JAKE’S TREE HOUSE
Southern Writers Magazine Best Short Fiction 2014 finalist
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by Katherine Briggs
Sally Tenga thought the sweat dripping down her face was bad. The tears following were far worse.
She sweltered in her leather Harley jacket—way too hot for the Houston Texas summer, yes, but she’d never take it off. And she would not cry. Never. Especially not over a stupid tree house.
Sally steeled her emotions and stared at the wooden disaster. Nails stuck out like spikes. The boards were uneven. If her ex-husband saw it, he would report it as unsafe. Like her. And she didn’t need another mark against her and her right to visit Jake on the weekends.
All her son had asked for was a tree house. And she’d failed in that, too.
Sally’s fist clenched around the rope in her hand. Splinters pierced her palm. The rope was supposed to attach to the doorway. For days, she’d imagined seven-year-old Jake climbing into the tree house and hopefully allowing her to follow, to enter his heart again. But the project was a disaster. There we no way she could allow him to go in there.
Sally lowered herself onto the brittle July grass, leaned against the trunk of the tree, and pressed the rope against her forehead. She couldn’t stop the falling tears. They were warm, bitter. Tears of failure, of last hopes, last tries.
She was forty-one. She’d been born and bred on bikes. That’s where she belonged. Why did she ever think she could change, park her Harley, live a Cleaver life, have kids and take care of them? Her in-laws told her to her face that she didn’t deserve their son. Shouldn’t have a kid. She’d get stir crazy and leave. They’d bet she couldn’t be a good mother.
They’d been right.
Sally’s heart broke.
The Bible said she was now a new creation. But she couldn’t beat the ghosts of her past. The ones she’d found on the road, the ones that never left her alone.
She’d tried so hard. She’d done everything she could to make up devastated time.
“Lord,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Help me.”
“Mommy?”
Sally gasped. Jake couldn’t see her like this.
His small hand tugged on her jacket sleeve. “Mommy, are you okay?”
Sally took a breath and looked into his wide eyes.
He visibly swallowed, obviously confused. “You’re crying.”
She nodded, trying to steady her voice. “Yes, Jakie.”
“Why?”
She needed to make an excuse. He couldn’t see her weak like this. He’d tell his dad, and then what? She’d be called emotionally unstable next, sobbing over a tree house she had no business building.
But Sally stared into her son’s eyes. The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m crying because I love you, Jake.”
His adorable gaze widened even further. “Did I get in trouble?”
“No, Jake.” Somehow Sally laughed. “I was trying to make a tree house for you. But I couldn’t.” Her voice caught.
Jake appraised her work studiously. “Daddy could fix it.”
Sally’s heart twisted. She bowed her head. “Yes, he could.”
“Then you and me could sit in it.”
She looked up.
Jake watched her. The simple statement had closed his expression, turning it guarded. But she read his fear and vulnerability clearly.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
All these long years, Sally had ached to erase her years of mistakes. She’d begged the Lord to return her to her family’s good graces, to be forgiven, for Jake to love her again.
All this time, could he have been wishing the same from her?
Tears filled her eyes again. “Jakie, nothing in the world would make me happier than sitting in the tree house with you.”
He smiled briefly then eyed the tree house again. “We could have cookies.”
Sally’s heart soared. “We’ll get your favorite kind, chocolate chocolate chip.”
His voice brightened with excitement. “I could bring my toys.”
“That sounds great.”
“And you could bring your motorcycle.”
Sally froze. She forced the question past her lips. “Why would I bring my motorcycle?”
“So you don’t have to leave anymore.”
Sally stifled a gasp, feeling old pain sear her mind.
Jake regarded her with a gaze far too tired, much too old.
Sally shook her head. “Jake, I’m selling my bike. I’m never leaving again.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
She smiled around tears. “Really.”
Jake’s wide grin lit the world in lights. Whispers of freedom and forgiveness filled Sally, and a terrible weight crawled off her heart.
Jake patted her shoulder. “Mommy, we have cookies in the house. We could eat them in the kitchen, until Daddy fixes my tree house.”
Sally bit her lip and nodded, feeling like she could fly in joy. “I would love that.”
Jake took her hand. Sally treasured his gentle trust and walked with him toward the house. This was a second chance she wouldn’t mess up. No matter the cost. Her life would always be touched by her past choices. But the Lord had given her the greatest gift. She would trust Him and keep walking forward.
“Jake’s Tree House” originally appeared in Southern Writers Magazine’s “Best Short Fiction 2014″ issue published under Katie Lohr.
Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash
