“But I’ll tell you something,” Walt said with a smile. “I’m glad I got convicted.”
Christy wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. How could he be happy for that? When she’d been in that awful cell two weeks ago, she’d even been willing to go back to Vince to be free again.
“You know why?” Walt continued. “Because in that prison I met God. There was an old guy with a cane who visited us inmates, and he started talking to me. He told me God loved me and wasn’t looking for me to clean myself up before He’d accept me. The Lord just wanted my heart.”
Christy glanced toward where she’d seen May, remembering their conversation last night. They made it all sound so easy.
Walt started walking down the aisle. “Somewhere along the way that old guy cracked through my facade. Maybe it was because of the genuine care he had for men he knew had committed heinous acts. And once there was a crack, my walls started falling away piece by piece. I’m glad I got sent to prison because I never would have listened anywhere else. Guess it was my rock bottom.”
She crossed her legs uneasily. Hadn’t she hit rock bottom too? She was homeless, jobless, and hated herself.
“It seemed impossible for God to love me,” Walt said. “But I knew I needed His love. Deep inside, I knew.”
Walt was silent for a moment, then came farther down the aisle, closer to where Christy was sitting. She could see the lights reflecting off his shiny head. “If God had waited to love me until I stopped cussing and drinking and otherwise got my act together, I wouldn’t be here today. When I gave my life to Him, a peace like I’d never known flooded over me.”
Christy found herself looking away from the guy. Peace. She wondered what that felt like.
***
“Don’t look now,” Ruth whispered in May’s ear, “but guess who’s here.”
May leaned closer to her friend. “Who?”
“Christy.”
She twirled around. “Where?”
“Shh.” Ruth put her hand on May’s arm. “Against the back wall with Jim.”
May could barely believe it, but there she was.
***
“I was still locked up,” Walt went on. “God hadn’t magically thrown open the prison doors, but inside I was free; my burdens were gone.”
He placed his hand on the shoulder of the man closest to him, a large guy with tattoos on his arms who nodded like he knew what the preacher was talking about. “I want y’all to do something for me. Close your eyes, everyone. Now imagine you’re on death row.”
Christy didn’t do it at first. What was this about? But as he continued she found herself obeying and closed her eyes.
“You’re about to be executed,” Walt said. “They’ve got you tied to the bed. You’re terrified, shaking. It’s over. You’re done. You don’t look, but there’s a poke in your arm, and you know it’s truly the end.”
Walt stopped and let the silence hang over the room. “Suddenly, the door bursts open, and a stranger rushes inside. He stops the guard ready to release the lethal fluid meant for you. You watch as the guard reluctantly steps away from his post, and the stranger unties your arms and legs.
“You’re shocked when the guard leads you away from the death room and outside the prison gates where he releases you. ‘You’re free,’ he says, and you can only stare at him in astonishment. ‘But what about my crimes? I was sentenced to die,’ you say. The guard smirks like he can’t believe it either, then says with a point in the direction of the execution chamber. ‘That man in there. He just died in your place.’”
When Walt stopped speaking, the packed room remained as quiet as the death chamber he described. Walt looked in Christy’s direction, and their eyes met. “That’s what Jesus actually did for all of us,” he said. She could swear his gaze was on her. “He loves you that much.”
She looked away, warmth coming to her cheeks. Why was he staring at her?
Walt returned to his podium. “Our sins will send us to eternal punishment. That’s just the way it goes. Like a death sentence. We can’t change it unless we receive what Jesus did for us. Once I realized what He did for me and accepted it, my life was never the same.”
Christy stared at her hands as he went on. She wanted to believe what he said, just like she wanted to believe May, but nothing in life ever came without strings attached, right? What was the catch here?
And what was she? A weak, pathetic woman who settled for sleazy men and the low life. Why would God want her?
The preacher asked everyone to close their eyes and bow their heads, and Christy only complied to half of the request. She would keep her eyes open this time.
“Would you be so bold as to lift your hand if you’re ready to give your life to the Lord?” Walt said.
A hand or two shot up.
Christy wanted to respond, and this surprised her. But if she raised her hand, committed to change her life, it would only last till tomorrow. She didn’t know how to walk the straight and narrow. She’d still be the same alcoholic who’d hooked up more than once with guys she’d just met in bars and the same wretch who’d ended the life of her own child with an abortion. She was weak. There was no changing that.
And though the urge was powerful, Christy knew she couldn’t respond. She didn’t have the guts.
***
“I see your hand, sir,” Pastor Walt said, acknowledging the man with a smile. It was all May could do to keep from checking on Chris. Had the message gotten through to her sister?
“Thank you, ma’am. I see your hand.”
She pictured Pastor Walt seeing Chris’s hand come up, maybe slowly, and he’d thank her too with a smile.
“Yes, sir, you’re making the best decision of your life.”
May continued her desperate prayer for the Lord to soften her sister’s heart.
“I see you, ma’am, way in the back.”
***
Christy turned to Jim. “Can we go?”
Jim glanced at the preacher. “Now?”
She nodded. It wouldn’t be easy to explain why, and she hoped he wouldn’t ask. She wanted to get out before this thing ended. She needed to think about it alone. If she could leave now, she’d have a little time at the ranch to prepare herself before May returned, and then she would say good-bye. “Please, Jim.”
He looked at her with a kind expression she didn’t understand, then reached into his coat and placed a small bunch of keys in her hand. “You can take my truck.”
Her gaze went from the keys to his face, unsure if he was serious.
“I can get a ride with May and Ruth,” Jim said.
His trust caught her off guard. The preacher was still talking, asking the people who raised their hands to come to the front. Go for it. If she left now, no one would notice.
“Thanks,” she said and slipped out before she could change her mind.
***
May’s eyes flew open. Seven people stood at the altar. Four men, three women.
No Chris.
Her hopes deflated. She’d thought for sure the woman raising her hand in the back had been Chris.
“Let’s give our new brothers and sisters a hand clap,” Pastor Walt said.
May did, though her heart wasn’t in it. After she’d realized Chris was here, she’d pinned everything on this service. And she couldn’t have planned it better herself. The music. Pastor’s testimony. The invitation. Even so, she should’ve known better than to assume Chris would respond so quickly. She had no idea what baggage her sister carried.
May allowed herself a peek toward the back. There was Jim. And beside him, where Chris had been, was an empty chair.
Chapter 19
Christy parked Jim’s truck outside his trailer, got out, and stood for a moment beside it. He was right. She had been running.
When was she going to stop hurting May? Sisters were supposed to care for each other. Treat each other like May and Beth had the other night. There wa
s an unspoken sisterly affection between those two. Christy wished her relationship with May was like that.
Glancing up the drive, she suddenly felt vulnerable. She was alone. In her haste to leave the service, she’d forgotten how isolated this ranch was. When would the others return? A splash of dread hit her. What if Vince came back now?
Christy decided not to be around to find out. After borrowing a coat and some gloves from the house, she found a halter in the barn. She would take a ride. By the time she returned May would be home, and Christy would’ve figured out what to say.
Spotting May’s gray gelding among the horses in the corral, she went for him. Wasn’t his name Spirit? It took her fifteen minutes to catch him. He seemed to enjoy playing with her, darting out of reach every time she got close. He finally fell for the carrot she swiped from the fridge, and Christy led him to the barn, pleased with her success.
She secured him with the cross ropes she’d seen May use. She wasn’t exactly an equestrian; that was May’s department. But the little she’d learned from taking those few riding lessons as a kid had come back to her when she and May rode together.
“Think we can do this, boy?” Christy said, stroking the nose of the beautiful gray. He didn’t flinch. She hoped May wouldn’t mind her taking him. As she awkwardly began the process of tacking up, her mind drifted to what that preacher said.
“If God had waited to love me until I stopped cussing and drinking and otherwise got my act together, I wouldn’t be here today.”
She ran a brush over Spirit’s shaggy winter coat, a cloud of dust puffing upward with each stroke. Was he for real, or was this guy just another preacher working the crowd to get an offering?
“A peace like I’d never known flooded over me.”
Christy tugged off the halter and, imitating May, pushed the bit of the bridle through the horse’s mouth. His lips wrinkled back as the metal clinked on his teeth, but he finally took it. She pulled the bridle over his head, reattaching the cross ties.
The peace thing. That was the difference in May. Despite all her financial troubles, even the impending loss of her ranch, there was still peace in her eyes. To have that herself . . . Christy couldn’t quite imagine it.
She lifted the saddle at her feet, ready to hoist it onto Spirit’s back, and she could almost see that preacher staring at her again. It was creepy the way he seemed to know her thoughts. It made his words cut right through her. There was something real about the guy, and she found herself believing him.
With a heave Christy threw the saddle onto Spirit’s back, hanging on to the stirrup to keep it from flying over the other side. Spirit stayed calm, and she petted his neck in thanks. Struggling to snag one of the two hanging girth straps—or cinches May had called them—she finally managed to catch it by practically crawling under Spirit’s belly.
That preacher had been out there and experienced some hard stuff, like she had. May had talked the same way he did about God’s love. Jim too. Could they all be wrong?
Christy pulled on the strap, knowing she had to get it as tight as possible. But even when she jerked upward using her whole body, she was still unable to tighten it to the worn hole she guessed was where it should be.
A noise came from outside. Could that be a gate closing? Was May back already?
Popping her head out the door, she skimmed the yard. It was still. Jim’s truck sat where she’d left it. Not a soul in sight. The snow had started again and was coming down in huge flakes, the wind ratcheting up. She took a moment to enjoy the bucolic view of cows scattered throughout the pastures and the snowy mountains.
May sure did have it good out here. Christy leaned against the doorway with one hand. “God?” she whispered. “Are you really like they say?”
Returning to the barn, she attached the back cinch looser than the front one, like May showed her, then tugged on the saddle, checking for looseness. She couldn’t pull it past the first two holes. It was the same for the second strap. Tugging on the saddle, she checked for looseness. Not too bad, she guessed. She shortened the stirrups, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
Christy stroked Spirit’s neck and congratulated herself for remembering how to do everything. Then zipping up her jacket, she donned the ski cap Beth had lent her for sledding.
“Ready, boy?” she said and undid the restraining ropes.
“Well, well. Isn’t this a sight.”
Her heart stopped at the voice, and Christy caught her breath in horror. She swung around, her worst fears confirmed.
***
As soon as the service was over, May and Ruth headed straight for Jim.
“Where’d she go?” May asked.
His look was sympathetic. “Left before it was over. I gave her my truck.”
“You what?”
Jim pulled on his coat. “I couldn’t make her stay, and I thought she might need time to think.”
May couldn’t help grimacing in frustration. Perfect. This was just like Chris’s other disappearing act at Aunt Edna’s funeral.
Ruth patted May’s back. “Hang in there.”
She tried to smile but ended up shaking her head. For a moment she’d thought she was making headway with her sister. “She wouldn’t come when I invited her this morning.”
“It’s only because she’s going through things I can relate to,” Jim said. “And I pushed her the way I needed to be pushed years ago.”
All the events of the past forty-eight hours flashed through May’s mind. What should she have done differently? She hadn’t brought up Chris’s drinking or what she said about killing someone. She’d decided to let Chris explain in her own time. That hadn’t been easy, but it was what she felt God would want her to do. Had staying silent been a mistake?
“What am I’m doing wrong?” She longed to reach Chris so badly, but it wasn’t working. Who did she think she was, anyway? Why would Chris even want to listen to her, the kid sister? “I’m trying to be real. I even told her exactly what I was feeling.”
“It’s not you,” Ruth said.
“Sure feels like it.”
The three of them walked toward the door. Jim held it open for the two women, and a wall of glacial air blew inside. Snow was already floating down.
“If it helps, she was listening closely today,” Jim said.
May blew on her hands to keep them warm. “I was hoping she’d go up front.”
Ruth added, “It was only one sermon.”
Jim smiled. “Ten years ago I would’ve been written off as a lost cause too. It took a lot more than a sermon to get through to me.”
They crossed the parking lot toward May’s truck. She hadn’t known Jim before he was saved, but he’d told her the story of how the foreman at the ranch where he was working had reached out to him and eventually led him to God. Apparently he’d been a hard nut to crack. That foreman could have given up. But he didn’t. She wanted to be like that for Chris.
“It’s not up to you to convert your sister,” Ruth said. “You just need to love her. God’ll take care of the rest.”
May unlocked her truck. Why was trusting God always so hard?
***
Christy could only stare numbly at Vince. No one would hear her scream.
“What’s this? A new side of you I don’t know about?” Vince laughed, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. “I’m sorry to say it, but you don’t make a very good Dale Evans.”
“What do you want?” Her voice was cold. She would have to play this carefully.
Vince stepped inside. He was uncharacteristically dressed in outdoorsman clothes—canvas pants, snow boots, a down parka. “And your manners always have been horrible.”
“You’re not welcome here,” Christy said, still holding Spirit’s reins firmly in her left hand.
He slowly unzipped his parka. “Can’t a man visit the girl he loves?”
She squeezed Spirit’s reins until the leather dug into her p
alm. Could she stall him long enough for Jim and the others to get back from church? “Let’s both just get on with our lives. You go your way. I’ll go mine.”
“You know, your apartment is a wreck these days.”
Even though Christy already knew he started the fire, hearing him say it made her feel sick. Anger boiled in her gut. She looked past him, yearning for the door.
He moved toward her. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, does there? Looks like we’re all by ourselves.”
Heat flashed up her back as she realized the mistake she’d made. She’d known Vince followed her here. She was an idiot to come back alone.
“I just want to get on with my life,” she said slowly, carefully, enunciating each word and trying not to show fear. “I have no interest in getting you in trouble.”
“You really want to know what I want?” Vince smiled, then said softly, “You.”
Her skin crawled. “I want you to leave. Now.”
Vince turned around in a circle, surveying the barn. “What kind of place is this?”
“A place where people work hard and care about each other. Something you know nothing about.”
“And I suppose little sis taught you that?”
Christy forced herself to breathe. What did he know about May?
“News flash. I’m about to teach you something far more important. Something you should’ve learned a long time ago.”
Their eyes locked. His were full of hate. She’d seen this look before. Only now, instead of appearing in flashes right before striking her, the hate was a constant stream of electricity charging his eyes.
Moving back, she gripped the gelding’s reins tighter. What could she do? Running wasn’t an option. He would easily catch her. If she could only mount the horse.
Vince methodically stepped nearer.
There was only one thing she could do. Christy lifted her chin, feigned confidence, and boldly walked past him, leading Spirit behind her. She would bluff her way out of here, whether she felt confident or not.
Thicker than Blood Page 19
