Indemnity: Book Two: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

  I will set him on high, because he has known My name.

  He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;

  I will be with him in trouble;

  I will deliver him and honor him.

  With long life I will satisfy him,

  And show him My salvation.”

  Bobbi finished reading with tears in her eyes. Joel trusts You a lot more than I do, doesn’t he? God promised to protect him because he knew God’s name, he loved God and dwelt with Him.

  She, on the other hand, had drifted away from God. It was a gradual, unnoticeable change, but as things between Chuck and her continued to improve over the years, she needed God less and less. God let her wander away, but He stood waiting for her to come back. Any time.

  Father, Joel was Yours before he was mine. I’m going to work on these promises You’ve made, work on really trusting them for Joel and for Chuck. I’m asking for Your grace, though, and some reassurance.

  Forgive me, Father, for letting things slip back to where they were before. I’m trying to hold on to everything myself instead of just trusting You. Thank You for working with me in spite of it.

  Then as she reread the psalm, she felt a soothing warmth.

  This is about more than just Joel. It’s about me and that little boy, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be afraid to take him in, no matter what I think about his mother. You’re going to protect Chuck and me from her.

  We’re going to court Thursday. I’ve never been in the same room with her, except that day at the coffee shop. Help me remember this when I face her.

  Monday, September 3, Labor Day

  Bobbi filed into the Sunday school classroom behind Brad, with Chuck and Joel following her. Laurie took Shannon down to one of the kid’s rooms for the duration of the meeting. Glen sat at the head of the table, and stood to shake hands as soon as they walked in.

  Chuck pulled out the chair nearest to Glen for her, and then he took the seat beside her. Brad rounded the table and sat across from them, but Joel slouched into the chair at the opposite end of the table. Rita and Gavin took the seats between Brad and Joel. Rita never even glanced their direction.

  “Let me see if I understand everybody,” Glen Dillard said, surveying the room. “Joel, you think your mother is jumping to an unreasonable conclusion, and that she’s unfairly prejudiced because of what she went through with your dad.”

  Joel nodded. “Completely prejudiced.”

  “Bobbi, you think Joel is blinded by his feelings for this girl, and doesn’t want to consider that he might be wrong about her. Right?”

  “Not necessarily wrong about her,” Bobbi clarified. “There are too many things he’s not considering. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “Fair enough,” Glen continued. “Chuck, you want them to do what I say, so neither one of 'em is mad at you.” Chuck smiled, and Bobbi rolled her eyes. Her husband could be a politician.

  “Brad, what’s your take?” Glen leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You may have the answer, and we can get out of here right now.”

  “I doubt that.” He glanced at Chuck, and then looked away quickly. “There’s not gonna be a single answer to this. I think Joel’s naïve. I think there are consequences to Abby’s ... well, I think there are long-term effects that we can’t presume to know. But I think he’s right to believe that God can redeem all that.” He let a long breath go. “If he’d handled it a little better, with a little more consideration for Mom and what she’s been through, we wouldn’t need this meeting.”

  “Well said, Brad,” Chuck said.

  Brad’s shoulders relaxed and he glanced at his brother at the end of the table. “Plus, I think he’s totally torqued because Mom didn’t immediately go along with what her little boy wanted, and I get to be the good son for a change.”

  “Oh, please,” Joel muttered, crossing his arms across his chest.

  “Moving right along,” Glen said. “Rita is not saying anything ever.” She shook her head, and looked into Bobbi’s eyes as if silently apologizing again.

  Bobbi slid to the edge of her chair, and tried to make eye contact with Joel. He hadn’t even said good morning to her, plus he rolled out of bed at the last minute, robbing her of the chance to speak to him.

  Glen turned to Gavin. “So what’s your ruling? See, Joel, this takes all the pressure off me.”

  Gavin smiled, and said, “Joel, as believers, we are a kingdom of priests, right?”

  “Yeah,” Joel answered.

  “In the Old Testament there were some strict guidelines about who the priests could marry. I know, you’re not a Jewish priest, but you are part of the priesthood of the believers, and I think you can draw from those principles.”

  Bobbi shifted in her chair. She knew what those principles said. If Gavin advised Joel against marrying Abby, then there would be an explosion.

  “I’m not going to argue whether or not God brought you and Abby together,” Gavin continued, “but you should be aware that you’re starting out in a less than ideal situation. You guys need to build a strong hedge of protection around yourselves. You said Abby made a commitment to a pure life?” Joel nodded. “Then I think you need to go above and beyond when it comes to honoring that. Maybe even to the point of not being alone with her, not kissing her until you do get married.”

  Joel’s eyes grew wide. “Not kissing her? Are you serious?”

  “Are you?” Gavin answered. “If you two can do that, and go through some deep premarital counseling, I don’t think Bobbi has anything to worry about.”

  With everyone focused on Joel’s shock, no one noticed Bobbi’s dropped jaw. Gavin gave Joel the go-ahead. Gavin. Of all people.

  “Of course not,” Joel said, with a scowl. “Nobody ever worries about the monks in the monastery.”

  “It’s time to count the cost, Joel,” Glen said gently. “Everything in life costs something. If this is what you want, what you believe God is leading you to do, you’ll be willing to pay it.”

  Bobbi watched Joel frown again, that Chuck Molinsky set in his jaw. Ready to go to battle over a "no" answer, he’d been caught off-guard by Gavin’s "yes, but" solution. The words of Psalm 91 and her own prayer from the night before replayed in her mind. Had she meant those things? Would she trust God with her son?

  “Wait, Joel.” Bobbi couldn’t hold it back any longer. “I need to apologize to you. You were right. I was irrational, and that’s not fair to you or Abby.”

  “Really?” Joel looked at her for the first time since Friday evening.

  “Honey ...” Chuck put a hand on her arm, but she waved him off.

  She looked squarely at her son, and spoke without wavering. “I’m going to accept that you’re following God’s leading on this, that you’re an adult capable of making your own decisions. I’m going to trust Him to protect you, because I can’t. I’ve deluded myself, thinking that I can.” She wiped a tear away. “God said, ‘Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him.’ I’m going to hold Him to that.”

  Joel grinned and left his seat, and then Bobbi stood and met him with a hug once he was close enough. “Mom, you were the one who taught me how to trust God. The whole time you were going through all that with Dad, I was watching and taking notes.”

  “That’s what scares me,” Bobbi said. He had no idea what went on inside her during that time.

  “I know you’re taking a risk, but this’ll be worth it.” He smiled at her. “I promise you, in front of everybody,” he said placing his hand over his heart, “I will not be alone with Abby until we get married, and I won’t touch her except to hold her hand.” Then he backtracked, “Well, I might kiss her goodnight. If Jacob could serve seven years for Rachel, surely I can make it three or four.”

  “If Abby’s intentions aren’t honorable, she’ll never be willing to wait that long,” Gavin added. “We’ll find out what both of these kids are made of.”

  “I love it when God works these things out,�
� Glen said, closing his planner. “Makes it a lot easier on this ol’ boy.”

  Bobbi hugged her son once again. “Sweetheart, apologize to your fiancée for me, and bring her home soon so I can meet her.”

  CHAPTER 9

  DISCLOSURE

  Thursday, September 6

  As Tracy Ravenna drove through downtown St Louis, she couldn’t help glancing at her son at each stoplight. It didn’t take a blood test to tell he was Chuck’s son. One look at the two of them would confirm that in a heartbeat.

  If she judged Chuck correctly - and she was rarely wrong - he would treat Jack no differently than his other sons. The wild card in all this was his wife. She forgave Chuck for the affair, but would she accept Jack?

  More importantly, how would Jack take this bombshell? So far, he proved to be a very adaptive, resilient little guy. Could she make him understand without disillusioning him? She pulled into a parking place at the family court building. No turning back now.

  “What is this place, Mommy?” Jack tugged at the necktie she put on him when she picked him up from school. “I look like a dope.”

  “This is the courthouse, and you don’t look like a dope. You’re very handsome.” She patted the passenger seat. “Come up here.”

  “Really? Like climb through the seats?”

  “Just this once. We need to talk about what’s going to happen in here.” She took his hand and steadied him until he slid into the seat beside her.

  “Are we in trouble? Are we going to jail?”

  “No, this is family court, but it’s still big stuff. We’re going to a hearing, which means we’ll go talk with a judge.”

  He perked up and grinned. “Do we hafta swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

  “Just listen for a minute. There will be another man in there, too. His name is Mr. Molinsky.” Tracy looked into Jack’s eyes. They were her eyes, the only thing he had of hers. “Jack, Mr. Molinsky is your dad.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “You said my dad was dead. If he’s my dad, where’s he been?”

  “I didn’t tell you about your dad, and I didn’t tell him about you because I just wanted it to be you and me.”

  “You lied?” His eyes widened. “You told me never to tell lies.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.” She smoothed his hair. “A mommy’s biggest job is to protect her little boy from all sorts of things. I was trying to protect you.”

  “From what? What things?”

  “Just things.”

  “Is that why we moved here? To find my dad?”

  “Kind of ... not exactly ... It’s complicated. Maybe when you’re older I can explain it to you.”

  “I hate that answer,” Jack said with a frown.

  “Well, that’s all you’re getting for now.”

  Jack closed and opened the air conditioner vents. “So, was my dad happy about me?”

  “Of course,” Tracy said. If she assumed yelling, threats and court orders were a sign of happiness, then Chuck was overjoyed. “At the hearing the judge has to say officially that Mr. Molinsky is your dad, and then he’ll probably say you need to be with your dad.”

  “Be with my dad?” The little boy’s eyes grew wide and his breath came in quick, shallow bursts. “You’re giving me away?”

  “No, never.” She took his hand, and looked at him, hoping somehow to transfer what she felt in her heart directly into his. “I promise you, I would never give you away.”

  “Never?”

  “Never. It’ll be more like a sleepover, then you’ll come right back home.”

  “Just one time?”

  “No, it will probably be every couple of weeks.”

  “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s like Cinderella’s evil mother? Or what if he’s got a dungeon?”

  “Jack, calm down.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your dad is a good guy. The best. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’ve never been on a sleepover before. What if I do it wrong?”

  “You can’t do a sleepover wrong. You’ll have fun.” Jack’s bottom lip jutted out. “The judge may say some other stuff, too. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “I hafta do this?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He rolled his necktie up to the middle of his chest, and then let it drop. “What’s his name again? Mo-what?”

  “Molinsky. Chuck Molinsky.”

  “I can’t say that. How about just Chuck?”

  “No first names with grown-ups. You’ll have time to work on it later.”

  “Ok, then, let’s get this over with,” Jack said, opening his car door.

  Bobbi sat with her husband on a bench outside the hearing room. Just a hearing, Chuck said, nothing to worry about. Yeah, right. Going to court might be second nature to him, but it intimidated her almost as much as the prospect of seeing Tracy Ravenna.

  Mr. Henneke quickly agreed to her request for a personal day, so she spent the morning pacing, fidgeting, and drinking coffee. With her messed up metabolism, coffee always calmed her.

  She carried a folded sheet of paper in the left pocket of her blazer. Early this morning, alone in the study, she wrote out Psalm 91 three separate times.

  No evil shall befall me. You promised, Lord.

  Chuck sat beside her, explaining what would happen with great sweeping hand motions, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the far end of the hall. Any moment that heavy fire door would swing open and Tracy Ravenna would stride through.

  She gripped the sheet in her pocket. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.” God, you promised.

  “It’s not that formal,” Chuck said. “Today’s just a hearing. Now if Tracy wants to be difficult, then the judge can order a trial, and it’ll be more like what you see on television.”

  “You think she’ll be difficult?” As if she could be anything else.

  “If she mentions Rita’s stunt, or if she included that in any of her filings, it could get very difficult. Either way though, the paternity shouldn’t be an issue. I’m acknowledging it, and the tests proved it.”

  “How long do you think this is going to take?”

  “Thirty minutes, tops.”

  Thirty minutes. Surely, I can live through thirty minutes.

  Just then, the door to the conference room opened, and a woman carrying a thick folder in her left hand, extended her right hand to Chuck. Bobbi was a little surprised that she wasn’t wearing a robe, but a navy suit instead. Maybe that was the difference between a hearing and a trial.

  “I’m Judge Margaret Swift, and you are?” she asked with an air of authority and command. Tracy wouldn’t be able to con this judge.

  “Chuck Molinsky, the plaintiff,” he answered, shaking the judge’s hand, “and this is my wife.” Before Bobbi could apologize for having such cold hands, the door to the stairwell opened.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Jack Ravenna shuffle through with his mother close behind. Bobbi dropped her eyes and looked away. Chuck took her arm, and ushered her into the hearing room before Tracy could catch up to them.

  The clack of Tracy’s heels on the tile floor grew louder, so Bobbi took the seat furthest from the door. Wait and dread gave way to the gut-wrenching reality of facing the woman who nearly destroyed her marriage, and tore her family apart for months.

  Lord, You promised to protect us from all snares and evil. This would be a great time to make good on that promise. Please let this be as quick and painless as Chuck says it will be.

  Jack Ravenna hopped up in the first seat he came to, and scooted all the way back, but then his feet didn’t touch the floor. He huffed and slid back out to the edge of the chair. Then he noticed the other man and woman in the room.

  That ... is my dad? He’s old! Like seventy or something. He’s more like a grandpa. Maybe my dad is still out in the ha
ll somewhere.

  He glanced behind him, but when the judge closed the door, he frowned and studied the couple across the room. The guy wore a red-striped tie just like his, except the guy didn’t look like a dope. But he didn’t look like a fireman or a cowboy or a football player or anything cool. Just a guy in a tie. An old guy.

  The lady, though, looked nice. He knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t get a good look at her. The lady never turned her head. She just looked straight at the judge. The guy looked over and smiled at him, but Jack didn’t smile back. He couldn’t smile at a guy he didn’t know, even if it was his dad.

  Judge Swift took her seat in the middle of the long table across from the others. A clerk, who had been seated in the corner, stepped up, placed a microphone in front of the judge, and switched it on. The judge opened the folder, and opened the glasses she wore on a chain around her neck and slipped them on.

  “I’ve read all your filings. Mr. Molinsky is acknowledging paternity of Jackson Charles Ravenna. Ms. Ravenna is not contesting, and DNA testing has determined there is a ninety-nine-point-six percent likelihood that Mr. Molinsky is indeed the father. Is this correct?”

  The judge looked first at Chuck who answered, “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Jack snapped upright in his seat. He didn’t know the guy was gonna talk. He sounded like the principal in his kindergarten school when he said, “Boys, straighten up!”

  The judge looked at his mother. She nodded and softly answered, “Yes, Your Honor.” Two yeses. It was official now. The old guy was his dad. Jack slumped back in his chair.

  “All right then,” Judge Swift said. “For now, I’m ordering visitation for Mr. Molinsky alternate weekends, beginning tomorrow, from five p.m. Friday until eight p.m. Sunday evening, and every Wednesday evening from three p.m., or whenever school is finished for the day, until eight p.m.” The judge made some notations on the top sheet in the folder, and then she looked up at Chuck. “You need to build a relationship with your son.”