Chance nodded. “Pop, this is Lynn, remember? Her name is Lynn.”
“I know that,” Pop responded. “You just introduced me to her. I mean, I know that she looks just like Nina, but—” Pop’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. I called her . . . Nina, didn’t I? I’m sorry, son. Didn’t mean no harm by that.”
Lynn shot a curious glance at Chance. “You never mentioned that I look just like her. Oh, I’m sorry, too, if I’ve caused you any—”
“It’s nothing,” Chance said, holding up a hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Uh, excuse me for a second,” he added, walking toward the other end of the boat.
Pop shrugged his shoulders. “He just can’t let go of the past, Lynn. What’s done is done and there ain’t nothing anybody can do about it.”
“Does . . . does he ever talk about her? About Nina, I mean?”
Pop shook his head. “Not without crying like she just passed yesterday. That Nina was a good woman, I’ll give her that. But it ain’t natural to carry on like this two years after her death. Chance always was a sensitive one, though.”
“He mentioned once that everybody in town blamed him for Nina’s passing. Is that true?”
“Yep. It’s a shame, too. Nina was the one wanting to go to that healing meeting, not my boy. Guess it was easier for Jucinda to blame Chance rather than admit maybe her daughter was misguided.”
“Misguided?”
“Well, yeah. Everyone knows there ain’t nothing to that instant healing business. Nina should’ve known better.”
Lynn instinctively reached for her eyes. There wasn’t anything to this healing business? She would still be blind today if that were true!
“Mr. Howard, I—”
“Pop. You can call me Pop, too.”
“Okay . . . Pop. So, you don’t have any idea what your son has been doing for the last two years?”
“He ain’t been doin’ much of nothing, far as I’m concerned. I guess he been trying to cope with Nina’s death and trying to find himself. Don’t look like he’s done either one.”
“Would you excuse me, Mr. . . . uh, I mean, Pop?” Lynn turned around and walked to the other end of the boat. She saw Chance leaning against the rail, staring out into the water.
“Chance, how come your father doesn’t know about your gift of healing?”
Chance shrugged. “I’ve never been led to tell him.”
“But . . . this is your father we’re talking about. Don’t you think he should know? Your gift . . . it’s so—”
“Lynn, I don’t think he needs to know, alright? Pop doesn’t have a whole lot of time left, and for the time he does have left, I want to be the son that’s always made him proud, not some weird traveling sideshow that nobody understands.”
“Chance, you are not a weird traveling sideshow. I know that I can’t imagine all that you’ve gone through, but I’m here to listen . . . and to try to understand. A life devoted to the ministry is not easy—believe me, I know that. But I’ve also learned that it helps having a few people in your corner.”
“And that’s where you want to be, huh? In my corner?”
“I just want you to know that I care.”
The sounds of nature filled in the relaxed silence—the small cresting waves gently lapping against the side of the boat, the cawing of geese flying overhead, and the occasional duck calls. Lynn stared out at the water, amazed at how . . . endless it seemed. She had been on a boat in the middle of the water only one other time in her life. Four of her study partners from her college history class had rented a boat and water-ski equipment, then had driven to Hilton Head the Spring Break of her sophomore year. Lynn hadn’t been thrilled about going, but she’d been praying for an opportunity to witness to the study group, all of whom thought she never had fun because she was a born-again Christian. Well, she’d had fun all right, and by the week’s end, everyone in the group had given their lives to Jesus Christ.
“You . . . do look like her, you know,” Chance said, finally breaking the silence. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a photograph, which he handed to Lynn.
Lynn almost gasped when she looked at the picture, because it was almost like looking in a mirror. The woman’s hair in the photograph was cut differently from hers (although Lynn had once sported the same ’do), but they had the same skin tone and smile.
“Didn’t know you had a twin, did you?” Chance asked, now looking back at the water.
“Well . . . our eyes are a little different.”
“Yeah, but not much.”
“Chance, I can’t even fathom how hard this has to be for you, me resembling Nina like I do and following you around like I have.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Actually, it’s been kind of nice having you . . . I mean, I know you’re not her . . . and I wouldn’t want you to be . . . but it’s been nice. For your information, it’s not how you look that reminds me so much of her, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Nina had . . . and you have that unshakable faith in God, the kind that believes in Him no matter what.”
Lynn managed a smile. “Well, let me tell you—literally having your blinded eyes opened can do wonders for your faith.”
“I imagine so. Let me ask you something—because I’ve wondered about this after I lay hands on someone and that person doesn’t get healed. Is it all about having faith? I mean, what if there had been no change after I laid hands on your eyes and prayed for you? Would that have changed your faith in God?”
“That’s a tough question, Chance. If I were still blind today, would I still have faith that God is a healer? My heart tells me that I would, because I’ve lived most of my life walking by faith . . . and not by sight—uh, no pun intended. But I also think back to something the three Hebrew boys—Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—said before King Nebuchadnezzar threatened to throw them into the fiery furnace. They said, ‘God is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace . . . but if not, then let it be known that we do not serve your false gods nor worship your golden image.’ To me, that is a level of faith that most people don’t have—knowing that even if God does not deliver you, that doesn’t mean that He can’t. That was my thought process during those seven weeks that I was blind. I did have faith to believe that God would heal me, because I believed that it was His will.”
“But isn’t it God’s will that all of His children be healed? Didn’t Jesus’s death, burial, and resurrection give all believers access to that divine benefit?”
“We do have benefits because of the work of the cross,” Lynn agreed. “Psalm 103 tells us that.”
“But I would go to some churches and lay hands on people, and nothing would happen,” Chance countered. “Is that solely because those people had a lack of faith?”
Lynn could read between the lines and sense what Chance was really asking. Did his beloved Nina somehow have a lack of faith? Or did he?
“No man can completely know the mind of God, Chance. I mean, by and large we’re quoting passages of scripture authored by the apostle Paul, who himself wrote that he had not arrived at the full knowledge of God, and that he was still pressing toward the mark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ. Ultimately, I believe that the will of God is paramount—if it’s His will that someone be healed here on earth, then by faith it will happen. I stress by faith because it’s clearly seen throughout scripture that Jesus healed according to a person’s faith. Remember the woman with the issue of blood who touched the hem of Jesus’s garments? Jesus told her that her faith made her whole. Or the centurion who asked Jesus only to speak a word and his sick servant would be made whole? Jesus not only healed that centurion’s servant, but exclaimed that he had not found such great faith in all of Israel! And how can we forget the Canaanite woman with a sick daughter, whom the disciples rejected and Jesus practically ignored until she began to worship Him out of sheer faith. Jesus declared that her great faith made her daughter whole.”
Chance smile
d. “You’re like a . . . a walking Bible, aren’t you?”
Lynn smiled back at him. “Isn’t that what believers are supposed to be? Living epistles read by all men?”
“That’s not what I meant. I was—”
“I know, Chance,” Lynn cut in, still smiling. “I know.”
From the other end of the boat, they both heard Pop shout, “Whoo-hee!”
“Another one?” Lynn asked.
Chance nodded. “Told you he was a fish magnet in these waters.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
THE BUSTLING ACTIVITY surprised Travis as he pulled up to the dock’s office just after eight o’clock.
Don’t people sleep in late anymore?
Dozens of people carrying fishing poles and tackle buckets hurried past his pickup truck, while a smaller number closer to the lake fiddled with surfboards and water-skiing and diving apparatus. Travis got out of the truck, feeling out of place among all these fishermen, sportsmen, and fun-loving exercise fanatics. It was not that he didn’t like exercising; he just employed different methods for working up a sweat.
Hand-to-remote, one-two-three, turn-television-on, one-two-three, hand-to-mouth, one-two-three, feed-my-face, one-two-three . . .
A weathered-looking man with his deeply tanned face buried in a Field & Stream magazine sat behind the counter as Travis walked up.
“Can I help you, partner? Whaddya need—bait, fishing license, boat rental?”
Travis quickly sized up his options. All he wanted was more information, but what was the best way to get it? The truth? Telfair had told him that Chance had come here to Caddo Lake to go fishing with his father, but he hadn’t known the name of the boat.
“Sure, you can help me,” Travis replied in his best southern accent. “I’m s’posed to meet a longtime friend to go fishing, but doggone it if I didn’t oversleep! He’s probably already out on the water, but I forgot the name of the boat he’s using.”
“Well . . . we’ve already got fourteen boats out there, most of them fishing boats. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Chance Howard.”
“Chance Howard?” The man’s face scrunched up as he visibly tried to place the name. “No, I don’t believe I know a Chance How— Oh, wait now. I believe that’s ol’ Bennett’s son you talking about. Haven’t seen Chance for a couple years now, but if he’s here, and he’s with Bennett, then they been out there for hours. Bennett wakes up with the owls when it’s time to go fishing.”
Yeah, yeah, whatever . . . “So you know the name of the boat?”
“Sure I do. Bennett fishes in the Jacqueline, named after his late wife.”
Travis made a mental note of the boat’s name. “And how long does Bennett usually stay out on the water?”
The man laughed. “Bennett could stay out on that water all day, if he wanted! But he don’t like it much when it gets hot around noon. Plus, since he’s got company aboard his boat, I imagine he’ll be docking in at a little before noon.”
Travis checked his watch. It was not yet eight-thirty. His deadline for sending his story was one o’clock eastern time, twelve o’clock Louisiana time. He would be cutting it close, but he figured he could get his story ready, leaving a few blank spaces for Chance’s quotes. What really mattered was another picture, though. One more picture of the mystery man and Travis was golden.
MUCH TO JUCINDA’S GROWING DISPLEASURE, more people were confirming they’d seen Chance back in town. First, Ol’ Man Rollie, who sat outside on his porch all day and thus saw everything, said he’d seen Chance walking past his house, and had even spoken briefly with him.
“Did he say why he’d come back here?” Jucinda had asked, speaking slowly and loudly because Ol’ Man Rollie was hard of hearing.
“Naw . . . he dint say that. He just . . . come walkin’ down the road.”
Next, Jucinda had called Telfair Williams, the handyman who took care of many yards for the elderly. Telfair had been cutting Bennett Howard’s grass for years, since Bennett didn’t move around so well on his prosthesis.
“Yep, I seen Chance come back to his pop’s house a few days ago,” he answered over the phone. “Bennett was real happy to see him.”
“So he’s still at Bennett’s house? Right now?”
“Naw, not right now. They gon’ fishin’ up at the lake, jus’ like they always used to do.”
Jucinda could not believe the nerve of Chance, coming back to town and going fishing, like everything had returned to normal. Didn’t he know he was not welcome here? Didn’t he know that he’d ruined her own life and disgraced the memory of one of the town’s most promising young women? Well, if he had somehow forgotten that in two years’ time, then Jucinda would be delighted to give him a jarring reminder.
“Telfair, thank you for the information. I—”
“Oh yeah—one more thing, Jucinda. Some guy I never seen before came down here askin’ questions about Chance, too.”
“He was asking questions? Like a policeman or something?”
“Naw. Reckon more like a reporter. He asked me if I knew where Chance was, and I told him.”
You did what? “Telfair, why didn’t you just tell him you didn’t know where Chance was? Or tell that reporter to come talk to me?”
“Jucinda, for a hunnerd bucks I’da told that man anything he wanted,” Telfair replied, laughing.
Jucinda silently cursed as she hung up the phone. Not only was Chance back in town, but apparently he was attracting a lot of attention as well. Grabbing her car keys from the hook next to the door, she hurried out of her house, aiming to take care of this problem the way she should’ve taken care of it two years ago—permanently.
Chapter Thirty-nine
AS THE MORNING HOURS PASSED, the sun rose higher in the sky, and just as Pop predicted, the bass began biting less and less. Pop had already snared five largemouth bass, two catfish, and a handful of small brim that he’d thrown back into the lake.
“They too small to keep,” he explained to Lynn. Lynn had tried her hand at casting a few lines into the water, but she had much to learn about the sport. Three times she’d reeled her line back in, only to find the bait missing from the hook.
“You jus’ feeding the fish, child!” Pop had exclaimed, laughing. “There’s an art form to fishing. You feel a gentle tug first, not even enough to make the line ripple. But that tells you the fish is there, jus’ circling the bait. You might want to dangle the line a lil’ bit, make the fish think it’s a live worm—gets ’em every time, if you do it right. Then, right when you sense that fish coming in to take the bait, you jerk back on the pole, let the hook get ’em right in the gills. After that, you just reel him in. Easy pickings, I tell ya. Easy pickings.”
“My goodness,” Lynn replied, overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize so much effort went into this.”
“Oh, don’t take Pop so seriously,” Chance piped up from where he had been watching his two fishing lines. “Pop can—and will—compare everything in life to fishing.”
“That’s right,” Pop agreed. “Fishin’ is the perfect metaphor for life.”
Chance looked at his watch. “Uh, Pop, before you launch into your spiel on how fishing should be taught to every child in America, you think maybe we should head back? The bass aren’t biting as much, now that it’s warming up.”
Pop nodded. “Yeah, this is probably gon’ do it for today. Wasn’t great, but not bad, either.”
Chance reeled in his two lines, then walked back to the steering wheel. In seconds, Jacqueline was skimming through the water back to the land. Lynn walked up behind Chance and tapped him on his shoulder. “What are you going to do about Travis Everett?”
“I don’t plan to do anything,” Chance replied after a pause. “I’m . . . I’m tired of running. If this guy’s here and he wants to talk to me, fine. I don’t care anymore. Everything can be on the record except what happened here two years ago.”
“But what if that’s precisely what he
wants to talk about?”
“Then he’ll get a bunch of ‘no comments,’ won’t he?”
While Lynn went back to help Pop on the other side of the boat, Chance slowly navigated Jacqueline into the docks, which were now not as full with most of the boats still out on the lake. He steered the craft into the registered spot and anchored her.
He was about to hop onto the pier when he noticed her. She was leaning against the “No Running” signpost, smoking a cigarette and staring in his direction with a gaze that smoldered even at ten yards.
Jucinda.
Chance instinctively froze, not because he hadn’t seen this woman for two years, but because her last words to him burned in his memory.
“If I ever see you here again, I swear to God I’ll kill you . . .”
Her threat was more than displaced anger, he knew. Jucinda’s temper had been one of the things Nina had never liked about her mother, though Jucinda had gotten better over the years with anger management classes. But when Nina died, and Jucinda had blamed Chance for not taking her to get medical help, all those lessons Jucinda had learned fell to the wayside.
“I thought I told you never to come back,” Jucinda began, through clenched teeth. She tossed her cigarette down and squished it with her shoe.
“Jucinda, let’s be adults and talk about this,” Chance replied, not moving from his spot on the boat. He could hear Pop and Lynn on the other side, putting away their fishing poles.
“Ain’t nothing more to talk about. You’re the source of all my problems. Always have been, ever since you ruined my baby’s life.”
“Nina chose to be with me, Jucinda. You never accepted that, but that’s the truth.”
“How dare you tell me that was the truth! That was not the truth. Nina was going places . . . she was going to move away from here and make a real life for herself. But you wouldn’t let her, would you? You had to control her life, didn’t you?”
“Jucinda, if you believe that, then that shows how much you really knew about your daughter. Nina was a strong person; she wasn’t about to be controlled by anyone. What we had together was . . . love. We loved each other.”
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