She turned to walk away, but the preacher stopped her. “Ma’am? You’re welcome to join us.”
Embarrassed, she shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I was just … looking for someone. I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“You aren’t interrupting. Come on in.”
She hesitated, scanning the faces … mostly women … and settled on two old men.
There he was. Her father, a little grayer than he’d been in the last picture she had with him, when he’d escorted her to the father-daughter banquet at her school. He didn’t seem aware of her or the man at the front. He merely stared at the air, unengaged with his surroundings.
A lady sitting at the piano followed Cathy’s gaze. “Is Mr. Cramer your relative?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes … my father.”
“Well, come on in, honey.”
One of the aides in scrubs brought a chair up beside him, and realizing she couldn’t escape now, Cathy crossed through the residents and sat down. Her father didn’t look at her.
As the preacher resumed his sermon, Cathy only stared at her dad, a million emotions flipping like a slideshow through her mind. The shock of his infidelity. The pain of his abandonment. All the phone calls she’d made that he hadn’t returned. Birthdays coming and going without a notice. Christmases changed forever.
In fact, they rarely ever saw him again after he ran off with the woman. It was as if he’d gutted the family from his life.
And now, here he was, unable to have the epiphany about how wrong he’d been, unable to repent and beg for forgiveness. Unable to start over fresh and be the father she needed.
Her bitterness seemed such a waste, over an empty shell of a man who didn’t even know he’d done anything wrong. What good was it?
It was her own prison, one of the things that held her back. In some ways, his failures challenged her to be better, do better, in hopes of showing him that she had become somebody even without him. That she didn’t need him. That her own human spirit had risen above his indifference.
But now that didn’t even matter. Her father was a broken, empty old man who didn’t even know where he was.
The preacher talked about David’s plight during the writing of the Psalms … words that revived memories of her dad waxing poetic in his own pulpit. But then the preacher read again.
“As for me, I said in my alarm, ‘I am cut off from before Thine eyes; nevertheless Thou did hear the voice of my supplications when I cried to Thee.”
Yes, Cathy thought as the preacher read on from Psalm 31. God had heard her supplication. He hadn’t cut her off or forgotten her.
I see you. Those words filled her spirit, reviving her soul, bringing tears of pain and joy to her eyes. Then her father turned his warm familiar eyes to her. For a miraculous moment they connected, and she would have sworn he recognized her. A gentle smile lifted the sides of his lips.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
He lifted his shaky hand, and put it over hers.
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she sat there with him, taking in the sustenance of the sermon like a starving orphan, as that recognition faded to vacancy.
EPILOGUE
A week later, the gravesite swarmed with mourners, some friends of the family, others well-wishers who’d prayed for them. A couple of TV reporters hung on the outskirts of the crowd, their cameramen anything but discreet.
Cathy got out of her car and walked across the spongy grass. Several of the mourners saw her and stepped aside, allowing her to pass through. She saw Holly and Juliet standing near the tent. Michael turned as she came closer. She met his eyes.
Then she saw Jay, sitting on the front row of the folding chairs near the caskets. Little Jackson leaned into him. He was still pale, but he’d come through his illness with no lasting effects, and the doctors assured them that he would have a full recovery.
They’d delayed Annalee’s funeral until he was well enough to attend. Mrs. Haughton had passed peacefully in the hospital. She never woke up after finding out her son was her daughter’s killer. Now they celebrated both mother and daughter’s lives together, and would bury them side by side. Jackson would only have to endure one funeral.
“Is he okay?” Cathy whispered to Juliet.
“Yes, he seems fine. Jay did a good job of preparing him.”
They got quiet as the short service began. As the preacher spoke, Cathy’s mind wandered to Warren. He had broken his back in the fall, and was paralyzed from his waist down. He lay in a rehab hospital now with a guard at the door. Though he’d pled guilty to Annalee’s death and the other charges against him, she knew his personal prison would be worse than the state could inflict on him.
When the funeral was over, Jay gave Jackson a bundle of balloons and allowed him to set them free into the sky. He waved to them, a soft, poignant smile on his little face as the balloons drifted out of sight.
Despite Annalee’s behavior over the last year, Cathy hoped that in the last few moments of her life, she’d called out to Jesus. Maybe she hadn’t died with guilt and shame crushing her. Maybe she had been washed clean as she bled out in the bathtub. Cathy hoped so. Jackson would be expecting to see his mother someday when he made his own walk into heaven.
Later, they all met at Jay’s house — the house he’d built with Annalee, the house she’d died in. Jackson would be allowed to continue living in his own home, sleeping in his own bed, playing in his own yard. Jay was no longer banished to a bare apartment.
But the grief would be with them for a long time to come.
Mrs. Haughton’s entire estate went to Jackson, and Jay had assigned it all to a trust fund that Jackson could access when he was older. Until then, he’d support his son himself.
Relatives and friends brought food and lingered, talking of their memories of Annalee and her mother. The sisters worked tirelessly in the kitchen, making sure that everyone felt welcome.
But Cathy wondered what had happened to Michael. He’d disappeared shortly after they’d arrived at the house. Though their relief was profound after solving Annalee’s murder, Cathy knew that Michael’s thoughts had returned to Leonard Miller. His appearance back in town had reignited Michael’s desire to catch him committing another crime. He’d spent much of the last few days following the man around town. She knew he wouldn’t rest until his brother’s killer was off the streets. So far, Miller had stayed within the law.
When she could get away, she walked out of the kitchen and looked around. Michael wasn’t inside, so she glanced out the window. His Trailblazer was still parked on the street.
He must be out back. She crossed through the big house and stepped out the back door. There he was, sitting on the porch swing with Jackson, their backs to her.
“Can Mommy see me?” Jackson asked him, looking up at the clouds.
“I’m not sure,” Michael said. “But I do know that Jesus can see you. And he probably keeps her updated about all the cool things you do.”
“Someday we’ll be together again,” Jackson said wistfully. “Me and Mommy and Daddy and Grandma.”
Michael patted his knee. “That’s right, buddy.”
“And your brother will be there too. What was his name?”
“Joe.”
“Yeah, Joe. He’s probably bowling with my mom.” Jackson smiled at the thought.
Michael chuckled. “Bowling? You think they have bowling alleys in heaven?”
“Probably,” Jackson said. “Mommy likes to bowl.”
Cathy stood quietly near the door. Michael would make a wonderful father … a great husband … to someone.
That guilt rose inside her again, reminding her that it shouldn’t be her. She stepped back inside and saw Juliet watching her.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
“Wrong about what?”
“About Michael. You were Joe’s two favorite people. Why wouldn’t he want you together?”
“Because he was the jealous type.”
“He’s in heaven now. He’s not struggling with that anymore.”
Cathy looked at the floor. Juliet came closer, put her hand on Cathy’s shoulder. “I think it’s okay.”
As Juliet walked away, Cathy went back to the door. She looked out and saw that Jackson was on his swing set now. Michael stood in the middle of the yard. He turned and saw her … and a smile overtook his face.
For that moment, Cathy let herself be happy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TERRI BLACKSTOCK is an award-winning novelist who has written for several major publishers including HarperCollins, Dell, Harlequin, and Silhouette. Her books have sold over six million copies worldwide.
With her success in secular publishing at its peak, Blackstock had what she calls “a spiritual awakening.” A Christian since the age of fourteen, she realized she had not been using her gift as God intended. It was at that point that she recommitted her life to Christ, gave up her secular career, and made the decision to write only books that would point her readers to Him.
“I wanted to be able to tell the truth in my stories,” she said, “and not just be politically correct. It doesn’t matter how many readers I have if I can’t tell them what I know about the roots of their problems and the solutions that have literally saved my own life.”
Her books are about flawed Christians in crisis and God’s provisions for their mistakes and wrong choices. She claims to be extremely qualified to write such books, since she’s had years of personal experience.
A native of nowhere, since she was raised in the Air Force, Blackstock makes Mississippi her home. She and her husband are the parents of three adult children — a blended family which she considers one more of God’s provisions.
Terri Blackstock, a New York Times bestselling author, has sold over six million books worldwide. She is the author of numerous suspense novels, including Intervention, Double Minds, the Restoration Series (Last Light, Night Light, True Light, and Dawn’s Light), and other series such as the Sun Coast Chronicles, Cape Refuge, and Newpointe 911.
(www.terriblackstock.com)
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Books by Terri Blackstock
The Moonlighters Series
1 | Truth-Stained Lies
Intervention Series
1 | Intervention
2 | Vicious Cycle
3 | Downfall
Restoration Series
1 | Last Light
2 | Night Light
3 | True Light
4 | Dawn’s Light
Cape Refuge Series
1 | Cape Refuge
2 | Southern Storm
3 | River’s Edge
4 | Breaker’s Reef
Newpointe 911
1 | Private Justice
2 | Shadow of Doubt
3 | Word of Honor
4 | Trial by Fire
5 | Line of Duty
Sun Coast Chronicles
1 | Evidence of Mercy
2 | Justifiable Means
3 | Ulterior Motives
4 | Presumption of Guilt
Second Chances
1 | Never Again Good-bye
2 | When Dreams Cross
3 | Blind Trust
4 | Broken Wings
With Beverly LaHaye
1 | Seasons Under Heaven
2 | Showers in Season
3 | Times and Seasons
4 | Season of Blessing
Novellas
Seaside
Other Books
Shadow in Serenity
Predator
Double Minds
Soul Restoration
Emerald Windows
Miracles
(The Listener/The Gifted)
The Heart Reader of Franklin High
The Gifted Sophomores
Covenant Child
Sweet Delights
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Recently, as I was stressing about my writing process, God showed me that He understands, because He is a writer too. As the Author and Perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:2), He is writing each of our stories.
Did you know that? Do you understand that you’re the leading character in your story? That your story has a theme and a purpose, and a conflict and a resolution?
You are the character — God’s masterpiece. Ephesians 2:10 (NLT) says that we are “God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.”
When I begin writing a book, I approach it in a number of different ways. Sometimes I start with a plot, and the characters are designed to serve that plot. Other times, I start with the characters. But in either case, the stories and each of the characters have a purpose and a character arc. I plan for them to grow, so I give them challenges they aren’t expecting. As they deal with those challenges, some of them catastrophic, I show them growing until, at the end, they aren’t the same people they started out to be.
I know it isn’t easy to imagine God writing your story, because a lot of us see ourselves as extras in the broad scope of His-story. But you do have your own story. God did design your character for a purpose. He did give you a character arc. He made you a certain way, and He will give you challenges to help you grow. As He’s writing this character growth in you, He wants you to learn something. He wants you to change somehow. He wants you to do something. He wants you to impact someone.
So much of what happens to us can’t be explained. Sometimes we never understand it. We don’t always come to the end of our lives and have a light bulb come on and some grand epiphany where everything suddenly makes sense. But God knows the story. He knows the purpose. He knows how it will fit into His broader plan, because He wrote it.
But every good story has conflict. If I had a story without any conflict, no one would read it. It would be boring. Our conflicts are the things that build us, strengthen us, make us more useful. Without them, we are one-dimensional. And God doesn’t write one-dimensional characters.
When I’m writing a character, I love them as if they were real people. I cry over them and pray over them. Remember when Jesus wept when Lazarus died, even though He knew He was going to raise him from the dead? It recently occurred to me that it’s the same thing I do when I have to kill a character I’ve spent chapters developing, and I literally weep over it. I only let a character die if I know that it advances my plot and my purpose in telling this story, but it hurts me when I do it, even though I know the end of the story.
When I killed off a child in one of my books, it threw a lot of my readers for a loop. I can’t tell you all the letters I got from people who were still wiping tears as they wrote to me. But almost all of those people said that they understood why I did it, and it was the only right choice for that story. I let that child die to teach a principle that would help many people. Sometimes God does the same thing. As the Author of our Faith, He writes things into our story that are hard to take. But He has a plan and a purpose for that pain, and He promises that it will turn out well for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).
Some of you are thinking, God couldn’t have written my story, because I’ve done so many things wrong. I’ve made mistakes that make God gasp. But guess what? God can’t be shocked. He isn’t surprised at the mistakes you’ve made; He plans to use them. He already knows the purpose of all those mistakes, and He already knows how they work into your redemption story.
I love writing characters who are a mess because there’s so much I can do with them throughout a series. In the case of Holly in the Moonlighter Series, do you think I’m looking at her and thinking, Wow, I hate this character. She’s such a loser. She’s a failure at everything. No! I absolutely love her. I cry with her, I laugh with her, and I have big plans for her. I hate to see her hurting, but I’m letting her hurt, because I have a purpose for that pain.
Some of you may
remember my character Issie from my Newpointe 911 Series. Issie was the same kind of character. She was a mess. The first time we see her, she’s trying to break up someone’s marriage. But as the series progressed, I took her through a growth arc, and when I featured her in the final book, I was able to show her growth. I loved her from that first day I conceived of her.
In the same way, God is not surprised by your mistakes. If you’re a mess, if you’ve had failures, if you’ve done every single thing in your life wrong, God can use it in your story. He has a plan for it. No matter what you’ve been, God still loves you. If I can love Holly and Issie as I’m writing their stories, God can love you while He’s writing yours. I’m not more compassionate than He is.
He knows you. He wired you that way. He gave you the background that would lead to that. He understands why you wound up here. He wants to see you learn and grow and change. He knows just what obstacles to put in your path, when to lighten up on you and give some comic relief, when to tighten the screws to get you out of your comfort zone, when to pull your security out from under you so you’ll reach for Him. He wants your character arc to be the kind of story that impacts others when the last page is written.
I have a friend named Jeff Gerke, and a few years ago he adopted a little girl named Sophie from China. Sophie had a cleft palate, so a few months after they got her, they took her for surgery. Jeff blogged about that difficult day and Sophie’s fear and the pain afterward, and I was particularly touched by this. He wrote, “Sophie couldn’t see that she needed this surgery. She couldn’t understand why people she loved and trusted would allow her to go through such fear and pain for no apparent reason. Of course, we could see she needed it and that this was all for her benefit through the rest of her life, but all she could see was the fear and pain.”
I think we go through things like that sometimes. I think God allows us to undergo pain and fear for no reason we can see. He knows we need it and that it will help us in the long run, but all we feel is afraid, hurt, and maybe even a little betrayed and abandoned. As Jeff’s son told Sophie, “You’re going to be scared and it’s going to hurt, but we’re going to be here after, and we’re not leaving you.”