It Had to Be You and All Our Tomorrows

by Irene Hannon

  “I see your dilemma,” Steve sympathized. “Guilt can be a powerful force for good, when applied in the proper circumstances. But it can also hold us back or result in unnecessary self-denial when misapplied.”

  “Do you think that’s what’s happening here?”

  “Only you can answer that question. But from what you’ve told me, I don’t see how denying your love for Caroline is going to help anyone. Maybe your feelings for her were inappropriate when you first met, but since you didn’t act on them, there’s no reason for guilt. I can’t say what role your argument played in Michael’s death. Maybe none. No one will ever know. But blaming yourself for it for the rest of your life isn’t going to bring Michael back. It may be time to give it to the Lord, ask His forgiveness for any responsibility you might bear and then let it go.”

  “I’ve tried that. And I thought I’d made my peace with it. But when Caroline came back into my life, I realized the guilt was still there.”

  “Then try again. Ask the Lord to help you let it go, to lift the burden from your shoulders. Put it in His hands and move on with your life. With Caroline, if that’s where your heart leads you. Assuming she feels the same way, of course. Does she?”

  “I think so.”

  Reaching over, Steve laid his hand on David’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you found out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The organ music swelled, and for the dozenth time Caroline tried to figure out how she had wound up in church, beside David, on this bright August morning.

  When he’d suggested earlier in the week, after their meeting with Jared and his family, that she consider attending his church, her response had been a polite, “Maybe I will.” While she admired David’s deep faith and felt a growing need to connect with a higher power herself, she’d made little effort to do so aside from a few recent prayers in the quiet of her heart. Life had just been too busy. But that had always been her excuse, she acknowledged. Finding time for God hadn’t been one of her priorities during her hectic years with AP. She’d been too focused on building her career, surviving in new and sometimes hostile environments...and falling in love with a man for whom religion had never been top-of-mind. At best, Michael had been an agnostic. While he hadn’t denied the existence of God, he hadn’t bought into Christianity. Although Caroline had been raised Christian and still believed the basic tenets of the faith, she hadn’t practiced it in any formal way for years. And except for an occasional sense that there was a spiritual emptiness in her life, she hadn’t missed it.

  But when she’d met David the Christmas she and Michael visited, she’d been intrigued by the sense of purpose his deep faith seemed to give to his life. And ever since then, she’d been drawn toward the source of that purpose. Vague at first, the call had grown steadily stronger after Michael’s death. Though she’d done little to heed it, and in fact sometimes found it annoying, the quiet voice deep in her soul had persisted. As a result, when David had called yesterday and invited her to join him for services, she’d said yes.

  While she’d been afraid that the situation between them might be awkward after that interrupted moment at her mother’s house, David had worked hard to ease any tension, sticking to safe subjects and even eliciting a few laughs with a story about how Ella’s plants were taking over their offices. By the time they arrived at the small brick church with the tall white steeple, she’d been relaxed and receptive to the experience.

  So far, she’d enjoyed the service. Steve Dempsky had merry eyes and a ready smile—as well as a great singing voice that soared above the choir. He conducted the service with an infectious joy and enthusiasm that seemed to capture the true spirit of Christianity. Caroline had been concerned that she would feel self-conscious and ill at ease in church after such a long absence, but to her surprise the experience seemed more like a homecoming. It felt right to be back in the house of the Lord.

  As the minister moved to the pulpit to deliver his sermon, Caroline aimed a sideways glance at David. He was focused on the sanctuary, giving her a good view of his strong, appealing profile. Although he came across as a composed, disciplined person who could be counted on to analyze any situation and make a sound judgment, Caroline suspected that beneath his calm, restrained exterior, David was a man of strong passion, whose feelings ran deep. She’d glimpsed that side of him once or twice when he’d looked at her in an unguarded moment. And on some intuitive level she knew that he was the kind of man who, when he loved, would give release to his feelings with such intensity that the mere thought of it took her breath away.

  So captivated was she by these wayward musings that Caroline missed a good part of the minister’s sermon. Only with great effort—fueled by guilt at her inappropriate thoughts in this house of God—did she shift her attention to the front of the church and focus on his words.

  “And so I think that our reading today from Ecclesiastes will always remain timeless. To everything there is a season...that’s just as true today as it was three hundred years before the birth of Christ, when this passage was written. Each of us has experienced seasons in our lives. Times of happiness and times of sadness. Times of putting down roots and times of pulling them up. Times of grieving and times of rejoicing. We know that there are times to be silent, and times to speak. Times to draw close, and times to stay apart. As the author of Ecclesiastes reminds us, the Lord has made everything appropriate to its time.

  “Those words are a great source of comfort. They help us understand that the ebbs and flows of life are natural, that we’re not alone in the difficulties we encounter. But they also bring a challenge. Because they leave some of the choices about the seasons of our lives in own hands. Grief is a good example. While we don’t choose our times to grieve, we do choose the duration of our mourning. Clinging too long to grief can blind us to other joys God sends our way. The same is true of hate. Clinging too long to this destructive emotion can harden our hearts. Likewise, clinging too long to baggage from our past can clutter our lives, leaving no room for anything new to enter.”

  The minister surveyed the congregation before him, his expression kind and compassionate. “My friends, while this passage provides a reassurance that we’re not alone when we experience the diverse seasons of our lives, it also serves as a wake-up call. A reminder that sometimes it’s up to us to step from one season into the next. To go from weeping to laughing, from scattering to gathering, from losing to seeking. And as we move through these seasons, we have one advantage the writer of Ecclesiastes didn’t have: an understanding of the purpose and plan for our lives, which the Lord provided during His time on earth. We also have someone to turn to when we need guidance for our journey. When we need courage to choose a new season. Let us always remember the beautiful words from Matthew: ‘Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you.’ The Lord waits for our call. Don’t be afraid to ask Him for help as you journey through the seasons of your life.

  “And now let us pray....”

  As the minister continued with the rest of the service, the words of his sermon resonated in Caroline’s mind. It was almost as if he’d looked into her heart and chosen a topic that would have special significance for her first visit back to church. His talk had captured many of the conflicts and feelings she’d been experiencing these past few weeks, since David had reentered her life. And it had made her question her doubts about pursuing a relationship with him. Was she clinging too long to grief? Was the baggage she was holding on to from her past robbing her of her future? Was it time to ask for forgiveness for the role she’d played in Michael’s death and move on? Michael would want her to, she knew. And maybe the Lord did, too.

  Bowing her head, she closed her eyes in prayer. Lord, I listened to the words today from Your book with an open heart. And I listened to the minister as well. For the past two years I’ve been living in an emotion
al vacuum, consumed by grief and guilt and hate. I hated myself for the role I played in Michael’s death, and I resented David for his role. I don’t resent him anymore, Lord. And I’d like to stop hating myself. I want to move on. It’s time. I’ve lived in the darkness of winter for too long. I want to move to the next season, to spring and the new life that will bring. A life that I’d like to share with David.

  I ask Your help, Lord, in making that transition. Please give me peace of mind about the decision, relieve me of the guilt I feel and give me the courage to enter this new season. I’ll always love Michael, but as Mom told me recently, loving one person doesn’t mean there’s no room in your heart for someone else. I used to think that it was a coincidence that David’s new job brought him here. Now I think maybe it was more than that. That maybe You brought him to me. And that You’re leaving the next step to me. Please give me the courage to take it.

  With trembling fingers, Caroline reached up and touched the medallion around her neck. It had served as an expression of her love and devotion to the man she’d planned to marry—and a warning to the man beside her to keep his distance. A warning David had respected. But it was time to remove the wall that had kept him away—and kept her safe. She knew that tearing it down would expose her to risk. Yet even though the wall had protected her, it had also isolated her, leaving her heart cold and dark and lonely. And more and more, her heart was yearning for sunlight and warmth.

  Summoning up her courage, Caroline lifted her hands and sought the clasp behind her neck. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she opened it, letting the medallion and chain slide into her waiting hand. And as she felt the weight in her palm and closed her fingers around it, the oddest thing happened. Though the sky had been dark and ominous when they’d arrived at church, a sudden shaft of sunlight darted through the stained-glass window beside her, painting her hand—and only her hand—with a rainbow-hued mosaic of rich, bright, vibrant color. She froze, and her breath caught in her throat as she stared at it. Several seconds ticked by, and then David reached over and covered her hand with his. Startled, she turned to him. The tender expression on his unguarded face told her that he’d observed her symbolic maneuver, understood the significance—and approved.

  And as she glanced down at his fingers, protectively covering hers, the mosaic of color seemed to deepen in intensity and expand to accommodate David’s larger hand. Once more her gaze sought his. The pensive look on his face told her that he, too, was pondering the odd timing of that shaft of vivid light. And that like her, he wondered if, in this subtle way, Michael was giving them his blessing.

  Caroline wasn’t the type of person who believed in signs. She was too practical by nature, too much of a journalist, always wanting proof and impeccable sources. She was from the Show-Me state, after all. The play of light was probably just a coincidence, she told herself.

  Yet deep in her heart, she sensed it was more than that. And all at once she experienced a feeling of release, of liberation. Of absolution, almost. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. But even so, the effect was the same. And bowing her head in gratitude, she uttered a silent prayer of thanks.

  * * *

  After one more quick scan of Jared’s entry for the journalism contest, Caroline handed it over to the intern. “I’d say we’re almost there. I just have a few more minor editing suggestions, and Bill has recommended some slight cropping revisions on the photos. See what you think.”

  As Jared dropped into a seat across from her desk and looked over his mentors’ comments, Caroline leaned back in her chair and flexed her shoulders. With the deadline looming in two days, she and Jared had stayed far later than usual to finish the entry. It had been too hectic at the Chronicle to work on it during normal business hours. But she didn’t mind putting in the extra time. Jared had written a stellar piece on the plight of residents at an underfunded nursing home, and his dramatic photos of the elderly inhabitants had reinforced his powerful words. Caroline had no doubt that he’d be a finalist, if not one of the winners.

  Reaching for her bottle of water, she took a long sip, hoping to stem the hunger pangs in her stomach until David arrived in half an hour to take her out to dinner. A smile curved her lips at that thought. Since their church visit four days earlier, they’d had almost no time together. Just as the service ended, she’d been paged about a breaking story and had to leave right away for the office. David had been sequestered in wrap-up meetings all week with Uplink hosting organizations as the internships wound down. Plus, she’d been staying late for the past few days to work with Jared on his entry. But now that she’d resolved her issues, she was anxious to move forward with their relationship. To explore the opportunity that had blessed her life and see where it led. As a result, when David had suggested a late dinner, she’d responded with an immediate yes.

  “These comments all make sense,” Jared said, interrupting her thoughts. “I can make the changes before I leave. But you don’t need to hang around to give me a ride home like you did the other nights. Aunt Dara said she’d come and get me if I needed to stay extra late tonight to finish this up.”

  “I don’t mind. David and I are going to dinner, and he’ll be swinging by at eight o’clock to pick me up. We can drop you off on our way to the restaurant.”

  Even if he wasn’t coming by, Caroline wouldn’t have left. While things had been quiet since the bomb threat, and Jared’s internship would be over at the end of the following week, she wasn’t confident that they’d heard the last of the gang. She figured there was safety in numbers.

  Rising, Jared fingered the papers in his hand. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah. He is.”

  “I thought he was going to write me off after my first interview. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.”

  “He recognized your talent and wanted to give you a chance to develop it.”

  “I guess. But I...I couldn’t figure out why, in the beginning. Then I realized he was into the Jesus stuff, like Nan and Aunt Dara. And everything kind of fell into place at that meeting we all had, when I asked him why he was going out on a limb for me, and he said it was just the right thing to do. That he was following the Lord’s commandment to love one another.”

  “I’d say that’s a pretty accurate assessment of his motives.”

  “I think that’s pretty cool, you know? I was never much into religion, even though Nan dragged me to church when I was a kid. But nothing in my life ever convinced me there was really a God who cared about me. Then all this good stuff happened this summer. And people like you and Mr. Sloan and Mr. Baker believed in me.” He looked down and shifted his weight. “Anyway, I started going to services with Nan and Aunt Dara. And I thought maybe you might want to tell Mr. Sloan. He never talked to me about going to church, but I think he might like to know, since it’s so important to him.”

  A warm smile lighted Caroline’s face. “I know he would. I’ll be sure to pass it on.”

  “Thanks. Listen, these changes won’t take long. Just give me ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “No rush. I have plenty to do here. And David’s not coming for half an hour, anyway.”

  Twenty minutes later, with Jared still intent on his revisions, Caroline signed off on the last piece of copy in her review stack and reached for her purse. She still had time to pay a few bills before David arrived, and a couple of them were bordering on overdue. She’d just been too busy to get to them until now.

  A quick search in her purse reminded her that she’d tucked her checkbook under the front seat of her car the day before—a bad habit she’d gotten into years before when she’d often traveled without a purse. One of these days she needed to correct that, she reminded herself.

  “Jared, I’m going to run out to my car to get something. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” she called to the teen across the empty newsroom.

 
He swallowed the bite of sandwich he’d been chewing while he worked. “Okay. I’m almost done.”

  Pausing in the break room, Caroline pitched her empty water bottle and spared a quick glance in the mirror, reminding herself to apply some lipstick before David arrived. By the end of the day, every speck had usually vanished. Most of the time she didn’t care. But tonight...well, tonight she cared.

  Since the gang-related incidents, Caroline had been cautious, putting herself on high alert whenever she was alone—especially around the Chronicle. But as she pushed through the back door into the muggy, oppressive August twilight, her thoughts were so distracted by the evening ahead with David that she didn’t notice the fragments of glass on the pavement next to the exit—all that was left of the security light. And she didn’t see the two figures in the shadows until they lunged toward her.

  By then, it was too late to do much. The hand clamped over her mouth stifled the scream that rose to her lips, and her arms were wrenched behind her with such force that she gasped in pain. On instinct alone, with no conscious thought, she used the only part of her body that was still unconstrained. With one swift kick, she slammed the door shut behind her, drawing some measure of relief when it locked with a decisive click. At least Jared would be safe inside. Thanks to the Chronicle’s heightened security, the electronic access card reader had been temporarily disabled. No one could enter from the outside without the security combination.

  But her action drew the ire of her two assailants. Their faces were indistinct in the dusk, but she could tell they were young. One looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, the other perhaps a bit younger. The identical bands they wore on their arms beneath the cutoff sleeves of their T-shirts told her at once that they were associated with a gang.

  “That wasn’t very smart,” one of the boys snarled, tagging on the same vulgar term that had been scratched into her car. “Open the door.” They shoved her next to the keypad and released one of her arms. “We want Jared.”