Forgiveness

by Marianne Evans

  But she didn’t.

  Driven by purpose, she stood her ground and breezed right past the kind-featured lady who stood guard. The woman lifted to her feet and sputtered but didn’t get in Pyper’s way.

  Jesus, Pyper prayed in silent fervor, the request I’m about to make isn’t a test. Honest. I know better than to test Your goodness—but whatever comes next is all on You. If he’s here, if he’s available, if he can give me the time of day that everyone seems to believe he’s after, then fine. Now is the time, and this is the moment. I’ll listen. It’ll be You, and me, and Mark. If not, then that’s fine, too. At least I’ll have tried. At least, then, I’ll be able to turn my back on this whole wretched mess and—

  At the threshold of Mark’s office, she froze. Pent up air clogged lungs and panic set in, because for better or worse, there he sat. Folded into a chair behind his desk, he typed on a keyboard, focused on the monitor just ahead. Pyper’s lips twisted into a wry smirk.

  As if God would let either one of them off the hook that easily, she mused.

  Pyper, My precious child. Rest.

  The Spirit breeze worked through her body and soul. She calmed, though not entirely. Since Mark remained unaware of her arrival, she stayed put to observe and absorb. Attitude skeptical, she stood ramrod straight and clutched the doorframe so tight the skin along her knuckles turned white. Open file folders were strewn next to the keyboard. Hunt-and-peck keystrokes filled the air with stuttered clicks until her tentative knock announced a summons.

  Mark spotted her and lurched to his feet so fast he upended a cup of coffee across a nearby stack of papers. He yelped a surprised curse then flushed beet red. “Pyper, I…I’m…ah…sorry. I’m a klutz.”

  Pyper didn’t say a word but stepped cautiously into the office. Mark yanked a stash of napkins from his desk drawer. Bent on rescuing files, she helped him mop, dry, and clean.

  “I’m sorry about this. You kinda startled me. Wasn’t expecting…you know…a visit or anything.” Mark stuttered, but all of a sudden his motions came to a stop. “I suppose this is ironic. You helping me clean up a mess.”

  Pyper’s head came up as she set folders aside to dry. Her demeanor iced in an instant. “Don’t expect this to turn into a greeting card moment.”

  “Fair enough. I won’t.”

  What was with that gentle tone, she wondered. The calm he displayed was at complete odds with the man of her memory. Together, they repaired his desk, and his somber sense of resignation stirred guilt. Tremors hit, sending her nerves into a hot-wire dance against her skin. Soon the silence became unwieldy. “I know we need to talk…and so…I stopped by…to—”

  Groaning, Pyper surrendered the stilted and worthless attempt at civility. She tossed ruined napkins into the trash while Mark shrugged, avoiding her eyes as he repositioned desk items. “I have no doubt your efforts are instinctive rather than affectionate. All the same, they’re appreciated.”

  “I…I know I reacted like some kind of gunslinger at the benefit. That was wrong. I just…I don’t know how to take this in. There’s a lot of baggage inside of me when it comes to you. Plus, your tie to Chase certainly knocked me over…but…I guess…I suppose…we should deal. Right?” She didn’t call him dad. She didn’t call him Mark, either, or refer to him in any way personal. Instead, she bungled forward as best she knew how.

  “I realize it’s early yet, but do you have time for a quick lunch? I found a deli nearby that serves good sandwiches.”

  Pyper straightened her purse strap, clutched it tight. “Yeah…I suppose we could.”

  Reaching out, Mark smoothed a comforting hand against Pyper’s arm. The motion might have been an automatic response from his heart, but she flinched as though burned and moved back a pair of generous steps. Mark retreated as well and grabbed his wallet from the desk drawer.

  “Ready?”

  All Pyper offered was a silent nod.

  The short walk to the retro-style deli was silent, painful in its tension. They ordered and Pyper settled stiffly across from him at a scarred Formica table. They stared at each other for agonizing moments.

  “I’ve said it to so many patients, so many times,” Mark said. “Dissolve the muck and the mire with the power of your convictions. Work through the trials a step at a time until the water runs clean and you can start swimming free again.” Mark leaned on his forearms, dusting his fingers across the laminated surface of the table.

  Pyper folded her arms across her midsection in tight protection.

  “The words are therapy-speak, sure, but they’re true, and it seems they’re relevant to the moment.”

  The dissolving process to which Mark referred was much more difficult than she could readily imagine. Pyper lifted her corned beef sandwich from the tray he had collected at the order counter and placed between them. She took a bite. When their gazes met again, she swallowed and firmed her resolve.

  “I’m here because of Chase. You helped him, and he cares for you. I told him not long after we met that I looked forward to meeting his sponsor one day, and saying thank you. He’s come back to life as a wonderful, solid man. You had a hand in that, and I’m grateful. He means the world to me.”

  “And I know the same holds true for him toward you.” During an eloquent silence, his gaze bore into hers, as if words, and feelings and regrets rolled through him, pushing to burst free. “My point in wanting to see you, to talk, is to let you know that I’ve come back to life as well. I’ve battled to find a path home, too.”

  “I listened to what you said at the benefit. Like everyone else in the room, I was moved by your story. How could I not be? You’re telling me and the world that you’ve changed.”

  “I have. I met Christ when I landed in South Carolina, and I’ve never once looked back.”

  “Yep. Not once. Not even long enough to look us up. See how we were doing. Find out if we were dead or alive.” Doubt and hesitance formed a backdrop when she realized how mean and condemning her words sounded. What if he meant all of this? What if, in some small way, she needed to come to terms with his reform and take his journey to heart? Pyper’s muscles went tight. She couldn’t allow him to step through that kind of an opening. Not yet.

  “Your mom married Tyler Brock. That was kind of big news, Pyper. I kept up, and I know you took his name when he adopted you.” Mark’s brows furrowed. “What more did I need to know? Amy was where she should have been in the first place; you were well loved. In the meantime, I worked as hard as I could to rebuild a life that had turned out nothing like I ever intended.”

  He ate a few bites of his sandwich; Pyper figured he might be trying to find words, so she followed suit, but the food tasted like sawdust and didn’t land well in her roiling stomach.

  “I had to find my way. I was in no position to approach either one of you. At that point, why would I? Why would I interfere? Why would I mess up the life the two of you had made?”

  “Spite. Scandal. Monetary gain. Bitterness. And that’s just for starters.”

  His nose flared. His eyes sparked with flashes of temper. This version of Mark Samuels was painfully familiar to Pyper, and she realized at once she stepped close to a boundary line best not crossed. Fear instantly set in and she nearly bolted from her wobbly metal chair. As fast as that flood of terror washed in, she watched him bank the flare of anger by going still, folding his hands into a tight clench.

  “And in spite of those temptations, I stayed away. What does that tell you?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. What I will say is this. You hurt me deeper than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m not sure I even want you to be part of my life. I know you realize that fact, so why are you pushing at me so hard for something I don’t think I’m going to be able to give?”

  The questions forced her to confront the worst of herself and attempt to smooth a scar that had formed over the deepest—and softest—reach of her heart.

  “You’re part of me, Pyper. Whether you like it or
not, whether we can ever move forward or not, you don’t just belong to your mom, or Tyler. You belong to me, too. If not for me, you wouldn’t be who and what you are. You need to come to terms with those facts just as much as I need to come to terms with what I did to you. The choice is yours now, I’ve already made my decisions, and I’m acting on them. Now it’s your turn.”

  “So, you expect a fresh start? Unreal. As it stands right here, right now, the answer is no. It’s like you have no clue how terrified I was of adult men when I was little. Men scared me to a degree that I couldn’t even be around ones I didn’t know unless my mama took me by the hand and led the way. That’s because of you. I could barely find my way into a relationship with Tyler until I realized he was so loving, so kind, so trustworthy, that I had no choice but to give him my heart. That’s because of you, so you’re right. I am who I am because of you.”

  Mark leaned back, visibly absorbing the sting of her indictment. He clenched his jaw. “Well, I wanted you to have your say. I didn’t figure it’d be easy to tolerate, but I owe you nothing less.” Following a hard beat of silence, he looked straight into Pyper’s eyes. “That said, I want you to tell me something. Do you trust Chase?”

  Pyper blinked, taken out of the moment entirely by his unexpected question. “Of course I do.”

  “Makes sense. After all, you’ve said it to me yourself, he’s a changed man. A solid man. A man made new by the power of God and authentic reform.”

  “That’s absolutely correct.”

  “Then why can’t the same be said for me, or anyone else who’s battled back from an evil pattern of life?”

  His words acted as the equivalent of a mic drop. She fought to challenge the truth he presented so succinctly; a scramble of words formed and poured out of her in a mighty push. “Chase has willingly and completely humbled himself. He earned my trust and respect by not just talking the talk, but walking the walk.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do right now, Pyper?” Mark heaved a quiet but heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before focusing on Pyper once more. “I suppose I deserve no less than recrimination after the hell I put you through. Nonetheless, I’m holding on to the promise that Jesus knows my heart. I’ve gotta believe He knows how hard I’m tryin’ here, and how much it means to me.”

  She withstood the barrage of emotional shrapnel, the confusion, the heartache and turmoil, still, her chin wobbled. Tears filled her eyes, one or two cresting over her lashes.

  “I’m asking for a second chance. I’m asking for an opportunity to show you a life can change over the course of twenty-plus years. I’m hoping for the chance to show you who and what I am now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you, Pyper, and I always will, no matter what comes to be. I’ve prayed long and hard for the chance to earn something I know I don’t deserve.”

  “Which is?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  The word—his bold, emphatic use of it—caused Pyper to quake. All through her mind spun the lyrics of the song she had created and struggled with at Chase’s side. Assailed by overpowering vulnerability, her defenses rose hot and strong. “Don’t you dare try to go all Dad on me at this point. It’s way too late and you lost the privilege long ago.”

  “Being your dad isn’t what I asked for, now is it?” He paused, obviously letting that set in. “And if rejection is your final answer then you’re not behaving at all like a Christian. If you don’t believe I can change—that I have changed—then how can you possibly believe it of the man you’ve fallen in love with? What interest would you have in a man the likes of Chase Bradington? A drunken, immoral singer who wasted years of his life and destroyed people he loved?”

  Horrified, Pyper reared back. Gasped.

  Mark forged ahead. “I had hopes and dreams. I gave up on every one of ’em after I graduated high school because—”

  “Because of me. Because of adulthood. Because of life. You’re not in high school anymore, Mark.” Sharp and dismissive, her interruption came wrapped in tight shoulders, a taut set to her jaw.

  “And neither are you.”

  “You were my father. I trusted you, and you destroyed that trust. You say you had hopes and dreams? Well so did I! So did my mama! You ruined them.” Sorrow built—pressure beneath a volcano. “I couldn’t even defend myself. Well, I can now, and the way I’m going to do it is by saying this: I want you to stay away from me.”

  Something in the unyielding tone of her edict must have caused Mark’s determination to crumble. He flexed his jaw, nodded, and gathered himself straight even as she sensed his surrender.

  “Thank you for letting me say what I needed to say.” Again he spoke with a sense of calm that was all but foreign to her experience. “I’d like you to keep something in mind. Look at where your life ended up compared to mine. Who ended up on the right side of the road? Who ended up moving into blessings instead of pain and regret and rebuilding a life that was busted to pieces?”

  He stood and took the meal ticket with him, leaving Pyper with more tears brimming over already wet lashes.

  21

  After chasing his way through yet another episode of fitful sleep, the last thing Chase wanted to be greeted by in the early morning hours was an incessant electronic buzzing sound. It wasn’t the alarm clock, he realized, raking back his hair and rolling from his stomach to his back. The annoyance stemmed from his stinking cellphone.

  He grabbed the device and punched it into silence before realizing the reason for the alerts. Zach Brock had sent him a text.

  Hope u get this fast. Need u to pick me up. No questions, K? Plez just help me out ASAP.

  Cobwebs of sleep cleared from Chase’s head in a big hurry. Before launching to his feet, he fast-typed a reply.

  On my way. Where u at? You hurt? Safe?

  I’m at Kim Monroe’s. I’m OK. Please, just come.

  Fourteen-year-old Zach was with Kim Monroe at—Chase rolled to check the bedside clock—just after one in the morning? That was more than enough to thicken Chase’s pulse to a hot throb and prompt him quickly from bed.

  And Zach, Chase discovered, was totally wasted. Drunk to the point of nausea. Zach tumbled into Chase’s truck and they barely made it down the driveway before the kid passed out, groaning in misery. For the time being, Chase asked no questions, exerted no pressure. He stored it all up for later, because he fully intended to give the kid a swift shake to the soul. For now, though, he needed to get Zach on his feet and find out exactly what had happened.

  They landed at his condo and Zach tumbled into the bathroom. Chase followed, relentless and torn between the idea of lending comfort and giving the kid the chewing out of his life.

  Zach moaned, leaning over the commode, stomach emptying.

  “What happened?”

  “Kim invited me over. We hung out.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Now, tell me the rest of the story.”

  “Her folks were gone.”

  “And did you know that before you went over?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Clutching his stomach, crumpling to the floor, Zach closed his eyes and let out a quiet wail. Chase felt no pity whatsoever.

  “She said she wanted to see me. That’s all I knew. And I’ll admit, I didn’t mind a bit finding out they were gone. I’m into her. I like how she makes me feel. That honest enough for you?”

  Where was this defiance coming from? The hostile attitude?

  “What is up with you?”

  “Nothing much other than the fact that I’m getting a clear picture of my life and the people in it, and I’ve decided to do what I want to do. Why can everyone else live however they want except me? Even my supposedly perfect family is far from perfect. Why should I be held to a standard even they can’t uphold? I wanna be what I wanna be.”

  “Well there’s foolish mistake number one.”

  “Shut up. You have no right to be my jud
ge and jury. You’ve done the same thing. Besides, what do you care? All you’re in it for is Pyper.”

  OK, that one stunned Chase speechless…for a moment. “What on earth do you mean by that statement?”

  Zach snorted. “Oh, come on. Get real, and don’t you lie to me. Hanging out, bringing me into your band, asking for my help in the studio, none of that is about being friends, or helping me find a way, it’s about Pyper. You like having the inroads to her and my family.”

  Struck wordless again, Chase stared, open mouthed. “That is without a doubt the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I wish I didn’t even have to dignify it with a response, but I will anyway. What I did, I did for you, Zach. Out of my affection for you and out of wanting to right the ways I did Shayne Williams wrong. It had nothing to do with Pyper or your family. I didn’t want to see you make the kind of mistake you went ahead and made anyway, so I guess I’m no kind of a mentor. Talk to me about the booze. How’d you get it?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Want to get kicked out of here on your backside? Keep it up.”

  Zach wilted. “It started out as no big deal. We were just going to have a mixed drink, like her parents and everyone else does.”

  “Please tell me all you had was liquor. Please.” Though, for a fourteen-year-old, that was more than bad enough. He had sensed from the start that Kim Monroe lived and moved within a faster, less moral circle of friends. Not a good mix when it came to a hormonal, crushing kid like Zach.

  “We had rum and cola. The drinks went down so easy that one or two became…well…more.”

  Zach threw up all over again. Close to rabid with disgust and anger, Chase growled beneath his breath and prepped a couple cold wash cloths. He squeezed off the excess water then spun back to Zach who had recovered enough to lurch to his feet and glower as he staggered and righted himself against the edge of the bathroom sink.

  “So I slipped and had too much. What’s the big deal? How’s it any different from what everyone else does, including you?”