Just as he deserved.
Blurry-eyed, with Gretchen leading the way and noisily demanding a saucer of milk, Sara shuffled into the kitchen of her small apartment. Like Gretchen and her milk, Sara was desperately in need of that first cup of coffee.
Sleep had eluded her again last night. She hadn’t slept well since her encounter with that jerk, Jet Willis, last Friday. She couldn’t seem to shake the sound of his voice as he’d suggested they spend the night together, the look in his eyes that said he thought she would be willing to go to bed with a man she’d just met.
Did she really look the type? Did she have a big red A tattooed on her forehead or something?
She reached for the coffee carafe and filled it with tap water.
You ought to find a church to attend, dear. You might meet some nice young men there.
She tried to shut out her mother’s voice as she scooped coffee grounds into the filter. The last thing she needed was to go to church and be made to feel guilty. She didn’t need people judging her for the mistakes she’d made. She could judge herself without any help, thank you very much. She knew what she’d done.
But it wasn’t like her affair with a married man had been her fault, she argued silently. She hadn’t known Dave was married. And once she knew, she’d told him to get lost.
With a moan, she set the carafe on the counter, leaned forward and, with her eyes squeezed shut, repeatedly bounced her forehead against the cupboard door. When was she going to get over it? Over him? When did she get to put the past behind her, once and for all?
She would be twenty-three in a couple of months. These were the eighties, for crying out loud. Men and women lived together all the time, even had children together, without being married, and no one seemed to notice or care.
Sure, there were a few, like her parents, who still taught their children that sex was wrong outside of marriage. But weren’t they just being puritanical?
Of course they were.
Sara dearly loved them, but her folks were as old-fashioned as they came. They didn’t understand how society worked these days. Sara lived in a different world from the one Kristina and Jared Jennings had grown up in. Young people were more sophisticated, more in tune with their needs and desires.
That was a good thing. Right?
With a deep sigh, she refocused her attention on the coffeemaker. “Why does it have to be so hard?” she muttered. “Life isn’t fair.”
She pressed the button to start the coffee brewing, then headed for the bathroom and one of her famous three-minute showers. According to Patti Cooper, her old college roommate, no other female alive could shower as quickly as Sara.
Thoughts of Patti caused a sadness to tighten her heart. She’d been dreadful about answering letters. A year ago her friend had apparently given up on her; she’d stopped writing altogether. Now Sara didn’t even know where Patti lived.
Why did I let that happen? Why did everything have to fall apart for me?
No, life just wasn’t fair.
FIFTEEN
The small narthex of Sunrise Fellowship had been decorated for Christmas with a real pine tree, large wreaths, red ribbons, holly, and silver balls. In the sanctuary, someone was playing the organ, and the melody of a familiar carol drifted through the closed doors.
Dakota paused for a moment to take it in. In the five weeks since he’d encountered Jesus in that upstairs Sunday school room, this church had come to feel like a second home. A place of warmth, comfort, and security.
Now, looking at all the special decorations, he felt as never before the wonder of this season. For the first time in his life, he truly understood what it was about. It wasn’t about giving or getting presents. It wasn’t about a ten-day vacation from school. It was about love, the kind of love only God could give.
He wished the whole world understood that. He wished his mom understood it.
With a sigh, he headed down the hall to the youth pastor’s office.
When Pastor Henry saw him, he rose from the chair behind his desk. “Come on in, Dakota. You’re right on time.” He waved him in. “How are you?”
“Confused.”
The pastor grinned. “Most of us are when we’re fifteen.”
Dakota released a humorless laugh of agreement.
“Doesn’t help, huh?” Pastor Henry pointed to a chair opposite him. “Well, sit down and we’ll talk. See if we can’t find a solution to whatever’s troubling you.”
It wasn’t easy for Dakota to open up and share his innermost feelings. He’d become an expert at keeping his thoughts private. He looked down at the book he’d brought with him. The study Bible, a version specifically created for teens, had been a gift to him from the Kreizenbecks.
“I’ve been reading the Bible every day,” he began. “John told me to stick with the New Testament at first, so that’s what I’ve been doing. I understand a lot of it. It’s helped me figure out some things. Only … only I still don’t know what to do about …” He stopped, unsure how to put his thoughts into words.
He lifted his eyes, looking across the desk. Even though Pastor Henry was gazing directly at him, Dakota suspected he was praying at the same time he was listening. For some reason, that made him feel better.
“It’s about my mom.” He paused, then added, “And my … dad.” The word felt odd on his tongue. As if he’d spoken it in a foreign language instead of English. And he felt guilty for saying it.
“Go on, Dakota.”
He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My folks are divorced. My father … walked out on us over three years ago. He was cheating on Mom. He hurt her real bad.” He felt a spark of anger and unconsciously tightened his hands into fists. “He took off, and Mom was left with all the problems. We had to sell our house, and the car was taken back by the bank. Mom’s always worryin’ about how to pay the bills. And we’ve never heard from him since the divorce. No letters. No child support. Nothing. It’s like we never even existed. She hates him because of it.”
Dakota gripped his Bible, staring down at it as he continued.
“I’ve hated him too. Hated him more than anything. But I … I know I’m supposed to forgive him.” He met the pastor’s understanding gaze. “Aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I think I’m gonna need help with that.”
Pastor Henry leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “God will give you whatever help you need to obey Him. We have His promise.”
Dakota nodded.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. It’s … well …” He felt frustrated by his inability to articulate his feelings and thoughts.
Use the Word. Sure. That was the best way to explain.
He flipped open the Bible, then looked up. “It says here in Ephesians 6 that I’m supposed to obey my parents ‘cause it’s the right thing to do. And it says I’m supposed to honor them so things’ll go well for me. Right?”
“Right.”
“Well, I figure I can forgive my father, since that’s what Jesus says to do. And I think I can stop being so mad at him. I guess that’d help with the honoring part.” He pointed to the scripture. “Trouble is, I made a promise to Mom that I’d never talk about him or tell anybody what he did. My dad, I mean. She made me promise I wouldn’t even say his name aloud, not even when she isn’t around.” Dakota shook his head slowly. “That was the day we went to court to change my last name to be the same as hers. We were both pretty angry back then.” As an afterthought he added, “My dad’s last name is Porter, not Conway.”
Pastor Henry nodded but made no comment.
“I promised Mom I’d do just what she wanted. But shouldn’t she know I’m gonna forgive him? And if I tell her, she’s going to be hurt. I know she will.”
Dakota imagined the look that would be in her eyes when he told her he was forgiving his dad. She would feel betrayed again, this time by her son. He hated the idea of causing her more pain. If o
nly there was another way.
In a soft voice, the pastor said, “Maybe she’ll understand better than you think.”
“No, she won’t.” Dakota’s shoulders slumped as he stared at the frayed laces of his shoes.
“The Bible tells us to speak the truth in love.”
He nodded as he raised his eyes to meet the pastor’s gaze. “What if I tell her, and she still doesn’t want me to talk about him? What should I do if she wants to hold me to my old promise?”
“As long as what your mother asks isn’t contrary to the will of God, then you should honor her by obeying.”
“You mean, forgive him but still not mention him?”
Pastor Henry nodded.
“I could do that.” He released a sigh. “I just don’t know how I’ll tell her.”
“You’ll have to trust the Lord to guide you, Dakota. Let’s pray about it. Shall we?”
After nodding, he bowed his head, closed his eyes, and hoped God would speak really loud so he couldn’t miss hearing Him.
“But it won’t cost you anything, Sara. Dad and I will send you the airplane ticket. It will be one of our Christmas gifts to you. Won’t you at least consider coming home? We haven’t seen you in such a long time.”
“I don’t know, Mom,” Sara answered. “Things are busy at work this time of year, and it’s tough to get extra time off around the holidays.”
Kristina Jennings wasn’t giving up that easily. “You won’t need time off. Christmas is on a Monday this year, and there are direct flights between Denver and Boise, so it won’t take you long to get here and back. You can fly to Boise on Friday after work and we can get you back to Denver on Christmas night. We’ve checked with our travel agent. There are still openings if we book right away, but they’re going fast. Please say yes, Sara. We miss you so much.”
“Oh, Mom …”
“Please.”
There was no denying she wanted to see her parents and brothers. She missed them all, and three years was a long time.
“Sara, it’s important to us.”
With an internal sigh, she relented. “All right, Mom. I’ll come home for Christmas.”
“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Wait until I tell your father. He’ll be so delighted. And the boys too. In fact, Josh has a surprise for you. He’s been wanting to tell you in person.”
“A surprise? What is it?”
Kristina laughed. “I can’t tell you. Josh wants to do it himself.”
A short while later, Sara said good-bye to her mother and hung up the phone. But the conversation lingered in her mind.
She couldn’t help wondering if she was doing the right thing, going home for the holidays. Boise held so many painful memories for her. Would this visit put them to rest or make them worse?
She wished she knew.
Claire basted the fabric according to the pattern’s directions, the hum of the sewing machine drowning out the drone of the television news coming from the other room. She had never been a great seamstress, but she was determined to get this shirt made before Christmas. It would probably be the only gift Dakota got this year. The bank account was empty, and the heating bill was bound to be high because of the extended cold snap.
“Hey, Mom?”
At the sound of Dakota’s voice, she jumped up from her chair and tried to hide what she was working on. “I thought you were in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” His mouth was pressed into a straight, thin line while a thoughtful frown drew his brows together above the bridge of his nose. “I need to talk to you.”
“All right.”
She quickly shepherded him toward the living room, flicking off the kitchen light as she passed through the doorway. While Dakota sat on the chair next to the sofa, Claire turned down the sound on the TV. When she faced him again, she felt a twinge of alarm. His expression was so troubled.
What now?
Things had been going well in the past few weeks. Dakota had seemed … different somehow. Happier maybe. More content perhaps. There’d been less swagger in his walk, less anger in his voice. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t all about to evaporate like a wisp of smoke.
She wanted to demand immediately that he tell her what was wrong, but she managed to hold her tongue, knowing it was better for him to do it in his own way. She could see that he was struggling to find the right words.
At long last, he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together between his knees, his gaze downcast. She saw him nod, as if agreeing with someone. Then he straightened and looked at her.
“Mom, I’ve got something to tell you, and I need you to hear me out without interrupting. Okay?”
“All right.” She went to sit on the sofa.
“Remember a few Sundays back, when I started going to church again with the Kreizenbecks?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, something happened to me that day. I sorta tried to tell you what it was.”
She hid a smile, remembering how he’d come home that day, babbling something about God loving him and making him new. His enthusiasm had reminded her of the little boy he’d once been, all smiles and goodness.
Dakota drew in a deep breath as he looked her straight in the eyes. He wasn’t smiling now. His look was intense. “Mom, I asked Jesus into my heart that day. He’s changed me. I’ve been born again.”
“Oh.” What else did one say to a statement like that?
“Jesus loves you too.”
She stiffened. “You’re not going to start preaching at people on street corners, are you?”
For just an instant, he grinned. “I might.”
“Dakota —”
“No.” He raised a hand to silence her. “Let me finish. Please.”
She acquiesced but didn’t relax. If she wanted to hear a sermon —which she didn’t—she could flip on the television on Sunday morning.
“Mom … do you remember the day we went to court to legally change my name?”
Claire drew back, surprised by the sudden turn he’d taken. “I remember.”
“Remember how you asked me never to talk about … about my father again? Not even when you weren’t around? Not ever, to anyone.”
“Yes.” The reply was short and clipped, and even she could hear how much bitterness was contained in that one, simple word.
“Well, I need to talk about him to you now. Pastor Henry says I need to be honest with you, to let you know what’s happening.”
She longed to forbid him to mention Dave, no matter what some preacher said, but she knew it would be wrong of her to do so. She bit her lip to keep herself silent.
“Jesus says I need to forgive anybody who’s wronged me, just like He forgave me for my sins.”
“Your sins?” Her sarcasm was as obvious as her bitterness. “You’re just a boy. You’re not old enough to be worried about sinning.”
“I’ve hated my father, Mom, and it’s a sin to hate a parent, no matter what he or she might have done wrong. I don’t want to hate my dad anymore. A little while ago, in my room, I prayed and I told God that I was forgiving my dad for leaving us, for never coming back to see me, for forgetting me and you and everything else. I’m not going to hate him any longer.”
He might as well have shoved a knife right into her heart, the way it hurt. “How can you say that, after everything he did to you?” she whispered hoarsely. “After everything he did to me?”
“Because … it’s what I’m supposed to do. As a Christian. Jesus expects it of me.”
“And you think it’s that easy? Well, I’ve got news for you, little boy. It doesn’t work that way. Life’s hard, and you have to take your knocks, and some of them are going to leave you hating something or someone. I guarantee it.” She stood, her entire body shaking with anger as she pointed a finger at him. “You don’t talk about that man. You hear me, Dakota? You don’t ever talk about him again. Not to me. Not to that pastor whatever-his-name-is. Not to a
nybody. You promised me you wouldn’t. He hurt us. He deserted us. I hate him, and I’ll hate him until the day I die. You should too.”
On the verge of tears, she fled to the solitude of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Alone in the living room, Dakota bowed his head. It hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped it would, but he couldn’t say he was surprised.
I don’t think I handled that too good, Lord.
He knew what he’d wanted to happen. He’d hoped his mom would say she needed to know Jesus. He’d hoped she would immediately forgive his dad and find out how much better it was to let go of all those ugly feelings inside. Dakota didn’t fully understand how it worked. He just knew God had changed him, that God loved him, and that he’d been happier since accepting Christ than in all the rest of his life put together. That moment five weeks before, when Pastor Henry and John prayed with him after Sunday school, had changed everything.
Maybe if he …
Let it go for now, he told himself.
But he couldn’t seem to do that. He wanted to make everything okay. He wanted to fix it. If he could just find the right words to make his mom understand what he was telling her. He knew how much she loved him, how much she’d sacrificed for him, how hurt she’d been by his dad. He didn’t want to add to her hurt. That wasn’t his intention.
Obey her, Dakota.
But if I could just make her see—
Honor your father and mother.
I know the verse, Father. But if I could just—
Trust in My promises, My son.
“Okay, Lord,” he whispered, “that’s what I’ll do. I’ll honor my mom by keeping my promise. If she doesn’t want me talking about my dad, then I won’t. Not for as long as it takes.”
He wondered how long that would be.
SIXTEEN
Feeling the plane’s landing gear descend, Sara leaned closer to the window so she could see the lights of Boise as they came into view.
“Your family’s going to be mighty glad to see you,” the elderly woman in the center seat said.
The Forgiving Hour Page 10