by Heather Gray
Skye put her hands on Alan’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “You aren’t that man anymore, and the truth is, a year from now, you won’t be this man standing right here. You’re going to keep moving forward, growing, and becoming the man you want to be.”
“The man God wants me to be, I hope.”
Sam was getting closer, and she needed to leave before he reached her. “That, too.”
Skye turned to go, but Alan stalled her with a hand on her arm. “I finished my sixty days and started the leadership program. The Boss pulled some strings and got me a job on a paint crew. It’s only a couple days a week, but it lets me work on my studies the rest of the time. I’m gonna earn a degree or something.”
“I’m glad. You’re going to do fine in the program. Better than fine.” She meant every word.
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before dropping his hand to his side. “It ain’t been the same around there without you. We’re all survivin’, but it’s not the same. Neither is the boss. You hurt him bad when you left.”
She blinked back the sudden pressure behind her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it, but you guys will be safe now. Everything’s going to work out.”
Jack gave Alan a congratulatory slap on the back, momentarily pulling his attention away from Skye.
She took the opportunity to escape the courtroom. She wasn’t ready to face Sam yet, not with so many people watching, not when she was so unsure of what she wanted to say or how she felt.
So she ran away. Out of the courtroom, out of the courthouse, and all the way down the street to where she’d parked her car.
Skye stood by her car. She’d gotten out of it, so that was something, right?
The court hearing was in the rearview mirror, and Samaritan’s Reach was safe. In the days since the hearing, she had wrestled her conscience and the way she’d left things with Sam. Seeing him again…
Could she make a life for herself in Rainbow Falls? What would Sam say?
So she stood by her car in the church’s parking lot. The part where she actually entered the double doors… That was something else altogether. She had to try, though, because she’d learned some things during her weeks at Samaritan’s Reach.
For starters, fear held people back. It never propelled them forward. And she was done being held back.
She sucked in a deep breath, scowled at the high heels pinching her toes, and walked through the doors into the vacant foyer.
The singing in the sanctuary was muted by the next set of doors. She was halfway across the foyer when a voice reached her.
“Well hello, dear. Welcome. I’m sorry. I was trying to tidy up a bit before going in.”
Skye tried to offer a polite greeting and brush past the woman with the walker.
“Here. Have a doughnut. It has chocolate on it.”
Skye didn’t want one. She didn’t want conversation, either. In fact, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be there.
The woman held the doughnut directly in front of her, though. Short of slapping the hand away, there wasn’t a polite way out of the situation. Then again, slapping a feeble old woman’s hand might not be considered entirely polite. So she gritted her teeth and took the pastry. “Thank you.”
“Do you think you could take this one, too?”
The woman held another doughnut out to her.
“No, really, one is plenty.”
“Oh, that’s not for you, dear.” The woman chuckled. “It’s for me. I need both hands for this walker. Follow me this way.”
The woman maneuvered her walker down a long hallway and to a heavy metal door. Definitely not the sanctuary. With more upper body strength than her slight frame implied, she pushed through the door and out into the sunshine. A wooden bench sat against the exterior of the church building, and the woman sank down onto it.
Skye, who had every intention of handing the woman her sweet treat and escaping, found herself pulled down to the bench next to the woman. “Wow. You have quite a grip.”
“I crotchet. Builds up the finger muscles.”
“Oh.”
“My name’s Rebecca, by the way.”
Skye handed the woman her doughnut and took a taste of her own without replying. No point trying to run for it now. She could hear the organ playing. If she went in now, she’d be noticed.
“You’re supposed to tell me that your name is Skye.”
“How do you know my name?”
Rebecca took another bite. “You were at the hearing for Samaritan’s Reach.”
Oh. That’s where she’d seen her. “You spoke, too.”
Rebecca nodded. “Sure did. Sam and his boys have been such a blessing to me and to so many of the elderly folks from this church and elsewhere in our community. They’re good people.”
“Yes, they are. Good people.”
“Pastor Dennis is good people, too.”
Skye took a big bite of doughnut and faked an I’m-sorry-but-my-mouth’s-full-so-I-can’t-talk smile.
“I used to teach at the high school here in Rainbow Falls. I was a teacher back in 1978.”
’78? That was the year…
“Your mom graduated that year, didn’t she?”
Skye looked at Rebecca and nodded.
“So did Emmaline White.” Then she frowned. “Sort of. Did your mom ever tell you about her graduation? About Emmaline?”
Skye stared straight ahead. “Emmaline was supposed to graduate with my mom, but she got sick. Leukemia, I think. She couldn’t finish school. Everyone knew she was dying. She wanted to speak at graduation, though, and the superintendent let her. And somehow as a result, my name is Skye Blue.”
“Your mom never told you why she named you Skye?”
“She didn’t want me to see the world in black and white… I think. It’s been a long time. I don’t remember it all.”
Rebecca swallowed her last bite of doughnut and brushed her hands across her polyester slacks. “Emmaline is a shade of white. Did you know that?”
Skye shook her head.
“She talked to her fellow classmates that night about how fleeting life can be and how they needed to seize it and live each day to its fullest potential. She told them — more or less — not to settle for living life in black and white but to instead live out their lives in full color. Celebrate every moment, the joyous and the sorrowful. Celebrate life in all its glory, in all its color. It was a beautiful speech from a beautiful girl.”
“She died not too long after, didn’t she?”
“Two weeks later.”
“So people around Rainbow Falls started naming their kids with colors.”
Rebecca chuckled. “From Amethyst to Wisteria. There were some crazy names running around our small town. But it was good. It reminded us all of Emmaline… and to embrace each day and live it well.”
“Sounds like Emmaline White was something special.”
“Oh, she was. From the day she was born, that girl was destined for greatness. I just didn’t expect it to come through suffering and death.”
Skye stared at the woman beside her.
“Rebecca White, Emmaline’s grandmother.” She offered a watery smile.
Skye’s breath froze in her chest. Words clamored to escape at the same time that she had no idea what to say. Her breath thawed and began to move again as the right words fell into place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“As am I, but thank you. Now let’s talk about your loss.”
Skye crossed her arms. “I’m not sure your granddaughter and my mother had anything in common.”
Rebecca moved her walker an inch to the right. “They were both dealt a raw deal, and they both did the best they could.”
“My mom did drugs and died because of it. Your granddaughter never did anything wrong.”
Rebecca chuckled. “Emmaline wasn’t a saint. She was a kid faced with the immediacy of her own mortality. Prior to her illness, she could be a spoiled brat with the rest of them. She wasn’t that
way often, but she could be. She wasn’t perfect and shouldn’t be remembered that way.”
Skye shook her head. “I don’t understand, then. Why are we talking about your granddaughter?”
“Emmaline was going in one direction. Leukemia came along and changed the entire course of her life. Your mom was headed one way, but she married into a family that didn’t approve of her, and her life changed direction. Then her parents died. Followed by her husband. Your mama was a fine woman who had too much hurt inside her. She didn’t know what to do with it or how to cope, and she didn’t know how to ask for help. The people she should have been able to turn to were all gone.”
“She had me.”
“You were what, eleven, at the time? And she was your mom. It was her job to protect you, not burden you.”
“I’m not sure she protected me.”
“Maybe not in the way you wanted her to, but she brought you here. She brought you to the one place in the world where you would fit in and be loved for exactly who you were. She brought you to a town where people had learned the hard way not to take their children for granted and to live each day as though it could be their last.”
A minivan with a dog hanging its head out the window meandered along the street in front of them.
“I don’t understand.”
“We all failed your mom. We saw how troubled her heart was, and we thought we were helping. We embraced you. We encouraged our children and grandchildren to welcome the newest Rainbow Girl. We kept an eye out to make sure you weren’t out after dark and that you were doing your homework and working hard at school. We got you into church and did our best as a community to simply love you. We didn’t do the same for your mom, though. We judged her. We knew about the drugs, and we ignored it. So she’s dead now, and every single sensible person in this town feels guilt about that.”
Tears clawed their way to the surface, but Skye swiped them from her face.
“God redeemed that past, too.”
“I’m beginning to hate that word.”
Rebecca chuckled as she patted the wall they were leaning against. “You shouldn’t. We have this church here that welcomes all kinds of people. Homeless, addicted, anger issues, whatever. If you don’t fit in anywhere, this is the place that wants you. And this church is here because your mom died.”
Skye sucked in a breath so quickly it whistled.
“I’m not sayin’ God let her die so we could have this church. I’m saying we all failed her, but God took our failings, and He turned them around. He turned them into something He can use for His kingdom. Just like He redeemed that pastor in there. Just like He redeemed your friend Sam. Just like He wants to redeem you.”
Skye wiped at more tears that insisted on showing themselves.
“Think about it. That’s all I ask. If you ever want to talk some more, you can find me in the phone book.”
Rebecca rose from the bench and moved away, slowed by her advanced age and cumbersome walker.
Skye watched her go without saying a word. She had none to offer. All she had left were tears. She’d made such a mess of everything.
CHAPTER 40
Sam’s long legs ate up the distance to the van. He unlocked the door, hopped in, and started the engine.
It purred to life, and Sam gave a content sigh. Green & Son had taken care of the imminent repairs, but having Fern on board as a volunteer at Samaritan’s Reach had proven far more beneficial. The van hadn’t run this smoothly in all the years he’d had it.
“Hey, Boss. Isn’t that Miss Skye’s car?”
Sam scoured the parking lot before Franco even finished climbing into the van.
Over there. Ahead and to the right. Skye’s car, but no Skye.
Was it her car? The right make and color.
He’d never memorized her license plate.
“Sure is. She has that little rainbow crystal thing hanging from the rearview mirror.” Gideon pointed just as the sun hit the prism and shot a blinding beam of light in their direction.
Baxter yanked the driver side door open. “Go on. Go find your woman. I’ll see to it that they’re all returned to the Reach safe and sound.”
“She’s not my…”
“Right.” Baxter snorted. “You ain’t convincing any of us.”
Sam glanced back at the men in the van. A few of them were new. They’d never met Skye. The rest, though… They looked at him with a mix of hope and fear. They missed Skye, too. In a different way, sure, but they missed her nonetheless.
“No promises, guys. But I’ll try to bring her back.”
Gideon nodded. “Do your best, Boss. That’s all anyone can ask.”
Sam climbed out of the van and headed back toward the church’s entrance. He arrived in time to open the door for Miss Rebecca, who was coming through. Her friend, Irene, was giving her a ride home since the doctor still hadn’t cleared her to drive.
“Good afternoon, Miss Rebecca.”
She shuffled past. “There’s a long hall to your left, ends at a brown metal door.”
“Pardon me?”
She turned to him. Her body might be frail, but her eyes were eagle-sharp. “If you’re looking for someone, there’s a long hallway to your left. It leads to a brown metal door. There might be someone sitting on a bench on the other side.”
Sam didn’t stick around to thank her. He slipped into the church’s foyer and let the door swing closed behind him. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the interior lighting, he sought out the hallway she’d indicated and followed down its length. Classroom doorways lined the hall.
He reached the door, wiped his hands on his pants, and pushed.
There she was. Skye. She was wearing a blue dress, just like the day he’d met her on the plane. Her head was bowed, and she hadn’t looked up at the sound of the door.
Sam took the three steps that put him at the bench, and he sank down next to her.
Silence filled the space between them.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you’d look at home flipping a butterfly knife.”
So she did realize he was there. “How do you even know what a butterfly knife looks like?”
Her red-rimmed eyes met his. “I watched movies. I wasn’t always sheltered, either.”
More silence, but this time it wasn’t quite as painful.
Skye knotted her fingers together in her lap. “I owe you an explanation.”
Emotion surged through him, almost too strong to contain. “Part of me says you owe me a whole lot more than an explanation. And part of me wonders who I am to think you owe me anything at all.”
“Honest, even when it’s awkward. Right?”
He nodded. “That’s always my preference.”
She untangled her fingers and braced them on her thighs. “I’m broken. I have more things wrong with me than you can shake a stick at.”
“Or a butterfly knife?”
Laughter tickled the edge of her mouth and softened her voice. “Yeah, or one of those.”
“I’m willing to listen if you want to talk.”
She stared straight ahead, hands clasped together in her lap. “I was at my home in Boise, and the pieces were all falling into place. I was going to be able to turn the company over to the employees, and I’d started things rolling so I could rent the house here to Samaritan’s Reach. I was on top of the world, and I wanted to celebrate.”
“Sounds like something worth celebrating.” Even if her tone of voice said the opposite.
“I had no one to celebrate with, though. I was all alone in a city that I’d lived in for more than a decade. I should have had friends. I should have had somebody I could call, but there was no one.”
“Loneliness is hard.”
She glanced his way, and her eyes were clearer than he’d seen them in a long time. “You’re right. Loneliness is hard. My problem is that I’d brought it on myself. I pushed away everyone who ever cared about me. I’m not sure when it started. I don’t kno
w if it was my dad’s death, or my mom’s drugs, or the way my grandparents always kept me at arm’s length. And I’m not sure it matters, either. But somewhere along the way, I started pushing people away, too. I didn’t let anyone close enough to my heart to cause me pain. The Rainbow Girls. God. You.”
“Loneliness is its own pain, though.”
“Exactly. I wasn’t saving myself from pain. I was just causing a different kind of pain. Have you ever given God the silent treatment?”
“The first twenty-eight years of my life, if that counts.”
She offered a shy, sad smile. “Yeah, it counts.”
He’d kiss away her pain if he thought it would help anything. “So where do you go from here?”
“Did you ever hear the story of Emmaline White?”
“A little. Ginger gave me the highlights one time.”
“Emmaline died, and people grieved for her. They experienced pain. They also had joy, though, because she’d been in their lives. I want that, too.”
“Joy?”
“People. Relationships. The kind of life that has both joy and pain.”
Sam caught himself reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. He pulled his hand back. “It sounds like a good life.”
“I think I finally understand this whole redemption thing, too.”
Sam locked his hands together behind his back. The urge to pull her close was getting harder to battle.
“It’s not about the past being gone. It’s about it being used. Our lives aren’t written in sand on the beach. The bad stuff doesn’t disappear when redemption rolls in. Maybe the shame is washed away, but not the acts themselves. Because God wants us to use those.”
She’d come a long way. “Sounds like you have a handle on what redemption means. The question is whether or not you want God to redeem you.”
Her eyes shone. “He did. A long time ago. I just… I just didn’t want to talk to Him anymore. After Mom died, I got kind of numb, you know? Numb, but angry. Which doesn’t make sense. I was mad enough to distance myself from the only One left who seemed to care about me.”
“Ah. So this is where giving God the silent treatment comes in.”
Color tinted Skye’s cheeks. “Something like that. I’m ready to get over it, though. I’m done acting like a spoiled brat who didn’t get her way.”