For a while none of them said anything. Then John made one final point. “Remember, the devil has always been behind the sin of pride. He wants us to think we can’t forgive, can’t live humbly with each other. But the devil has an agenda. He wants us to be miserable.”
Tim stared at John. “And you think that’s all divorce is? Two people listening to the devil’s lies?”
“Most of the time, yes. When we say those wedding vows, the last thing on our mind is divorce. Isn’t that right?”
Tara and Tim nodded.
“For me, I was up there knowing Abby was the only woman I’d ever loved, the only one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”
“That’s exactly how I felt.” Tim set his hand on Tara’s knee, and she let it stay there.
“So only a lie could change that, right? Otherwise the love I shared with Abby should’ve gotten better with each year.” There was regret in John’s voice. The regret Abby knew they both carried. A regret that realized the value of all those years they lost back when they were living separate lives under one roof.
“Instead—” Abby finished John’s thought—“we began thinking badly of each other. Pretty soon we were listening to the lie, believing we deserved something better than a life together.”
“When we really needed to stop running, forgive each other, and remember all the reasons we got married in the first place.”
Tara sniffed, her eyes dry now. “It’s all about forgiveness.”
“Yes.” Abby’s heart went out to the woman. “It is.” She felt a pang of regret. How awful it had been living on the other side of forgiveness. Holding on to bitterness and working to hate the man she’d pledged her life to.
John leaned back, more relaxed now. “The Bible tells a story about a man who was forgiven a great debt by the king. The moment he was free, he ran through the streets looking for his fellow servant. When he found him, he grabbed the man by the cloak. ‘You owe me, buddy,’ the guy said. ‘Pay up or I’ll throw you into debtor’s prison!’
“When the king found out what happened, he called for the man. ‘The debt I forgave you was far greater than the debt your fellow servant owed. Now, since you couldn’t find it in your heart to forgive the smaller amount, neither will I forgive you the large amount.’ And with that he threw the man into prison.”
Abby loved the way John could come up with an illustration from Scripture like that. He had always been a storyteller. It was what made him a good teacher, a strong communicator. But now that he was back at church with Abby every week, he constantly came up with stories like the one he’d just told.
Abby searched Tim’s and Tara’s faces and saw that they understood.
“God’s forgiven us—” Tara sniffed—“much more than we could ever need to forgive someone else.”
“Exactly.” John’s tone rang with compassion.
Tara moved to the edge of her seat. “Pray for me, will you? That I’ll find a way to forgive.”
Without hesitating, John did just that. When they were done, he looked at Abby. “Honey, take off my shoes, will you?”
She wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she liked his grin. With a light heart, she stooped down in front of him and slipped his shoes off. Then she returned to her chair and waited.
Tim and Tara looked at his feet, their faces a twist of curiosity.
“Watch.” John pointed to his toes. “There’s something I want you to pass on to that son of yours.”
Whatever he was about to do, even Abby had no idea. It was one thing that John’s toes had occasionally moved in some involuntary manner. But this . . . what was he up to?
Then, with all of their eyes glued to his two big toes, Abby saw it. The toes moved! Both of them. Just a little wiggle, but there was no denying the fact. Abby let out a cry and threw her arms around John’s neck. “It’s happening, John. I can’t believe it.”
Across the room, Tim and Tara looked stunned, like they’d just seen John levitate. Tim was the first to recover. “What . . . how did . . . John, does your doctor know about that?”
“Yes.” John pulled Abby over onto his lap. “It’s a form of spinal shock. Really rare. They’re operating on me next month. There’s a chance I’ll get full use of my legs back.”
“Oh my goodness.” Tara’s hands flew to her mouth. “Jake told me he asked God for a miracle. That you’d . . . you’d walk again someday.”
Tim looked at her. “He didn’t tell me.”
“It’s true.” Her eyes were still wide, still focused on John’s two big toes. “He thought God had told him that’s exactly what would happen. Coach Reynolds would get better. But as the months went by, nothing happened. Jake . . . he stopped talking about it.”
“Well, tell him to keep praying.” John grinned, his arm tight around Abby’s waist. “Miracles happen to those who believe.”
Long after Tim and Tara had gone, after John had gone into their new first-floor bedroom for a nap, Abby sat at the dining room table and stared out at the lake. John was right. Miracles did happen to those who believed. After all, Nicole had prayed for Abby and John. And Jake had prayed about John’s damaged legs. And now the boy had a sense everything was going to work out for John.
She sat there a long time, praying for baby Haley, talking to God and marveling at His plan for their lives. The more she thought about the discussion with Tim and Tara, the more convinced she became that whatever was happening with John’s legs, it was only part of the miracle Jake was about to receive.
The other part, Abby was almost certain, would happen any day now, when a certain couple just might walk through the door and announce that by God’s grace and forgiveness, Jake’s father was never moving back to New Jersey.
By Sunday afternoon, the baby had survived three days, which was more than the doctors had thought possible. She still struggled for every breath, but Nicole had recovered quickly and spent nearly every waking moment anchored beside the baby’s incubator. She was allowed to reach inside and run her finger along Haley’s small leg or arm. The opening was just large enough so Nicole could see her baby respond to not only her touch, but her voice.
There was a tap on her shoulder, and Nicole turned around. It was Jo, her eyes red and swollen. “Hi.”
“Jo, hi . . . sit down.”
Jo nodded and slid a chair over next to Nicole’s. “How is she?”
“Holding on.” Nicole studied the woman. Jo defined intensity. Whatever her mood, she played it to the furthest degree. But here, now, she was quiet, pensive. Defeated, even. “You okay?”
“Sure.” Jo’s eyes grew watery. “Where’s Matt?”
“At home getting some sleep. He’s barely closed his eyes since the baby was born.”
For a while they sat that way, watching little Haley, willing her small chest to continue it’s up-and-down struggle. After five minutes had passed, Jo drew a sharp breath. “Nicole, I have something to tell you.”
She turned her head enough to glance at Jo. “I’m listening.”
“Oh, brother.” Jo rolled her eyes and dabbed at her nose. “Never in a million years did I think I’d ever tell anyone about this. Least of all you or Matt.”
Nicole studied the woman. Whatever it was, the burden of it weighed on her like a diesel truck. “You can tell me, Jo.”
She cast Nicole a wary eye. “Don’t hate me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“See . . .” She huffed hard, searching for the words. “It happened a long time back, back when me and Denny were first married.” Jo wiped her hands on her pant legs and stared at baby Haley. “We were young and stupid, and just a few weeks after the weddin’ we found out I was pregnant.”
Pregnant? Nicole tried not to act surprised. Jo was right. Neither she nor Matt had ever heard this story. She waited for Jo to continue.
“We were scared, I mean really scared.” Jo shook her head. “Like a coupla fish at the end of a line. No matter which way we turned, didn’t seem
to be no way out. You know?”
“I do.” Nicole hoped her face reflected the empathy she was feeling. It was exactly how she’d felt when she found out she was pregnant. The way she probably still would feel if God hadn’t changed her attitude.
“Back then . . . well, me and Denny didn’t have God. No one around us did, either. So . . .” Her voice cracked, and she hung her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can finish.”
A dawning of understanding shone across the landscape of Nicole’s heart. Had the woman done something to end her pregnancy? Nicole reached out and took Jo’s weathered hand in her own. “Nothing you could tell me would make me love you less, Jo. You don’t have to share this . . . but I want you to know that.”
Jo struggled to regain control. When she could speak again, she cast a quick look at Nicole. “I got an abortion, Nicole.” She nodded, giving a single loud sniff. “Denny drove me to the clinic and waited in the lobby. And back in one of them dingy rooms, this handsome man came to me and told me it was all going to be okay. All I had to do was lay real still and tell him if I felt any pain. The pregnancy would be gone in no time.”
Tears spilled onto Nicole’s cheeks, and her heart broke for Jo. She wasn’t sure what she should say, so she kept quiet.
“Isn’t that something? The pregnancy would be gone . . . as if there wasn’t any baby involved.” Jo wiped her eyes. “But it was more than a pregnancy. I was five months along by the time I went in and one of the nurses told me.” The words caught in Jo’s throat for a moment. “It was a girl, Nicole. A little girl like your Haley. Only instead of helping her live, I helped her die.”
Jo dropped her head in her hands and stifled a sob.
“Oh, Jo . . .” Nicole rubbed small gentle circles on her back and searched for something to say. But she could think of nothing.
Finally, Jo found her voice again. “A year later I got pregnant with Matt. We were going to have another abortion, but something stopped me. I can’t remember what it was, but somehow I knew it wasn’t right. It didn’t matter if we were young and poor. It wasn’t the baby’s fault, and I wasn’t going to go back to that awful place again.”
Nicole’s heart skipped a beat. If Jo had aborted Matt . . . She couldn’t think about it. There was enough pain, knowing about Jo’s first abortion. “Matt doesn’t know?”
“How could I tell him? How do you look your son in the face and let him know you killed his sister?”
“Come on, Jo . . . don’t.” Nicole put her arm around Jo’s neck and brought her own younger face against Jo’s older one. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“But I know now.” Jo’s tears came harder, and Nicole saw a few nurses glancing over at them. Jo seemed to notice, too, and she lowered her voice. “Ever since Matt was born, I’ve regretted what I did. I’d a done anything to get that little sweetheart back, to have it to do over again.”
Nicole released the hold she had on Jo and settled back in her chair. “God forgives you, Jo. You know that, right?”
Jo nodded and sniffed again. “After I gave my life to Jesus last year, I had a chat with Denny. I told him what we’d done was wrong and he agreed. We went to church that night all by ourselves and had a little service for the baby. We got down on our knees and told God how sorry we were.” She lifted her chin a bit. “I never seen a grown man cry like that, Nicole. And I knew then that I wasn’t the only one who missed that baby girl.”
Nicole was struck by the image Jo painted. Both parents taking responsibility for what they’d done and asking God’s forgiveness. “What a wonderful thing, remembering her together that way.”
“Well, it wasn’t wonderful. It was painful. Hurt more than anything in my life, if you wanna know the truth. After we told God we was sorry, we asked Him to take care of our baby up there in heaven. You know, give her little hugs and kisses and pick wildflowers with her on a summer day. Teach her how to fish and laugh and love. Watch over her until one day we could be up there to do it ourselves.”
Jo was quiet again, studying baby Haley. “We sort of pictured our little girl like an orphan. A heavenly orphan.” Jo gave Nicole a sideways look. “And that night we promised God if He’d take care of our little orphan girl in heaven, we’d take care of His orphans down here on earth.”
Suddenly it was all coming together. “Your trip to Mexico?”
“Yes.” There was a quivering in Jo’s lip. “That’s why we’re going.”
“Wow . . .” Nicole inhaled sharply. “That’s beautiful, Jo.”
“Yeah, well, the rest of what I have to say isn’t so pretty.”
Nicole’s heart rate quickened, but she stayed silent.
“Ever since I heard about little Haley, me and Denny have prayed till I thought our teeth would fall out.” Jo placed her hand alongside the incubator. “But every time I pray, God gives me a picture that scares me.”
Nicole wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she couldn’t help herself. “What’s the picture?”
“It’s a picture of three little girls, running through the fields of heaven, arm in arm.” Jo paused and Nicole wanted to cover her ears. “One of them is your sister, Haley Ann; the other is our little girl; and the third one . . . the third one is your little Haley Jo.”
It took a moment before Nicole could breathe again. When she could, she forced a quiet chuckle. “Now, Jo . . . is that what’s bothering you?”
“Of course.” She cast a surprised look at Nicole. “I want little Haley to live more than anything in the world. More than I’ve wanted something for a very long time. But if God knows my heart, why do I keep getting that picture?”
Nicole sounded stronger than she felt. “Maybe because I got pregnant early, too. Maybe because you know that if Haley . . . if she doesn’t make it, she’ll be happy in heaven with her two aunts.” Nicole tossed her hands a few inches in the air. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t mean God’s going to take Haley home. You can’t think that, Jo.”
Something in Nicole’s words or maybe the tone of her voice, caused Jo to relax. The fear and torment left her face, and in its place there was only a distant sorrow. “You’re right. God’s going to save little Haley. I have to believe that.”
After a while Jo left, and Nicole stayed there by herself for nearly an hour, watching Haley, silently urging her to keep breathing, keep living. And praying that when Haley was old enough to run through fields of flowers, they would be the ones in their very own backyard.
And not the ones in heaven.
Twenty-eight
IT WAS THE DAY OF HIS HEARING, AND JAKE FELT HE’D aged ten years in the past four months.
Not a bad kind of aging, but a good kind. The kind that made him feel more sure about his faith and his future and his plans to help other teenagers avoid the mistakes he’d made.
If he didn’t get sent to a juvenile detention center, Jake planned to return to Marion High in the fall. Everyone he talked to agreed it was the best choice, the way he could most impact his peers about the dangers of street racing. Besides, that way he could be around Coach Reynolds again. And after four months away, Jake had no intention of finishing his high-school education any place except the campus where Coach could teach him. If not on the football field, then certainly in the classroom. If the court let him, that was.
He’d decided something else, too. He wanted another shot at football. Not so he could show up the underclassmen or put himself on a pedestal among his peers, but so he could play the game the way Coach had taught him to play. With heart and class and honor.
Of course, A. W. had been straight with him. He might not get the chance. The judge could easily sentence him to a year in juvenile hall, and if that happened, he’d spend his senior year in confinement.
Jake had prayed about the outcome of today’s hearing, and if that’s where God wanted him, that’s where he’d go. There was no question, he deserved whatever punishment he was given.
The courtroom was filling u
p, and Jake glanced at his parents. They were talking near the back door, looking friendlier than they’d looked at any time since the accident. He had asked his mother on occasion if anything was happening between them, but she was always evasive.
“We have a lot to talk about, Jake. Your father’s only helping me through this.”
Jake would raise an eyebrow, but leave it alone. Still, they spent enough time together now that he’d added it to his list of God topics— things he talked about with the Lord.
The judge entered the room and immediately his parents left their conversation and took their places on either side of him. A. W. straightened a stack of papers and whispered, “Here goes.”
When the judge was seated, she called the court to order. Jake’s case was first on her docket. “I understand the defendant in State v. Daniels would like to enter a plea; is that right?”
A. W. was on his feet. “Yes, Your Honor. We’ve reached an agreement with the state on the correct charges.”
“Very well. Will the defendant please rise?”
Jake stood up, awed at the strange calm that had come over him. Your call, God . . . whatever You want . . .
The judge glanced at a sheet of paper on the bench. “Mr. Daniels, you are being charged with the gross negligent use of a vehicle, reckless driving, and illegal street racing—all misdemeanors.” She looked at him. “How do you plead?”
“Guilty, Your Honor. On all charges.” The words felt wonderful. He was guilty. There was no sense playing games about it. Whatever the judge did next was fine with him.
“Mr. Daniels, you’re aware that each of these charges carry with them a maximum of six months in a juvenile detention facility?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And that the combination of charges means you could serve up to eighteen months in such a facility?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge sorted through a file of papers. “I see that your attorney has provided me with letters on your behalf. I’ll recess this court for twenty minutes while I read through the file.” She looked at A. W. “At that point I’ll return and hand your client his sentence; is that understood?”
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