And maybe he could find out what was going on in that pretty head of hers.
Before he put the car in reverse, his phone pinged with a text. It was Dr. Hobgood.
Call me. Important. Clifton Watson.
As he stared at the text, he felt his heart seize up on him. Had his biological father taken a turn for the worse? Would he die before he found out he had another son and his ex-wife had lied to him for twenty-eight years?
He waved at Charly as she exited the parking lot. As soon as she left, he called Dr. Hobgood. He answered on the second ring.
“Butler?”
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you? You said it was important, about Mr. Watson?”
“Yes.” The doctor cleared his throat loudly. “When did you submit samples to be tested for a match with Clifton?”
“Yesterday, sir. Are they already back?” Usually the turnaround, on a rush job, was three days.
“They are, and you are a seventy-five percent match. Is it possible you’re related to Clifton Watson?” He paused. “And does he know you’ve indicated an interest in becoming a living donor? It’s not an easy surgery, son.”
“I have reason to believe I am related to Mr. Watson. He doesn’t know, and I’d like to be able to talk to him before you say anything, if possible.”
“I trust you know what you’re doing. Let’s meet and talk about this in the morning. Say eight?”
“I’ll be there, sir. And thank you for letting me know.”
“I’ll pray for you. Like I said, it’s not an easy thing you’re thinking about doing.”
“I appreciate it.”
They ended the call, and he sat there, staring at the church building.
The last time he talked to Clifton, his father, he told him God was in control. How could he possibly know? All those people in there tonight. What did they know of God’s grace? They all seemed to understand it.
At this moment, his stomach told him he was hungry, and his gut was telling him he had a lot of thinking to do.
By the time Charly got home, the shadows were lengthening, but there was still plenty of daylight for whatever they decided to do. She felt reticent, as if she needed to sit still. Wait. Listen.
When she entered her front door, she had to smile. There, spread out on her breakfast bar, was a full KFC meal: chicken, potatoes and gravy, slaw, and biscuits.
“How did you know I needed biscuits tonight?”
He shrugged. “I had a feeling. Plus, I needed comfort food too.” His eyes dimmed. “Hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me.”
“Not at all. I would be glad to go somewhere, but I didn’t want to be around people tonight.”
“I’m sorry . . .”
“No, not you, I mean other people.” She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her cheeks. Why did she have to be blessed with such a fair complexion that blushed at the drop of a hat? Real smooth, Charlotte Anne.
“Oh.” His face relaxed in a smile.
She twisted her lips in an embarrassed grin. “I see you found everything.”
“Including ice-cold sweet tea. It is the bomb.” He held up his glass and looked at it with adoration. “Amazing.”
She gave him a slight curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir.” She pulled out her ultra-Southern drawl. “Ev’ry Southe’n girl has to learn how to make sweet tea before she leaves her mama, you know.” She took a glass from him and nodded at him in her most genteel manner as he pushed her stool in for her.
“I was not aware, but it is a wonderful skill to have.” He laughed. “Tell me, is sweet tea on the list for debutantes in this neck of the woods?”
“Well, it should be.” She took a sip and sighed with pleasure. “Do you mind if I bless our meal?”
He looked surprised but not entirely. “Of course not.”
She felt nervous. She had prayed in front of people all her life, but this felt different. It wasn’t one of those public “should” prayers, but an intimate, moment with God along with someone who might not be a believer.
“God, thank You for this food and for Rance for providing it. Thank You for the time we spend together, and for his friendship. Thank You for the message we heard tonight, and for Your amazing grace. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.”
He turned toward her with a gentle smile. “That was nice.”
There was the heat in her face again. “Thanks.” She concentrated on putting a napkin in her lap and then pulled her hair over her shoulders.
“Tonight was interesting.”
“I was afraid you would be bored. I’m glad Bro. Bill mixed it up a little bit tonight.” She grinned and selected her piece of still-hot chicken. Why was she so nervous?
“No, not bored. Grace is not a topic that comes up in my everyday conversation.” He chuckled.
“Well, now you can think about it when you jump out of an airplane or bungee off a cliff.”
He laughed out loud. “I might.” He sobered. “I may not be doing either of those for a while.”
She glanced at him and stopped short at the frown on his face. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’ve had family stuff crop up. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“I respect your privacy, but if you need someone to talk to, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ll know more after tomorrow, but thanks.”
They ate in companionable silence, broken by a comment now and then.
“I can’t eat another bite.” Charly held her stomach.
“Maybe a little stroll along the waves?” Rance motioned toward the French doors with his head, raising his eyebrows.
Charly nodded. “I think that would do the trick.”
The stiff ocean breeze blew the cobwebs from Rance’s mind. So many things to think about. If he had doubt that Clifton was his biological father, his doubt was gone with a seventy-five percent match in blood and genetic testing. Fifty percent was acceptable for blood relations.
He had been so lost in his own thoughts since the phone call, he almost forgot the girl next to him, and she was hard to forget. He was beginning to realize it, the more time he spent with her. Charly was quiet, sensitive to the fact he was pondering. Some girls would take his silence as a sign he wasn’t interested. He had a feeling Charly wasn’t like most girls he had dated.
He reached down and took her hand, and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile. A fleeting thought prompted him to kiss her, but he didn’t. She had a very kissable mouth. Instead, he drew her hand up to his elbow and pulled her closer as they walked, her hand tucked into his arm.
From a distance, he could see bonfires on the beach in the Huntington Beach State Park section. He was glad to be away from the fray. At one time, he would have been in the middle of it.
“Penny for them?” He squeezed her hand and linked their fingers, stopping her for a moment. She looked wistful.
She grinned. “It’ll cost you more than a penny, mister.”
“Okay, piece of chicken for your thoughts?” He winked and then chuckled as she blushed.
“I was thinking about the service tonight.”
“What about it?”
“Well, about you.”
“What about me?” He tensed. Here we go. She’s concerned for my soul. An inner sigh tried to get him to back away from her, but instead he steeled himself for the conversation.
“I don’t really know you, do I?” She dropped her eyes. “My spiritual life, my church life, is such a big part of me and has been forever, it seems, and I don’t know where you stand, or if you even believe in God.” She looked away at the ocean for a minute. “I guess I’ve never been faced with this before now.”
He looked away for a minute. When he looked back at her, he was at a loss. “Not something I’ve been faced with, either.”
“You said the service was interesting. In what way?”
He thought a minute. “I guess I never thought about God as a pe
rson who thought we were important. I’ve heard the ‘God is in control’ thing but never thought about it applying to me.” It didn’t make much sense, to him, as he said it.
“I know what you mean. I’m confident in His grace, but sometimes I let myself get angry with God.” She bowed her head, obviously embarrassed. When she looked up, there was a mist in her eyes. “And then I push Him away.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t recommend it.”
“Does He care when we get angry?”
“Oh, I think He cares, and I think He understands. That’s what I hold on to. If I thought I’d lose my salvation because I get angry, I would have given up by now. God doesn’t hold a grudge. Unfortunately, sometimes I do.” She shrugged. “I’m not very good at this.”
“I think you’re doing fine. My parents never went to church. I went a few times with my dad’s parents, but it was so boring. It was a lot of standing up and sitting down and kneeling. I don’t remember it being personal the way this was tonight.”
Chapter Fifteen
Personal. It was an interesting way to think about God. Could it be He cares about individuals on a personal level?
Rance still had it on his mind as he drove to the hospital the next morning to meet Dr. Hobgood. He had decisions to make. Was he willing to sacrifice a few months of his life to donate a kidney to a man who, according to his mother, forced her to run away and leave both him and her son?
Sure, he had only met the man a couple of times, but he felt as though they had a connection. He liked the man. He didn’t seem to be the monster to which his mother compared him. Or did his anger toward his mother make him look at Clifton through rose-colored glasses? Was he considering this to spite her? To get even?
He walked into the hospital annex and turned toward the elevators to go to the kidney specialist’s office suite on the fourth floor. He was here for information, not to sign a contract. Surely there was another family member who could donate? What about this brother in prison?
He entered the empty waiting room and acknowledged the receptionist who was gathering things to start her day. He was early, at the doctor’s request.
“You must be Dr. Butler.” Her eyebrows shot up when he smiled, not an unusual happening for him. He sighed.
“I am.”
“Come on back. Patients won’t be arriving until nine, so you’ve got him all to yourself.”
“Thanks.” He made his way through the long hallway of examining rooms to Dr. Hobgood’s office at the very back. The doctor was going through a thick file on his desk and looked up when he heard Rance’s soft knock on the doorframe.
“Rance, good to see you.” He stood and shook his hand, gesturing for him to sit in the soft leather chair in front of his desk.
“Thanks for letting me come in early. I’m not ready to commit to anything, understand.”
“Wise decision.”
“Not making one?” Rance chuckled.
“Not making a rash one.” Dr. Hobgood looked at the younger man over his reading glasses. “Have you spoken to Mr. Watson?”
“Not about this.” Rance paused, putting his elbows on his knees, linking his hands together in front of him as he leaned forward. “I’ve come across some information in the last few weeks leading me to believe I haven’t been in possession of all the facts of my heritage.” He wasn’t ready to say out loud, yet, that Clifton Watson was his father. Somehow saying it made it too personal, too real. He had to stay above the anger and hurt that went with this knowledge.
“And because of this information, you are not surprised you were such a close match.”
Rance nodded. “Exactly. I know he has a son in prison. Was he approached about his father’s condition?”
“He was. He offered as soon as he heard, but he wasn’t a good match. That, plus his long-time drug abuse has put his own health at risk.”
The doctor shook his head. “I’ve known Clifton for a long time and knew his father. He wasn’t always the man you see now. He was hard and tough on his son as his dad was on him, and they didn’t get along most of the time. I understand his son, Sam, has had a change of heart while in prison, and I think it got Clifton’s attention as well.” He took a deep breath. “Sad situation.”
“Where is the son?” An idea was taking hold. He had no idea if it was a good one or not, but it was an idea.
He’d never visited anyone in prison before. There’s a first time for everything.
For the first time in a long time, Charly dreaded the beginning of a summer session of classes. Up to now she had been able to get most of them done online, and now she was down to the last few classes. This particular one required on-campus attendance, four days a week for four weeks. It would keep her busier than she preferred, and even more now that there was a certain blue-eyed young doctor vying for attention.
Driving north on Highway 17 toward Coastal Carolina University in Myrtle Beach, she shook her head in disbelief. How did someone like Rance find himself attracted to someone like her? Not that she was an ogre or anything, but, seriously. Rance Butler? He was someone special. She was so not special.
“God, I don’t know what You’ve got in mind for Rance and me, but it’s a little scary.” The niggling fear and insecurity was always there, simmering beneath the surface. She could hide it for a little while, but sometimes it swamped her and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Some people would call it a panic attack. She looked at it as one more way God didn’t care about her as much as everyone thought.
She pulled into the parking lot closest to her building on the campus of her alma mater and pulled out the schedule. Since this class met so often and for so long, she could only take one class this session. This made it a little less daunting.
She felt herself relax. More time to work with Emma and more time for Rance. The thought of his brilliant smile and bright blue eyes made her insecurity a little lower. Being on campus didn’t hurt either. There are comfort foods, and there are comfort places. This campus was one of her comfort places.
Bag in tow, she headed to her class, noting the slow progress of the students heading to the first day of class. Most of them had coffee in hand, including herself. She was thankful there was a coffee shop with a drive through on the way into town.
There were several familiar faces and a few new ones, all ready to delve into a graduate-level education class.
She turned to sit and found herself face-to-chest with one of her classmates who had apparently been eyeing the same seat.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you.” She looked up to see a rather thin young man towering over her, smiling awkwardly.
“That’s a new one. Usually people notice me for nothing but my height. And the weather up here is fine, by the way.” He gestured for her to take the seat in his stead.
“How . . .”
He held his hand up. “How tall am I anyway? Six-feet, seven inches.”
Charly laughed. “You’ve taken all the guess-work out of meeting new people, haven’t you?”
“May as well. When you’re me, you know where the conversation is going to go, and it’s my height. By the way, my name is Jake. Jake Prince.” He stuck out his hand.
She accepted his firm handshake with a smile. “Charly Livingston. Where do you teach?”
“Special ed at Waccamaw Middle. You?”
“Georgetown Middle! Why have I not seen you at any department meetings?”
Jake grinned. “I got the job last week. I was at an elementary school in Myrtle Beach this past year and wanted to move into middle or high school this year.”
“Hard to get down to their level, huh?” She couldn’t stifle the giggle threatening to burst forth.
He pointed to her and laughed. “Very funny, but somewhat true. I stayed bent over so much I was afraid I would end up stooped before my time.” He rubbed the back of his neck and waggled his eyebrows comically. “Hey, would you be interested in carpooling? I’m renting a place at Surfside.”
“Sure. I’m between Murrells Inlet and North Litchfield, so I go right through there.”
“Great.”
They exchanged cell numbers and looked up in surprise when the teacher spoke to them directly. “If you’re both done arranging your date, we’d like to get started.”
Charly felt the heat rise to her hairline and shifted quickly into the seat, Jake folding himself into the seat behind her.
She felt her phone buzz with a text, so she carefully and unobtrusively opened it to see a text from Jake.
Does this mean we’re dating? Because it usually is much harder for me.
Controlling her laughter was proving harder than she ever thought possible. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad summer after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Before the information that was an explosion to the world as he knew it, Rance would have used his day off to sleep, study, or maybe talk Charly into goofing off with him at the beach all day. She had class today, so instead, he was driving two and a half hours to Ridgeland Correctional Institute, about an hour or so south of Charleston.
He had a brother there. He shook his head at the thought.
He flipped through the radio stations, trying to find some old-time rock-n-roll. When he scanned through to a clear station, a few words caught him.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound . . .
It was, and it wasn’t, the song from his visit to Calvary Church. A little different rhythm, and then there was a chorus added, talking about chains, and being set free.
Set free from what?
He hit the scan button again, looking for something he didn’t have to think about. When all he could find was modern country, he switched the radio off. He had nothing against country music, but who could beat the classics? He pushed a button and a CD started playing Johnny Cash. It was one of those “best of” compilations with songs from various times in his career.
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