Chuck crossed another phone number off his list. He never expected a retired prosecutor would be so difficult to track down. He adjusted his glasses and dialed the last number. John Jackson Dailey. The area code was different for this one, so he didn’t hold out much hope, and when an older lady answered, he was ready to hang up.
“Ma’am, my name is Chuck Molinsky. I’m trying to get in touch with John Dailey, the prosecutor—”
“One moment.”
Please ... let this be the right guy. There was a click, followed by a second click a moment later. “Mr. Molinsky, this is John Dailey. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Dailey, I wanted to talk to you about Edward Henry Reynolds.”
“Mr. Molinsky, those records can be accessed. I don’t know what else I can add to it.”
“I have the records, sir. I realize you are no longer a prosecutor and this is likely out of your hands now, but I understand he may be paroled soon. I’m afraid my son may be in danger.”
“Your son?” The old man took a long, deep breath, and then he said, “You’re Jack’s father?”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything we can do to keep Reynolds in prison?”
“I wish there was, Mr. Molinsky. He has two doctors and a social worker that attest he’s completely rehabilitated. He says he has no recollection of ever threatening Teresa. He’s served about five years longer than the average sentence for second-degree murder, and he’s been a model prisoner. His hearing is the nineteenth, and I can’t imagine that it wouldn’t be granted this time.”
“And we can’t do anything?”
“Well, I’ll be going to argue on Teresa and Jack’s behalf of course, along with the current prosecutor, but again, they stopped just short of promising him parole at his last hearing.”
“Do you believe he’s a threat?”
“I think he’s dangerous. I never believed that kind of rage came from his drunkenness as his defense claimed.”
“Teresa is quite afraid for her own safety,” Chuck said, being careful to call Tracy by her given name.
“You’re in contact with her, then?”
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
“As much as she’ll allow. I send her correspondence to her post office box there in Springfield.”
“Missouri?”
“No, there in Massachusetts. That’s where you’re calling from, right?”
“Sir ... I ... we’re in St. Louis. She brought Jack here sometime in late summer.”
“Hmmm. She’s moved again without telling me. You see, I grew up in Springfield, and years ago, we got her into UMass. Then she stayed with my wife and me for a bit before she went over to Charlottesville for law school. After that, I never knew exactly where she was.”
“But you knew about Jack.”
“My wife and I flew to Cincinnati to be there when Jack was born, Mr. Molinsky. She ... she needed someone, a woman, there with her, you know.”
“She asked you to come?”
“Oh no. I knew better than to ask her, you understand.”
“Of course.”
“She was very happy in Cincinnati. She wasn’t practicing law then, devoting all her energy to that little boy.”
“Why’d she move then?”
“The last parole hearing, I expect. Springfield is a little farther away.”
“So if you weren’t aware she moved to St. Louis, you wouldn’t know what prompted it.”
“I don’t know of anything specific. There wasn’t any change in her father’s case.”
“Mr. Dailey, you’ve been a great help. I really appreciate you talking to me.”
“I wish I could do more. Teresa has done as much as a person could do to protect herself. Now we just have to trust God to handle the rest.”
Chuck felt some measure of relief to hear Dailey mention God, and then it clicked. He was the mentor, the one who tried to help Tracy make sense of her mother’s death. “I have great faith, Mr. Dailey. Thank you again.”
“You’re quite welcome. If you’re ever in the Baltimore area, stop in.”
“Thank you, sir.” Chuck set the phone back in its cradle. The parole hearing was a week from Friday, the day after the final custody hearing. He’d only had Jack for two months, but if she disappeared with him, Chuck wasn’t sure he could bear that.
Saturday, October 13
Bobbi sat waiting for the red light to change, trying not to make the young woman in the passenger seat self-conscious. Abby stared out the window, and nervously twisted her bracelet, never speaking after she got in the car.
“You miss him already, don’t you?” Bobbi asked.
Abby smiled, and then dropped her eyes. “Ryan will have a great time with Joel. It’s good for him.”
“Well, Shannon and Chuck were very excited to have him go to the Pumpkin Patch with them. Shannon is kind of an only child, and she thrives on having other kids around.”
“Ryan is the same way. He loves other kids, but it’s hard to share him.”
“Then you must be a good mother,” Bobbi said with a smile. “Do you take a full course load?”
“Oh no. Just enough to qualify as full time. Then I work twenty hours a week.”
“Goodness! When do you have time to study?”
“When Ryan’s asleep. Getting him to bed on time is critical. Honestly, right now, it’s not too bad. I work Friday, Saturday and a half-day on Sunday. During the week, I have two classes a day, and the rest of the time, I’m like a regular mom. Well, kind of.” Her voice trailed off, and she stared out the window again.
Bobbi pulled in Antonio’s parking lot. “I hope you like Italian. This is my favorite restaurant.”
“I love it,” Abby said as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the car. They were early enough for a weekend lunch that there wasn’t a wait for a table. The rich aromas of sauces and seasonings followed them to their seats. Minutes later, the waiter stopped by, then hurried off to fill their drink orders. Abby inhaled deeply. “I didn’t think I was hungry until I walked in here.”
“I recommend the manicotti then,” Bobbi said, flipping the menu open. “It’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to my mother’s, except for Rita’s.”
“Joel told me Rita is a fabulous cook.”
“She is. No one is going to starve to death in my house, but Rita has a gift. Do you like to cook?”
“I don’t very often. It’s still Mom’s kitchen. Joel seems pretty easy to cook for, though.”
“He is. He will eat anything. The problem is that he eats everything. I can’t fill him up.”
The waiter returned with salads and drinks, and took their order for two manicottis. Bobbi squeezed lemon into her tea, stirred, and tasted it before reaching for the sugar. “Abby, you seem to be in limbo. You’ve got so much adult responsibility, but you’re kind of stuck in a teenager’s place.”
“I guess that’s part of the punishment.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, when you mess up your life like I did, things should be less than ideal.” Abby ripped a packet open and dumped sweetener into her iced tea. The teenager wouldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a fleeting instant.
“That’s not what your counselor tells you, is it?”
“My dad.” Abby absently straightened her remaining silverware.
“Sweetheart,” Bobbi said softly, as she laid down her fork and waited for Abby to look up. “He’s wrong. You’ve confessed what you did. God forgave you and you’ve completely turned things around. You’ve got to grab hold of God’s grace and walk in it, like Chuck does.”
Abby sat in silence for several moments, turning over the lettuce in her salad. Then she glanced around the restaurant, as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“It’s hard for me to believe God forgives me when my dad doesn’t.”
“Oh, honey ...”
“He barely speaks to me no
w and it’s been almost four years since we told him. When he does speak, it’s to tell me about all the things my brother, Josh, does right.” She twirled her fork and swallowed hard. “I’m lucky he lets us live there.”
“He reminds you of that all the time, doesn’t he?”
Abby dropped her eyes and nodded. Her dad’s forgiveness wasn’t offered, although she desperately craved it. She was buckling under the weight of unnecessary guilt, certain that God, too, must be withholding forgiveness.
“Can you stand one more old person giving you unsolicited advice?” Bobbi asked.
Abby smiled. “You’re not old, and it’s unsolicited only because I’m not smart enough to ask for it.”
“All right, but first you have to endure a story.” Bobbi sipped her tea quickly before beginning. “I lost my mother when I was young, and my father never got over the loss. He completely closed himself off, especially from me. I reminded him of what he’d lost. He didn’t know any other way to cope with his pain, so through my teen years, he was completely unengaged, uninvolved and uninterested.”
“Sometimes I think that might not be so bad.”
“I’m sure you do. For years, I felt like God was very distant and uninterested in me. I could be good or bad and it wouldn’t get His attention, because that’s the way it was with my dad. I could make straight A’s, nothing. I could get detention for a solid month, nothing.”
The waiter returned and served their lunches, and after a quick blessing, Bobbi continued speaking as she cut a small bite from the manicotti. “The summary, I guess, is God is not your dad, Abby, and your dad is not God.”
“That’s a ... powerful way to look at it.” Her eyes brightened for the first time. “My dad will be pretty disappointed.”
Bobbi smiled at Abby, trying to draw out more of that light-heartedness. “No doubt, but whether or not he ever grasps it, you need to. You are free. God forgave you.” Bobbi paused and looked Abby in the eyes. “So you can forgive yourself.”
Suddenly, Tracy came to mind. Did she see God as unpredictable and full of rage? Who could have a relationship with a God like that? She was miserable, full of self-recrimination because she refused to seize the one thing she so urgently needed, the forgiveness of Almighty God.
That night, Bobbi let Shannon choose a couple of extra stories before bedtime. As she tucked her daughter in, Bobbi said, “Things have been really crazy around here for the last couple of months. You’ve had to be really big. I appreciate how well you handled everything.”
“Sometimes you just gotta do what you just gotta do, Mom.” Shannon turned over and propped herself up on her elbow. “Mommy, is Jack’s mom bad?”
What a loaded question. “Why would you ask that?”
“She never goes to church.”
“That’s true. She probably needs to go to church.” Then Bobbi shocked herself with the words coming out of her own mouth. “What Jack’s mom needs more than anything else is for someone to love her, and to tell her she’s special. I’m not so sure she’s ever had that happen.”
“Jack loves her a lot.”
“He does and she loves him very much.”
“Does Daddy love her?”
What a question. “Daddy is very concerned about Jack’s mom. She’s having a hard time right now.”
“How come?”
“She needs a new job.” She hoped that would satisfy Shannon.
“Oh.” Shannon’s eyes brightened. “I know! Maybe she could work with Daddy!”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“Because she’s Jack’s mommy, and Daddy’s not supposed to have any other mothers?”
“Something like that.”
“Is Jellybean going to be Ryan’s daddy?”
“Maybe someday. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“I think Jellybean will be a good daddy.”
“I think you’re right. Sleep tight.” Bobbi kissed Shannon’s forehead and then turned off the light. She gathered up a load of laundry, threw it in the washer, and then started the coffeemaker. Once it kicked off, she poured a large cup and settled on the love seat in the study with her Bible and notebook. She couldn’t get Abby off her mind.
It was an amazing contrast between Tracy and Abby, but they had striking similarities. Both were deeply, maybe irreparably, wounded by their fathers. Ironically, if they traded emotions, it might be easier on each of them. If Abby hated her dad, she wouldn’t care whether he forgave her or not. If Tracy loved her dad, she could find a way to forgive him.
Her concordance listed dozens of references on forgiveness. “Where to start?” she muttered to herself. “Start with Jesus,” she said, turning to Matthew 18.
Jesus told a parable about a man released from an insurmountable debt thanks to the compassion of his master. The man then turned around and refused to forgive a minor debt that another man owed him. The master was furious.
“Then his master, after he had called him, said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’”
“Wow,” Bobbi murmured. As she reread the passage, she noted a cross reference to Ephesians 4:32. “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.”
Bobbi choked on the words as tears filled her eyes. God couldn’t be much clearer. This wasn’t about Tracy. Her own self-righteousness was the problem. After all, she forgave her cheating husband and held the marriage together. She took in the illegitimate son. She had the moral high ground.
Her reluctance to show compassion to Tracy was not a matter of her hurt, but because deep down, she didn’t believe Tracy deserved God’s grace and favor. Tracy hadn’t earned it.
So God arranged lunch today with a precious young woman to demonstrate what it looks like if grace and forgiveness have to be earned.
“God, help me.”
CHAPTER 22
INITIATION
Sunday, October 14
Preston Road Community Church loomed in front of Tracy Ravenna. She shushed Jack three or four times on the drive over. He didn’t understand she needed to focus all her energy on calming her nerves. Everything inside her quivered at the prospect of stepping inside the church.
Being an outsider wasn’t the issue. She enjoyed being detached, and usually got a kick out of showing up where she didn’t belong. For a solid week, she strategized how she could play this situation to her advantage, and she’d come up empty.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Jack threw off his seatbelt and grabbed the gym bag with his change of clothes. “We’ll be late!”
“They won’t start without you.” She fished through her purse for a prescription bottle. “I have a killer headache. Let me take some medicine before we go in.” She opened the bottle and dropped a pill into her hand, and then decided to add a second one. She quickly swallowed them and washed them down with a long drink from the convenience store coffee she’d picked up. “Now we can go,” Tracy said, opening her own car door.
“Why’d you park so far away?” Jack asked. “There’s places a lot closer.”
“I just pulled in the first one I came to.” Did anything get past him?
Jack led her to the door and held it open. He beamed as she walked in with him. She would have given anything to freeze that moment, that smile, and that gleam in his eyes.
“Mister Pastor Glen! Miss Laurie! She’s here!” Jack announced, and Tracy cringed. Couldn’t they just slip in? Did it have to be a big production?
Glen Dillard extended his hand. “Ms. Ravenna, I am so glad you’re here.”
Tracy shook his hand quickly. “It’s important to Jack. I wouldn’t miss it.” Then she turned to shake Laurie Dillard’s outstretched hand. “Is there a corner somewhere I can fade into?”
Laurie nodded. “We’ll hang around out here until the music starts, then I’ll take you in the sanctuary.”
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“Thank you,” Tracy said, genuinely relieved.
Glen put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Ready, Mr. Jack?”
“Ready, Mister Pastor Glen.”
“All right then. Let’s do this.” Tracy watched Jack trot behind Glen Dillard. He looked up at the pastor, grinning broadly, waving a hand. The pastor threw his head back and laughed before disappearing through the door with Jack.
The music started and Laurie stepped up to the door and motioned for her. “See back there? On the far aisle? You can slip in there without too many people noticing. In fact, if you want to wait until we pray, everyone will have their eyes closed.”
Tracy nodded. Perfect.
“I’m so glad you came, and Jack is absolutely thrilled. Enjoy the service.” Laurie slipped away, leaving her alone in the doorway.
An upbeat melody swelled through the sanctuary and nearly everyone stood singing along. It was a far cry from her memories of John Dailey’s church. There, the worship service was detached, formal and serious, designed to indict and intimidate. John, with his faultless integrity, fit in there. She never did.
The music stopped, and with rustles and creaks, heads all over the building bowed. Tracy took her cue and stole into the sanctuary to the spot Laurie pointed out for her. She had the pew to herself, with no one directly in front of or behind her. She spotted Chuck and his wife sitting much closer to the front, on the center aisle. Would they speak to her? Would they acknowledge her here, in front of all their friends?
When the prayer ended, and everyone raised their heads, Tracy watched in astonishment as Chuck’s wife left his side. The woman nodded and smiled slightly as she sat down on the opposite end of the pew.
During Jack’s baptism, Chuck’s wife smiled, and wiped a tear away, communicating in the least threatening way just how much she loved Jack. Tracy’s shoulders unknotted and with a long, deep breath, her headache subsided.
Several minutes later, Jack came in from the back, smiling broadly, his new incisor showing. He eased past her and sat down. He waved at Chuck’s wife, and she smiled and waved back.
Indemnity: Book Two: Covenant of Trust Series Page 27