Family in His Heart

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  With his purpose in mind, Nick strolled from the porch stairs and down the hill to the boathouse. He climbed the steps and tapped on the door.

  Rona came to the door in Capri pants and a summer top, her hair tied back in some kind of band, looking like a teenager. She tilted her head. “Hungry?”

  He shook his head. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” she said, pushing open the door.

  He walked in, aware of the changes she’d made to the room by adding a few throw pillows and a new lamp. She’d moved the furniture around and he was surprised how different the room looked. “Nice job,” he said, gesturing to the new additions. His gaze settled on the painting she’d won at the silent auction last night at the charity dinner. He walked over and lifted it against the wall.

  “What do you think? I like it there.”

  Placement of the painting was the last thing he had on his mind, but he nodded. “The colors go well in the room.”

  “I thought so.”

  He shifted to a chair and sat, hoping she’d remember about the talk.

  She settled onto the sofa and looked at him. “Tomorrow I’m going to visit my father.”

  That caused his neck to jerk upright. “You are? I’m surprised, but glad.”

  “I thought you would be.”

  “I called my cousin and she said Dad’s in a hospice setting. If I’m going to do anything, it’s now. I just hope I’m not too late.”

  He rose from the chair and moved to her side. “I hope you make it.” He slipped his hand over hers, relieved, happy that she’d decided, but disappointed. He’d thought their talk might be something more about her. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

  She fell silent, then gave a quick shake of her head. He saw tears slipping to her eyes and he patted her hand, now fearing what she had to say. “Tell me. I’ll understand.” He sent up a prayer that God give him strength if she were saying goodbye.

  “This is taking a lot of courage,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ve known for a long time that I needed to talk with you, but I kept telling myself as long as I was your housekeeper, it didn’t matter.”

  “You are my housekeeper.”

  She shook her head, “Nick, most men don’t kiss the housekeeper. You and I both know—”

  “That I love you.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, then another, and he brushed them away with his fingertip.

  “I know. At least, I hoped you did.”

  “I do, Rona. I didn’t say it before because I wanted you to be ready when I did.”

  “I love you, too, Nick. You’ve opened my world and made me feel like a whole person again and that’s why I need to tell you this. I want to be ready.”

  His head spun, trying to discern what she wanted to say, and he clenched his fist to control his mounting concern.

  “Everything I told you about me is true, but I left out part of the story, and that’s what held me back as much as believing I wasn’t in your league.”

  He tried to speak, but she stopped him.

  “Last night proved that I can fit into your world and it was then that I knew it was the full truth that had tied my hands.”

  “Then tell me. Please.” His voice quaked when he spoke, but along with fear, he also felt confidence. The Lord forgave and Nick knew he could forgive, too, whatever it was.

  She began the story with her brother. Nick had heard some of this before, but he could tell that she was nearing the part she hadn’t told him from the look on her face.

  “So I agreed to drive him to pick up his money,” she said. “I hated the fact that he got it from playing the numbers. No matter how far I’d pulled away from the Lord, gambling is wrong.”

  Nick felt frozen to the seat waiting.

  “Don had me pull over to a curb and told me to wait. He’d brought a duffel bag with him, and he grabbed it, jumped out of the car and darted around a corner. I waited a few minutes and the next thing I know, Don jumps into the car with a guy chasing him and tells me to leave.” She swallowed and he could see the pain in her face.

  Nick’s mind whirled with theories on what had happened. He pressed his hand against Rona’s. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “This is the awful part.” She choked on the words, and Nick swallowed his own emotion. “I hurried off, fearing that the guy wanted to take it back. Kill him maybe. My head spun, and I looked at Don, so cool and collected, and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He clutched the bag and had me drop him off a few blocks away.

  “I was glad to get rid of him, but I asked him what about my money and he said he didn’t get as much as he’d expected, but he’d pay me some later. I knew I’d been duped once again with his promises. By the time I got home the police were in front of my apartment complex. The man chasing Don had gotten my license plate number. What happened didn’t sink in until the police arrested me for participating in a liquor store robbery. I was devastated.”

  “Rona, no.”

  She gave one nod and broke into a sob. Nick wrapped his arms around her, trying to imagine the fear and degradation she would have felt. Her own brother. Nick’s stomach churned, sick from the disgusting situation he’d heard.

  He held Rona against his chest, feeling her heart pound against his shirt, her body quaking with emotion, and he didn’t know what to do but hold her.

  When she calmed, she drew in a ragged breath and continued. “I spent two days in jail until my dad came up with bond. They caught Don and I hired a lawyer. It took most of my savings, but I was found innocent and they sentenced Don to four years, but he could be released early for good behavior.”

  “Good behavior.” Nick’s sarcasm belted into the air. “I’m sorry, Rona, but I’m furious. Your own brother put you through that? He lied, manipulated you and set you up.”

  “I tried to be a good sister. I was a little older and after mom died, I wanted to be a role model for him. He used that.”

  “But you were innocent. You were duped. That can happen to anyone. We trust our family.” The words spiked him. Jill again and his questions raced into his mind. He would probably never know, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  “I’m gullible. I lost my faith in people, my ability to make good decisions and my trust, especially with men. You helped me with that. You’ve never lied to me…except yesterday with the shoes.” She managed a faint smile.

  “It wasn’t really a lie. I did leave my shoes at home. I didn’t say I forgot them.”

  “I guess you didn’t.”

  For the first time since she started her story, Rona looked into his eyes, searching and questioning, and he answered her without her speaking the words.

  “It makes no difference, my sweet woman. I wish you’d told me long ago. It would have cleared up so many things and lifted the burden from you.” He kissed her cheek, still damp from her tears. “Love doesn’t go away because of the past. The past is like should haves. What’s important is now.”

  “Thank you.” Her lips curved in the smallest grin. “Now is important.”

  “And the future. After today, we can move forward. I’m the happiest man in the world.”

  Rona sat in the waiting room of the hospice center, her pulse galloping and perspiration beading in her palms. “I wish they’d hurry,” she said to her cousin Betsy sitting beside her.

  “It won’t be long.” Betsy patted her hand. “You just need to be prepared.”

  Be prepared. She’d been praying, preparing to face her father again and to offer forgiveness. The decision to visit him had been easier than the second step. Forgiveness still seemed out of reach.

  Her father’s violent drunkenness roared in her head. She could picture her mother flattened against the kitchen wall or prone on the floor with her father’s swift kick to her side. Rona recalled trying to free her mother from his grasp and getting punched in the ribs or arms and having to hide the bruises from her teachers at school. The nightmare clamor
ed in her head. Lord, give me strength and Your power to forgive.

  A nurse stepped into the waiting room and looked their way. “You can see Mr. Rogers now.”

  “How is he?” Betsy asked.

  “Resting peacefully.”

  Peacefully. Rona didn’t know what that meant. “He’s doing better?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “Then how much time—”

  “It won’t be long.”

  Rona felt ill. Her stomach twisted into a knot and she swallowed to keep bile from rising to her throat. She had only a short time to accomplish what the Lord had brought her here to do.

  She followed Betsy down the hall and paused when she stepped into the room. Rona clung to the door frame, scanning the large area but avoiding the bed on the far side near the windows. Her cries to the Lord rang in her head. She needed strength.

  Betsy turned toward her and motioned for her to come closer.

  Rona took a step, feeling her knees weaken the nearer she came to the bedside, and when her cousin moved aside, Rona buried the gasp that nearly escaped.

  Her father lay on the bed, gaunt and ashen. His strong arms, which had wreaked such havoc, lay at his sides, the skin loose and white. How long had it been since she’d seen her father? Even before the horrible event with Don, she’d avoided her father for at least two years. Had four years passed since she’d seen him?

  Shame flooded her. God expected believers to reach out to the enemy, to turn the other cheek, to be light in the darkness. She hadn’t offered a dim spark to heal the wounds. She’d allowed hurt and fear to sink her into an abyss of private misery. A praise rose in her heart, a praise to God for His goodness and to the gift of Nick who’d helped her see the light.

  “Dad.” Her whisper pierced the silence.

  He didn’t move, but she saw his shallow, uneven gasps ruffle the sheet.

  “Dad. It’s Rona.”

  His lids fluttered, then his eyes opened.

  Rona looked into his glassy stare.

  “Rona.”

  The single word tore through her heart. Pity, sorrow and remorse overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you.”

  He didn’t speak yet seemed to understand. “I messed up, Rona.” He’d appeared to run out of air.

  “Don’t talk. It’s okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” His words were a gasp.

  Sorry. One small word to cover a mountain of sin. Yet that’s all God expected to grant forgiveness.

  Rona tried to form the words, but her tongue felt frozen. Lord, be with me. She opened her mouth, freeing her tongue and fighting the lump in her throat. “Dad, I forgive you.”

  Dumbfounded, Rona watched a tear roll from the corner of his eye and drip to the pillow. Without holding back, she touched her father’s hand, a hand she had never touched since she could remember, except to fend away his drunken blows. His cold fingers lay beneath her palm as words rushed from her mouth. “I pray God forgives you, too.”

  His gaze connected with hers, this time clear and focused, before his eyes closed again. “Forgive me, Lord,” he whispered.

  Her heart thundered and she heard Betsy’s quiet gasp. Rona felt his hand slide from hers, the sheet sank with her father’s final rattle of breath. Rona buried her face in her hands and wept.

  Betsy’s arm slid over her shoulders, guiding her away from the bed, while she flagged the nurse to take over.

  The nurse stepped closer and pulled the curtain.

  “It’s over, Rona.” She patted her arm. “I’m astounded. I didn’t know your father was a believer.”

  Getting a grip on herself, Rona sank into a chair, facing the curtain, then wiped her eyes. “I didn’t, either. Maybe he wasn’t, but God touched him today.”

  “He was waiting for you, Rona. I really think he lived to see you again so he could say he was sorry.”

  Rona lifted her head, pondering the possibility. A hand touched her shoulder and she jolted upward.

  “If it isn’t my big sister.”

  Bile rose before she could control it. “Don. You’re too late.”

  “Late?” His eyes narrowed.

  “He’s gone.”

  He eyed the pulled curtain. “Gone where?”

  Betsy’s voice broke in. “He died, Don, a few minutes ago.”

  “Why that old buzzard. I’ve been sitting here for two days, waiting for him to go.”

  Betsy grunted. “You were here about two hours the past two days.”

  Rona smelled the liquor on Don’s breath and saw the drugged gaze in his eyes. Prison had accomplished nothing with Don. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest.

  “So how are things going, sis? Where are you living now?”

  “Far away, and things are fine.”

  “Don’t you want to know about me?”

  He tried to chuck her under the chin, but she batted his hand away. “You’re still a drunk and a druggy. I know that.”

  “Witch.” He staggered away and plopped into a nearby chair.

  A seed of fear sank into Rona’s consciousness. Don would do what he could to ruin her life and she had no idea why. She’d tried to be a good sister. Her mind went back, unable to find an answer.

  Betsy’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Rona, you’ll stay for the funeral, won’t you?”

  Rona focused on her. “Yes, then I’ll go back up—”

  “Up. Up north. Interesting.” Don’s voice sliced through her.

  Rona wanted to start again, to replay the moment and correct her slip. She drew up her shoulders, knowing that she couldn’t hide forever. Don would find her.

  Nick paced the family room, then strode to the dining room and looked out toward the water. Gary had promised to be back by eight and though the sun hadn’t sunk beneath the lake, he still worried about him boating at night in the small runabout.

  He’d called the church earlier and received no answer. He’d thought Gary had gone to a youth event, but he might have been wrong. His mind had been on Rona, and he recalled only nodding and saying, “Back by eight.” Gary had agreed.

  By eight-thirty, he’d called the pastor and learned there had been no youth activity that evening. Now his last hope was Jeanie’s. He located the church directory and found the phone number. He hated to be a worried father. Gary had been doing so well, but that was the problem. Gary had promised to be home by eight. He had to start early at the restaurant tomorrow morning.

  He punched in the numbers and waited. “Mrs. Rasmussen, this is Nick Thornton. Is Gary there?”

  “I’ve been waiting for them,” she said, her voice concerned. “Gary said they’d be back about seven.”

  Seven. That would have given Gary enough time to get home by eight. His stomach tightened. “Do you know where they were headed?”

  “Gary said it was a surprise, but Jeanie took her swimsuit and a picnic lunch. Just a couple of sandwiches and fruit.”

  Surprise. Picnic. Swimming. Fear caught in Nick’s throat. “Government Island. I wonder if that’s where they went.”

  “Way over there?”

  “I’ll take the speedboat and go over. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  Nick quaked with panic as he tucked his cell phone into his pocket and darted from the house. He revved the boat and swung out, creating a wake in a no-wake area as he raced toward Marquette Bay. Taking the route around Marquette put him in open water where he could open the throttle.

  He turned on his lights in the dusky evening. The water seemed rough and he looked into the sky to see evidence of a storm brewing. Cumulus clouds billowed overhead, their bottoms slate gray and hinting of rain. He sent up a prayer, raising his speed as he whipped around Coves Point into the open water. Once past Fuyard Point he had a straight shot to Government Island.

  Darkness lowered over the water and drops of rain dotted his windshield. He strained the boat to its limit, the waves smacking the hull and lifting him upward. Why had Gary gone t
o that beach? He could have chosen so many safer ones, but Nick thought about his disappointing day with Amy when he swam alone and didn’t eat his lunch, and Nick realized he wanted the perfect picnic. He’d made the decision without looking at the sky and seeing the storm.

  Storms had a way of sneaking up on people. He thought of his own struggles after Jill died and his year of torment with Gary’s belligerence. God had been good and calmed his storms. Today God could do the same.

  His thoughts sailed to Rona and the funeral. When she called, he’d heard the stress in her voice, but he’d rejoiced when she shared the story of forgiveness and the hope for her father’s eternal life in heaven. Nick had agreed. Her father’s last dying breath calling to the Lord had been a good sign. Nick could only wish such hopes for Rona’s brother. The man sounded psychotic and evil.

  Government Island loomed ahead, its gray outline in the growing darkness. He veered and headed toward the beach and his heart rose to his throat when he saw a boat drifting in the current. His boat. Gary’s boat—empty.

  Nick pulled aside, grasped the ropes and pulled the boat behind him, then tied it. This would slow him, but his hopes rose. If the boat drifted away in the current, then God willing Gary and Jeanie were stranded on the island and were safe.

  He headed around the point toward the picnic area, slowed the boat and called. He tried to listen above the hum of his motor. Through the rain, he saw two forms racing toward the beach, their hands waving in the air.

  “Thank you, Lord,” Nick cried out. He glided close to shore while the teens climbed on board, shivering in the cooler night air.

  “Dad, I’m—”

  “No need. Accidents happen.” He clutched the two in his arms, overcome with relief.

  Accidents happen. The words flooded him with calm. Accidents. Jill’s death had been an accident. Finally, he knew this with certainty.

  Nick dug into the storage beneath the seats, pulled out a blanket and tossed it to them. “Now, let’s get home.”

  Chapter Seventeen