“You’re still saying it was your fault?”
He nodded. “I can’t get away from that.” He hunched forward, his face grave. “I was obsessed, Ginny. As I look back, I don’t remember much of anything but the hunt, the pursuit of another story, another headline, another bonus.”
“A lot of people are workaholics,” she offered, trying to ease his suffering.
“No, it was far beyond that. Work was my god, and I couldn’t satisfy it, no matter how hard I tried.” His eyes grew hazy, faded into something from the past that he did not share.
Ginny studied him, her mind whirring. When she spoke, it was slowly, thoughtfully. She searched for each word, certain he was on the right track but not sure how to proceed.
“Perhaps you need to figure out why you became so obsessed. What drove you, Tucker? What made becoming a success so important to you?”
He frowned, obviously unsure of her meaning.
Ginny would have expounded further, but her father came back. After that, they left the restaurant. On the drive home, she decided that perhaps it was better this way, better to let Tucker sort through it for himself, find his own answers.
She certainly didn’t have any. In fact, her mind was filled with questions. Why had she spent seven long years believing in something that so obviously was not going to happen? When she didn’t receive a letter, didn’t hear from him, why hadn’t she accepted the truth—that he wasn’t coming back for her?
Tucker harped on her wonderful faith, but Ginny asked herself if it was faith or a blind insistence on getting her own way that had kept her in Jubilee Junction all this time. Maybe she hadn’t been waiting on God. Maybe she’d simply refused to see that God wasn’t going to give her the husband she craved and had made up her mind to circumvent His will.
On these thoughts followed the unthinkable. Perhaps she unwittingly added to Riley’s misconceptions about their relationship, made him feel responsible for her, because she was afraid she’d never be married. He’d been willing to sacrifice everything for her. Was she so bent on her own way that she couldn’t see the damage a relationship like that would have inflicted on her friend?
The questions plagued Ginny all the way home, all through the evening while she helped her father settle in, and into nighttime hours that should have been restful.
Finally Ginny knelt by her bed and turned it over to her heavenly Father.
I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to watch him walk away again. But staying here is not what Tucker wants. I’m tired of fixing things, God. All I do is make a worse mess. So I give it to You. Your will be done.
As she read the well-worn pages of her Bible into the early morning hours, Ginny allowed the heavenly peace to wash over her and soothe her battered spirit.
Go or stay, whatever happened with Tucker now was out of her hands.
Chapter Eleven
Tucker heaved a sigh of relief as he flopped onto the grass and watched the members of Jubilee Junction’s boy’s group roast hot dogs.
Another club newspaper was ready to print, an eight-page edition this time. He saw Tom tease the others and reflected on the boy’s relaxed attitude and lack of belligerence. In three short months the group had grown, expanded and solidified by tight bonds of camaraderie. And no one had changed more than Tom.
Tucker wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but he was very grateful that it had. The boys still required direction and leadership, but each day saw them assume more and more responsibility for their lives. It was a big step on the road to their future.
Ginny sank down beside him.
“I’m very glad to be present at the launch party for this new expanded version of Happenings,” she told him, beaming as if they were her own kids. “I love that name. It so completely captures what’s going on with these guys.”
“I’m glad you like it. Some people aren’t quite so thrilled about our growing numbers or the things we’re doing.” He didn’t tell her of the unexpected police checks that had been initiated by a member of town council.
“There’s always one or two nonbelievers.” She shrugged. “A couple more months with the guys in town and everyone will accept them as part of the landscape.”
Tucker chuckled, his eyes on the assortment of unusual clothing and hair colors that appeared in the firelight.
“Maybe.”
“Hey, Tuck, I’ve got an idea. I need some advice. Hi, Ginny.” Tom flopped down beside them, his eyes glowing with suppressed excitement.
“Okay, Tom. I’ll tell you what I can. Shoot.”
“Well, it’s like this. I know that I did some really awful things when I set those fires. I ruined people’s lives and property and I feel real bad about it.” He took a deep breath, then tugged two letters from his pocket. “So I thought maybe I could apologize for my actions. I don’t know where some of them moved to, but I got two addresses from my probation officer. Will you read these and see if they’re okay?”
Tucker took the letters reluctantly.
“I’ll read them, if you want, but I’m sure that any apology you’ve made is just fine, Tom.” He clasped the boy on the shoulder. “It’s a pretty tough thing to do. I admire you for your courage.”
“You do?” Tom stared, red hair glowing. “But you’ve done way harder things. I’m just following your example.”
“M-my example?” What did the kid mean?
“Yeah.” Admiration gleamed in the boy’s eyes. “You had the courage to go to those places in the middle of wars, to take on a bunch of brats, the courage to let us figure out things for ourselves. I guess I can do this.”
Ginny watched as the teenager nudged Tucker on the shoulder.
“You’re like my guide, Tucker. I just try to follow what you do.” He grinned. “Know what else? Marty showed me how to condense the spaces in the paper just a little. I’m going to put my apology in there, too. I want to make sure everyone knows I’ve changed. Then they won’t have to worry so much and send police checks and stuff.”
Tucker gulped, shifted uncomfortably under the spotlight of Tom’s honesty. Thankfully Ginny’s soft voice filled the gap.
“Good for you, Tom. I believe God will honor your decision to do the right thing.”
“Yeah, I do, too. Thanks, Ginny.” He grinned at her, then his attention flickered to Tucker. “You know how the preacher had those talks about all the things in our lives working together for good?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so.” Tucker didn’t want to go into that—he didn’t see the sense of it. His life certainly wasn’t working out to anything good.
“Well, it took me a while to figure out exactly what he meant. I mean, how could my losing my family be good? How could getting in with the wrong bunch and setting fires work together to bring something good? Why would God even care about me?” Tom glanced around, his face serious.
Tucker wanted to protest, to tell him that he was a great kid. But Tom wasn’t finished speaking.
“That’s the funny thing, though, isn’t it, Tucker? He does care. Look at these guys. Every one of us was on the edge, ready to fall over until you and Marty started this club and got us straightened out.”
Straightened out? He hadn’t done that! “Tom, I—”
“Because of you guys and the club, kids who didn’t have a hope are learning better ways. That’s the good that came out. Or some of it, anyway. That’s what God’s love does for us. If we let it.”
Tucker had to stop this hero worship. It wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve it.
“I was a punk, you know that. A bratty punk who deserved to spend time in jail for what I did. God forgave me, but I had to forgive myself. It was hard at first. I didn’t see why He let me get into that. But now I can sorta see some of the reason. All things really do work together for good.”
Ira hailed him, brandishing a plain white platter loaded with chocolate squares. Tom jumped to his feet, all seriousness disappearing.
“Hey, Ginny, you di
dn’t tell me you were bringing fudge for dessert!” He rushed off, anxious to get his share.
Tucker had to get away. He rose, dusted off his pants, then strode from the group into the cover of the trees. His hands clenched at his sides. Behind him, he heard Ginny’s soft tread.
“If he only knew the truth about me, it would shatter those pretty illusions into nothing.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Tucker. I think Tom would understand perfectly. He’s made mistakes, he knows all about that. But Tom’s also figured out what he needs to learn to make this experience count for something good.”
A minute later she returned to the group with one of the boys who had volunteered to roast her a hot dog.
Tom’s also figured out what he needs to learn to make this experience count for something good.
Tucker grimaced. If Tom could do it, why couldn’t he? When no answer came, he walked to the fire, trying to shed the unanswered question.
“Okay, fellows. Tomorrow we’ll print, then distribute our newest edition all over town. If you can get your chores done in time, we’ll meet at the office, back door, at noon. We’ll have all afternoon to sell them.” Marty glanced around, his face shining with pride. “If we can sell enough, we’ll finally be able to buy a motor for that plane. It’s about time we got the thing into the air, don’t you think?”
“Yeah!”
The resounding chorus made Tucker laugh. Anyone who saw their plane in the air would be certain it was a UFO, and not just because of the strange colors. He only hoped the lopsided wings would hold the body aloft. Not that it mattered. The boys were as proud of that airplane as they were of themselves for decorating it.
They jostled each other, each one teasing the other about his artwork. Ginny stood among them, eyes dancing with fun as she listened to the banter.
She would be a wonderful mother—loving, gentle, intuitive. She seemed to intrinsically know when to touch, when to praise, when to scold. She joined in the fun with no inhibitions, giving as good as she got. Why hadn’t she been the one in charge of this group?
“Okay, guys. Sharing time. If you’ve finished stuffing your faces, let’s gather round the fire.” Marty took a seat and waited.
They took their places, bumping shoulder to shoulder on the logs arranged around the fire pit. Tucker reluctantly found a place at the end of one log.
He didn’t like this part of their meetings. He always felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, when the kids started sharing personal stuff. It just seemed so—private. But Marty had insisted that the kids needed a place and time to open up, to spill whatever was bothering them.
“Tonight Tom’s going to share a little bit of his life. Go ahead, Tom.”
Tucker closed his eyes, wishing at that precise moment he were somewhere else. He’d grown close to this boy, felt a kinship with him. But he didn’t want to know any more about his past, didn’t want to open his heart any further. It was dangerous. And what good would it do? A year from now he’d be long gone. Getting so involved with this kid spelled trouble…because it would hurt.
The knowledge sucker-punched Tucker. He hadn’t realized he was protecting himself. And from a kid, a homeless kid who’d made a couple of mistakes.
What kind of chickenhearted man was he?
“I grew up in a pretty rough situation.”
Tucker’s head jerked up in surprise.
“My mother had a boyfriend who lived with us, and he wasn’t the best father you could have asked for. Us kids could never do anything right, no matter how hard we tried. I guess eventually I just quit trying.”
Tucker glanced around the group, noticed the nods from several of the boys. Then he saw Ginny. Her eyes were riveted on Tom. Tears glistened in her eyes as she listened. Tucker gulped and looked away. He wouldn’t let them get to him, either of them.
“I’m not blaming my dad for everything. We didn’t give him the respect we should have and we disobeyed my mom a lot. It wasn’t exactly a happy home.”
In a lot of ways, Tom’s childhood was like Tucker’s. He’d never been able to appease his father, never measured up to the standard set by a man determined to lord it over his family.
“I suppose it was partly to get away that I started hanging around the streets at night. I didn’t fit in anywhere, and when some guys asked me if I wanted to join them, I figured, why not? At least I’d have somebody.”
There, but for Adrian Brown and the grace of God, Tucker Townsend would have walked. He knew it as surely as he knew his name.
“They were just like me, alone, too much time on their hands. They’d already done a few nasty things and gotten away with it. If I wanted to be part of them, I had to prove myself. So I did. It started with burning a garbage can. They thought that was pretty cool, but they wanted more. So I gave it to them. I became the leader.” He stopped, quelled the waver in his voice, then continued. “When I was caught the third time, I’d set a fire in an apartment building. A little girl almost died.”
Stark silence greeted his words.
“I was at the bottom of the barrel, but I wouldn’t admit it. I’d destroyed people’s buildings, ruined their belongings, stolen their homes. Can you believe I thought I was the one who was the victim?” He laughed at his foolishness. “The judge said I couldn’t stay in that neighborhood anymore. I was a threat. I got shuffled around until they sent me here. I was pretty mad and I figured if I did something bad enough, Marty would send me back.”
A noise in the trees behind Tucker disturbed him. He turned, searching for the cause, but saw nothing. An animal? He wasted a few more minutes examining the darkness as he continued to listen to Tom.
“I got kind of a surprise when I moved in with Marty.”
They shared a glance of love that Tucker envied.
“Marty never gave up on me, didn’t throw me out or call me names, he just loved me. That was a shocker.” Tom grinned at his foster father. “I’m sure there were times when he could have strung me up, but he didn’t. He just kept quietly teaching me about God, His love, His concern. And he kept saying God could work everything out.”
Tucker gulped, fear clutching his stomach when Tom’s gaze moved to him.
“I didn’t really get that part of it. Not until Tucker came to town and the two of them started this group. Ginny and I were talking one day and she told me to look back in my life and trace the events in it up to this point.” He nodded. “I did that. Then I mapped out what I knew of Tucker’s life, and of Marty’s, and I saw how God wove it all together into one big picture. Tucker got injured saving his friend and came back here because God needed to use him to help us.”
No, Tucker wanted to yell. That isn’t the truth. I didn’t get injured saving my friend. I caused his death.
But no one was looking at him. All eyes were focused on Tom, a young boy who stood straight and tall before them, his gaze clear and steady as he told the truth.
“Anyway, all of this is just to say that everything in our lives happens for a reason. Once we understand that, we also understand that we’re responsible for what we do in our lives. I’m going to talk to the people that I hurt, ask their forgiveness. If I can, I’ll pay for my mistakes. And I’m going to work on being as good a man as Marty and Tucker are. We couldn’t have better examples. Thank you both.”
He walked to Marty, hugged him, eyes shining with joy. Tucker steeled himself, knowing his turn was next. His stomach roiled. His palms sweated. He had to tell the truth, to explain. He couldn’t go on knowing Tom believed a lie. But how could he do that without losing their respect?
Sure enough, moments later Tom moved to stand in front of him, his face concerned.
“I know you’ve had a lot of grief, Tucker. I’m sorry for that. But God will use it, if you let Him.” Then he stuck out a hand.
Tucker shook it, feeling the strength in his boyish grip.
“You’re a good kid, Tom,” he said quietly, a wash of humility rising inside him. “
A very good kid.”
Tom grinned. “If you like kids,” he teased.
It was the perfect mood breaker. The other kids burst out laughing and teased each other. Tucker held on to Tom’s hand. He had to say it.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the club, Tom. But please, don’t think of me as a hero, because I’m not. I’ve done some things I’m not very proud of.”
Tom smiled slowly. It was the kind of smile that wiggled its way from his lips to the dimples in his cheeks to the flash of joy in his eyes.
“Haven’t we all?” he reminded. “The point is to learn from them. Marty says that’s what wisdom is.”
“He’s a pretty smart kid, don’t you think?” Ginny stood behind Tom, her face beaming into Tucker’s. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Tom’s cheek. “I’m so proud, I could dance.”
“Not with me. Sorry. I don’t dance. At all.” Tom grinned. “You might talk Tucker into it, though.” He lifted one eyebrow at Tucker, laughed and then raced away.
Ginny peered at him. “You’re doing something good here, Tuck. Something very, very good.”
“Yeah.” For once Tucker ignored the guilt and enjoyed the moment. He looped his arm through Ginny’s and led her toward the food table. “Did you save any of that fudge for me?” he whispered after spying the empty plate.
She slipped a foil-wrapped square out of her pocket.
“One piece,” she whispered, slipping it into his hand.
“You know—” he bit off a chunk and let it melt on his tongue “—it occurs to me that I should provide the food once in a while.”
“You cook?” Her nose wrinkled up suspiciously.
He tilted his chin defiantly. “Of course I cook. Sort of. Actually, I was thinking of a restaurant meal.”
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