Never Say Goodbye

by Irene Hannon

  Just then, as if sensing her presence, Scott looked toward her. Though his surprised reaction momentarily let some of the air out of her theory of a deliberate setup, she still couldn’t buy pure chance. The odds against them running into each other twice in only a few days were too great. Taking a deep breath, she strode toward him.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  He closed his book and rose in one lithe movement. But instead of the defensive reaction she expected, his posture was relaxed, his gaze warm. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth in the endearing way she had always loved, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Didn’t we have this same conversation at the hospital?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m working.” He shifted his book to the other hand and pointed to the Lawson Landscaping truck in the parking lot—which she’d have noticed if she hadn’t been so rushed, she realized—then nodded toward a shovel and a flat of begonias a few feet away. “Now it’s my turn. What are you doing here?”

  She ignored his teasing tone. “I live here, remember?”

  “I mean what are you doing here at lunchtime? We’re always long gone before the eight-to-five crowd gets home.”

  She frowned in confusion. “You’ve worked here before?”

  “Several times. Lawson has the groundskeeping contract for this complex.”

  The implications of his reply slowly sank in. He’d been in her neighborhood on more than one occasion. And he had made no attempt to contact her. So much for her father’s harassment theory, she thought wryly.

  “So what brings you home at lunchtime?” he repeated.

  “I forgot a report that I need this afternoon.”

  A slow smile spread over Scott’s face. “The Lord really does work in mysterious ways,” he said softly.

  She frowned again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ve been praying for our paths to cross again, Jess.”

  “This is just a coincidence,” she scoffed.

  “Oh ye of little faith.”

  The truth of the remark, said partly in jest, stung. “Since when have you gotten so holy?” she lashed out. “I seem to recall having to drag you to church when we were…” She stopped abruptly. “Well, a long time ago.”

  Suddenly his face grew serious. “I’ve changed, Jess. My faith is the main reason I survived the last few years.”

  She stared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth,” he said simply. “You of all people should understand that. Your faith was always important to you. Now I know why.”

  But I don’t, she thought silently. Not anymore. Her spoken words, however, were different. “Look, I don’t have time for philosophical discussions,” she said irritably. “I’m running late. You can believe whatever you want about these two meetings. I call it chance. Bad luck. Whatever. And I think it’s highly unlikely to happen again. In fact, I hope with all my heart that it doesn’t. Goodbye, Scott.”

  She lifted her chin and headed toward her condo. Though she purposely didn’t look at him again, the title of the book he held somehow seemed to jump out at her as she passed. And for a moment her step faltered. It was the Holy Bible, she realized in astonishment.

  As she picked up her pace once again, she suddenly—and much to her surprise—realized that she was envious. Because Scott had clearly found in his faith what she’d always claimed to have in hers. Trust in the Lord. A belief that no matter what happened, He was always with us. And a deep conviction that if we turned to Him for help, if we admitted our faults and asked for forgiveness, He would stand with us and welcome us home.

  When she’d first seen Scott, she’d been struck by the deep inner peace in his eyes. Now she knew the source.

  It was ironic, she thought with a bittersweet pang. In Scott’s adversity, when he’d felt most abandoned, the Lord had taken him in. Just the opposite had happened with her. In her adversity, she had walked away from her faith. Because she believed the Lord had abandoned her.

  For the first time since Elizabeth’s death, Jess acknowledged that the loss of her faith had made her the poorer. But she had no idea how to rebuild it. Or even if she wanted to. Because that would mean once more putting her trust in the Lord. And at this point in her life, she had very little trust to give.

  To anyone.

  “The garden’s coming along beautifully, Scott.”

  Scott wiped his forehead on his sleeve as he gazed with satisfaction at the plantings that were transforming the area around the just-finished gazebo into a meditation garden. Dogwoods, Japanese maples, azaleas, boxwoods, lilies, hydrangeas, irises and banks of perennials now framed the slightly elevated natural wood structure. The layout was pleasing to the eye, and the plants had been chosen to provide a season-long display of color. “Thanks. I’m happy with the way it turned out,” Scott concurred. “In a year or two, when everything is really established, this will be a lovely spot.”

  “It looks pretty good to me right now. And the board agrees. I’m sure they’ll thank you officially, but in the meantime they wanted me to pass on their compliments.”

  “It was no big deal,” Scott replied with a shrug. “I had the time, and it was a good chance for me to test my landscape-design skills.”

  Reverend Young smiled. “Well, if this was a test, you get an A.” He held up a sack. “Mrs. Wagner dropped off some of her famous white-chocolate-chip macadamia-nut cookies. Think you could help me get rid of a few?”

  Scott grinned. “I think that could be arranged.” He laid his shovel aside and wiped his hands on his slacks before following the minister to the gazebo.

  “Looks like spring’s really arrived,” the minister said as he settled onto one of the benches that rimmed the inside of the gazebo. He retrieved two cans of soda from the sack and handed one to Scott.

  Scott took a long sip, then nodded. “That’s for sure. Things are hopping at Seth’s.”

  “I’ll bet. Everything okay with the job?”

  “Seems to be. Seth doesn’t say much, but he’s put me in charge of the crew a couple of times when the chief was sick. I take that as a good sign.”

  “I agree. Apartment okay?”

  Scott smiled. “Not according to my sister. But it’s fine for now.”

  “Still taking the bus everywhere?”

  Scott reached for a cookie. “Yes. But I must admit that I’ll be glad to get a car. I figure in another month or two, I should be able to swing it.”

  “I’d be more than happy to loan you the—”

  “No.” Scott cut him off firmly, then softened his tone. “I appreciate the offer, Reverend. But I want to do this myself.”

  “It’s okay to accept some help, Scott.”

  “I need it more on another front,” he replied with a sigh.

  “Jess?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “How are things going?”

  He shrugged. “I guess there’s a little progress. We’ve run into each other a couple of times, and she’s actually spoken to me.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “Barely.”

  “Hang in there. And keep praying.”

  “I plan to.”

  The minister took a sip of his soda, then carefully placed the can on the wooden bench. “I’d like to ask a favor of you, Scott.”

  Scott looked at the man who had helped him find his way back to the Lord, who had given him a reason to live again. There was no way he could ever repay him for his kindness and caring. No favor would be too great. “Name it,” he said promptly.

  “Well, a group of area churches will be sponsoring a one-day retreat in a few weeks. The title is ‘Coping with Adversity—Ask and You Shall Receive.’ Some of the clergy will be giving talks and leading discussions, but we’re also looking for people who are willing to give a firsthand account of how, in the face of tragedy, their faith he
lped them turn their lives around. You have a remarkable story to tell, Scott. We’d be honored if you’d share it.”

  Scott stared at Reverend Young. Bare his soul in front of a group of strangers? He couldn’t even imagine it! He’d never been the kind of guy who went around talking about his feelings—even to people he knew. Besides, he was no role model. His journey to faith had been a painful one, fraught with doubt and dead ends and despair. Hardly the stuff of inspiration. Yet he owed so much to Reverend Young. He hated to say no.

  The minister smiled understandingly. “I can see you’re surprised by my request.”

  “That’s too mild a word.” He raked his fingers through his hair and stared out at the placid waters of the pond for a moment before speaking. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, Reverend,” he said slowly. “But I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m not sure I’m the best example to hold up to people. There are a lot of things I’m still struggling with. And even though I do have hope, I’m not where I want to be yet.”

  “That’s precisely the point, Scott. Your hope will be inspiring to many people who are also struggling. And as for mistakes…that makes you human. Someone people can relate to. All of us have made mistakes, all of us have challenges in our lives. Generally not as big as the ones you’ve faced, thank God. But that’s why your story will resonate with people. If you could find your way to God despite the problems that you had to shoulder, it gives all of us hope that we can do the same with our lesser struggles.” He paused for a moment, then delivered his powerful closing argument. “Your witness could make the difference in some life teetering on the edge of despair, Scott.”

  Put that way, Scott realized that he was left with little choice. He had vowed to make his faith the center of his life, and here was a perfect opportunity to give something back to the Lord, who had sustained him through his trials. But it wouldn’t be easy. He had never been comfortable sharing painful experiences. Even in the best days of his marriage he’d held back some of his doubts and fears from Jess, feeling that such an admission would somehow diminish him, make him less strong. Now he recognized that attitude, which still lingered, for what it was—a sin of pride. Funny. He thought the past three years had stripped away all remnants of his pride. Clearly, patience wasn’t the only virtue he needed to work on, he acknowledged ruefully. Humility was right up there, too.

  Scott took a deep breath. “You make it hard to say no. But this won’t be easy for me, Reverend.”

  The minister laid his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Not much worth doing is, Scott,” he said kindly. “But remember that when we have faith, we never do anything alone. And that knowledge should always give us the courage to carry on.”

  “Hey, Skip. What’s up?”

  Jess smiled at her brother’s voice and headed toward a comfortable chair, switching the portable phone to her other hand. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” she complained good-naturedly.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I don’t skip anymore, for one thing. And for another, that nickname is too childlike for an adult woman.”

  “What’s wrong with being childlike?” he countered. “Innocence and trust are good things. And you’re never too old to skip.”

  “I disagree on all counts. If you have the first two, you get hurt. And my skipping days are over.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  “So how are you enjoying Japan?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “Okay, okay. I can take a hint. Japan was great.”

  “Was?”

  “Yep. We wrapped things up and I came home a week early. I just got in a couple of hours ago, in fact. With a major case of jet lag,” he added, stifling a yawn. “Let me tell you, fourteen hours on a plane is not my idea of a great time.”

  “So why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “That’s the next item on my agenda. But first I want to hear about you. Why didn’t you tell me Scott was out?”

  Jess frowned. “How did you know?”

  “Mom let it slip. So why didn’t you tell me? I just talked to you last week.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s not what Mom said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She said you’re rattled.”

  “I’m not rattled.”

  “You sound rattled.”

  “I’m not rattled!” she repeated more emphatically.

  “Okay, okay! You’re not rattled. Fine. So how is he?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Mom said you’ve seen him.”

  Jess sighed. “What else has Mom told you?”

  “That there’s talk of a restraining order. Is that true?”

  “The talk part is. I haven’t done anything about it yet.”

  “Is Scott bugging you?”

  “Not really. He called once. And stopped by. Then he sent his sister to try and convince me to talk with him.”

  “Did she succeed?”

  “No.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Do you want some advice?”

  “No. But why do I think that won’t stop you from giving it?” she said resignedly.

  “Because you know me too well. Listen, would it hurt to talk to him, Jess? The man just spent three years in prison. Behind bars. Caged up like an animal. He’s had a lot of time to think about what happened. Maybe he has some things he’d like to say to you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to hear them.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Jess gave a frustrated sigh. “Nothing he can say will change anything, Mark. Our marriage is over, except in name. Elizabeth is dead. The life I knew with Scott is gone. I’ve started over. I see no point in rehashing old hurts.”

  “So how are you sleeping these days?”

  At the abrupt change of subject, Jess frowned in confusion. “What?”

  “How are you sleeping?”

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Maybe a lot. Unresolved issues can prey on the mind.”

  “I don’t have unresolved issues,” she replied with more confidence than she felt.

  “I don’t buy that,” he said bluntly. “I never have. I think you need to talk to Scott and work through this. Look, Jess, I know you’ve vilified him in your mind. But you loved him once. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “No,” she said flatly.

  Mark sighed. “Frankly, I don’t buy that, either. I know how much you two were in love. At the risk of getting sappy, it was almost magic to watch you together. But putting all that aside for a minute, I knew Scott, too. I’m not saying he was perfect. Or that what he did wasn’t wrong. But he was never a bad man. In fact, he had great integrity and principle. And he clearly believes that there are unresolved issues between the two of you. Deep in your heart, I think you feel the same way.”

  “Since when have you become a psychiatrist?” Jess said sarcastically.

  He refused to be baited by her tone. “I think it’s just common sense,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “You’re forgetting one thing, Mark.” A tremor of anger and pain rippled through her voice, and she took a steadying breath. “Scott killed my daughter. And I can never forget that.”

  There was silence for a moment, and when Mark spoke again his voice was sober. “I understand that, Jess. But that doesn’t mean you can’t forgive.”

  Jess drew in a sharp breath, feeling almost as if she’d been slapped. “You expect me to forgive him?” she asked incredulously.

  “I leave that up to you. But holding on to hate doesn’t seem very productive. In fact, it usually holds us back. Sometimes forgiving is the only way to move on.”

  Jess had no response to that. Because, though her mind denied the truth of Mark’s observation, her heart wasn’t so sure.

  “Are you still there?” Mark asked when the silence lengthened.


  “I’m here,” she replied stiffly.

  “Listen, I’m sorry if I overstepped. But I care about you, Jess. I know talking to Scott would be difficult, but it also might free you once and for all from the anger that you’ve carried all these years.”

  Jess took a deep breath, and when she spoke she sounded weary—and spent. “I know you mean well, Mark. But this is something I have to deal with myself. And at this point I just don’t want to talk to Scott.”

  “Will you at least think about it?”

  She hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “Then enough said. Listen, I have got to get some rest. I’ll call you again in a few days, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take care, Skip.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as the line went dead. Mark was incorrigible. But he was also smart. The “book” smarts she’d always known about, of course. You didn’t get a Harvard MBA without superior intelligence. But his insights into her psyche surprised her.

  Jess’s grin faded and her face grew serious. Mark hadn’t said much about the tragedy during Scott’s imprisonment, and the few times he’d broached the subject she’d cut him off. So he’d let it rest. Until today. Now that Scott was out, and making his intentions clear that he’d like to talk with her, Mark had apparently become a man with a mission.

  And much as she hated to admit it, a lot of what he said made sense. She did still harbor a deep-seated anger. It had bubbled to the surface with surprising force after Scott’s first phone call, setting her on edge and bringing back memories of the pain and betrayal she had felt following the accident. It had also brought back her own guilt feelings. And her long-suppressed “what if” questions.

  Mark was right about one thing, she acknowledged. There were unresolved issues in her life. Yet something held her back from talking with Scott. Until now, she’d thought it was anger and hatred. But suddenly, with startling clarity, she realized that her reluctance was fueled by something else entirely.