Crossing's Redemption

by Carrie Daws

  “Are you thinking about Martin?”

  Amber smiled and met Peter’s eyes. “No. I’m thinking about shame. Shame is my enemy, and with God at my side, it will turn back.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Amber sat down on the couch after putting Daniel to bed for the evening and breathed in deeply. Chad had graciously accepted her apology. The rest of the day had gone smoothly. Daniel’s tooth had finally made its appearance, and the child was seeming more like himself and easier to put to bed.

  She was just beginning to think about whether or not she would attend the group meeting tomorrow when the phone rang.

  “Hello, child,” said Patricia. “I just wanted to check on you.” The gesture warmed Amber’s heart.

  “Shouldn’t I be the one checking on you?”

  “I was not the one who most recently had a great shock.”

  Amber snuggled deeper into the couch cushions. “I’m okay, or maybe I’m getting to be okay.”

  “Yes,” said Patricia, “I can understand that. I didn’t think you would want to go tomorrow.”

  Amber paused. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that.”

  “You need to do what you think is best for you.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Amber. “I need to do what God wants me to do.”

  “Hmm. Yes, you are right.”

  “Will you pick me up about the usual time?”

  “I will see you then.”

  Amber hung up the phone, thinking about her conversation with Patricia.

  “You know what?” said Peter.

  She turned to look at her husband standing just outside the kitchen, still holding a hand towel from cleaning up.

  He tossed the towel onto the counter, walked over to her, and leaned down, placing one hand on the back of the couch on either side of her. “I think you are the bravest woman I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I sure don’t feel brave.”

  “‘My grace is sufficient for you,’” Peter quoted from 2 Corinthians, “‘for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.’”

  Chapter 16

  AMBER SAT IN PATRICIA’S SILENT vehicle. She wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed since they’d first pulled up, but she knew it was close to time for the group to start.

  “We probably look ridiculous,” said Amber.

  “Sitting in a car is not the silliest thing I’ve done in my life,” said Patricia.

  “I feel . . .” Amber struggled to find the right word. “Vulnerable.”

  “You are.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Do you believe God wanted you here tonight?”

  “Yes,” said Amber quietly.

  “Then it is simple. Either proceeding forward in obedience is worth the cost right now, or you will pay the cost of disobedience later.”

  Amber couldn’t help the brief laughter that burst from her. She looked at the old woman who was becoming a dear friend. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Patricia Guire.”

  Patricia raised her eyebrows as if she had no idea what Amber was talking about.

  “You don’t mince words. You say it like you think it, and I am rarely left wondering how you feel.”

  Patricia patted Amber’s arm. “I’m sure many people would agree with you, but the truth is that I’ve left too many things unsaid in my past. Too many times I kept my mouth shut, playing the part of a martyr, when in reality I was simply too prideful to let people really know me.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a revelation.”

  “Yes, and I’m seeing more clearly every day that I owe many people apologies. All these years I felt justified in my pain, never recognizing that I made decisions without giving the people that my decisions affected any choice in the matter. They did it my way, or they got left behind.” Patricia took a deep breath. “Sometimes my decision left them behind without offering them an alternative. I’ve been very selfish, only giving of myself on my terms.” She looked at Amber. “Including you, child.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. I’ve watched you from afar since shortly after you came to Crossing, jealous of Faye and the relationship she got to cultivate with you. But the reality is that I never asked much of you. Never let you know I wanted more.”

  Patricia played with the straps on the purse sitting in her lap. “Truth is, I’m lonely. I’d like more people—more friends—in my life.” Patricia looked Amber in the eye. “I’d be honored if one of those people was you.”

  Amber smiled and grabbed Patricia’s hand. “Oh, Mrs. Guire. I’m the one that’s honored. I’d love to be considered your friend.”

  “Good,” said Patricia. “Now, do we go in, or do we sneak away and get some ice cream?”

  Amber smiled. “As tempting as that is . . .” she sighed before continuing. “We go in. The cost of disobedience is too high.”

  “Then quit stalling, child, and get out of the car.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Amber led the way to the front door, her stomach growing more nervous with every step. She quietly knocked on the door and waited.

  Shannon opened the door, and tears immediately sprung to her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you would come tonight!”

  “I wasn’t either,” said Amber. “Are we still welcome?”

  “Please.” Shannon stood to the side, allowing room for Amber and Patricia to pass by her.

  “Amber, can I talk to you a minute?” Shannon asked.

  Amber smiled at Patricia and nodded that she should go ahead to the living room without her. She quietly waited for Shannon to continue. She’d never seen the group leader so anxious.

  “After everyone left last week,” Shannon said, “Nick and I had a long talk. I knew when we got married that he’d been a very different man, a cruel man in many respects, before he trusted his life to Jesus. But that never seemed real to me because I’ve only known who he is now.” Shannon wrung her hands. “When I realized last week that the stories you’d told in group were about my husband, well, I really didn’t know what to think.”

  Amber wasn’t sure what to think of this confession from Shannon. “It’s okay. I’ve never once thought you knew beforehand.”

  Shannon smiled at her. “I know I can’t apologize, shouldn’t apologize, for his behavior. But I am sorry for all the pain you’ve been through. I’m just not sure . . . I guess that before last week happened, I was hoping that after the group ended, you and I could still be friends. But now I feel like that’s too much to ask of you.”

  Amber stepped closer and reached out to touch Shannon’s tightly clasped hands. “How about we just take it slow? I would love to keep up with you, and maybe, in little pieces at first, you could introduce me to this new Nick.”

  Shannon looked at her with hope in her eyes. “Really?”

  Amber smiled back. “I think, under different circumstances, I might really like him.”

  “From what I know, Jesus has done a miraculous work in him. I’d love to tell you more.”

  “It may be a long while before I’m ready to see him again.”

  “What you are offering is more than I dared hope for, Amber. Thank you.”

  Later that evening, Patricia closed her front door and walked into her front room. She looked around at the trinkets she’d collected over the years, buying them from people who couldn’t pay the full price to fix their vehicles at her garages. Some she’d paid far more than they were worth, but the satisfaction of helping a person in need always made up the difference.

  Until the last year or so.

  Things filled her home. Memories of kindness. Moments of generosity. She touched a small statuette of a girl worth at least a hundred dollars to a collector. Beside it sat a sixty-year-old mantle clock, and beside that a decorative vase from a top New York store.

  But they were all from the past, and all from s
trangers. She’d given up her future long ago—selflessly, she’d thought back then. Now she knew the truth.

  Pride stood fully before her. And it was ugly.

  She’d never given the man she claimed to love a chance. She’d decided for him that his career was more important to him than she was, that his esteem more important than a child.

  I decided he couldn’t possibly love a child who wasn’t his.

  And the child? a gentle voice asked.

  Perhaps giving her up was the right thing, but I did it for the wrong reasons as well. And I’ve never given her the chance to fully know her heritage.

  A heritage of love, said the voice.

  I’ve always focused on the shame, thought Patricia.

  She sighed deeply. “No more.”

  Her thoughts turned to Amber and their conversation in the car. “Amber is right. The cost of disobedience is too high.” She looked around the room, seeing nothing but tables overflowing with junk. “God, help me. Help me to fix this. Help me to do all You ask.”

  Chapter 17

  PATRICIA LOOKED IN THE MIRROR. She couldn’t remember the last time she cared this much about her clothes. The green shirt with tiny white flowers was neatly pressed and tucked into her blue jeans. “Well, that’s about as good as I’m going to get.”

  She went to the kitchen and looked for the fifth time at the contents of the small picnic basket on her counter, glancing around to see if anything else came to mind.

  A thought planted itself as her anxiety grew. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

  “No,” she told herself. In her efforts to avoid John around town, she’d learned his habits fairly well. “He eats at the diner on Fridays. It’s either today or wait until next week.”

  She closed the lid with a snap, thrust her arm through the handles, and began the short walk to the clinic.

  When she entered the small building, Becka greeted her, but Patricia’s eyes were focused on Dr. Williams, who stood at the counter writing notes in a file.

  He looked up and met her gaze. After a moment, he said, “I suspect you are looking for Ryan. I’ll get him for you.”

  “Actually,” she said as he took a step away, “I came to see you.”

  She thought she recognized a small sign of shock in his eyes, but he maintained his composure.

  “Would you like to talk in private?”

  “Please.”

  He motioned for her to lead the way down the hallway to the exam rooms. Ryan stood quietly in the doorway, and as she passed him, she paused to fold her hand over his.

  She put the basket on the exam table and turned to face the doctor. He closed the door behind him but did not step further inside the room than was necessary.

  I deserve that, she thought. Uncertain where to begin, she blurted out, “I brought you lunch.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Yes. An Italian sub, homemade potato salad, some lemonade, and a slice of cake.”

  His brow creased, and she watched the battle going on across his face. He’d been a man of few words when they’d dated. Perhaps he’s grown even more quiet over the years.

  “I have no idea what you like anymore, but I remembered you used to like sub sandwiches.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to eat.”

  “Patricia.”

  Her name. She wasn’t sure whether he thundered it in frustration or whispered it in hope. Just hearing her name cross his lips was enough to break her resolve of holding everything together. Tears gathered as she struggled to speak a coherent sentence. She could continue to drag this out and merely answer his questions, or she could openly tell him why she was really here.

  “I owe you an apology and an explanation, not that I deserve you listening to either one.”

  He didn’t stop her, so she kept going.

  “Years ago, I ran away from you because something had happened to me, and I couldn’t let the shame of it discredit you in any way. I realize now how wrong I was to leave you out of the decision. I am sorry for that.”

  “I’m not sure you’re making any sense.”

  Patricia sighed. So much for getting out of this the easy way. Lord, give me strength. “Perhaps we could sit so I can tell you the story.”

  John moved the two chairs in the room closer together, and they sat. He never interrupted her as she laid her pain out before him. He listened patiently, his eyes never leaving her face until the very end. As she fell silent, he closed his eyes.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” Patricia whispered.

  John looked at her, reaching his arm out to grasp the back of her chair. “Can you forgive me?”

  “You?”

  “My sweet, did you really think I didn’t know how to find you? I knew about your relationship with your sister, how close you were, and I knew that if you didn’t run straight to her, she would know how to get a message to you.”

  He cleared his throat. “But my own pride kept me from tracking you down. I was so hurt that you left without even leaving me a note, that I buried myself in my work and pretended it didn’t matter.”

  “So now what do we do?”

  “How about we start with me enjoying the lunch a dear friend brought to me today?”

  Friend. She grasped her hands together in her lap so she wouldn’t push her luck by touching him before he was ready. “I like that.”

  He covered her hands with his own, hesitating briefly for a moment before saying, “And how about I treat you to dinner at the diner for your birthday on Saturday?”

  Patricia was shocked. “You remember my birthday?”

  He looked embarrassed. “And the anniversary of our first date in late August, and the date I asked you to marry me in May.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m thankful you decided to come to Crossing, John.”

  “Me too, my sweet.”

  His use of her old nickname gave her great hope for their future.

  Dinner passed quickly that Saturday as John and Patricia caught each other up on the last several years of their lives. The sun was just beginning to fade as they walked back to her house.

  “Why did you never marry, John?”

  “I poured my life into the kids at the hospital. I became obsessed with finding the best treatment plans, gleaning every bit of knowledge I could from all the latest research in the field. I was determined to give all my kids the best chance I could.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t leave time for much else.”

  “And tends to lead to burn out.”

  “Yes. I think that’s part of why Crossing appealed to me. After pushing myself so hard for so many years, the thought of nothing more strenuous than ankle sprains and seasonal flus seemed almost relaxing.”

  They walked in companionable silence until they were almost at Patricia’s home.

  “Do you know that car?” said John with some concern in his voice.

  Patricia looked towards her house and saw her sister’s silver Ford Taurus in the driveway. “What is Dorothy doing here?”

  “Your sister?”

  Patricia nodded as she quickened her steps.

  As they made the turn up the front walk, Patricia saw someone sitting on one of the chairs on her porch. The hair was too dark and long to be her sister. “Melody?” Patricia rushed forward. “Is everything okay? Your mother? David?”

  Melody smiled. “Don’t worry, Aunt Patty, everyone is good. David’s in the field right now training for deployment. And when I left Mom’s this afternoon, she was fine.”

  Patricia relaxed, gave Melody a hug, and introduced John.

  “I think I should leave you two alone to catch up,” he said.

  “Perhaps we can all have dinner one night next week,” said Patricia. She looked at Melody. “How long are you planning on staying?”

  “Well, that all depends,” said Melody.

  Patricia expected to hear something about David’s training or Dorothy’s constantly changing plans. Her sister could be a t
ad flighty.

  Melody glanced at John, then back at Patricia. “Aunt Patty, I’ve talked to Mom and she’s told me what she knows. I’d really like to hear it from you.”

  Patricia felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as her brain scrambled for some explanation other than what she feared.

  “I’d really like to know more,” said Melody hesitantly, “about the circumstances of my birth and why you gave me up for adoption to your sister.”

  Chapter 18

  PATRICIA’S KNEES ABOUT GAVE WAY underneath her, and she felt John’s arm surround her.

  “Whoa, there. Let’s have a seat right here.”

  John guided her to the camel back rocking chair next to the one Melody had been sitting in.

  “Aunt Patty?”

  “Patricia, are you in any pain?” She felt John press against her wrist as he checked her pulse.

  “I’m okay,” she managed to say.

  “I’ll get her something to drink,” said Melody.

  Melody dug through Patricia’s purse and found the keys before disappearing inside. John sat in the chair beside her.

  “You don’t feel any pain?”

  “No,” said Patricia.

  “Is it hard to breathe?”

  Patricia tried to take a deep breath. “Only a little.”

  “Here’s some lemonade,” said Melody, pressing a glass in her hand.

  “Thank you, child.”

  Patricia took a sip more because she felt like they expected her to drink than because she truly wanted some at that moment.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, I think she’ll be fine,” said John. “It’s just a minor panic attack. You’re staying the night?”

  “Yes,” said Melody.

  “I’ll leave you my number. If she starts having severe chest pain or more trouble breathing, call me.”

  Patricia watched Melody pull her cell phone out and type in John’s information.

  “Tonight,” he said, “she needs rest and gentle care.”

  “I’ll watch over her,” Melody promised.