Crossing's Redemption

by Carrie Daws

  “Okay, you guys go play,” said Jake, “and we’ll have lunch in a little bit.” Andrew and Emma ran outside to set up his new rocket, while Taylor picked up a book from the coffee table and headed to her bedroom. Jake looked closely at Patricia. “You’re different with them.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, picking up pieces of wrapping paper near her.

  “Uh-huh. So what happened last month?”

  “Things were just busy.”

  “Really? Too busy to come see the kids?”

  Patricia just nodded.

  “Patricia, I’ve known you for almost nine years. You took a chance on me and Kelly, hiring me to help us get back on our feet after our families disowned us when we came to Christ. You stepped in for our moms when the kids came along, supporting Kelly as she adjusted to motherhood. And I don’t know what I would have done without you two years ago when Kel lost her battle with cancer.”

  Jake adjusted his glasses. “You missed last month’s appointment to go over the books from the garage. And you show up today looking worn out and tired.”

  Patricia sighed. She didn’t want to drag her past out for anyone to see, but Jake was more like a son to her than anyone. “I’ve been having some . . .” She paused, looking for the right words. “. . . health challenges.”

  Jake sat forward in his chair. “What kind of challenges?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Truly,” she said. “Ryan has run all kinds of tests, and he said everything is fine.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Patricia took a deep breath. “He says I’m having panic attacks.”

  “Panic attacks? Why?”

  “We don’t know for sure.”

  Jake sat back and looked at her for a moment. “But you suspect.”

  Patricia looked at the empty fireplace across from her. How she longed for a child to come running into the room to change the subject. “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Do?”

  “As I understand it, panic attacks are about being afraid. So what are you going to do to deal with the fear?”

  Patricia hesitated.

  “Or are you going to continue to live with the attacks?” said Jake.

  Chapter 5

  THE SUN WAS HAVING LITTLE success in breaking through the cloud cover Sunday morning as Patricia walked into Jake’s kitchen. Taylor stood at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. “That looks good, child.”

  “Thanks. I made a little extra in case you wanted some too,” said Taylor, gently stirring the eggs into fluffy, yellow lumps.

  After breakfast, the family piled into Jake’s minivan for the short drive to Mars Hill Church. Jake found a parking spot on Southeast Taylor Street, and they walked two blocks to the church. Patricia looked appreciatively at the hundred-year-old stone building. The rounded front with towers on either side had earned it the nickname “The Castle” from its members.

  Patricia always loved walking into the main building for services with its huge open space, second story balcony, and plastered walls. She took her seat on one of the curved, wooden pews just as the bell tower rang to start the service and a violin player rushed to take her place on stage with the small orchestra.

  After getting the kids to their classes, Jake settled in beside Patricia during the first song, and soon Pastor Tim Smith welcomed everyone. As Patricia looked at the multitude around her, it was hard to believe that this church had only been meeting together for a little over a year. The lanky pastor on stage looked like a strong wind would blow him over, but apparently he had the fortitude and demeanor God wanted to lead this menagerie of people.

  That man has to be about my age, she thought, and lots of people here are Jake’s age, but this young lady in front of us might still be in college. And her hair! Is that blue dye or a reflection from the stained glass windows?

  Patricia tried to focus on Pastor Mark Driscoll’s sermon that came through video feed from Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Washington, but the mix of the crowd kept drawing her. She’d never felt completely comfortable with the progressive attitude of the city, preferring the quiet pace of Crossing. Something’s obviously drawing the liberal-minded people of the city to check things out, and what they are finding is keeping them coming back. God, You must be part of this.

  As Pastor Mark closed out in prayer, Pastor Tim stood again, asking people to consider Mark’s words and make some decisions in their own lives. After communion was offered, the service closed out with three more songs. Pastor Tim led the congregation in a new arrangement of “Just as I Am,” causing Patricia’s thoughts to circle back to her current dilemma.

  Do I want to offer myself to You just as I am? she wondered.

  She noted the silence in her heart and soul.

  “Wow, that smells good!” Amber said as Patricia opened her front door to her two days later.

  “Good. Bring that child in here and get you some, then,” said Patricia, reaching out to touch Daniel’s cheek as he snuggled against Amber’s shoulder.

  Amber followed Patricia through the living room to the kitchen that seemed permanently stuck in the 1970s. The yellow countertop matched the green and yellow tiled laminate flooring, and all of it just added age to the worn-looking cabinets. The coffee maker was probably the newest appliance in the room, and it had to be ten years old.

  Shredded chicken in a pot on the stove gently bubbled, and when Patricia removed the lid, the barbeque aroma escaped, causing Amber’s stomach to growl. Patricia turned off the gas fire under the pot and carried it to the table where she had two plates, buns, a bag of chips, and a pitcher of tea waiting.

  “Would you like ice?”

  “Just a little,” said Amber.

  The ladies sat, Amber holding Daniel in her lap, while they prayed over their meal. She sat him on the floor at her feet and handed him a toy from his bag while Patricia began to spoon shredded barbeque chicken onto a bun for her.

  “Tell me more about what’s going on with your little one,” said Patricia. “I’ve not spoken to Faye in a couple weeks.”

  “Well, basically we’ll do more testing as he continues to grow, but the doctors are talking about a range of treatments. One day he might be a candidate for surgery, but right now they want to focus on hearing aids.”

  “Hearing aids? For a baby?” Patricia cut her sandwich in half before picking up one part to eat.

  “Yes. How long he wears them each day will depend on how well he tolerates them, but we could go so far as to buy directional microphones to help.”

  “What’s that?”

  Amber wiped a drop of barbeque from her fingers onto a napkin. “It’s kinda like a lapel microphone that a speaker at a conference or large church would wear, but it would be directed to Daniel’s hearing aids and help him hear us above all the other noises around us when we speak.”

  “You gonna do that?” Patricia opened the bag of chips and offered some to Amber.

  “Not right now. Perhaps later, maybe when he starts school. Peter and I’ve been praying a lot and believe we should go with a combination of the hearing aids and sign language.” Amber got up to reposition Daniel before he scooted himself under her chair.

  “Always wanted to learn sign language.”

  “I’m not sure I do!” said Amber as she laughed. “I’ve never tried another language before, and right now it seems overwhelming.”

  “Do you learn it from a book, or what?”

  “The doctor recommended a friend of his. She lives in Arizona and recently broke her leg, so she’s stuck at home. She learned sign language as a child because one of her parents is deaf, and she’s willing to meet with me over webcam to teach me.”

  “Sounds like God intervening.”

  “Definitely,” said Amber. “I’ve already talked to her once, and she seems really sweet. I think she’s going to be a huge support to me while
I adjust to all Daniel’s going to require as he becomes more mobile.”

  Amber picked Daniel up and balanced him on one of her legs. She pinched off a small piece of the bun and offered it to him. He opened his mouth wide. “Did you have a good Memorial Day?” Amber asked as she wiped her finger on her napkin.

  “It was quiet.”

  “Didn’t you spend the weekend with Jake and the kids?”

  Patricia poured herself some more tea. “I drove up Saturday morning and came back Sunday after church.”

  “Things are all good there?” Daniel reached out for more of what was left of Amber’s sandwich.

  “Yes. Their church is really growing.”

  “I’ve heard really good things about Mars Hill,” said Amber.

  Patricia was quiet for a moment. Something Jake had said before she’d left had stuck with her, and she wondered if she should mention it to Amber. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she wanted to mention it to anyone. She grabbed her plate, used her napkin to wipe crumbs into the trash, and then walked to the sink.

  “Jake told me about a new group he’s starting. Redemption Group, he called it.” She kept her back to Amber, uncertain she wanted to see her reaction.

  “That sounds interesting.”

  She heard Amber moving around behind her, but she couldn’t quite tell what Amber was doing.

  “It’s for people who’ve . . .” she paused, fumbling in her mind for the right word. She wasn’t quite ready to voice out loud what had happened to her. “People who’ve been hurt.” She turned on the faucet to rinse her plate.

  Amber walked up beside her with her plate and glass. “It sounds like Jake is doing a great thing,” she said softly.

  Patricia nodded. “It’s just once a week. I could drive.”

  Amber laid her hand gently on Patricia’s arm. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

  “You’ve been hurt. I’ve been . . . hurt. I’ll call and clear it with Jake.”

  Amber reached over Patricia and turned off the water. “I’d be honored.”

  Patricia looked at Amber and saw the tears threatening to overflow in her eyes. Patricia swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her voice to work. “I’ll call him tonight.”

  Chapter 6

  AMBER SAT SIDEWAYS ON HER couch, her legs crossed in front of her, supporting her laptop.

  Peter quietly closed Daniel’s bedroom. “I think he’s finally down for the night,” he said. Sassy wagged her tail as Peter stepped over her to slouch beside Amber, stretching his legs out on the coffee table and laying his head on the cushions behind him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking up more information on this Redemption Group thing Mrs. Guire mentioned.”

  Peter looked at her. “You said you’d go with her without knowing what you were agreeing to?”

  “She looked so lost, Pete.” Amber shrugged. “She was reaching out. I think she was asking for help in the only way she knows. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Okay, so what are you finding out?” Peter readjusted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes.

  “The website says that they are small groups that deal with abuse, addictions, and trials. Ummm . . .” Amber read quietly for a moment. “It says that the groups only meet for about ten weeks, that people in the group are dealing with a variety of issues, and . . .” Amber paused as the reality of what she was reading sunk into her heart.

  Peter opened one eye, turning his head slightly to look at her. “And what?” he said gently.

  She avoided looking at him, busying herself with closing down the Internet and shutting the lid to her computer. Peter grabbed her wrist.

  “Ray? The group meets for ten weeks, and what?”

  Amber swallowed hard, still unable to look at her husband. The man who loved her. The man who knew the mess she had been when she arrived in Crossing. The man who still didn’t know everything about her past.

  She fingered the seam at the bottom of her jammie pants. “It said that each group member is supposed to share their story.”

  She waited. Part of her mind still fought to remember that Peter was her patient and loving husband, not the angry boyfriend she’d escaped from years ago. He wasn’t the one who had hurt her. He wasn’t the one who had abandoned her as damaged goods in front of a hospital.

  She finally raised her eyes to see him watching her.

  “Are you ready to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  Peter sighed. “Ray, I’ve never asked for a lot of details about your past, and that might be a mistake. I don’t know. But I do know this.” Peter took her hand and held it between his two hands, pulling it close to his heart. “You are an incredible woman. An incredible woman who carries a huge load from the past.”

  Tears began to gather in Amber’s eyes as she listened.

  “The baggage you insist on toting around is unnecessary. This secret that you guard so carefully—it wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”

  Amber searched his eyes, desperate for solid proof that what he said was truth. Her mind went in circles, arguing all sides for her more quickly than she could sort it out.

  Peter gently pulled her to him, laying her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “I love you, Rachel Amber Yager. And I’m committed to loving you for the rest of my days.”

  He kissed the top of her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. Hope fought to retain life among the doubts and fears in her heart. Maybe God is working to put me into the Redemption Group because I need it as much as Mrs. Guire does.

  Amber sat in the logging office the next morning, shaking her head. Yet another set of numbers was added incorrectly. For the last hour, she’d buried herself in the log count reports from Peter’s young apprentice, who was frequently distracted by a pretty girl. Or a squirrel climbing a tree. Or the wind.

  The phone ringing beside her was a welcome distraction. Her cheery greeting was cut short by Mrs. Guire.

  “Child, I spoke to Jake. He said they don’t normally do these groups in the summer, but a ladies group is going to start in June.”

  Amber looked at the calendar beside her. June! That’s tomorrow!

  Mrs. Guire continued. “Jake only leads guys’ groups, but he called whoever it is that he needed to get permission from, and they are going to let us participate. We need to be at this lady’s house on Tuesday.”

  Tuesday. Amber’s mind raced. Can I do this? I don’t think I can do this. I need to tell her I can’t do this.

  “I’ll pick you up at your house about quarter after five. She said she’ll have some food so you don’t need to eat before we leave.”

  Mrs. Guire spit out the information and got off the phone quickly. Amber didn’t remember saying much more than hello. She just sat and stared at the receiver for a moment before hanging up.

  “Lord, what I really want to do is run from this group. I don’t want to think about my story, much less tell it to anyone else.”

  She left her desk to walk to the window overlooking the forest. The trees blurred together as her thoughts turned to the last time she’d seen Martin, the man who always brought darkness to her dreams. That final night, he’d been drunk and pushed her out of the car at the emergency room doors before driving off. She’d been so battered that she’d wanted to fade away. No one would have missed her.

  Or so she thought.

  Why couldn’t Mom and Dad have found me before I’d met him, God? I know you protected me from other things while I was on the road. Why not him? No, that’s not fair.

  Sassy nosed her hand, pulling her out of her daydream. Amber bent down and rubbed the dog’s brown ears. “I was weak, Sass.”

  Sassy tilted her head to one side, her chocolate-colored eyes attentive.

  “I should have walked out the first time it happened, but I didn’t. I chose to stay. It’s my own fault things ended up the way they did.”

  Sassy growled her response. Amber stop
ped rubbing and just looked into the dog’s eyes for a moment.

  The door opened, and Amber looked up.

  “You two having a moment?” said Peter.

  Amber stood and walked back to her desk. “I think she was arguing with me.”

  “Who was winning?”

  Amber looked at Peter sharply, and he put his hands up defensively. “Don’t take it out on me! I’ve lost plenty of battles to that canine.”

  Sassy barked.

  Peter walked over to Amber and put his arms around her. “In fact, as I remember, one of those losses was over who she was going to live with when I moved out of Mom and Dad’s. An adorable brunette won the loyalties of my own dog very quickly.”

  Amber giggled at the memory of a very red-faced Peter running into his mom’s kitchen looking for Sass. The dog had given her allegiance to Amber within days of Amber’s appearance, regardless of the fact that she had spent her first five years of life being wholeheartedly loyal to Peter.

  “She’s a pretty smart dog,” said Peter.

  Amber laid her head on her husband’s chest and looked at Sassy still sitting near the window. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”

  “Anything you want to talk with a human about?”

  Amber didn’t lift her head. “Patricia called. Redemption Group starts Tuesday night.”

  “That’s fast!”

  “Yeah.” Amber left the shelter of Peter’s arms to walk back to the window. “I feel like God cleared the way for this to happen, but that doesn’t make me any more excited about going.”

  “Nervous about sharing your story?”

  Amber crossed her arms, running her hands up and down between her elbows and shoulders like she was cold. “What’s the point in telling other people about this? What’s the point of admitting where you failed in your past? It’s passed. It’s over. You can’t change anything.”