Reclaiming Charity (The Potter's House Books Book 21)

by Marion Ueckermann

  “Oh, Brody. I’m so sorry. I never knew.” Faith sounded so contrite, and Madison was sure that had his sister known all of this when she’d answered his call, she would never have come down on Brody so harshly. “H–how long have you known? How did you find out?”

  “I stumbled across my birth certificate when I was ten,” Brody said, speaking a little easier now. Would confiding in them set him free from this lifetime of pain? “I couldn’t understand why some other woman’s name was on the document, so I confronted Mom and Dad later that night after dinner, when you and Tyler were in bed. Dad didn’t tell me the whole ugly truth right away, but as I probed for answers over the years, he offered more and more details about my mother leaving me…leaving him. It was as painful for him to revisit that time in his life as it was for me to hear the truth.

  “I–I’ve suffered with abandonment issues since I was a young boy. M–maybe that is why I am the way I am today—always trying to control, to keep people close to me, fearful of losing them…” His gaze sought Madison’s, pleading with her to understand as he whispered, “I–I’m so sorry for all I’ve put you through. Please, forgive me.”

  Tears trailed down Madison’s cheeks as she nodded. Her going to New York and taking Charity with her must’ve seemed like the biggest betrayal for Brody. No wonder he’d reacted the way he had. It was starting to make sense now.

  Faith’s soft voice soothed. “You need help to overcome those feelings of rejection, Brody. For yourself, but mostly to save your crumbling marriage. And the first place you need to start is in your relationship with God.”

  She took a deep breath. “I know that I told you the other day I wouldn’t preach to you, but I’m sorry, I need to make an exception because what I’m about to say, needs to be said. So please, grant me the soapbox just this once.”

  Brody’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Go on.”

  Faith didn’t hesitate. “Would it help you to know that Jesus, the Son of God, felt abandoned too?”

  Brody’s brows arched upward. “He did?”

  “Yes. On the cross when He was crucified for our sins, He cried out to His Father, ‘My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?’”

  Faith’s words penetrated deep into Madison’s soul. And by the look on Brody’s face, his too.

  “And then He cried out again,” Faith continued. “Likely the same anguished question, before He blew out His final breath. Jesus died feeling forsaken by the most important person in His life—His Father. He knows how you’re feeling, Brody. But He conquered death. He conquered sin. And He conquered that abandonment, your abandonment, on the cross. He has said that He will never leave us, never forsake us.”

  Madison cracked a smile. That was Charity’s favorite verse.

  “Brody…Madison… For too long you’ve been painting your own pictures of what your life should be like. Why don’t you put your palettes down and let the Master artist finish the canvas of your life? Allow Him to create the masterpiece you both never could.”

  “I–I’d like that.” Brody glanced at Madison.

  She nodded. “So would I.”

  With a smile that spoke of a weight lifting from Brody, he said, “Faith, would you help Madison and me to pray…” He turned to Madison. “What did Charity’s pastor call it?”

  “The sinner’s prayer.” Madison remembered Pastor Andy praying that prayer at the end of every service, inviting anyone in the congregation to say the words after him.

  The strangest feeling of excitement welled up in Madison’s chest. She clasped Brody’s hand tightly and leaned on his shoulder. Their lives were about to change, but there was no doubt in her mind that it would be for the better.

  Far, far better.

  Before Madison and Brody bade farewell to a traumatic day, they knelt beside their bed and prayed together for the very first time, thanking God for their daughter’s safety, and for His relentless love in pursuing them and bringing them salvation. They had spent the evening confessing the things they’d done to each other, asking each other for forgiveness, making things right. Madison had never felt as close to her husband. And more importantly, to God. She loved it and wanted to savor this feeling every day of her life.

  As they slid between the sheets, Brody reached out to retrieve the Bible they’d borrowed from the collection Charity had in her room. Tomorrow, they would go out and buy their own so that they could write in them and make bright-colored highlights—just as Charity was fond of doing. After all, they were artists and they loved painting their world with color.

  Brody kissed her head and opened the Bible to the middle. “Where should we start?”

  Madison turned to him and smiled. She loved this man so much. “Usually I’d say at the beginning, but Faith suggested we start at the book of John in the New Testament…not first John, remember.”

  Brody chuckled. “I remember.”

  He flipped back to the index in the front then trailed a finger down the New Testament books until he found John. He turned to the page indicated and began reading aloud. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

  They took turns reading one chapter each, until it was Madison’s turn to read chapter six. Jesus feeds the five thousand. Madison looked forward to that one, but she was also tired. It had been a draining day.

  A yawn slipped from her mouth, and she covered her mouth to hide it.

  “You’re tired. We should get some sleep.” Brody closed the Bible. He set it down on the nightstand then turned out the light. Moonlight filtered in through the windows, the curtains not drawn. “We can read more tomorrow, all right?”

  Madison nodded and snuggled into his arms, once again feeling the need to set things right. She was certain with time they’d both learn to fully forgive each other, and themselves. “Brody, again, I’m so sorry for all I’ve done to increase your anxieties.”

  “My love, you never knew. And I should have told you all a long, long time ago. I should have told everyone. I feel so free since I exposed the secret I’ve lived with for thirty-four long years, like this gigantic burden has rolled away. Please forgive me for not trusting you with that part of me.”

  Reaching up, she planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I forgive you.”

  Brody tightened his embrace and rested his head on Madison’s.

  One thing still weighed on her mind. Brody hadn’t said if he knew who his mother was, or if he’d ever met her. In the light of their newfound transparency, she would ask rather than live with uncertainty and secrets again.

  “Brody,” she whispered. “Do you know who your mother is? Did you ever get to meet her?”

  He sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising as he filled his lungs. “My whole life I’ve worked and strived to be worthy of my mother’s love, thinking that perhaps she would notice and reach out to me. She never did.”

  So he did know who she was.

  “According to my birth certificate, my mother’s name was Eleanor Sanderson. But the world, especially the art world, knows her as Ellie Sanders.”

  Madison shot upright and stared at her husband. She couldn’t have been more shocked if Brody had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. No wonder he was so adamant she didn’t go. How much deeper he must’ve felt betrayed than she’d first thought.

  That’s why Ellie Sanders had looked so familiar to her when they first met in person. How had she not seen the resemblance between her and Brody? And as for Ellie’s comment about Charity’s eyes being like her father’s… Without a doubt, the woman knew that Brody was her son. But Madison couldn’t tell her husband that. Not now. One day, though, when the time was right, she would.

  “I…”

  “It’s all ri
ght,” he soothed. “How could you have known?”

  This shone an entirely different light on everything.

  She laced her fingers in his. “I won’t take part in the exhibition, Brody. I’ll withdraw. Give the money back. Let them give the first place to Georgia Bell. She’s a worthy winner.”

  Brody reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle, his expression overflowing with compassion—not the my-way-or-the-highway looks she had grown so accustomed to over the years.

  “No, babe. You deserve to be there. I want you to go. As you said, it’s an incredible opportunity—I can’t deny that. You and Charity must go, and I will be right there beside you to support you this time.” He huffed a laugh. “Seeing as I’m facing my demons, I guess it’s time I faced my biological mother too.”

  Madison squeezed his hand to reassure him. “I want you to be reassured of one thing, Brody—I am not your mother. I’m not going anywhere after this exhibition. My life is here in this sleepy hollow with you and Charity. If more people want my work, let them come to Peterson Galleries.”

  Dear Jesus

  What a faithful God You are. My heart has gone from broken to overflowing with gratitude in the space of a day.

  Thank You for bringing me to Aunt Faith’s house safely. I admit, it was daunting to drive so far and took so much longer than usual because of all the pit stops I had to make for Baxter. And, of course, I don’t drive nearly as fast as all the other cars. But I got here in one piece, and I’m so thankful. You were with me all the way.

  Thank You for the spare prayer journal Aunt Faith gave me—my other one only has six entries, but I’ll add all that I pen during my time in Colorado to that journal once I’m home. Thank You that You work everything for good. If mine hadn’t slid unnoticed from my bag back home, Mom and Dad might not have come to know You. And oh, what a party there must be in heaven tonight because they have been hard nuts to crack. But You, Lord…You make everything beautiful in its time. And You have done just that for my Mom and Dad. Now that they have You in their lives, I know they’re gonna make it. Dad even said how sorry he was for asking Mom to leave the house, and for the way he’d treated both her and me when we were in New York, and asked me to please forgive him for being such a jerk so many times. So even though they have a lot to work through, I know they’re going to do so by looking to You for guidance—I could just hear in in their voices when I spoke to them earlier.

  Thank You that Mom and Dad have allowed me to stay on for a short while with Aunt Faith before they fly over next weekend to fetch me. It’s good, because I think they need the time alone to get closer to each other again, and to get close to You. There is much they want to tell me, but they want to do so face-to-face. So I’ll wait patiently until I see them.

  Jesus, You have been my strength through this ordeal. So have Aunt Faith and Aunt Hope. Those incredible women have both been through so much, but because of You, they’ve survived.

  Ha, when I told Aunt Faith that, she smiled and said, “Survivors, yes, that’s what we are. And so will you be. You know the Bible says that when all is said and done, that there are three things that remain: Faith, Hope, and Charity.”

  I reminded her that the greatest of those was Charity.

  I know You know all of this, but I’m writing it down so that I don’t forget…

  All my love

  Your forever grateful favorite

  Charity

  P.S. And thank You for giving me such a good friend in Melinda. I can’t believe she was willing to sit at my house all day to cover for me. I am sorry I had to deceive everyone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three weeks later…

  BRODY TUGGED at the neck of his collar, trying to give himself room to breathe. He inhaled a lungful of air as the chauffeur pulled the white stretch limousine to a stop outside the Ellie Sanders Gallery in the center of Manhattan.

  The chauffeur climbed out of the vehicle and opened the back door. Brody eased out first then helped Madison and Charity. Stepping aside, he allowed the chauffeur to assist his mother and father-in-law.

  Madison straightened his bow tie then brushed the shoulders of his tux. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  Would he? His heart whacked against his chest with every beat. Even though Pastor Andy’s counseling had helped Brody immensely, to the point that he felt he could cope with this day, it was still difficult to control the palpitations. Forgiving your mother for a lifetime of rejection wasn’t easy. But with God’s help, it was possible.

  Every time he allowed the Lord to wash away a little more of the hurt, God painted another corner of His masterpiece titled Brody Peterson.

  The gallery was magnificent inside. Double volume with bright spotlights that shone down from an industrial-style roof. On the sides, high white walls stretched from the floor to the roof, and inside the gallery, panels of the same height—some four foot wide, others longer—staggered their way through the room, far enough apart from each other so that the patrons could see several artworks at once. Twenty-five of Madison’s pieces were displayed on those walls tonight—Girl in a Field in the prime spot and the very first canvas to be seen.

  Around the beechwood floor with its soft reddish grain, art enthusiasts rubbed shoulders. The party was already buzzing. All it lacked was its guest of honor.

  An elegant woman in her sixties—wearing a long, figure-hugging black dress—sashayed toward them, her platinum blond hair swept back in a coiffured style.

  Brody recognized her instantly.

  Ellie Sanders.

  His biological mother.

  The moment surreal, he had to remind himself to breathe. How often he had dreamed of meeting her one day and of being able to boast of his own achievements. Now none of that mattered anymore. He wished but one thing—to hear from her if it had been worth it, whether she lived with any regrets over her decision?

  “Madison, my dear.” Ellie leaned forward and kissed Madison on one cheek, then the other. She turned and brushed a hand over Charity’s head, stroking her palm down her granddaughter’s hair. Did she know? “And sweet Charity. How are those beautiful wheat fields looking over in Kansas?”

  Looking more woman than teen in the new white gown that she had chosen with Madison for this auspicious occasion, Charity grinned. “As the Bible says, Ms. Sanders, the wheat is ripe for harvest. And soon, the sunflower fields will be ready too.”

  “Oh… You’re religious. How quaint.” Ellie turned her attention from Charity to Brody. He was certain that if she hadn’t, Charity would’ve politely told her that she wasn’t religious, she was a follower of Jesus.

  Ellie held out her hand examining—no, more like scrutinizing—him from top to toe. “And you must be Madison’s charming husband. I do love your man ponytail. It’s so artsy.”

  Brody laughed. “My wife thinks so too.” He took Ellie’s hand and kissed the top of it. “I’m Brody.” His gaze locked with his mothers’ for longer than what was normal.

  It was uncanny to see her up close, the resemblance between them unmistakable. He had her same icy-blue eyes, her V-shaped nose, and her thin, straight lips. He was his mother’s son all right.

  Except, he wasn’t.

  Did she know who he was?

  How could she not? His name, surname, career… His looks so like hers. But if she did, she wasn’t letting on.

  A wide smile brightened Ellie’s face, accentuating the tiny wrinkles around her eyes. “Brody Peterson… Well, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you.”

  He would’ve liked to say the pleasure was his too, but Brody wasn’t so sure this was pleasurable. Instead he kept his composure and nonchalantly responded, “You have a magnificent gallery, Ms. Sanders. Peterson Galleries pales in comparison.” Unpleasant or not, Brody was determined to engage her in conversation to find a chance to ask the one question burning on his lips.

  “It’s taken many years of hard work and s
acrifice. You’re still young, Brody—you’ll get there. And, of course, my endorsement of your wife’s work won’t hurt either.” She paused then touched his arm. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? Or would you prefer the formalities of Mr. Peterson.”

  He couldn’t help smiling at that. His own mother calling him by something other than his first name. “Brody is fine.”

  “Then I insist you call me Ellie. None of this Ms. Sanders stuff.”

  A waitress dressed in black strolled past bearing a tray of tall flutes bubbling with champagne. Ellie stopped her and took two glasses. She handed one to Madison and the other to Brody before snagging one for herself. She glanced at Charity. “As for you, young lady… We’ll need to find you a fruit juice.” She looked at the waitress, one eyebrow raised. Immediately, the young woman scurried off to do Ellie’s bidding without her even saying a word. This woman who bore him was certainly a formidable force.

  “I suppose you must have made many sacrifices along the way. A husband…family…?” Brody stared at her, challenging her for an honest answer.

  “I have.” She sighed. “But, I made my choices a long time ago. Whether right or wrong, I’ve learned to live with them.”

  She took a sip of champagne. “I should mingle with the other guests. And so should you.” She turned to go.

  Brody reached out and grasped her by the arm.

  She paused, twisting to look back at him.

  “O–one more question before you disappear into the crowd.” Brody’s voice trembled and his eyes burned. “W–was it worth it?”

  Ellie looked around the gallery that oozed wealth, then back at Brody. Her mouth turned in a wistful smile. “You tell me, Brody.”