After taking a few bites in silence, he opted to push his luck. “Glen asked if he could stop by and see you.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I said it would make you mad.”
“Great. I hate to imagine what Glen thinks about me now.”
“But I was right.”
“And that matters, doesn’t it?”
He pushed the spoon deep in the bowl and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “If you want to bait me, or criticize me, to vent whatever you’ve stored up, have at it. I’ll even fight back if that makes you feel better.”
“Chuck—”
“No, I want to hear what you’re thinking, what you’re wrestling with. I promise I won’t try to change your mind, or talk you out of anything.”
“You won’t lecture me?”
“Promise.”
“What did Rita tell you?”
“Not much. Just that you talked some about your mother.”
“She didn’t tell you I was a control freak?”
“She mentioned her theory.”
“She’s wrong.”
“Okay.” Determined not to push her, he reached for his spoon.
“You think I don’t pray? That I’m not listening to anything from anybody? I heard everything you said yesterday.”
God, please . . . give us that breakthrough . . .
She fixed her eyes on her glass and wiped the condensation away with her thumb. “Last night . . . while you were gone . . . I sat there in the study. And I replayed every word you said. Every word I said.” She took a long drink from her water.
He knew she was stalling, so he leaned back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed, nonthreatening, whatever it took to keep her talking.
“And I got the phone. I held it in my hands and I begged God to let Shannon call.” She raised her eyes to his. “I prayed that if I was wrong . . . If He’d let Shannon call . . . I’d be at the doctor’s first thing Monday morning.”
“And she didn’t call.”
She shook her head slowly. “What am I supposed to think, Chuck? What’s He trying to tell me?”
“Bobbi, that’s the reason you need to talk to Glen. He could give you an answer.”
“I don’t want to talk to Glen. I want to talk to you.”
He had to fight back the impulse to take her in his arms. She wanted to talk. To him. Hallelujah! He pushed the chili to the side and folded his hands on the table in front of him, faking calm reserve the best he could. “I, uh, I don’t know how much help I can be.”
She almost smiled. “You’ve been more help than you know. Just letting me say . . . all those things. Being strong enough to hear them. I can’t tell you how much . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she twisted the water glass on the place mat. “He’s through with me.”
Chuck wanted to shoot back, “No He’s not! That’s ridiculous!” Instead he nodded. “Do you feel like God’s giving you permission not to treat your cancer? That He’s okay with that?”
“I asked Him to tell me otherwise, and He didn’t.”
“Would you change your mind if He said something different?”
“If?”
“When.”
“We’ll see.”
* * *
“How’s Mom?” Joel asked as soon as his father opened the front door, skipping the hello.
“I’m guardedly optimistic.” He stepped aside to let Joel in. “She talked to Rita a little bit, then she sat with me while I ate lunch.”
“She’ll get there.” Joel nodded. “You look tired. You should find a football game to sleep through.”
“Maybe so.” His father’s eyes darted to the wedding picture hanging in the entryway. “Listen . . . I . . . your mother . . . medically speaking, how much danger is she in by putting off treatment this way?”
“This is not my field—”
“I trust you. Just tell me.”
Give the man some hope, some reassurance. “It sounds like they found it early, so depending on how quickly she decides to go for treatment, it may not set her back very much. It may just change her treatment options or the duration of the treatment. But again, I don’t know a whole lot about breast cancer. You’d have to ask her doctor.”
“That’s good enough. I want . . . I’m trying to respect her, to be patient, but I don’t want her . . .”
“It’s okay, Dad. I think you’re handling it just right. So is she around?”
“Out on the deck.”
Joel strode back through the house and opened the back door carefully. He stepped out and before he could close the door, his mother spoke. “Is it your turn?”
“My turn for what?”
“To sit with me. Dad says I can’t be left alone.” She sat in a chair in the corner of the deck where she could look out across the back yard. A paperback lay face down on the deck beside her.
“No, I just came to visit,” Joel said, leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek. He pulled a deck chair closer to hers and sat down. For a long moment neither of them spoke. “What can I do?” he asked.
“I don’t think this can be fixed.”
“You know, there are easier ways to die than breast cancer.” She didn’t answer but gazed at a fixed spot somewhere off in the distance. “And you wouldn’t have to wait two or three years.”
She sighed deeply and slowly turned to look at him. “Joel, I don’t want to die, I just don’t want to live. Does that make any sense?”
“It makes a lot of sense,” Joel said gently. “Mom, I know you hurt in ways the rest of us can never understand, but letting yourself die isn’t going to take your pain away. It’ll just transfer it.”
“To?”
“To Dad and me and Jack . . . and Shannon.”
“Shannon doesn’t care,” she shot back.
In that quick snap, she revealed all he needed to know, but he played dumb. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with harsh sarcasm. “Not calling for three months, maybe.”
“You’re just like her.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re both hurting, except you collapsed and don’t have the will to go on. She exploded and ran.”
“Why did it have to come to that? Why didn’t she say something, come to me, before she cut herself off from everyone, everyone who loves her and needs her?”
Joel leaned forward, never moving his eyes from his mother’s, watching as the question drained into conviction. “She’s got too much stubborn pride,” he said.
She recovered quickly. “Joel, you’re so charming, I hardly know I’ve been insulted.” She scowled and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not trying to insult you.” No wonder his dad looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a prizefighter. Just when he thought he’d scored some points with her, she threw up another wall. “Shannon . . . she’s not going to come home until she’s ready to face all that pain. The pain she feels . . . and the pain she caused.”
His mother nodded. She knew he was right. In spite of her protests and jabs, she knew.
“Mom, for you to heal, you have to do the very same thing. Face the pain you feel and the pain you caused.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s too much. I can’t.”
“No, you can’t, not alone. You’ve got to get back in church. Tonight.”
“Joel—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I’ll drive you myself if I have to, but you have got to go.”
“Give me another week.”
Joel shook his head. “You sound just like that lawyer you live with, always negotiating. You won’t do it if you put it off. You’ll back out.”
“No, you have my word. Next week, I promise.”
Chapter 16
Parting
Monday, September 22
Chuck waved to Christine as he strode past her desk. “I need to see Chad.”
“Of course. Is everything all right?”
&n
bsp; “It will be.” He closed his office door behind him and hung his suit jacket on the coat rack like he did every morning. Today, though, he set his briefcase on his desk, snapped it open and began emptying it. He never looked up, knowing Christine would be at his door as soon as she realized what he was doing.
He pulled the large file drawer on his desk open and slid the folders from his briefcase inside. Next he fished his key ring from his pocket, unhooked the firm’s keys and laid them in the desk drawer.
“Chuck? Christine said . . . What’s going on?” Chad stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.
Chuck glanced past him. Christine was watching. “Chad, I need you to take over here.”
“Temporarily, right?”
Chuck frowned but didn’t respond. “I’ve got to take care of my wife and I have to find my daughter and those two things are going to take all my time and energy.”
“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Chad said, “but what happened? What changed?”
Chuck gripped the desk and sighed. No matter how many times he said it, it never got easier. “Bobbi told me Saturday afternoon she’s not going to treat her cancer. She thinks . . . She’s kinda lost her will to go on.”
“Over the cancer?”
“Over Shannon mostly, but I don’t think she got over Brad’s death, either.”
“This doesn’t sound like her.”
“No,” Chuck said quietly. “In any case, I can’t keep working while she’s drowning like this. I’m going to put out a memo that you’re the man now.”
Chad shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I hate that it has to be this way.”
“That’s why I trust you. Make sure you give yourself a raise.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Call Christine in then. She’ll do it.”
He opened Chuck’s door and waved to Christine. She laid aside a stack of papers and walked gingerly across the lobby to Chuck’s office. “I don’t want to hear this, do I?” she asked Chad as he held the door for her. He shook his head and closed the door behind her.
“Christine, Chad is responsible for the day-to-day operations of the firm. Make sure his base is commensurate with those additional responsibilities.”
“No,” Christine whispered. “Not like this. You can’t . . .”
“I’m ordering my priorities,” Chuck said. “Right now my wife needs me far more than my clients do.”
“You’ll be back?” she asked.
He dropped his eyes without answering her and went back to his desk. “Everything is in the desk, Chad, including my keys.”
“Mr. Molinsky . . .”
Chuck had to ignore her. He couldn’t afford to discuss or debate his decision, and he certainly couldn’t watch her cry. He carefully placed the photographs from his desk into his briefcase, taking a lingering look at the one of Bobbi and him. Lastly, he picked up the desk clock his father had given him when he joined the firm, and laid it gently in the briefcase, then snapped it closed. “Just box up the rest of my stuff. I’ll get it later.”
He rounded his desk and reached out his hand to shake Chad’s. He reluctantly returned Chuck’s handshake. Chuck then gave Christine a long hug. “Thank you for everything. You really are the best.”
She wiped away tears as he let go. “You can still call and boss me around,” she said, trying to smile.
“That’s Chad’s job now.”
“Keep us posted,” Chad said. Chuck nodded, draped his suit jacket over his arm, then walked out of his office and out of the building.
“I feel sick,” Christine said.
“He’ll be back,” Chad said. “Don’t take him off the payroll or make any other changes. This isn’t the end.”
* * *
Sunday, September 28
Bobbi sighed as she watched the neighborhoods flash by. The drive to Preston Road Community Church passed entirely too quickly. They’d be there in minutes. She massaged her icy fingers and tried not to draw Chuck’s attention.
He’d been home with her all week, but he hadn’t smothered her. He spent his days in the study on the telephone and on the Internet, trying to get a lead on Shannon. He hadn’t had any luck. However, Bobbi knew he wouldn’t give up. She loved that about him. He never lost hope.
Chuck eased into a parking place and turned off the car. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
“I feel sick.”
“You sure you want to go?”
“No, but I don’t want to face Joel either.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“You want to pray first?”
“I’ll be okay.” She opened the door and got out.
Chuck caught up with her in a couple of quick steps and surprised her when he took her hand. “Yes, you will be okay. This won’t last forever. It just seems like it right now.”
What did he know?
They slipped into the sanctuary just as the worship service was beginning, grabbing a seat on the far aisle, close to the back. Immediately, tension and guilt spiked inside her, but as the service progressed, warm security and a sense of belonging enveloped her. She wished she could throw it off like a blanket. She didn’t want to feel comforted and welcomed. She wanted confirmation of the cold, hard rejection in God’s heart.
Glen Dillard stepped up to the podium and opened his Bible. Thankfully, he didn’t mention her name, didn’t even glance her direction. He read an e-mail joke, then he began his sermon.
“Last week we had a cliffhanger. We left the Israelites trapped, with the Red Sea in front of them and the greatest army in the world bearing down on them from the rear. It appeared that their choices were death, or death. Let’s pick up in Exodus chapter fourteen and we’ll just read a couple of verses. Start at verse thirteen.” He paused a moment as people leafed through their Bibles.
Bobbi purposely left her Bible at home, but Chuck held his out for her to read. She conveniently forgot her reading glasses as well, so the words were a blur. She shook her head and pointed to her eyes. He nodded and offered his glasses to her. She shook her head again. Chuck had the vision of a near-sighted bat. Wearing his glasses would give her a bigger headache than she already had. She settled back, hoping her mind would quickly drift to something else as Glen read.
And Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall see again no more forever. The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” And the Lord said to Moses, “Why do you cry to Me? Tell the children of Israel to go forward.”
“There were four things Moses and God told these people to do, and we’re going to look at each of them,” Glen began. “First, Moses told them not to be afraid. What were they afraid of? Just the Egyptians . . . and drowning. Look at where they stood. Egypt, their past, was behind them, gaining on them, threatening them. What was in front of them—the future, walking by faith with this Moses guy, following Jehovah—didn’t look too promising either. Maybe that’s where you are. Your past threatens you. It follows you, ready to attack, ready to drag you back to bondage.”
Bobbi folded her arms and almost smiled. Her past was not her problem. The sermon wasn’t for her. She was going to escape.
“But in some ways, that’s better than the unknown,” Glen continued. “It may be better than following Jehovah, who, even if you know Him, you’re pretty sure you don’t understand Him. Especially now. Especially in this lose-lose situation.”
Bobbi’s stomach knotted around the words “lose-lose.” Glen didn’t . . . he couldn’t know how she felt. Unless Chuck told him. She could imagine the two of them scripting a message for her. She rolled her eyes Chuck’s direction, but he sat innocently engaged in the sermon. Innocent. Glen said this was a continuation from last week. Also innocent. Not conspiracy between Chuck and Glen. No, it was God, and He was after her.
He
could chase all He wanted. She wasn’t moving. She didn’t trust Him right now. Like Glen said, she didn’t understand God anymore. She always believed He didn’t act randomly or capriciously. That just wasn’t His character. So how could Brad’s death possibly work for any good and God’s glory? No one could answer that one.
Besides, God is the sovereign Lord. He can do what He wants and she had to accept it. Isn’t that what Job concluded?
She saw Glen check his notes and raise a hand, counting off his points. He was wrapping up.
“Israel was told not to be afraid of the past or the future,” he said. “They were told to stand still and not make things worse by trying to do things on their own. Finally, Moses told them to look for God’s deliverance. God was going to do something incredible and He didn’t want them to miss it. God was going to rescue them from peril, defeat their enemies and bring them to the other side.”
He leaned away from the podium and grinned. “Now, parting the Red Sea is kind of hard to miss. Think, though. Are you missing your deliverance? See, that’s one reason you have to stand still. Where is your deliverance coming from? What avenue is God using to pull you out of your situation?”
Bobbi dropped her eyes. He’s not. He’s not rescuing me.
“Maybe you’re thinking, ‘God delivers those other people, but He’s sure not doing anything for me.’”
Bobbi stiffened, refusing to move, refusing to give any signal that she even heard Glen’s words.
“Let me tell you something you can take to the bank. God would not have brought you here if He could not finish the job.” Glen tapped the podium loudly, emphasizing the last few words. “You think God was caught off-guard when the Egyptian army showed up? You think He hadn’t thought out how He was going to get this whole nation across the water?” Glen shook his head. “You think your circumstances are a surprise to God? Or maybe He’s having to rethink things before He intervenes?”
Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series Page 18
