by Irene Brand
They were so much like Brock who wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, let go of his anger toward his mother. His anger had prevented him from opening his heart to love. She’d known that before and had convinced herself she could reach past his walls. Only today had she understood how hard his pent-up fury had made him.
Tracie hoped God had plans for her child in the manger. Had Allison been just kidding herself when she’d imagined the Father’s plans for her and Brock? It couldn’t have been more clear to her now that she’d been wrong to wish it. She couldn’t see God ever choosing a future for her with a man who had no compassion in his heart, couldn’t even muster a little for a hurting sixteen-year-old girl.
Hopelessness covered Allison as realization settled heavily in her heart. But the truth was immovable. She couldn’t allow herself to love a man who had no compassion, no matter how much it hurt to let go of her dreams.
Staring across the nearly empty street, she reached up to touch her hair, damp from the fluttering snowflakes. A chill crawled up her arms, making her shiver as she approached her car, dreading having to scrape her windows.
“Allison, wait up.”
His voice drifted up behind her like a wave at high tide, washing over her and then drawing her out to sea and back to him. She couldn’t let him pull her back. She needed to protect her heart by walking away from him.
“It’s been a long day. I need to get home,” she said without stopping or turning around.
His stride was longer than hers, so he easily caught up with her and rested a hand on her shoulder. At his touch, warmth seeped through her heavy coat and beneath her skin. It was too late to protect her tender emotions when he’d already sneaked in and taken possession of her heart.
“You’re angry.” He squeezed her shoulder again and released it. “I had a job to do, just like you do.”
Brock studied her as she turned to face him, her eyebrow raised.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
That she just stood there and said nothing answered the question. She didn’t understand him any better than he’d been able to understand Tracie’s motivation for leaving her child as a set prop.
Nervous energy had him rubbing his freezing hands together. “Being tough on the girl was just part of questioning. We had to get to the truth.”
“So that’s what you were going for? Truth?”
Incredulous, he stared back at her. “Of course it was. Just what are you saying?”
Allison shook her head, regret—or maybe it was pity—plain on her face. “Whose truth were you going for?”
“The suspect’s.”
“She’d already told you her story. She’d come back to face the consequences of her actions. Wasn’t that enough?”
Because his hands were tempted to fist at his sides, Brock buried them in his uniform pockets. “I told you I was doing my job.”
She only tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Did you really think by attacking that troubled girl you could change history and bring your mother back?”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“Is it? You accuse Madeline of being heartless, but maybe you should look at yourself. You’ve worked so hard to lock everyone who loves you out that you can’t even see hurt in others. That girl was hurting, and all you wanted to do was lock her up along with the ghosts of your past. Will you ever stop being that abandoned little boy?”
As Allison’s car pulled away, Brock was certain a part of his heart had gone with her, ripped clean from his chest. Her disappointment in him, plus his own, stayed firmly with him even after her taillights were no longer visible.
He stood on the empty sidewalk watching after her, as if he expected her to turn around and come back to tell him everything was okay. She wouldn’t be back. Sure, he would see her again. In this small town, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him completely, even if she tried.
And she would try. She wouldn’t laugh with him or touch him or challenge him to be a better man—someone she deserved. She wouldn’t look at him that longing way she sometimes did when she didn’t know he was watching—as if she just might love him. Never again would she kiss him and make him wish he believed in happy endings.
Until this moment, he hadn’t even realized how much he wanted all those things, or how much he wanted Allison. Now the thought of his life without her seemed unbearable.
With his spiteful actions, he’d just proven he wasn’t worthy of her. He should have known that all along. Where he was selfish, she was giving. Her faith in God was limitless, but his couldn’t have been more finite. While she expected people to do the right thing, he spent all of his time waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Which one of us was right? The side of his mouth lifted to spite him. Tracie Long had come back just as Allison had expected her to, and Brock had only wanted to see her rot in jail.
So much of what Allison had said about him was true. All of it. Naked, raw truth, the type he was accustomed to tossing into suspects’ faces but wasn’t used to seeing it come flying back at him. And it hurt.
No one enjoyed discovering he was transparent, and yet Allison had seen right through him. The worst part was there was so much to see. She was right. He had tried to punish Madeline for her sins by showing Tracie no mercy.
Strange how he hated people who played the victim when he’d filled that role for so long that he couldn’t separate himself from it. How tightly he’d held on to his pain. He’d been afraid of giving love without reservation for fear that those he loved would run out on him.
Because of his fears, he’d pushed people away. He’d pushed Allison away when his instinct told him to gather her near to his heart and to cherish her there forever. In pushing, his heart had become hard. Now his self-preservation plan had caused him to lose the one person he truly loved.
He didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t make him need her any less. A day late and a dollar short. How ironic that he was finally ready to trust when no one was asking him to. To offer his whole heart to someone when no one was waiting to accept it.
Too late. The words became chain mail, weighing on his shoulders. The blame, the hurt and guilt—they were all too heavy. Whether or not he could ever convince Allison to give him another chance, he couldn’t go on carrying this deadweight.
Lord, we haven’t talked in a while, so this might be too much to ask, but I need Your help, he began, the prayer feeling rusty. Still, he was certain he’d been heard. He’d always known where to take his burden, so, he wondered now, why it had taken him so long.
He couldn’t allow himself to worry about how little faith he’d had, not when Jesus had said that someone with faith as small as a mustard seed could move mountains. His parents had taught him that—his real parents, the ones who had loved and raised him.
He’d probably destroyed every chance for being with Allison, and the pain of it felt unbearable, but he would go forward with God’s help. For the first time, he laid the whole situation in God’s hands.
Allison raced into her office the next morning, hoping to collect her case file and make it to the courthouse on time, despite the queasy stomach that had her running late. Facing Brock this morning in the courtroom would probably be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do.
To be so close to him and yet know he could never be hers seemed like a happy ending as viewed through frosted glass. Would she ever stop feeling cheated by her decision to keep them apart?
Grabbing the file, she hurried toward the door, preparing herself for a negative outcome at court. Funny how she’d come to expect the worst rather than the best these past few days. She wasn’t sure anymore whether good really did prevail or whether love conquered all.
She’d almost made it out of the office when the phone rang. Her pulse tripped against her will and shamed her. She had no reason to assume Brock would call her here, especially now. If he did, she was afraid that hearing his voice would be like rubbing sal
t in her fresh wounds.
On the third ring, she gave in and answered. “Division of Family and Children. May I help you?”
“Are you on your way to the courthouse?” Clara’s voice came through the receiver. “I’ll save you a trip. The prosecutor is not filing charges against Tracie Long.”
“Are you serious? That’s wonderful.”
For once, the justice system seemed to have provided real justice. She felt guilty that she could breathe only one sigh of relief on the troubled teen’s behalf before releasing a second one for herself. She might not have been able to avoid seeing Brock in Destiny forever, but maybe she could keep her distance for a few days, while the wound was still so new.
“Wait. Why the change? When I talked to the prosecutor’s office yesterday, they were pretty sure—”
“Don’t know,” her boss answered on a sigh. “Found some decency, maybe.”
Allison smiled into the receiver. She doubted Brock’s reaction to the prosecutor’s decision would be as solidly in Tracie’s court as Clara’s reaction had been. She wondered whether he would take the girl’s release as a personal affront just as he had internalized Joy’s abandonment. Christina Marie, she corrected herself.
“Is Tracie going to do a voluntary termination of parental rights?”
“I haven’t heard.” Clara paused as she was wont to do with her family case managers before she gave them a new assignment. “But, Allison, there’s one thing I have heard. Deputy Brock Chandler approached the prosecutor and spoke on Tracie Long’s behalf.”
Chapter Eleven
Two hours had passed since her enlightening telephone conversation with her boss, yet Allison’s mind still swam with the knowledge that Brock had been the one to come to Tracie’s defense.
She’d tried burying herself in her case files, planning some of her regular foster home visits, but her thoughts had continually returned to Brock and Tracie and the baby whose future would forever be affected by their decisions. If she hadn’t been in love with Brock before, she would have fallen willingly during those two hours where thoughts of him filled her mind and heart. How she would act on her feelings, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t bother denying them anymore.
“Allison.” The administrative assistant stood in the doorway between the entry and the main office. “Your eleven-thirty has arrived. A new foster parent applicant.”
“Could you send her in, please?”
The corner of the woman’s mouth pulled up slightly. “Him.”
Allison lifted an eyebrow but nodded. Couples were common applicants, as were single women, but single males were rare.
The assistant turned her head to the side. “Sir, you may go in now.”
She heard a rustle of movement and the footsteps on the creaky floor, but no voice. Allison stared at the doorway and waited, keeping her expression professional.
But the form that filled the doorway stole her breath and her professional demeanor. His was the same face she expected to see in her dreams for the rest of her life.
“Brock, what are you doing here?” She wished she could hide the stark need that had to be imprinted on her face. “Do you want to be a foster parent?”
“That’s part of it.” His smile faltered, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself. “You’re the other part.”
“I don’t understand.” The problem was she did, or at least her hopeful heart was tempted to believe and to lay itself open to him.
Brock took several steps toward her and took both of her hands in his. “Will you give me a chance to explain?”
She nodded, emotion welling in her throat. The last tiny strings of her defenses snapped, leaving her vulnerable, her heart fragile.
He led her over to two chairs, indicating for her to take one, and he sat in the other. For several seconds, he stared at the ground, but when he spoke, he met her gaze.
“I held on to the blame I felt for my birth mother too long, but I’ve finally let it go. I never realized how that blame held my heart captive.”
She opened her mouth to tell him he was wrong, to try to soften the stark truth, but he only shook his head.
“I don’t want to be judge and jury for other people’s lives anymore, based on my own mother’s poor decision. I have no right. I never did. I was wrong.”
Allison grasped his hands. “You were hurting.”
“That’s no excuse. I can’t give myself one when I wouldn’t give anyone else one.”
“How can you say that? You convinced the prosecutor not to charge Tracie.”
“That was because of you. You always believed.”
Allison smiled as she released his hands. “She loves her baby.”
“I know. I met with her and her parents last night. She wanted to do the right thing.”
Something warm expanded inside of her. He had compassion after all. It just took him a while to find it.
She must have been smiling off into the distance because he took her hands again to get her attention. “Allison, I asked Tracie for her forgiveness last night. Now I want to ask for yours. Can you forgive me?”
At her nod he sighed. “Phew, that’s a relief, because I want to ask you for something else. Would you take a chance on us? There’s something good growing between us, and I feel God’s leading to build upon it.”
Allison gasped, but the air felt good hitting the suddenly dry back of her throat. So this was what it felt like to have everything she’d ever wanted laid out within her grasp. She’d questioned it before, but she was certain now that Brock was the man God had planned for her. This had been His plan all along.
Brock could see it, the way the hope seemed to bloom in Allison’s expression, in the glow of her lovely skin, in the way her posture relaxed. He understood it because he felt it, too, sensed that today would be the beginning of all things good for the both of them.
He grinned. “Should I take that smile as a maybe?”
“Take it as a yes.”
He knew he should stop. It was too much too soon. Yet he couldn’t. He wanted more. All. He’d spent a lifetime doing the wrong thing, so why should he waste a moment of doing the right one? He would wait on her if she wanted him to. Her needs mattered more than his. He owed his new life to her, and now he wanted to give her his.
“Allison, this is crazy. I know it’s too soon to tell you this, but I’m in love with you.” His pulse raced, and his palms dampened, but he felt compelled to go on. “I think Tracie is right. God does have a plan for Joy. I think he wants us to build a family for her. Just the three of us.”
Her eyes widened, but they glistened, making him wonder if she would tearfully reject him. It probably was a little late for him to suggest that they go out on a first date or something. You know, take it slow.
What would he do if she turned him down when everything inside him told him God’s purpose for his life was to love her? Could he live without her?
But Allison only quirked an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“I can’t imagine living my life without you. I could wait another six months and ask again if that’s what you want, but I want to be your husband now, six months from now and sixty years from now.”
She studied him for several seconds. “But you are asking…right this minute?”
“Let’s just say, for reference sake, if I were asking today, what would your answer be?”
She tapped her index finger to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut, appearing to ponder, before she opened them again. “Okay, then, for reference sake, I’d say yes.”
“Then that makes this a whole lot easier.” He lowered on one knee right there in front of the office assistant, the other caseworker and their boss who were crowded in the doorway now. “Allison, I love you. Please be my wife and help me become a better man.”
Her eyes shone with tears again, but she smiled as they spilled over. “Yes, I’ll marry you but only because I love you. I don’t want to fix you. I want to make a li
fe with you.”
“It’s a deal then.” Brock reached out his hand as if to shake hers, but when she offered hers, he lifted it to his lips and gently kissed it. Then he stood and drew her into his arms where she belonged. As his lips touched hers again, the promise of his heart so plainly offered with them, he had the sensation of a homecoming from a long, hard journey.
When he pulled his head away, her eyes appeared glazed with the intoxication of their blooming love. Her eyes were probably a mirror of his own.
“Oh, I have one more question. Would it be okay if we get married this afternoon? I’ve reserved Judge Douglas’s court at four-thirty.”
She let out a laugh. “Were you that sure I would accept?”
“Not sure. I hoped.” Hoped. It was the same thing Allison had said about delaying the court hearing while waiting for Joy’s mother to return. Because of Allison, he had learned to hope, as well.
“Were you hoping, too, that I didn’t have my heart set on a big church wedding?” She cocked her head to the side.
“We can be married at church later—as big as you want—but would you mind making it legal today? I want to put ‘Married’ on my foster parent application.” He stopped himself and shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t matter if Joy wasn’t even in the picture. I would still want to marry you today because I can’t wait to be your husband.”
She was chuckling now. “But you were serious about becoming a foster parent? You’ll be required to complete twenty hours of training, get agency approval and have a home study completed. I’ll have to quit my job because of the conflict of interest.”
Brock’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you think? Is it all too much, too fast?”
She didn’t hesitate at all before she shook her head. “You’re right. I believe Joy belongs with us. I think God planned it from the beginning. But more than that, I think God wants me to be with you, today and always.”
Allison stood outside the courtroom door, Clara fixing the tiny veil on her pillbox hat. Fortunately, for her, she and her boss were the same size, and Clara had possessed elegantly simple taste when she’d married.
