Kelli lifted a little, looked into his eyes.
“Cyd knows I’ve repented of a lot of things, and that was one of them,” he continued. “I was in my early twenties. And unlike Brian, I’ve never gone back and asked forgiveness. I’ve got big respect for that.”
“Kelli,” Stephanie said, “I’m finally understanding the rift between you and Brian, but I’m not getting the music part. Why did everything change with the music?”
Kelli wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I used to write all the time. Melodies and lyrics would come to me in school, at the dentist’s office, wherever, and I’d keep my pad with me to get it down.”
That time was hard to imagine now. It had been so long since she and God flowed like that.
“After I got pregnant, one night I was freaking out, crying half the night, wondering what I would do. And a song came to me. It was so clear I got up, turned the light on, and wrote down the words. I knew God was speaking to me, letting me know I didn’t have to be afraid. He would be there. He would help me. He would love me and the baby through it.”
Stephanie gasped. “The wedding song? ‘I Will Love You’?”
Kelli nodded. “I made up my mind. I had to keep the baby. And I couldn’t wait to share it all with Brian the next day. But he’d made up his mind the night before too. Before I could say anything, he told me I could do what I wanted, but he was still leaving for college. He said not to expect him to be there. We argued. We broke up. And the peace I’d gotten the night before was gone.”
Kelli started shaking with the remembrance. How could she have allowed fear to override her clear sense of what was right? It took her a few moments to gather herself, her mind lodged in that one space in time.
“I remember the song playing in my head the morning I woke up after . . . afterward.” She always found it hard to say. “It was haunting me, accusing me. God had spoken to me through a song to keep my baby, and I didn’t listen. He hasn’t given me another song since. And obviously He’s not going to use anything I’ve already written.”
“Kelli, back up a minute,” Cyd said. “You heard the song playing in your head the morning after the abortion? You thought it was haunting you, but it strikes me totally differently. Sounds like God was saying ‘I will love you’ even through this.”
A chill danced up Kelli’s arms. She’d never thought of it that way.
“The story about that song is deep,” Cedric said. “I heard you playing it when I stopped by the house, but of course I didn’t know what was behind it. I just knew it was beautiful.”
“That was me drowning my sorrows at the piano the night we broke up. If I’d known you’d come in, I would’ve clammed up.”
“If you ask me, I was meant to hear it,” Cedric said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known to ask you to sing it at our wedding.”
“Yeah, thanks a lot. That’s what jump-started this whole music thing again, and look where it got me.”
Stephanie looked miserable. “I’m the one who pushed you on the music, and I’m so sorry. I thought you just didn’t believe in yourself. I should’ve left it alone.”
“I can go you one better,” Kelli said. “I should’ve stayed in Austin, where I wasn’t thinking about music, didn’t have to deal with the past, and definitely didn’t have to deal with Brian.”
“I don’t know about all this woulda-coulda-shoulda stuff,” Cyd said. “I think you’re right where you need to be, and all this happened for a reason. Maybe it’s time to deal with these things. Might bring healing.”
“More like pain,” Kelli said.
Cyd smiled sympathetically. “Pain is part of healing. Let God bring you through. You never know what’s on the other side.”
Kelli’s brow wrinkled. Did she need healing? She’d always felt she’d moved on as best she could, functioned well, gotten her degrees. But then, until these last couple of weeks, she hadn’t realized that the pain was still there, still intense, until it was resurrected. Was it even possible to get to the other side of it? Was it possible to fully heal?
fourteen
HEATHER FELT A RUSH OF NERVES SATURDAY AS SHE GOT in her car to head to Cyd’s. All day at work it was there, turning over in her mind—the three o’clock meeting in Cyd’s home. What would it be like? How would Cyd receive her? She’d been nice enough on the phone when they set the date and time, but things were bound to be awkward. Heather had second-guessed the decision a million times.
She pulled out of the almost-empty parking garage on Francis Place in Clayton. The dental office where Heather worked was one of only a few in the area that took Saturday appointments—and it was mere minutes from Cyd. Heather dealt daily with clients who lived in the area, but she’d never actually visited anyone’s home there. It only added to her angst. Cyd was above her, in another class. A college professor, for goodness’ sake.
Heather had only gone to community college and barely finished that. In the space of six years she’d worked at two retail stores, a restaurant, a veterinarian’s office, and, for the past eight months, a dental office. She liked it well enough thus far—much as she could like anything apart from singing—but didn’t feel she was accomplishing much. And now that she’d set aside her singing dream, she wasn’t certain she’d ever accomplish anything. Being with Cyd in her home was bound to make her feel extremely small.
Her cell phone rang at a red light. Her insides smiled when she saw the name. “Are you checking up on me?”
“Yes. Headed to your appointment?” Logan asked.
“Unless I change my mind within the next two miles, which I might.”
“You won’t. It’ll be great.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I know Cyd, and I know you.”
“Well. You don’t know me that well. I don’t know me that well.” Heather made a right turn, smiling.
Logan laughed. “Okay, good one.”
Ever since the “old Heather” comment, her running joke had been trying to figure out what the “new Heather” was like.
“I wonder if I like zucchini now,” she’d said two days ago.
Logan assured her she would, told her to do a stir-fry of all the veggies she once hated and behold her changed taste buds.
“I’ll tell you what I know about the new Heather,” he said now. “She’s hungry to know God. She’s hungry to know the Bible. And she’s hungry to know her new self.”
Heather’s eyes misted. Such words had never been used to characterize her. She saw the turn and flicked the left signal. “Almost here. Say a prayer for me?”
“Already done. Let me know how it goes.”
Heather clicked off and pulled in front of Cyd’s house, taking in her surroundings. Gorgeous homes and stately trees lined the street. She could hear lawn mowers, and a couple of kids whizzed by on their bikes on this lazy Saturday afternoon. Seemed so peaceful. Her apartment building was situated on a busy road.
Heather grabbed her purse, Bible, and notebook and walked to the door. She rang the doorbell, then waited.
The door opened, but it wasn’t Cyd.
“Hi, Heather, I’m Kelli. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Heather stepped inside, feeling self-conscious, wondering what Kelli knew about her. Probably the worst. Heather heard a bark and jumped as a little wavy-haired dog came gunning for her from around the corner.
“Reese, no. Come!” Kelli said. But the dog had already pounced, throwing her full weight at Heather, knocking her back a couple of feet.
“Whoa!” Heather said, laughing. “You’re more solid than you look.”
“I’m sorry. We usually gate her when company comes, and I forgot.”
“It’s fine.” Heather rubbed the top of the dog’s head. “Guess she’s a nice ice breaker.”
“Cyd thought she’d beat you here,” Kelli said. “She had to run a quick errand. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Um, sure,” Heather said. She followed Kelli to
the kitchen. “Cedric’s your brother, right?”
Kelli turned as she walked. “How did you know?”
“From Stephanie and Lindell’s wedding.” The second she said it, she wished she’d left it alone. That wedding was the day after she and Scott were caught, and she only went to the wedding out of desperation because he wouldn’t take her calls.
Kelli got a glass from one of the cabinets. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
Heather heard something in the comment. Kelli definitely knew who she was.
Kelli opened the refrigerator. “Water? Cranberry juice? Coke?” She smiled. “We’ve got a few choices.”
“Cranberry juice sounds really good, actually,” Heather said. Her eyes traveled around the kitchen, which so looked like Cyd— understated and classy.
Kelli handed her the glass, and Heather sipped lightly, both of them standing in silence.
Maybe the new Heather could just speak from the heart.
“Kelli, I—”
“Heather, I—”
They laughed faintly together.
“You go first,” Kelli said, “and we might as well sit while you’re waiting.”
Heather pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat. “Please, you go ahead. What were you about to say?”
Kelli joined her at the table. She clasped her hands in front of her and stared at them a moment. Finally she looked at Heather. “We don’t know each other, but in a strange way I feel like we have something in common.”
Heather’s brow creased. “How so?”
Kelli paused again. “I know what happened with you and Scott and how you left the church and everything.”
Heather stared into her glass.
“And though you want to put it behind you and move on, I bet it’s hard. Sometimes, I bet you think you’re the worst sinner in the world.”
Heather looked directly at Kelli. “I feel like I’ll always carry a big scarlet A for adultery on my chest. But what would you know about that?”
“Because I feel like I’m the biggest sinner in the world.” Her head bowed slightly. “Ugh . . . I did not want to cry again today.”
Heather saw a box of tissues on the counter and brought it over. She pulled out a couple and gave them to Kelli.
“My big A is for abortion, and even though it was seven years ago, it’s still hard . . . and especially fresh right now because I just told my family last night. And I know you’re wondering why I’m bringing all of this up.” Kelli dabbed her eyes. “I figured it couldn’t be easy for you to come here, and I wanted you to know that you’re not alone. You’re not the only one who’s done something you regret.”
Now the tears started in Heather’s eyes. She’d never felt such an instant connection with someone. “And it sounds like I’m not the only one who has to learn how to accept God’s forgiveness.”
“No. That’s me too.”
The back door opened and closed, and Cyd came quickly into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I’m—” She walked further in. “What happened?”
Kelli looked at her. “God. I think.”
Heather stood. “Hi, Cyd.”
Cyd came near to her. “Hi, Heather. Welcome to our home.” She hugged her. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Really? I guess . . .” She flicked a tear away. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”
“It wasn’t as hard as you might think,” Cyd said. “And once I got going with it, God gave me all kinds of ideas. That’s why I’m late.” She surveyed the two of them. “And by the looks of things, God was doing His thing, so I shouldn’t have worried.”
“What do you mean?” Kelli asked.
“I came in the door with a question to ask you two.” She looked at Heather first. “You and I are supposed to be meeting. It came to me a little while ago that it might be beneficial to include Kelli too. But I won’t do it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, Heather,” she added quickly. “And, Kelli, I totally understand if you say thanks but no thanks. It’s just an idea.”
Heather and Kelli looked at one another.
“I’d really like that,” Heather said. “Will you do it, Kelli?”
“I think I need to do it. Count me in.”
Cyd clapped her hands. “Fantastic! Be right back.” She dashed down the stairs to the back door and returned holding two flowery gift bags. “One for you”—she handed it to Heather—“and one for you.”
“Should we look inside?” Heather asked.
“Absolutely.”
Heather and Kelli tore into the bags like it was Christmas, tossing tissue paper onto the table.
“Oh, thank you, I’ve never had one of these,” Heather said, lifting it out. “Is this a journal?”
“It is,” Cyd said. “Given with no pressure. I’ve started a million of them and can never stick with it. Some people write daily. If you think you might want to write down your prayers or thoughts about what you’re learning, you’ve got some pages to do it in.”
“Pretty pages too,” Kelli said. “Love this. Thank you!”
Heather showed hers to Kelli. “Did you see the pen tucked inside the spiral binding? Nice.”
“Keep going,” Cyd said. “There’s one more thing in the bag.”
The sound of swishing ensued again, and Heather and Kelli each pulled out a laminated bookmark.
“I was more excited about the bookmark than the journal,” Cyd said. “When I saw it, I knew it was made for you two.”
Heather held it between her fingers and read the words out loud:
• Done.
• Gone.
• Covered.
• Cleansed.
• Wiped.
• Washed.
• Renewed.
• Restored.
• FORGIVEN.
She turned to the back, which read,
As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. ~Psalm 103:12
Heather stared at it, reading the verse again and again, then looked over at Kelli, who was apparently doing the same.
“I never thought about forgiveness this way,” Heather said. “I knew God was forgiving, but I felt like He’d always be mindful of what I did, like I’d never really get away from it. This makes it seem like He forgets about it. How can God forget something?”
Cyd smiled. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? He chooses to forget it. He chooses to blot it away. That’s how much He loves us.”
Kelli was still focused on the words. “It’s hard to believe God would cover what I did. Just wipe it away. It’s not like I deserve that.”
“That’s why I was excited about the bookmarks—because it’s exactly what I had already prepared for our first session. I want us to take a good look at God’s love for us and what the Gospel really means for each of us. We don’t have to pay the price for our sins. That’s why Jesus died.” Cyd gave them both a big hug. “I’m thrilled about what God is going to do in each of your hearts. Let’s go into the family room and get comfortable. Don’t forget to grab your Bibles.”
Heather kept the bookmark in her hand as she walked, staring down at it.
The new Heather is completely forgiven.
CYD CRUISED THE PARKING AREA OF THE ST. LOUIS Galleria, trying to catch someone pulling out. “This is hopeless. If you two didn’t really want to go to the Cheesecake Factory, I would so be headed someplace else. Everybody and their momma is out here this evening.”
After more than two hours of studying, talking, and praying, the three realized how famished they were. With Cedric at a client dinner, Cyd offered to treat the young women to the restaurant of their choosing.
“Back-to-school shopping probably,” Heather said. “Everybody was talking about it at the dentist’s office today. Tax-free weekend.”
“And look, that new Five Guys is open now,” Kelli said.
Cyd sighed. “We’ll never find a spot.”
“Over there,” Kelli said, aimin
g a finger. “Quick. That lady’s coming out on the other side.”
Cyd sped up and whipped around the corner, flicking her turn signal. “Parking spot conquered,” she said, moving into the space. “Now for the famous two-hour wait.”
“Oh, it won’t be so bad.” Kelli hopped out. “We called ahead.”
Cyd smiled as she walked with them. She couldn’t have asked for a better first meeting. Kelli and Heather had hit it off, and the three of them enjoyed rich, open discussion. Most surprising, Cyd found herself genuinely liking Heather. Unlike the woman who’d been caught in bed with Scott—gum-popping, unapologetic—this one had clearly been broken. She had a real humility now and an eagerness to grow in Christ.
They approached the hostess stand and gave their name, and the woman passed them a handheld buzzer. “About an hour,” she said.
Cyd regarded her companions. “An hour, with call-ahead seating.”
Heather smiled big. “Better than two hours.”
They left the restaurant and entered the mall, idling by the seating area with others.
“Hey, Heather,” Kelli said suddenly, “we should go to f.y.e.”
“Totally.”
“The music store?” Cyd asked.
Kelli nodded. “We found out we have that in common too—a love for music.”
Cyd took the stroll with them, but after a few yards she spied a train wreck coming around the corner, headed straight for them— Dana, Scott, and the kids, armed with shopping bags.
Scott did his best to avoid looking at Heather, distracting himself with the kids, but Dana mowed her down with a stare.
Cyd’s stomach cramped. “You guys must be taking advantage of the tax break.” She could hear how phony she sounded. Like she was talking to neighbors she barely knew.
“Aunt Cyd, you should see what I got from Justice,” Mackenzie said, reaching into her bag. “Look at this silver sparkly fashion scarf—” She seemed to just notice the others then. “Oh, sorry . . . Hi, Kelli . . . and . . .”
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