And the Shofar Blew

by Francine Rivers

  He understood. “And Paul sold it and put the money down on the property where VNLC is now.”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  He looked shaken. “I didn’t know.”

  “I was hoping you didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Some notion of getting back at Paul, I guess.”

  He lowered his chin, eyes challenging. “That wouldn’t make me much of a Christian, would it?”

  She was making a mess of things. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up past differences.” That seemed to annoy him further.

  “Why are you sorry, Eunice? It wasn’t your fault things fell apart.”

  “VNLC is still standing, Stephen. It’s magnificent. A testimony to your love of Christ.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s one way of looking at it.”

  “You don’t see it that way?”

  “Time will tell if VNLC will stand or not.”

  He had reason to be cynical. Paul had ill-used him. Worse, Paul had allowed gossip to cast shadows over Stephen’s reputation. Not that they had lasted long. People couldn’t be around Stephen for long without knowing he was a consummate professional. She hadn’t come with the intent of rousing old animosities, but to open the doorway for healing. She was naïve—stupid and naïve. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  His tone had softened. So had his expression. Her heart thumped heavily.

  “Dad?”

  Stephen turned. “Brit. Come here. I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.”

  Eunice watched the girl saunter forward. Brittany tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her faded blue Levi’s and studied her disdainfully. Despite the punk clothes and haircut, the piercings and tattoos, Eunice thought she was beautiful. She had Stephen’s eyes. “Your father often talked about you.” Eunice extended her hand to the girl she had prayed for since hearing she was missing.

  “Nothing good, I’ll bet.” Brittany shook her hand limply and let go.

  Eunice glanced at Stephen. She could read nothing in his expression, nothing that gave her any indication of what kind of response was needed. She looked at Brittany again, looked deep. “I always had the impression your father adored you and couldn’t get enough time with you. He went to Sacramento every week to see you. Sometimes he mentioned plans he’d made.” Why did the girl’s eyes flicker? Eunice decided to take another track. “We prayed for you, Brittany. Your father, me, Samuel. Have you met Samuel Mason yet?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I hope you will. You’ll like him. Anyway, we were all praying for your safety and that you would call or come home or the private investigator would have good news—”

  “Private investigator?”

  “Your father hired him right after you left home. Didn’t he tell you?” She looked at Stephen, who still stood silent. “You went down to San Francisco, didn’t you, Stephen? I heard you stayed there for a week looking for Brittany.”

  Brittany looked up at him. “You did?”

  “Yes, I did.” It was a flat statement, no hint of what he was feeling.

  “I didn’t think you cared.”

  “I care a great deal.”

  The girl’s face changed. She looked young and uncertain, even a bit frightened. “I wasn’t in San Francisco for more than a few days before I went down to Santa Cruz and then to Los Angeles eventually. I . . . ” She grimaced, bowed her head, and then tipped a look at Eunice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Sorry.”

  Eunice blushed. “You didn’t interrupt anything, Brittany. I just stopped by on my way home. I have a son close to your age. He’s living with his grandmother in Los Angeles.”

  “Why isn’t your son living with you?”

  It was a rude question, faintly challenging, but Eunice felt compelled to answer. “Timothy felt as though he were living under a magnifying glass. It’s not easy being a pastor’s son.” Or wife. She tried to change the subject. “I heard about your father’s latest project, and thought I’d take a look. He built the Valley New Life Center where my husband is serving as pastor. Did you know that?”

  “He’s always building something.”

  Stephen’s mouth tightened. “How’s Tim doing, Eunice?”

  “Fantastic. He has a nice group of friends, and he and Lois get along very well.” She spoke brightly past her pain. “He’s on his way to Mexico with a youth group this week. They’re building houses south of Tijuana. And he’s talking about going to college in the Midwest.”

  “Any chance of him coming home?”

  Afraid to trust her voice, she shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  Eunice faced Brittany. The girl had no way of knowing she was probing her pain. Or did she? “Because he’s better off where he is. He can be himself. He’s free to spread his wings and fly anywhere God directs him.”

  “In other words, he’s old enough to make up his mind where he wants to be and he’d rather be with his grandmother than his own parents.”

  “That’s enough, Brittany.”

  Eunice tried not to show how much the girl’s words had hurt. “Everyone wants to choose how they live and with whom, Brittany. As much as I want my son home with me, I see how he thrives with his grandmother. So I won’t ask and I won’t pressure him to come home.” She had Brittany’s full attention. “That’s a question you need to answer now. Where will you be able to grow into the woman God intended you to be? Where will you thrive?”

  Brittany frowned, but had no comeback.

  The three of them stood in uneasy silence.

  Eunice spoke first. “Well, it was good to see you, Stephen.”

  “Don’t go. You haven’t even seen the place yet.” He reached out.

  Brittany looked at her father and back at Eunice. There was something troubling in that look, something all too knowing. “You want me to make some coffee?”

  “Great idea, Brit. The coffee is in the right cabinet and—”

  “I can find what I need.”

  Stephen gave Eunice the grand tour from basement to second-story apartment. When they came upstairs, Brittany picked up an army coat. “I think I’ll go out for a walk.”

  Eunice felt Stephen’s tension as he watched his daughter head for the back stairs.

  Stephen poured coffee into two mugs. Eunice heard the front door downstairs close firmly. “When did you find her?”

  “I didn’t. She found me. Brittany showed up on my doorstep out of the blue.” He took a chair and leaned back. “Every time she walks out the front door, I wonder if she’s going to disappear again. But I know if I try to hang on to her, that’ll send her running faster than anything.” He lifted his gaze, his eyes dark with pain. “It’s been awful the past few years.”

  She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about his runaway daughter. “That’s part of the reason I came by. I wanted to say how sorry I am that things didn’t work out better between you and Paul.”

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Well, I . . . ” She couldn’t very well say that Paul had no intention of doing so, as badly as it was needed. “I don’t like to see brothers at odds.”

  “Nice thought, Eunice, but you can’t make someone else’s apology and have it mean anything.”

  “I guess not. I keep hoping Paul will . . . ” Come to his senses? She couldn’t say such a thing aloud, not about her own husband. It was disloyal.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He lifted his mug and looked at her over the rim as he drank. “I wasn’t mortally wounded.”

  “Sometimes Paul rides roughshod over people when he’s doing the Lord’s work.”

  “The Lord’s work? Is that what you call it?”

  She blinked. He was angry, more angry than she had ever seen him.

  “You and Paul aren’t getting along too well right now, are you?”

  Confused, she stammered. “W-we’re getting along as well as we always did.”
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  “Oh. That good, huh?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He put his cup down. “You can’t possibly know what a temptation I’m facing right now.” He looked at her. “On several fronts.”

  Her heart started pounding. It wasn’t what he said. It was the way he looked at her. He seemed closer, even with the table between them.

  “I used to put it off as a stupid, childish crush, something that would pass with time. But it didn’t. It grew and went deeper. Remember that day at the hospital when you followed me out to the parking lot?”

  She wanted to deny it and couldn’t. “Yes.”

  “The fact that you remember tells me more than you might like me to know.”

  She felt her cheeks heating up. How long had it been since Paul had looked at her as though he wanted more from her than her abilities as a pianist or church volunteer? Was this the reason she had come?

  “You avoided me for months, Eunice.”

  “I thought it was best.”

  “You could hardly look me in the eye.”

  “I . . . ”

  “You don’t have to explain. We were both treading the straight and narrow. It hurt. At other times, it made me mad because . . . ” He shook his head. “But you were right.” She clasped her hands around her mug. He leaned forward slowly and her breath caught. “When I saw you in the door-way a while ago, I realized something.” His fingers brushed her hands and she felt a wild rush of sensation. “Nothing’s changed. For me, at least.”

  “Or me, Stephen.”

  “Careful how you say that.”

  She drew her hands away from his touch. “I mean . . . ” She swallowed hard, her breath jittery. “I’m married.”

  He leaned back. “I know.” His eyes gently mocked her. “Married and unhappy. And there’s the rub. I’d like to be the one to make you happy. Not just for a couple of hours up here in my apartment, but for the rest of our lives.”

  She’d felt the sparks fly between them before, but the blaze of fire now frightened her. “I didn’t come to start anything.”

  “I know that, too, Eunice. I know you. A pity Paul doesn’t.”

  Wincing, she stood and went to the windows overlooking the street. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to leave gracefully. Why had she come? She and Stephen had never been able to make casual conversation. Too many currents moved beneath the surface. Riptides. Undertows. t would be so easy to be swept out to sea. What would Paul say if he knew she had come to Rockville to see Stephen Decker? She knew she shouldn’t be alone with this man. What had she been thinking? As a pastor’s wife, she shouldn’t be alone with any man in his home. It bred gossip. She stepped back from the window, turned, and found him standing right behind her. he had been so caught up in her own struggle she hadn’t heard him move. And now she would have to step around him to leave.

  “You know what I think, Eunice? I think God moved me to Rockville to protect us both. And I think God brought Brittany home to make sure nothing happened between us now.”

  She looked up and saw the pulse hammering in his neck. She was afraid to look into his eyes, afraid of seeing her own needs mirrored there. Oh, Lord. Lord, help me! She was trembling.

  Stephen stepped back. “I’ll walk you down.”

  She let out her breath softly.

  He gave her a tender, all-too-knowing look. He opened the door for her, but held it so that she couldn’t pass through it. The intensity was back in his eyes, the fire banked but still burning. “If I ever hear Paul’s out of your life, expect to find me on your doorstep.”

  “That’s not likely to happen, is it?” She hadn’t meant to sound disappointed.

  His expression changed. He avoided looking into her eyes as he let go of the door.

  What was he thinking? She waited a few seconds before stepping over the threshold. “It was good to see you again, Stephen. You’ve done wonders with this building. Samuel said you’re teaching a Bible study. He’s very proud of you.”

  “Samuel’s a straight guy.”

  “None better. Everyone misses you at the Bible study.”

  His gaze held hers. “You can tell them hello for me.”

  She knew then why he wasn’t attending anymore. “I’m sorry, Stephen.”

  “Eunice, you’re the best thing Paul has going for him.”

  She felt safer in the sunshine, less out of her depth. “He has the Lord.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Stephen watched Eunice drive away. One glimpse of her and the attraction was resurrected. With a vengeance. He’d sensed an open door, a small opportunity to step through it. And what if he had? What ramifications? What consequences? What repercussions? He didn’t even want to imagine what it would have done to Eunice if he’d given in to his impulse to take her into his arms and kiss her. What if she’d responded?

  “So what’s her deal, anyway?”

  Startled, he turned and saw Brittany lounging on the bench Jack Bodene used to inhabit. Had she been sitting there the whole time? “She’s an old friend.”

  She stood and came toward him, head cocked, eyes searching. “Did you two have a thing going or what?”

  “No.” He stared her down. “Never. Get that straight in your head.”

  She paled, but tilted her chin. “Why so defensive?”

  “Because Eunice is a pastor’s wife, and the mere hint of scandal could do her a lot of harm.”

  “So, why did she come here to see you?”

  “For the reasons she said.” And others she didn’t mention. He could see Eunice was deeply troubled. Why had she come? Would she have explained if Brittany hadn’t been here? He stopped his thoughts from going down that path.

  “I’m a big girl, Daddy. I have two eyes in my head. You love her, don’t you? More than you ever loved Mom.”

  “If you’re asking if I’ve ever had or would ever want an affair with her, the answer is no. I admire Eunice Hudson. I care deeply about her. How can you not love someone who consistently puts other people’s needs ahead of her own wants? Her son is a prime example of the sacrifices she’s willing to make.”

  “Why did he really leave?”

  “Because he couldn’t live up to his father’s expectations.”

  “You mean his father is like Mom? Well, no wonder.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You lived with her. You know what she’s like. No matter what you do, it’s never enough to please her. And anything that goes wrong is your fault. That’s why you left us, isn’t it? Because all she ever did was scream at you for being a drunk. Like she screams at me for not getting straight A’s, or having the right kind of friends, or a hundred other reasons she can think of. ‘You could stand to lose a few pounds, Brittany.’ ‘When’re you going to stop chewing your nails, Brittany?’ ‘You’re just like your father. . . .’ You have to be drunk or high to live with her. You have to be so out of it you can’t hear her anymore.”

  He tried to calm her. “Easy, honey.” He put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Your mother isn’t the only one with a problem, Brit.”

  She shook him off. “So now you’re going to get down on me, too. Right? You’re going to tell me what’s wrong with my life. You’re gonna lay down the law.”

  She was coming down off something. Pills, grass, speed—he didn’t know what, but he could read the signs. “I was talking about myself, Brittany. I’m an alcoholic. I made a habit of casting blame on your mother and rationalizing my behavior. But the truth is, I don’t have to go any further than my own mirror to see who was responsible.”

  “But you’re not drinking anymore, Daddy. You haven’t got so much as a bottle of wine in your house. I looked. And she still blames you for everything.”

  “I’m still an alcoholic. Just because I don’t drink, it doesn’t mean I’m cured of that. Thank God, Jesus has taken away my thirst for it. But I’m still living one day at a time. I’m not taking anything for
granted.” Watching Eunice drive out of sight had made him thirst for a bottle of scotch. The first drink was the killer. “Why don’t we go back upstairs? I may not have wine, but I have plenty of soda.”

  Brittany followed him and slumped onto a chair near the window. “What’d the private eye cost you?”

  “I would have paid more if it would’ve gotten you home sooner.” He made baloney sandwiches while she stared out the front window, silent, troubled. He wasn’t about to start an interrogation.

  “I’ll have to go grocery shopping later.” He set her sandwich on the table. “I’m low on everything.”

  “I don’t want to put you out anymore or cost you anything. I don’t have to stay here, you know.”

  “I’d like it if you lived with me.”

  “You would? For real?”

  Why should it surprise her? “I’ve missed you, Brittany. From the time your mother took you away. You didn’t have any way of knowing that or understanding how much I loved you then. You’re my flesh and blood.” He could see her struggling harder with each word he said. “You’re my daughter. I’ve always loved you. I always will. Nothing’s going to change that.”

  “You say so now, but you don’t know anything about me or what I’ve done.” Her mouth trembled. Her eyes welled, hot and bright. “You haven’t got a clue!”

  “I can imagine.” It was what he had imagined happening to her that had driven him mad at times—and made him thirst for scotch and oblivion.

  She drew her legs up into the chair. Covering her head with her hands, she sobbed.

  Stephen squelched the urge to tell her everything was all right. It wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be. Not right away. Some wounds took longer to heal. And trust didn’t come overnight. He went to her. Crouching, he took her hands from her head. “Look at me, honey.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of what you’re going to see in my eyes, Brittany. I’m not going to throw stones at you, or look down at you. God knows how many times I’ve sinned. Or how many times I still fall short of what I should be. I wake up each morning and thank God for another day, and I ask Him for the strength to make it a clean and sober one. And then at night, I thank Jesus again for getting me through.”