked his head, trying hard not to come to the conclusion his eyes brought him to.

“Is that….no, it can’t be, can it?” A look of surprise, followed by shock, followed by an odd sense of relief, as he said, pointing to the man in the first photo.

“Is that Marta?

Joan smiled almost in an apologetic manner. She owed Dave no apologies. He had jumped to a conclusion a few years ago, and his response was to ignore any and all opportunities to visit and call and contact his sister, believing that she was doing something that he didn’t approve of; something he found troubling until faced with the same conflict in himself.

“Marty and I are going to be married, and Marta is going to be there as well. We couldn’t exclude his sister.” She smiled, and it almost seemed that Dave had been mistaken until she added, “sweetie, they’re the same person.” She actually punched him in the arm playfully. “Marta is Marty’s other half, honey. “ She smiled and rubbed his arm again.

“What? I thought…I thought she was…” He looked confused but his confusion quickly gave way to embarrassment when he saw that his sister was still smiling. She wasn’t angry, though she had every reason to be.

“You thought Marta was a girl…and you were right, sort of. Marty has been sharing his life with his sister Marta since he was in high school. You walked in unannounced, and you just assumed something about me and my life. You don’t know how much that hurt me, Dave. I cried for a whole week…every day…after you sent that letter…You couldn’t understand…You wouldn’t understand.” Joan still smiled, but there were tears in her eyes.

“For God’s sake, Dave, you always avoid; you always run away. Marty has no family and all of his friends have drifted away. He was going to ask you to be his best man. But no, you just had to be right.” She sighed, blinked out some tears and pulled her hand away abruptly before returning it to softly stroke his arm once again, but this time failing to conceal the sadness and loss she felt since her brother abandoned her.

Even now he had no idea how much he hurt his sister, and yet she sat at the table, holding his arm, there and then, instead of paying back his neglect with anger. He had failed to understand just how big a heart his sister had.

Joan, being optimistic and hopeful, didn’t understand Dave’s next reaction. He buried his head in his hands and wept once again. He started to shake and she grabbed him with her other hand. Standing up, she walked behind him and wrapped her arms around her brother; now even more like a mother than a kid sister. She kissed the top of his head, wondering what would cause such pain.

After a few moments she remembered what she had seen when she stood in front on him earlier, and it came together. There was plenty to talk about, but she didn’t need to say anything more than what the photos had told him already. She kissed him on the cheek once again and said softly, just above a whisper,

“What’s her name?” Nothing more; he knew that she knew; she always figured him out; she always found out eventually what was bothering him.

“Karen…her name…” He paused, turning around to face Joan. The look on her face was the same as when he broke the TV after throwing a book in anger when he was ten; the same look that she had when he left the water running in the bathroom that caused the hole in the living room ceiling. A look that said, “Don’t worry…it’s okay…I won’t tell (she never did)….it’ll be our secret.” A secret kept not to lord it over him, but to protect him. She never understood why she felt the need to protect him, but here and now, it was like when they were young all over again. She smiled and stroked his hair. He looked back at her and said softly, in a voice never heard by anyone ever,

“My name is Karen.” He, rather she looked at her sister, only with a little relief, but still filled with shame. Joan smiled through her own tears as she kissed her brother/sister on the forehead. She said softly with the same laugh that everyone found so disarming, a laugh that usually made everyone feel safe and hopeful.

“I guess, we could change our plans, you could always be my maiden of honor.” She almost giggled like a little girl at her clever remark.

Karen didn’t laugh at all, even though it was a sweet moment. Instead, she put her head down on the table, weeping as hard as she ever had, but not nearly as hard as she would a few moments later. Karen had hoped that sharing her secret with Joan would make the pain subside; that her anguish over her shame and disgust would at least lessen with her sister at her side, but she was wrong. This was more painful than anything she had ever felt, almost like any hardship or pain you’ve ever endured. One of those moments you think things can’t get worse, but then they do; much worse than you could ever have anticipated, but demonstrating in the midst of all of it much more grace and endurance than you ever thought you had.

Joan sat on the couch, a throw covering her legs. Dave was asleep in his room, having wept harder than Joan imagined were possible. She had her Bible open in her lap, and tear drops had wet the page, which was opened at the following'

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation…”

She looked down at the page, holding on tenaciously to the words, ‘no condemnation.” Dave…would never have understood her; she didn’t understand for years herself. She was the cutest brightest little girl you’d ever want to meet. But she grew up making so many bad choices. An adorable child, she was rebellious as a teen, out all night, worrying her parents so sick that they couldn’t bear it. She developed a ‘reputation” which sadly from some folks’ perspective was well-earned.

“No condemnation…” she again reminded herself when she thought of what she did with her life…a life spent wasted for years until she met Marty. They fell in love at first sight, but Marty wanted to wait.

“Everything in its time, honey,” he had said. “My way of honoring the best gift God ever gave me.”

They would stay up all hours talking, getting to know one another, sharing secrets. She told him of her past, her “reputation.” He told her of forgiveness and new beginnings. She told him of her loss, the child she left at the hospital in hopelessness and shame. He told her she was a new creation, all things were new. And she met Marta, his other half. Unlike many girls, Marta wasn’t in the shadows. She was never relegated to shame and doubt because she knew that she was more than just acceptable; Marta was an integral and wonderful part of the person God had made her. Joan wondered,

"If only Dave knew the freedom Marty enjoyed. If only Karen were free to be herself, like Marta."

A few moments later Joan stood in the doorway to Dave’s bedroom.

"Still watching over..." She thought to herself, knowing full well why she felt protective and yet powerless to protect. She wanted to wipe his tears away, but not only his tears but the anguish inside, whatever it was must be horrible, she had thought.

He lay atop the bed over the covers. He had wept until he had no more tears or strength and mercifully had fallen asleep. Joan walked to the bedside and covered him with a comforter. What a picture of grace; she was covering him as much as if he were being tended to by God; the one true comforter from her perspective. She wished the same for herself, being caught between death and salvation; plagued by the one secret she felt she could never share.

She was about to walk back out when Dave suddenly screamed in his sleep.

“Nooo!” His mouth formed the words but virtually no sound escaped. Maybe you’ve felt this way in that half-darkened place between light and shadow when overtaken by a horrible nightmare? Screaming but unable to escape whatever horror you saw or felt? Joan saw the terror in Dave’s face and she knew...nothing would have convinced her otherwise; even without knowing his truth, her own truth made her aware. She put her hand up to her face and almost as if mimicking him, screamed her own silent scream. She fell to her knees, sobbing while grabbing Dave’s arm.

“Nooo, dear God, no. Please God not Davey too, please…no, dear God no….” She collapsed in tears on the floor and darkness took her.

Next: Like a Watered Garden