That Certain Summer: A Novel

by Irene Hannon

  That was news. “You worked in the real world?”

  “I prefer to think of this”—he swept his hand over his office—“as the real world. Or the one that matters most, anyway.”

  Heat crept up her neck. Way to go, Val. Real diplomatic. “Sorry. That question didn’t come out quite right.”

  He chuckled. “No problem. I get that comment a lot, and it’s a setup I can’t resist. But to answer your question, I came to ministry later than most. I was just ordained a couple of years ago.”

  A minister who’d had experience with the challenges and temptations of the secular world.

  Maybe talking to him wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d expected.

  “So what can I do for you today?” He set his coffee on a side table and gave her his full attention.

  Crossing her legs, she knotted her hands in her lap. “I’ll be going back to Chicago soon, and I have a few . . . issues . . . I haven’t been able to resolve on my own.”

  When she hesitated, he tipped his head. “Your mother’s health can’t be one of them. She seems to be doing much better.”

  “She is. She’s recovered 99 percent of the function on her left side. David says it’s quite remarkable. David’s her therapist.”

  “Yes. David Phelps. A very nice gentleman. And his daughter is charming. They’ve been a wonderful addition to our congregation. I’m glad to see you’ve joined us too. Your mother inferred once that you’d been away from God for a while. May I assume your return is related to the unresolved issues you mentioned?”

  “Yes—but it hasn’t helped.”

  “Well, church attendance is a good thing, of course. But our physical presence alone doesn’t have much meaning if we just sit there and wait for God to talk to us. Have you tried talking to him?”

  “Yes. With my very pathetic praying skills.”

  “The Lord listens for sincerity, not technical proficiency. A good prayer is like a conversation with a dear friend, where we share what’s in our heart with openness and trust.”

  “But a conversation involves two people, and if God is speaking back to me, I’m not hearing it.”

  “We do have to listen in a different way—and with diligence. Often his voice is nothing more than a whisper in our soul.”

  “Then I guess my hearing skills need some work too.” Val sighed. “Since I can’t seem to hear his voice, I hoped you might be able to offer me some guidance or insight.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He waited patiently as she fiddled with the strap on her purse, not rushing her or asking a lot of questions, letting her set the pace. The man had excellent people skills. No wonder the congregation loved him.

  But she could only delay so long, and stalling wasn’t going to make it any less difficult in the end. She might as well spit it out.

  “I guess you know I agreed to be the emcee for the benefit tonight.”

  “Yes. Everyone is very appreciative.”

  “The thing is . . . I’m thinking about pulling out.”

  She twisted her fingers together and braced for censure. Surprise. Irritation. The very things she deserved for suggesting she might renege at the last minute.

  Instead, his tone remained conversational. “Why is that?”

  Her knuckles whitened, and she forced herself to loosen her fingers. “I had a problem last night, with a final piece they want me to read at the end of the evening. It was a last-minute addition.”

  “The letter to the unborn baby.”

  She frowned. “You know about that?”

  “Yes. The director of Hope House faxed it to me yesterday so I could approve its inclusion. It’s very powerful and moving. I imagine it would be difficult to read out loud.”

  “Very. Especially for me.” Val forced herself to maintain eye contact despite the temptation to drop her head in shame. “Because I could have written it.”

  His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”

  That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected.

  Pressure built in her throat. “I am too.”

  The minister leaned forward, his expression compassionate and kind as he clasped his hands. “Tell me about it.”

  And so she did. Sparing nothing. Cutting herself no slack. Taking full responsibility for her actions.

  “Even my motives for coming home this summer weren’t that altruistic.” She rubbed her temple, where a headache had begun to throb. “I agreed to help with Mom, but I was also determined to find closure on this. I wanted to get rid of the guilt and the pain and the burden that’s weighed me down all these years.”

  She explained all the steps she’d taken, ending with a discouraged sigh. “But nothing’s helped. If anything, I feel worse than when I came. Plus, now I have another complication.” She sent him an apologetic glance. “You’re really getting an earful, aren’t you?”

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “If I didn’t want to listen to people’s problems, I’d have stayed out of the ministry. What’s the other complication?”

  “David. He’s asked me to stay and apply for the drama teacher position at the high school. He thinks maybe we . . . that a serious relationship could develop between us.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s possible.”

  “And the problem is . . . ?”

  “I don’t deserve a happy ending, and he doesn’t need a wife with unresolved issues.”

  The minister leaned back in his chair. “Let’s tackle the unresolved issues first. I think what you’ve been seeking all these years is forgiveness. Absolution. And that only comes from one place. We hear a lot in society today about people needing to forgive themselves, but that’s not enough. Real forgiveness only comes from God—and your renewed church attendance tells me you’re seeking it in the right place now. Let me ask you this. Given a second chance, would you make a different choice today?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “Then all your pain and guilt haven’t been wasted. You’ve grown and matured and become a better, more sensitive person as a result of what you’ve gone through. And when we approach the Lord as true penitents who acknowledge the wrong we’ve done, he welcomes us and forgives us.”

  “That’s what David said.”

  “I knew he was a smart man. But beyond forgiveness, God also gives us a second chance. Not always a chance to correct an earlier mistake, but to learn from it and move on. To embrace the future he offers us, to live fully rather than waste the opportunities he presents to us because we feel we’re not worthy of them. Which brings me to the happy ending you spoke of.”

  “I’ve always believed happy endings are for other people. Or only in storybooks.”

  He leaned forward again, his posture intent. “I assure you they do happen in real life. I see them every day. The truth is, if we allowed ourselves only what we deserve, most of us would spend our lives in sackcloth and ashes. We’re human. We all make mistakes.”

  “Some worse than others.”

  “True. Yet God loves us despite our flaws. That’s why he sent his Son to show us the power of redemptive love. And his best hope for us is a happy ending—in eternity and here on earth. He doesn’t want us to spend our lives punishing ourselves. He wants us to lay our mistakes and shortcomings before him and know he always stands ready to support us, to help us, and—if necessary—to forgive us. He cares for us as he wants us to care for others. One of the ways we can live out that example of caring is through a beautiful marriage. It seems to me he may be calling you to that vocation.”

  As Val looked into the man’s earnest face, his conviction an almost tangible thing, she took a few moments to process what he’d said.

  A few more to grasp the message of hope he had given her.

  A few beyond that to accept it.

  But when she did, when she embraced it and let it resonate deep in her soul, something extraordinary happened.

  The crushing guilt she’d borne for nearly eighteen y
ears melted away, leaving in its place sweet release. Liberation. Freedom.

  Even her breathing seemed less labored.

  Her vision misted, and she reached out to clasp the minister’s hands. “Thank you.”

  His smile was like a balm on her battered heart. “I’m not the one you need to thank. I’m just the messenger. Shall we take a few minutes to speak to the source of that message?”

  At her nod, he bowed his head. “Lord, we thank you for your abundant kindness and generosity, and for your gift of forgiveness. Help us always to know your healing grace, to walk secure in the knowledge that you are always beside us, even when we least deserve your love. Give us the strength to do our best to follow your teachings and to live according to your example. Steady us when we falter. Speak to us when we need guidance. And let us always remember the beautiful words from Matthew, so we never become disheartened or feel alone: ‘Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.’

  “Today, Lord, we ask your special blessing and favor on Val as she prepares to let go of yesterday and move toward the tomorrow you have planned for her. Help her always to know your abiding love and care, and grant her a future filled with hope. Amen.”

  As the prayer concluded, Val took a deep, cleansing breath, relishing the sense of peace that had replaced the anguish in her soul. For the first time since her tragic mistake, the future held the promise of happiness—and she was anxious to begin that journey.

  But before she took her first step into tomorrow, she had a couple of things she needed to do today.

  “My treat, in honor of our last Saturday afternoon coffee.” Karen opened her wallet and handed her credit card to the clerk behind the counter.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Val continued to dig for her own wallet.

  Karen restrained her with a touch on the arm. “Indulge me, okay? I’m just glad you didn’t cancel out on me.”

  After a brief hesitation, Val capitulated. “Okay. Thanks.” Picking up her frappuccino, she gestured toward a private corner table. “How about over there?”

  “Fine with me.”

  As she followed her sister across the crowded coffee shop, Karen gave her an assessing scan. Not bad, considering last night’s emotional breakdown and her shaky voice on the phone this morning. She did appear tired—but it was more like the weariness of a marathon runner crossing the finish line. As if she’d conquered a formidable challenge.

  And after last night, Karen had a pretty good idea what that challenge was.

  Val settled into a chair at the café table, and Karen perched on the edge of the one across from her. Her sister wanted to talk; she could sense it. And she wanted to be there for her.

  But she was also afraid.

  What if this conversation jeopardized the fragile, new relationship they’d painstakingly built over the summer? The one she’d begun to assume would continue to grow and flourish, giving her the sister she’d never really had?

  Ignoring the elephant in the room, however, wasn’t going to make it go away. If Val wanted to confess, she had to listen. That’s what sisters—and friends—did.

  Taking a deep breath, she broke the lengthening silence. “Saturdays won’t be the same after you leave.”

  “It may not be our last coffee date after all.” Val played with her straw. “I’m thinking about staying in Washington.”

  Karen did a double take. That wasn’t what she’d expected. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” Val gave her a smile that seemed forced. “I thought you’d be happy to have a helping hand with Mom on a more permanent basis.”

  “You’re staying because of Mom?” Also not what she’d expected. Nor did she think that was the main reason Val was considering such a radical change.

  “Partly. But more because of you and Kristen and David and Victoria.” She tightened her grip on her plastic cup. The frappuccino overflowed and puddled on the table, and she scrubbed at the wayward liquid with her napkin.

  Wadding the soiled paper into her fist, she continued in a more subdued voice. “I’m also staying because I’m tired of running away.”

  Here it comes.

  Karen braced herself. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s the real reason I left Washington. It reminded me too much of my mistakes.” She moved her drink aside and gripped her hands together on the table. “Do you remember much about the summer I was seventeen, and my senior year in high school?”

  “No. I was dating Michael, and everything but my so-called romance is a blur for those months. Besides, I was putting in a lot of hours at my job at the Y. I don’t remember seeing you very much. You were either working at the diner or running around with that group you hung out with, and by the next spring, I was married. Why?”

  “Something happened during those months that changed my life forever. It’s why I broke down at the rehearsal. Why I’ve been running all these years.”

  So the suspicions that had kept her tossing most of the night were true.

  And the moment she’d been dreading was here.

  With an effort, Karen kept her expression impassive. “Are you telling me you had an abortion?”

  “Yes.” The admission came out in a whisper. “And not a day has passed since that I haven’t regretted it.”

  After watching Val’s remorse play out in living color last night, Karen believed that. And while her sister’s choice twisted her stomach, her heart contracted with sympathy for the eighteen years of guilt and regret and self-recrimination Val had endured.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Yes. If we’re going to be friends, I don’t want there to be secrets between us. But I’ll understand if you can’t accept what I have to say.”

  Karen listened as Val shared her story, up to and including her session with Reverend Richards this morning. She did her best to keep an open mind—and an open heart. Prayed for understanding and compassion. Reminded herself that judgment was God’s, not hers.

  “So now you know.” Val wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her cup. “I finally have the sense of closure I came home to find, and I’m ready to move on with my life. Odd as it may sound, moving on may include moving back to Washington.”

  Reaching out, Karen took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t even imagine how awful it must have been for you to keep that secret hidden away all these years.”

  Val searched her face. “Then you don’t hate me for what I did?”

  Hate? Never. But she’d been afraid Val’s choices, which went against everything she believed in, might drive a wedge between them.

  God had answered her prayers, however, blessing her with the empathy and grace she needed to handle this with the compassion her faith taught.

  “Not even close.”

  “That’s exactly what David said last night.”

  “I knew he was a good man.” Karen leaned back in her chair. “And speaking of David, you mentioned that he and Victoria were among the reasons you were staying . . . ?”

  “I didn’t think that would get by you.” A whisper of a smile tugged at Val’s lips. “He asked me to apply for the drama teacher position at the high school. He thinks the two of us could . . . get serious.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I agree with him.”

  Karen smiled. “I’m happy for you, Val.”

  “Thanks. And now I have a favor to ask. There’s one more thing I need to do, and I’d like you and David to come with me.”

  As Val explained her request, Karen felt the pressure of tears build behind her eyes. When her sister finished, she reached for her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Count me in.”

  Val blinked and squeezed back. “Thank you.”

  They sat that way for a long moment, hands—and hearts—linked, and then Karen checked her watch. “I hate to break this up, but we still need to shop and get ready for the benefit.”

  “You’
re right.” Val picked up her half-melted drink, fished in her purse, and pulled out a piece of paper. “Since Mom thinks I’m leaving, she made a list of the dishes she wants me to fix for dinner next week. Get this. Ratatouille is at the top. Can you believe it?”

  Karen shook her head. “Who said miracles don’t happen?”

  A soft smile lifted the corners of Val’s lips. “I’ll never be a doubter again.”

  As far as Karen could tell, the benefit was a rousing success. Hope House was now in the black. Steven had given a stunning performance. She’d been pleased with her solo. And Val had read the letter at the end with such feeling and passion there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

  As Karen was accepting accolades after the final curtain, Val, Kristen, and Margaret joined the group of well-wishers. They waited until the crowd dispersed before stepping forward.

  “That was epic, Mom!” Kristen gave her an enthusiastic hug.

  “I concur,” Val seconded.

  Her mother peered at her over the top of her glasses. “Well, you certainly surprised me.”

  Coming from Margaret, that was the equivalent of a Grammy. Karen stepped forward to hug her stiff shoulders. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I’ll add my congratulations too.” Scott gave her a slow, admiring smile as he joined them.

  Val’s gaze shifted to Scott, then back to her. “Will you be riding home with us?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  At their simultaneous—and conflicting—responses, Karen glanced at Scott.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Val commandeered Margaret’s arm. “Come on, ladies. If three’s company, five is definitely a crowd.”

  As Val led them away, Karen propped her hands on her hips and called after them. “Hey! How am I supposed to get home?”

  “At your service.” Scott gave a mock bow. “But first we need to celebrate your debut.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Mr. Frank’s?”

  Perfect. Much safer than the romantic place by the river. “Sold.”

  “Let me grab my music and I’ll meet you by the exit.”