by Amy Wallace
Stomach rumbles and taut shoulder muscles made her reconsider this visit. But she stepped in line behind a somber group anyway. The men in light brown uniforms took her coat, purse, and every bit of metal she’d carried into the correctional facility off High Hope Road.
She’d always thought that was a weird name for a street winding past a high-security prison. A place she never thought she’d find herself in the middle of December.
Or any other time.
“Please step through.” A bored guard ushered her forward. “You can pick up a visitor’s badge once you pass those doors.” He pointed to a heavy dark door at the far end of the waiting room.
Gracie swallowed the butterflies fluttering from her stomach to her throat. “Will I go in alone?”
“No, you’ll get an escort.” The bulky sheriff looked at her and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “They got a group of religious folks waiting to go back. Reckon you’ll go in with them.”
Minutes later, a suffocating feeling pressed into her as huge glass sliding doors closed behind her before the one in front of her had opened.
Trapped. The word kept bouncing around her brain.
The small group of local church people in front of her walked in silence, their soft-soled shoes making little noise over the white linoleum floor. Every time they passed a few glass windows at shoulder level, she wanted to duck so as not to be seen by the inmates playing different sports in the little gyms.
When they arrived at the small visitation room, she considered telling the guard that she’d changed her mind. But she’d have to wait for this group of two ministers and their wives to finish speaking with those they came to encourage.
So she pulled a plastic chair up to the glass that would separate her from the man she needed to face.
And there she waited.
Small gray partitions between the visitors gave little privacy but she tried not to listen to the conversations around her.
Maybe he’d refused to see her.
That would make her life easier. She’d been obedient to that still, small prompting at the cemetery a few weeks ago. She’d shown up. The rest was up to God.
Before she could slide her chair backward to go wait by the door, Thomas Perkins entered the room on the other side of the glass. His cold black eyes hadn’t changed since the last time she’d seen him, when he’d glared at her from the other end of his gun barrel.
He sat in an identical plastic chair, silent and staring right through her.
She bit her lip. All the practiced words escaped her.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we, Gracie?”
Jumping at his words, she tried to breathe slowly and steadily.
“I know why you’re here. Your good little Christian self came to say you’ve forgiven me.” His face stretched into a cold, hard grin. “Or to tell me to burn in hell because you finally got justice for your family.”
Anger churned in her stomach at his taunts.
She felt like Corrie ten Boom extending her weathered old hand toward the SS trooper who’d tortured and killed her sister. But Gracie knew what she’d come to this prison to do. Unlike Corrie’s soldier, the man opposite her had not sought forgiveness. Tom had only glared and taunted.
And yet her situation was similar. Nothing existed inside of Gracie’s shaking skeleton that could grant the needed strength to do what she’d come to do.
The picture of a newborn baby cradled in great—yet gentle—hands came to mind.
She wasn’t helpless. She was held in the hands of a God who simply bid her to love with His love. It was His love that would unlock this door in her heart. And believing in His truth would set her free.
Regardless of how the man facing her responded.
“Yes, Tom. I did come to tell you that I’ve forgiven you.” Gracie’s voice quivered. “Even before I knew that you killed my family, I’d had my hand around your throat, wanting justice at the cost of your last breath.”
“Well, now you have your justice.” He spit the words out. “Happy?”
“No. Not because you’re in prison.” She held her chin up. “I’m relieved that you can’t hurt anyone else. But what makes me feel the freedom you gave up by drinking and killing three innocent people is that I’ve made a choice to release you. I’m no longer bound to you through unforgiveness.”
Tom leaned forward. “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
“That part wasn’t for you. It was for me.” She pointed to the guard still standing by the door. “I’ve left a Bible for you, but only if you’re interested. If not, they’ll give it to someone else. What I came to tell you was that the freedom I’ve found, you can find too. It’s available even behind metal prison bars.”
“Not interested in your God-talk. It’s bored me since I was a kid. And I have no need of it in here.” He stood. “Thanks for nothing.”
Tom walked to the guard by the door and exited without looking back.
Maybe she could have said that better or quoted some of the many Bible verses she’d studied before coming today. But maybe it just wasn’t time for Tom to understand the truth. She’d continue to pray for him, though.
When she’d finally let go of trying to make Tom pay her back for stealing her family and trying to kill her, she’d been surprised at the prayer rising in her mind. A short prayer. A simple request that God would capture Tom with His truth. And hold him like a newborn baby.
Minutes later, Gracie passed through all the sliding glass doors, retrieved her belongings, and stepped into the bright winter day Into a place where the air was cold and the wind tasted of freedom.
In a few minutes, she’d swing by her parents’ house and let them drive her downtown. Then she’d walk through Hartsfield’s doors and away from her childhood home.
But right now, right here, she’d taken the most important step. She’d faced the past and found her dreams. Her golden locket would soon rest in the hope chest next to her precious wedding rings. Because even though Mark, Elizabeth, and Joshua would always hold a special place in her heart, it was time to move out of the past. Time to step into the future.
A place that overflowed with promise.
Her dream of the future hadn’t taken clear shape yet. But there were three things she could see with perfect clarity: a pair of gorgeous blue eyes, a toe-curling smile.
And the picture of a newborn baby resting in vast—yet gentle—hands.
EPILOGUE
Not even waiting by Gracie’s front porch swing on a frigid Christmas afternoon could dampen the nervous energy building inside Steven.
He slipped off a leather glove and fingered the small package burning a hole in his pocket. Gracie couldn’t be gone much longer. They’d agreed to exchange gifts this afternoon, well before the big celebration at Dad’s later tonight.
As she came up the street, he could tell the exact moment when she registered his presence on her porch. Jake strained at his leash and helped pull her toward the steps, a little faster than she’d intended to go.
The smile on her face made his heart rate double.
“Hey, there. Aren’t you early? I still have the cooldown part of our walk left.” She gulped in a few quick breaths and bent down to rest her hands on her perfect-fitting jeans.
He stepped closer and ruffled Jake’s head as she straightened. “Want me to walk the last lap with you?”
“That would defeat the cooldown part.”
Steven grinned.
Gracie’s hands covered her mouth as her face glowed crimson. “I said that out loud?”
“Sure did.”
“Then I might as well tell you that I was having a Top Gun ‘Take My Breath Away’ moment watching you lounge on my front porch.” She stepped into his arms.
He pictured the exact scene, complete with flowing white curtains and Berlin’s female vocals crooning in the background. But he’d fought similar images in his dreams too often since Gracie’s return.
; Today he needed to dismiss them even faster. He was already hovering too close to the danger zone.
Kissing her forehead, he stepped back. “Ready for presents?” He rubbed his hands together.
“How about ‘Merry Christmas’ and a cup of hot cocoa first?” She laughed and unlocked her front door. Then she let Jake off his leash after they’d stepped inside.
He took their coats and hung them in the hall closet while Gracie and Jake disappeared into the kitchen to make hot chocolate.
“Here, let me do that.” He stirred the mixture on the stove as she got out two huge mugs and took a seat at the breakfast bar.
“Is James with your parents?”
“Yep.” He yawned. “We’ve all been up since before the crack of dawn. I think even Hanna is out cold in the guest room now.”
“What about Angela and Marcus? Will they be at your parents’ tonight?”
Dumping a little more milk and another spoonful of sugar into the pan, he shook his head. “Nope. Just family tonight.”
“She is James’s family.”
They’d talked long and detailed about his marriage, his divorce, and forgiving Angela. A recent development Gracie had been very excited to hear.
“My son and I want to spend Christmas with you.”
She cocked her head and smiled.
“Angela will be part of the equation we’ll have to navigate for holidays and vacations. But only after she’s done with rehab, and even then only after we’ve taken some overnights nice and slow.” He filled their mugs with the warm cocoa and plopped in a few marshmallows. “James loves his mom. Their relationship is growing. But we’d still like to spend this special day with you, Gracie.”
“Sounds like a nice dose of heart-chocolate for the holidays.”
He held out his arm to escort her into the den.
She giggled and slipped her hand around his arm just like she’d done on their first date. Good ole Jake was already snoozing on his pallet, completely unaware of anything around him. Gracie turned on her favorite Christmas CD—Steven Curtis Chapman’s The Music of Christmas.
She sat on the couch and pulled a Noah’s Ark Christmas afghan up around her shoulders. Only the top of her burgundy cable knit sweater showed. Good thing too. He didn’t need to keep noticing how well everything she wore fit.
“Would you like me to start the fire?”
She nodded. “That would be nice.”
He set about the task of turning Gracie’s white fireplace into the storybook roaring fire right out of Beauty and the Beast. Gracie’s favorite movie, he’d recently learned.
The white Christmas lights blinked off and on in a slow, soothing rhythm. He took a seat on the couch and slipped her legs onto his lap. They watched the lights in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
“I’m curious, Steven …”
“That’s nothing new.”
She sat up and nudged his shoulder. “I’m trying to be serious.”
He smiled and thought about giving her a foot massage, then quickly decided against that. It wasn’t time to get that intimate. Not yet. “Serious is highly overrated.”
“Even so.” She gave him a firm teacher-slash-mom look and leaned back into the couch. “I’ve been thinking about New Year’s Eve.” Her eyes studied the afghan over her legs. “You haven’t mentioned doing anything yet.”
“I wasn’t quite ready to ask.” He drew his leg up onto the couch and turned to face her. “I know it’ll be a hard day for you, and I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to suggest a big party.”
“Probably not. I never liked big parties anyway.” She poked him with her foot. “Go on.”
“I also thought about doing something small and quiet, maybe a late dinner with a few close friends. Say at Clint and Sara’s house?”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve already made plans?”
“Because I have.” He took a sip of lukewarm cocoa. Even cold, chocolate tasted good. “Leah and Kevin will be there. Clint and Sara set Michael up with their babysitter. Erica.”
“He agreed? Mr. Hotshot FBI Agent didn’t already have a date?”
Steven shook his head. “Nope. Michael’s been talking to Clint more about stuff and I can see a real difference. The rookie hasn’t had a date since my birthday in September.”
She pursed her lips together. “Long time.”
He shrugged. “He’s never been married. Not having a date for three months is a little different for a reformed single guy.”
“I suppose.” Sitting up, she finished off her chocolate. “Have you been talking to Clint about … stuff?”
“I’m going to start calling you bulldog if you keep that up.” He tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
She grabbed his hand and held it. “I just know last time we talked about your forgiving Angela, you still had the biggest thing ahead to look at.”
“Forgiving myself.”
She waited.
Knowing this topic would come up, he should have opted for a velvet pillow for Gracie’s gift. The little box of jewelry continued to dig into his leg, but this wasn’t the time to present it.
“I’ve thought a lot about your choosing to forgive Tom.” He rubbed Gracie’s knuckles with his thumb. “And I decided to let go of my own neck. After Angela and Marcus, it seemed almost natural.”
“But not quite.”
“No. I’ve spent a long time flopping from the end of a perfection hook. A self-inflicted capture.” Laying his head back on the couch, he looked for a long time at the painting over Gracie’s piano. The one of a young boy in a dark wood being guarded by an angel. “I finally understood that forgiving myself was a choice too. A decision to make, not because I deserved a break, but because God had already paid the price. My guilt payment couldn’t compete with that.”
“It takes time and practice for that choice to impact our knee-jerk feelings.”
Wise words. From a woman he wanted to kiss more than he wanted to breathe.
Gracie must have read his mind. Or his eyes. She said they told far more than his words ever did. She snuggled into his chest and released a long sigh.
“I know you’ll remind me of those wise words,” he whispered into her strawberry-smelling hair. “Often.”
She elbowed him. “Hey, what about my Christmas present? Didn’t we agree to exchange gifts before we went to your parents’ house?”
“We did.” He fingered the jewelry box. “But I think it should be ladies giving first.”
Standing up from the couch, she crossed the den and slid a very large rectangular package wrapped in blue and silver paper from under the tree.
“You bought me six more James Taylor albums and taped them together? That’s awesome.”
She laid the heavy package on his lap.
“So, can I open it now?”
She pushed his knee with her foot.
Ripping and tossing the paper just like James had done with every gift this morning, he stopped and stared at a large, ornately framed painting very similar to the one above Gracie’s piano. Except his picture had a grown man hugging his son. A hallway mirror reflected a younger man holding a baby. The Scripture plate read, “I have loved you with an everlasting love … Jeremiah 31:3.”
The little boy looked just like James. And him.
Blinking his watery eyes, he turned toward Gracie. “It’s beautiful. And perfect.”
“That’s how you’re loved, Steven.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Fiercely and gently at the same time. Wrapped in God’s strong arms.”
“Thank you.” What an awesome daily reminder this painting would be. “Now it’s your turn.” He set the painting on the coffee table. “But you have to close your eyes.” Turning to face her, he put a hand into his pocket.
“Why?”
“Do you trust me?”
She closed her eyes and harrumphed.
He’d take that as a “yes.” But just in case, he waved his hands in front of her
face.
“I’m not peeking. Hurry up, though.”
He placed the gold-wrapped box with a bright red ribbon into her hands, straightening the top bow a little. “You can open your eyes now.”
Sitting with wide eyes, her hands shook a little.
“I hope it’s the right size.”
Her face turned a deep shade of red.
“Think I’ll always be able to make you blush?”
Swallowing hard, she lifted her eyes to search his face. “Probably.”
A wide smile stretched his cheek muscles. “Don’t look so scared. Just open it.”
“I’m not scared.” Slowly, she untied the bow. “Surprised, maybe.”
Moving closer to her side, he tugged on the last of the soft red bow. “But you don’t know what’s inside.”
“That’s why I’m opening it. Hush.” With careful hands, she set aside the gold paper and lifted the small velvet lid. A laugh escaped her lips.
“Do you like it?”
She nodded, two tears slipping down her still rosy cheeks. “It’s beautiful.” She fingered the gold-filigree heart locket. “For new memories?”
“Yes.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “I got you, didn’t I?”
She elbowed him. Then turning her back to him, she held up her hair. “Will you fasten it?”
He fastened the clasp and kissed the crook of her neck.
She shivered and turned to face him, drawing in a ragged breath.
He’d waited for this moment for almost a month. And he’d prayed just as long for the control to keep things pure. She was one of the very best things in his life. And worth waiting for, no matter how hard that proved to be.
Wiping the little wet streaks on her face with his thumb, he eased her closer and then rested her head on his chest. The warm fire and soft lights, the scent of Christmas all around, and the feel of her silky hair spilling over his fingers, nearly broke his resolve.
She ran her soft hands over his forearm.