Crossing's Redemption

by Carrie Daws

  Amber laced her fingers through his as she watched the stars overhead. “I know God didn’t cause the pain. Martin has to bear responsibility for his choices, as I have to for mine. But He did allow it. Then I start to circle back with trying to reconcile a loving God and Him allowing evil.”

  “Where does that take you?”

  “Right back to my sister dying.” Amber look at Peter. “If I’m honest, all of this leads back to Cassie dying in the car accident that New Year’s Eve. It was the catalyst that led to Dad’s drinking and losing his job, us moving in with Mom’s parents and Mom and Dad fighting all the time, and me running away and eventually ending up with Martin.”

  “True. But God preventing the car accident doesn’t necessarily mean you would have been spared the pain of Martin or any of the other stuff. If the enemy of your soul wanted to attack you in that manner, Martin just happened to be in the right place at the right time to be the enemy’s willing weapon of choice.”

  Amber looked back at the stars. “Maybe more of this stems from my belief in the purpose of pain and the ability of God. What do I really believe about God? Is He all-powerful? And just because He doesn’t stop bad things, does that mean He isn’t loving and good? Or could He see a greater purpose that will only come forth after pain that our enemy likes to inflict?”

  “Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,” said Peter.

  Amber turned her head to look at him. “What?”

  “It’s what Job says near the end of his book. After he questions God about the calamity in his life, God answers with a series of questions like, ‘Do you give the horse its strength?’ All of them are pretty easy for Job to answer, but the one that always gets to me is when God asks if Job would discredit God’s justice.”

  Amber sighed, looking at her hand intertwined in Peter’s. “All of this just seems to come back to trusting God. Do I really trust Him or not? Could He possibly work something good out of all of this, or not?”

  Peter gently pulled on her arm, guiding her out of her chair and over to his lap. He wrapped his arms around her. “And?”

  “I don’t know what good will come from it, but for tonight, at least, I believe He is working something out in me. I do trust Him.” Amber looked into her husband’s eyes. “How could I look at you and remember the last couple of years and not believe that He is good?”

  Chapter 11

  PATRICIA SLAMMED THE REDEMPTION BOOK shut, very frustrated. Her anger seethed forth. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that?” she yelled at her living room ceiling.

  She walked to her front window and looked out at the cloudy morning. The street was quiet, even for a Thursday morning. School had been out for nearly a week, yet no children were outside playing right now. The scene outside seemed to echo her mood.

  Thinking about the chapter she’d just read, she shook her head in irritation. “You send me to this blasted group, you partner me with this . . .” Patricia paused in her tirade.

  She pictured Amber as she had seen her two nights ago in Shannon’s living room during the group session. “Fine. She is changing, coming out from her pain. This is good for her.”

  “But that!” Patricia motioned back toward the book with a wave of her hand and looked back at her ceiling. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “Forgiveness,” she muttered. “I am not the one who needs to seek Your forgiveness! I did nothing wrong!”

  She crossed her arms and looked out the window.

  Are you certain? came the gentle reply.

  “Certain? Certain!” Patricia spun around like she was talking to a physical person in the room. “He is the one who took everything from me. Everything! He trapped me and forced himself upon me and then just left me there. I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t even have an abortion. I did my best to care for that child, and when she was born, I made sure she had a good home.”

  Patricia allowed herself to think back on those months, the emotional turmoil she’d fought through to give her Heather a chance at life. “And I did it alone!” she shouted, her finger pointed in the air.

  You were never meant to carry that burden alone.

  The gentle words stopped her, the anger instantly gone. Her memories turned to John Williams, the adorable doctor who was painfully shy with his emotions. The quiet man who cautiously but consistently sought her out at her garage in Portland. He’d spent so much money on parts and services for his car before he’d found the nerve to ask her to dinner.

  “But, I couldn’t . . .” Patricia’s eyes filled with tears, and her hands trembled. She walked back to her couch and sat. “I couldn’t tell him.”

  Shame.

  “Yes, I was so ashamed.”

  Fear.

  “What if he didn’t believe me?”

  What if he had?

  The dreams of the life she had given up overwhelmed Patricia. And, for the first time in many years, she gave in to the tears.

  From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).

  Amber leaned over her desk at the logging office so completely absorbed in reading her Bible that she didn’t hear the door open.

  “Another good book, huh?” asked Faye, closing the door behind her.

  “Hmm?” It took Amber a moment to refocus from what she’d been reading. “Oh, yeah,” she said, smiling at Faye. “Just some things I’d never thought about before.”

  Faye handed Amber a foil-wrapped plate. “A new recipe, and I wanted your opinion.”

  Amber breathed deeply. “Smells like lemon.” She pulled back the foil to reveal a yellow-colored cake with a smooth topping.

  “Creamy lemon cake. Pretty easy, but a little time-consuming. I was thinking about making it for the family party over the fourth of July.” She took a seat beside Amber’s desk.

  Amber took a generous bite. “Oh, wow.” She savored the slight tartness and the velvety frosting before swallowing. “Pops is gonna love this!”

  “Peter’s grandfather has always liked lemon about as much as Peter likes strawberries.”

  Amber smiled as she leaned back in her chair. “And both of them give you a good excuse to bake.”

  Faye returned the smile, sitting in the chair near Amber’s desk. “So, what were you reading?”

  Amber swallowed another small bite and licked her lips. “I was reading Matthew’s account of the crucifixion. Can you imagine God’s distress when Jesus cried out, ‘Why have you forsaken me?’”

  “I’ve sometimes imagined Mary’s response, or even the disciples. I can almost picture it. The heartbreak and disappointment. The confusion over what to do next. It must have been quite a crisis for them.” Faye leaned back in the chair. “Hmmm. But God? I imagine Him focusing forward. I think He would have had to so He could stick with the plan.”

  “Both God and Jesus would have gone forward throughout history knowing the cross was coming. But the heart-breaking moment of truth was upon them.”

  “But just three days later,” said Faye, “they stood in victory.”

  “Exactly!” said Amber, pointing her fork at Faye. “That’s where I’m headed.”

  Faye looked confused. “I don’t follow.”

  “God laid it all on the line, gave Jesus full control of the plan. And it was costly, and it hurt. Oh, I’m not explaining this well.” Amber sat up in her chair. “It all goes back to that verse in . . . Hebrews, is it? The one that talks about us having a High Priest who understands?”

  “Yes, Hebrews chapter 4, I believe.”

  “Because of the cross, God understands physical pain and emotional pain. He gets betrayal and isolation. But because of the resurrection, He made sure it doesn’t have to last forever. In the end, Jesus was victorious over the cross, and God offers that victory to us too. Not just saving us from an eternity in hel
l, but in redeeming all of our traumas and mistakes.”

  “Redeeming our traumas,” said Faye. She tilted her blond head to one side and looked at Amber critically. “I would have to say that you, dear one, are perhaps one of the best parts of my own trauma redemption.”

  Amber tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why?”

  “Because loving you was both very easy and very hard. When my Jamie died those many years ago, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to fully love another girl. At the time, loving Brittney was hard enough, although as time passed and my heart healed, I saw the great blessing she was to me. Still, I think, part of me wondered if I could love more than just Brittney. Or if I was even loving Brittney with everything I had.”

  Faye picked up the piece of foil and neatly folded it, smoothing out the edges. “Logan grew up and married, and while I love his wife dearly, they’ve always lived in Portland, and I didn’t have to let her deep into my daily life.”

  “And then Frank brought you home that cold November morning. Everything in me wanted to wrap you up in my arms and protect you from the world. But you were determined to let me into only a tiny piece of your heart.” Faye paused, lost in the memory.

  “As I struggled to love you without overwhelming you,” continued Faye, “I realized God had done a great work in me. I had been loving young ladies for years without hesitation. Not that any of them replaced my Jamie, but I finally understood that losing her wasn’t holding me back from completely loving others.”

  Amber reached across the desk and grabbed Faye’s hand. “You’ve been a wonderful Momma to me.”

  Faye put her other hand on top of Amber’s. “Victory in the end.”

  “I don’t know how God will redeem my past, but I do know this,” said Amber. “I love a wonderful God, and He already has the victory I seek.”

  Chapter 12

  PATRICIA CHECKED IN WITH BECKA, the receptionist at the clinic, and found a seat in the waiting room. The room was quiet. Apparently, no one in Crossing was presently in need of medical attention.

  She could overhear Ryan talking in the back room.

  “. . . trying different approaches. Amber’s taking some sign language lessons, and he’s starting to pick up a couple of the basic signs. And she and Peter are both trying to remember to get down on his level and talk directly facing him so he can see their lips.”

  Ryan and Dr. Williams stopped at the end of the hallway, just inside the waiting room.

  “Sounds like good choices,” said Dr. Williams. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

  “I will,” said Ryan. “Have a good lunch. I’m just going to talk with Mrs. Guire here and get an update on how she’s feeling.”

  John looked over at Patricia and, for the first time in years, she met his gaze. She stood, her mind desperately looking for something to say to him. “It’s good to see you.”

  She wondered if he was surprised at her greeting. His face didn’t show much. Or maybe I just can’t read him like I once could.

  He nodded briefly and walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, Becka,” he said.

  “How about we go back here, Mrs. Guire?” said Ryan.

  He led her into an exam room and pulled out the blood pressure cuff. As he fastened it around her arm, he asked, “So, how have things been going the last couple of weeks?”

  “Better, I think.”

  He placed the thermometer in her ear and read the display. “Better as in the episodes are happening less frequently? Better as in they are less painful? Better how?”

  “Yes,” said Patricia hesitantly. “Shorter, I think.”

  Ryan made notes of her blood pressure and temperature. “Okay, so what else has changed?” He took the cuff from her arm and began to roll it up.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you tell me that things are getting better. And I just watched you look Dr. Williams in the eye and talk to him for the first time that I know of in the three plus years that he’s been here.”

  She dismissed him with her hand as she looked away from him. “You see too much.”

  Ryan rolled the stool he sat on closer and leaned in with his elbows on his knees. “If we’re talking about the health of my patients, that’s what I get paid to do. If we’re talking about the life of my friends, I’m just trying to help carry the load.”

  Patricia looked back at him, murmuring quietly, “Carry the burden.”

  “What burden?”

  “That’s what God said to me the other day when we were arguing.” She caught Ryan’s smirk. “Oh, please. Do you really think my relationship with God is that much different than my relationship with any of the rest of you?”

  “I suppose not,” said Ryan. “What burden was He talking about?”

  “I don’t know that I’m ready to share any of that with the likes of you.” Patricia took in a deep breath. “I don’t know that I’m ready to share it with anyone, quite honestly, but God’s telling me to quit carrying the burden of my past alone.”

  “Okay. So what part can I carry?”

  Patricia hesitated to answer. Everything is about to change. I can’t ever take this back if I say it out loud. She took a deep breath and spit it out. “My Heather is alive. But she goes by a different name.”

  Ryan sat up. “You know where she is.”

  Patricia looked down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap. “Yes.”

  “You said she was adopted.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was the choice of her adoptive parents. And me. To protect her.”

  “How does not telling her the truth of her birth protect her?”

  Patricia could see the confusion on Ryan’s face. Can I make him understand? She searched for the right words. “It’s not so much the circumstances of her birth as it is her . . . conception.”

  There it was. The best she was able to do. She alternated between studying her folded hands and searching Ryan’s face for signs of recognition.

  “Mrs. Guire, are you telling me that you were . . .”

  “Not a consenting adult,” she interrupted.

  “Dear Lord.” Ryan leaned forward, folding his hands together as he placed his elbows on his knees.

  “Yes, well, you can see that makes all this more difficult.”

  “How does Dr. Williams play into all this?”

  Patricia suddenly realized how her confession on top of her past behavior might look. “He is innocent.” She reached out and placed her hand on top of Ryan’s. “Truly. He and I were considering marriage when . . .” She pulled back, folding her hands in her lap again. “. . . when it happened.”

  She slowly breathed in before continuing. “His career was really taking off. He was becoming very well known and highly respected.”

  “You didn’t tell him.”

  She shook her head.

  “No.”

  “Does he know anything? About the pregnancy? The child?”

  “No. I left Portland shortly after I found out I was pregnant. That’s when Jake took over the garage there.”

  “So Jake knows?”

  “No. I told him I was sick and needed a few months away from the business.”

  Ryan stood and paced a couple steps away from her. “Mrs. Guire!”

  Patricia wasn’t sure what she expected from Ryan, but the look of shocked disbelief on his face was not it.

  “Men, real men, want to know about these kinds of things. If anything like that had happened to Brittney, I would have stood by her side. I would have held her, loved her . . . been whatever she needed me to be.”

  “But the child wasn’t his! And the affect to his career . . .”

  “Look,” said Ryan, sitting back down on the stool and rolling close to her. “I can’t speak for the man John Williams was twenty-five years ago, but the man I know today wouldn’t have cared about
the genealogy of your baby girl or whatever people-with-more-money-than-sense would have thought. The man I know today would have only cared about you.”

  Patricia’s mind was working overtime. Have I looked at this wrong all these years? Would John have been there? Did I underestimate him?

  “And Jake. He might not have been able to do more than he did, but he would have cared. Knowing his reputation and the good job he’s done all these years, he would have wanted to know.” Ryan clenched his jaw. “I won’t tell anyone or put any of this in your medical records. I will keep your confidence, but I encourage you to at least tell Dr. Williams. You need to know he’s worried about you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “As the doctor of record, he looks over all my case files. But he scrutinizes my care of you more closely than anyone else.”

  Patricia considered Ryan’s simple statement. So much had just changed for her. She reached out, placing her hand on Ryan’s cheek. “You are a good friend.”

  Ryan grinned back at her. “Mrs. Guire—are you going soft on me?”

  She smiled back, patting his cheek. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Chapter 13

  PATRICIA STOPPED IN FRONT OF Jake’s house, greeted by young Emma’s bouncing light brown head. The natural wave in her hair curled under at her shoulders, making it look like someone spent a lot of time taming it, but the chaotic bangs revealed that she’d taken care of her own style this morning.

  “You’re here! You’re here! You’re here!”

  Patricia laughed. “Yes, child. Did you think I wouldn’t come this month as usual?”

  “I knew you’d come, but the time between when you call and when you get here is always so very long,” said Emma in her most dramatic voice.

  Patricia gently held Emma’s chin. “Would you rather I not call before I leave my house in Crossing?”

  “I would rather you live right there!” Emma pointed to the house next door.

  The child’s desire for her to be close revived her spirit. “Ah. Perhaps one day, my sweet. You never know what God has planned for tomorrow.”

  Emma waited as Patricia took a bag out of the back seat then grabbed her hand as they walked to the door.