Grace in the Shadows

by Karon Ruiz

  Yes, he had. He’d also promised God he’d live in truth. Confessing to Grace could be his dress rehearsal for when he talked to the rest of the family in a bit.

  “I have something to tell you, Grace.” He set the book down. “Remember my skiing accident last year?”

  She nodded.

  “Because I was in a lot of pain, the doctor gave me pills. Unfortunately, I kept taking them when I no longer needed them.”

  A puzzled look filled her eyes. “Why, Daddy?”

  “Sometimes grownups do things that don’t make sense. I couldn’t seem to stop.”

  “You got hooked on drugs?”

  As usual, she surprised him. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “Red ribbon week at school,” she said matter-of-factly. “Drugs are bad. Didn’t you learn that when you were a kid?”

  “I forgot those lessons. I made some really bad choices.” He shared briefly about his activities on Sunday. He confessed his theft and about hurting himself. “What I’ve done is horrible, Grace. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Her eyes offered adoration. Her words seemed effortless. “I will, Daddy. I do.”

  “It’s my job to help people,” he explained. “I’ve let everyone down, especially God.”

  Grace looked up at the ceiling. “Is God angry at you?”

  The old Dalton would have thought so. For the first time in his life, he felt cherished by the Lord, not kicked aside. Not like a dog eating scraps at the table.

  “I hurt Him, Grace. It must have broken His heart to watch me go my own way. He’s our Father, after all. There’s nothing that hurts a parent more than to see one of our kids make bad choices. I hope you never experience that when you become a mom. Years ago, God called me to be a pastor. I should have been at the hospital helping the Connors.”

  “I slept in Charity’s bed,” Grace said.

  Dalton wasn’t sure where this was going. “I know you and Charity were close. How are you feeling?”

  Tears filled her eyes. Dalton pulled her close. She laid her head against his chest.

  She raised her face and her misty eyes seemed to plead. “I’m scared, Daddy. I don’t want to die. What if I get sick?”

  “We all will die someday, darling. If you know Jesus, there’s nothing to fear.” Dalton’s confidence rang true. These weren’t just platitudes. He really believed what he said. “God helps us to die when it’s our time.”

  “Did He help Charity?”

  “I know He did. His Word tells us children are special to Jesus. Unless we become like children, we will never enter heaven. I forgot that. I hope you never do.”

  “Sometimes I forget Charity’s gone. She was my best friend. We both got Mrs. Franklin this year. Now her desk will be empty.”

  Dalton doubted McCormick’s only elementary school would open in two weeks. Grace had talked about second grade all summer.

  “Charity’s parents are going through a rough time,” he said, turning the conversation elsewhere. “They’ll need our help.”

  “I want to help.”

  “The service is on Saturday. Mr. and Mrs. Connor are really sad. Since you were Charity’s best friend, maybe you could give them some extra hugs.”

  “I will, Daddy.” Grace snuggled near. He picked up the book and opened it to where they’d left off. He continued reading about Ma and Pa and life on a primitive prairie.

  The family meeting was set for nine p.m. Grace should be sound asleep by then. She’d be spared the onslaught of anger headed his way. Once she was out, it was hard to wake her up. It was good that the day’s craziness exhausted her.

  Thirty minutes later, Dalton tucked her into bed. He clicked on her nightlight a couple of times before he remembered. She suddenly sprang up and threw back the covers, her wide eyes reflecting the moonlight.

  “Daddy … I can’t sleep in the dark. Mommy gives me her flashlight.”

  “It’s okay honey. I’ll leave mine.” Dalton placed his flashlight on the floor. White light sprayed across her carpet. Batteries would be dead by morning. He must come up with something to help Grace break her nightlight dependency. She’d need to grow up a little and learn to face the new realities of a powerless world. But not tonight. Maybe not even this week.

  He left her door wide open and headed downstairs where the inquisition waited. He squared his shoulders. Whatever his family had to say, he deserved.

  When he entered the den, kerosene lamps glowed at each end of the mantle. A flickering candle from last Christmas infused the room with cinnamon. Sammy and her mother sat on the sofa while Gordy straddled a footstool. Dalton collapsed into the same easy chair where three days before, the church council had tried and convicted him. Now, Gordy and Sammy seemed ready to do the same. His mother-in-law, Shirley, offered him a compassionate smile.

  When he turned to face them, Sammy crossed her arms and glared. Dalton searched for one of his trusty anecdotes but stopped himself. None seemed fitting now.

  He looked at each family member. They didn’t deserve the hell he’d put them through. Though God had miraculously changed him hours earlier in a dark jail cell, it would take a while for any of them to see it. It was easy to understand why.

  “Not sure what to say …” he began. “Saying ‘I’m sorry’ seems inadequate.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Sammy snapped. “Truth is you’re sorry you got caught.”

  He bowed his head, unable to meet her cold gaze. “I know I deserve your anger. Please forgive me.”

  “I find it hard to believe anything you have to say,” Sammy said.

  Shirley squeezed Sammy’s arm. “Listen, Samantha. Hear him out.”

  He’d always put up with Shirley. She embarrassed him with her hippie-like attire and long hair. Through the years she’d stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong, and he’d been glad when she moved to her cabin, far away from McCormick. But now he saw a different woman. Someone who was genuine, kind, and wanting to help.

  “Thank you, Shirley.” Dalton smiled.

  “Call me ‘Mom,’” she reminded him for the umpteenth time. He usually shrugged her off. No one could take his mother’s place, but … things were different now. He needed a mom.

  His eyes watered. “Uh … okay … Mom … thank you.” Had her own struggle with drugs enabled her to give him the greatest gift of all? Grace in his shadows.

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” Dalton said, turning to his wife. “You were right about everything, honey.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I need help. I’m a drug addict.” Admitting this seemed to loosen the knots in his clenched stomach. He suddenly felt different … almost lighter. Jesus was right. The truth did set you free.

  Sammy frowned beneath narrowed eyes. Her arms remained crossed. She wasn’t budging, not even a millimeter in his direction. His admission meant nothing and he couldn’t blame her one bit.

  His eyes met hers. “Had you not followed me Sunday, I’d still be lying to myself, in search of my next high and willing to do anything to get it. Who knows where I would have ended up. I know I blamed you for speaking to the council … but Sammy … what you did, saved my life.”

  Sammy still said nothing, but dropped her hands to her lap. The bitterness in her face, softened. She bit her lip, as if she wanted to say something but stopped herself.

  He stared at his son. Gordy looked like he was about to explode. He caught a glimpse of Shirley. She gave him an assuring nod and he continued.

  “I ended up in a place I never thought I would be. Jail … it was horrible. It broke me. I still can’t believe I was arrested.”

  “You deserved to be there, Dad,” Gordy said. His son’s eyes pooled and he quickly wiped them. “How could you do this? You’re so selfish!”

  Sadness constricted Dalton’s throat. He looked down at the carpet trying to think of something to say. Gordon’s disappointment weighted him down. His accusations stabbed at his heart
.

  Dalton looked up. “Gordy, you’re right. I hurt you in ways I’m ashamed to admit. I know I can’t change what I did.”

  Please Father … can’t You fix this?

  “I promise you son … in fact I promise all of you … I’ll face my pain … I’ll let God do what He needs to do in my life.”

  He turned back to Sammy. “I hurt you the most.” His fingernails indented chair’s leather, resisting the urge to get up and hold her. “I love you so much. What can I do?”

  “I need some time, Dalton,” Sammy said. She shook her head and looked at her mother. “Mom … please don’t say anything. I need time to process.”

  Shirley reached over and squeezed Sammy’s arm, but said nothing.

  Dalton turned back to Gordy. “Everything your mother told the council is true. Even the part about my car at the bottom of Copper Lake.”

  “Why would you do that?” Gordy’s face contorted with anguish.

  “For the insurance settlement. The BMW was a collectible. Once they reimbursed me, I planned to buy a cheaper model, then use the extra cash to buy more drugs.”

  “I’m not just talking about the car,” Gordy said. “All the other stuff. You stole from a lot of people. I’ll be humiliated. McCormick’s a small town, Dad.”

  Dalton forced his hands to stay put on the chair’s armrests, instead of curling over his chest, a protective barrier. He had to stay open to his family, open to their anger and condemnation. “Again son, you’re right.” He nodded. “I’ve been a thief. Once I started using, I couldn’t seem to stop. They numbed the pain inside. That’s what I need to deal with now. My childhood demons.”

  “Don’t start that again,” Sammy interrupted. “We all had things happen to us as kids. I am sick to death of your lame excuses about how horrible your father was.”

  The tightening of his jaw produced pain under his stitches. “Sammy … how can you say that? You, of all people, know he was a monster.”

  “Grandpa?” Gordy asked. “Grandpa was a bad man?”

  He’d answer Gordy later. Sammy’s comments didn’t make sense. He connected with her eyes and spoke deliberately. “You saw my mother’s bruises, Sammy. You begged me to call the police, remember? I refused, and you grabbed the phone. Are you telling me you forgot how horrible he was?”

  She looked down and wagged her head. “I remember every moment. You wouldn’t let me call. We made—no, I made a mistake that day. I should’ve called anyway, put a stop to it.”

  “She begged us not to. He would have hurt her more.”

  “Back up the truck.” Gordy’s voice broke through. He waved his hand. “Grandpa hit Grandma?”

  “Your grandmother wasn’t the only one,” Dalton said. “There were days I couldn’t go to school because of the bruising.” He detected a tinge of sympathy in Sammy’s face—the first hint that maybe she heard him, maybe she could believe him—while Gordy’s eyes widened.

  “The drugs numbed the memories. As time went by, the pain seemed greater, so I took more. Before I knew it, I was addicted.”

  “You took them every day? Gordy asked.

  “I couldn’t stop.”

  “What about Sundays?” Gordy’s expression filled with shock. “Were you on drugs during church?”

  “I couldn’t preach without them.”

  Gordy swung around and faced his mother and grandmother. “Are you hearing this? Unbelievable!”

  “I’d snort Oxy thirty minutes before the service started,” Dalton continued. “I lied to myself a lot, Gordy. I thought they empowered me to deliver spell-binding messages to the congregation.”

  “They weren’t spell-binding, Dalton,” Sammy said. “Most of the time you seemed rattled and on edge. There were days you couldn’t string two thoughts together.”

  “Really?” Dalton shook his head and looked at the floor. “Why didn’t you say something? No wonder you think I’m pathetic.”

  “I tried. You wouldn’t listen. Not to me, not to your friends, not even your doctor.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I got pretty good at lying, I guess.”

  “That’s one thing we agree on,” Sammy said.

  He refocused on his son. “Gordy … after my mother died, I went on auto-pilot. My appointment at Saint Luke’s became nothing more than a boring job. I lost my passion. Then when my dad died, I came into a windfall. I bought the Beamer and started spending like crazy. I took up skiing and … well … you know the rest. My accident, followed by knee surgery … and … then the drugs.”

  “Didn’t you think about us, Dad?” Gordy’s eyes glistened. “Didn’t you think about what you were doing to us?” His son looked down. “I never realized how self-centered you are. I thought you were tougher than that.”

  Dalton’s chest tightened, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I have been, yes. I hope I can be different. I want to try anyway.

  “Chemical abuse captures the strongest people. You tell yourself you can quit. That was the biggest lie I told myself. I was in a deep hole and couldn’t get out. I thought a new job would be my answer. If I made more money, I could pay everyone back and kick the drugs. I know now, moving to Phoenix wouldn’t solve anything. I still need to face my past and not run from it.” He drew a deep breath. “The truth is, I don’t ever want to leave McCormick. I see things differently. What I believed about God was not Who He really is.”

  “What did you believe?” Shirley leaned forward, tucking a fist under her chin.

  He met her steady gaze. “That He was unpredictable and full of anger, just like my dad. I have been so wrong about Him. He picked me up when I was at my lowest point. He pulled me in to His family. I’m no longer a cast out. In fact, I never was. I get it now.”

  “I’m glad you’ve had your epiphany, Dalton,” Sammy bit out. “But the truth is, it’s going to take more than your new relationship with God to fix anything.”

  She was right. He’d hurt so many. “I know it’ll take time.”

  “What you did to Matt on Sunday … I still can’t believe it,” Sammy said.

  “I can’t believe it either. Every time I look at Grace, I hate myself. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve begged God to show me how to repair this.”

  “Some things can never be fixed.” The way Sammy knotted her fists on her knees, he knew he’d been tried and convicted. He was powerless to bring Charity back to her grieving parents. If only he could hit the reset button. How would he face Matt at Charity’s service? Maybe it would be better if he didn’t go.

  “I saw him driving through our neighborhood when we got home today. I wondered if he was looking for me.”

  “He never came to the house,” Sammy said. “I’m grateful for that. I would have cringed seeing him after what you did. It’s bad enough I have to face Carla tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “At the church meeting.”

  “What meeting?”

  “Not now Samantha,” Shirley interrupted.

  “He might as well know.”

  “I might as well know what?” Dalton asked.

  “The council is having a congregational meeting and potluck dinner in the annex. Emergency preparation and checking on our elderly will be the main topic. Then they will take a vote on whether to dismiss you.”

  Gordy jumped to his feet. “You’ll be voted out in front of the whole church. How will I ever live this down?”

  “They can’t have a felon running the church, Gordy” Sammy said.

  Felon? The word seemed a badge of horror. He hadn’t been arraigned yet but that was only a matter of time. But what surprised him was the sense of calm he felt. Instead of fear, the peace he’d felt in the jail cell settled in his heart.

  “Once the meeting’s over, the bereavement committee will meet with the Connors to discuss Charity’s service on Saturday,” Sammy said.

  “I should be there,” Dalton said. “I need to ta
lk to the congregation.”

  “It won’t be a friendly crowd once they find out,” she warned. “Not at all like you’re used to.”

  “I need to do this. I’m going.”

  He knew what he’d face tomorrow would be not be easy but at the same time, he trusted … perhaps for the first time in his life … in a Father who would take his hand and walk him through. Just like this moment. In time, God would speak to his family. Dalton was certain of it. “I know none of you see it now and I don’t blame you, but I want to show you I’m different. I’ll do whatever I can to help the Connors. If I can alleviate their suffering, I will.”

  “You caused a lot of their suffering,” Sammy said. “I’m not sure you can do anything to change that.” She seemed determined to rub salt into his still-raw wounds. Wait till she found out about Deidra. Would he lose her forever?

  “I’m going to the kitchen,” Shirley said. “Tea anyone?”

  “Yes, please, Mom,” Sammy said. “Make the herbal type. I need to sleep tonight.”

  “None for me,” Gordy said. “I need some air. I’m going outside.” His son twisted around and stalked toward the front door. Shirley left for the kitchen.

  Dalton fixed his gaze on Sammy. “Could we go to my office? I need to tell you something.”

  “You can tell me here. No more secrets, Baxter.”

  He dragged in a lengthy breath, searching for the right words. He needed to get it out before Shirley returned.

  “What is it?” Sammy’s back stiffened, her jaw seemed to clench. “What could be worse than this?”

  “Something happened at the Storm’s … three weeks ago.”

  Her mouth dropped. “I knew it! What’s going on with that woman?”

  “I went to ask for a furnace donation and she came on to me. She kissed me. Not just once. Twice.” There, he said it. He finally exhaled.

  Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe this. What is she? … fifteen years older than you?”

  “I left before she tried anything else.”

  Sammy seemed to cave in on herself. She shuddered on the couch, shoulders hunched.