Authors: Julie Lessman
He paused for several heartbeats, the scrape of his uneven breathing the only sound in the room. “And then I found out you ran away with a girlfriend to San Diego, and I felt betrayed, angry, wanting you to pay for making me feel like a failure as a father.” He glanced her way, his eyelids heavy with regret. “I was a miserable person and a miserable father, Lacey, and I wish I could take it all back. But I’ll be honest, when your mother went to visit you in San Diego and then called to tell me you’d had a baby, it was like a sharp blow to the head because that was the first I even knew you were actually pregnant.”
Spasms of regret convulsed in Lacey’s stomach as she stared at her father, heartsick over the kind of daughter she’d been. “Forgive me, Daddy—I begged Mom not to tell you because I was ashamed. I thought if I gave the baby up and you never knew, I wouldn’t risk you hating me anymore than you already did.”
“Oh, Lacey, I didn’t hate you,” he whispered, his voice rough with regret. “I hated myself. And because of that, I was angry at you and your mother for making me feel less than I already did.” He turned away to stare straight ahead, his Adam’s apple shifting in profile. “So when she called to say the child had heart problems—”
“Daddy, it’s okay.” She reached across Beau, fingers grazing his shoulder while emotion swelled in her throat. “It’s not your fault she died.”
A nerve flickered in the stiff line of his jaw as his eyelids lumbered closed. “That’s just it,” he whispered, the words no more than a rasp. “It
is
my fault. And every single day of my life I live with the torment of not only what I did to my granddaughter, but to you and your mother.”
“Oh, Daddy, no …” Lacey jumped up and squatted before him, softly grazing his arm. “It’s not your fault Mom couldn’t get a hold of you till too late …”
His eyelids lifted to reveal a man haunted by his past, silent seconds ticking away to the deafening thud of her heart. “But she
did
get a hold of me, Lacey. I was just too angry to come.”
Her pulse stopped. The room seemed to shift on its foundation as her mind whirled in a slow spin, body dizzy and vision glazed. “B-But you w-were there,” she whispered, straining to remember all that had happened, conjuring up memories she’d worked so hard to forget.
“After, yes, but I should have been there
before
—performing that surgery instead of some baby-faced intern barely out of school. And I fully intended to, I swear, but I …” A lump bobbed in his throat as he averted his eyes. “But I … put off coming right away.”
She stared, body paralyzed along with her mind.
He put off coming? Put off saving my baby? His own flesh and blood?
Just like he’d put off my mother and me all of those years?
Her breathing shallowed as she stared at him in horror. “But why?”
Glazed with sorrow, his gaze found hers. “Because I was selfish and judgmental and wanted to make you and your mother pay.” His quivering fingers—those of a surgeon whose life was to heal—grappled through his hair as if he were an old man, disrupting his neat and meticulous cut like he’d just disrupted her life. “I spoke with the attending physician and felt I had time, so I had every intention of coming, Lacey, I swear, but I … wanted to make a point … wanted to make you wait …” Grief shadowed every line in his face as he peered up, a man broken beneath the weight of his own guilt. “I … never expected anything to go wrong before I got there, never dreamed there would be an emergency surgery. So when the baby died—”
“
Hope
, Daddy,” she hissed, all the pain of the loss she’d tried to put behind swamping her all over again, dousing all hope. “She had a name, you know—Hope Olivia Carmichael.”
Water welled in his eyes as his throat convulsed. “Yes, of course,” he whispered, the very sound broken with pain, “so when … Hope died, I did too, shutting down inside as if I were a corpse—dead to Karen, dead to you, and that’s when your mother …” His eyes flickered briefly as if weighted down with a guilt too heavy to bear. “Started counseling with Adam.”
He looked away to swab a hand to his eyes, his voice laden with grief. “As God is my witness, Lacey, I have never regretted anything more, and I swear if I could trade my life for hers right now, I would—
gladly
.” He straightened and swiped his face with the back of his hand, the dregs of wounded pride in the rise of that formidable chin. “Which is why I fought the possibility of any relationship with you at all, because not only did I fear your anger and hurt once you found out, but I don’t deserve the joy of being a father.” His mouth tamped down, as if he were preparing for the very worst. “And frankly, I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out that door right now and never came back.”
She could barely breathe, her chest so constricted she thought she might faint. Both her daughter and her mother were dead, and the man before her bore most of the blame. Which, as far as she was concerned, deemed her so-called “father” dead as well. Her jaw hardened along with her heart and without another word, she rose, body shaking as she silently retrieved her purse from the kitchen.
“Lacey, forgive me, please …” Her father’s plea followed her as she ran down the hall, too angry to care about the pain she heard in his voice.
All at once her rage boiled to the surface—a forgotten temper inherited from the man who had ruined her life—and with a violent sweep of her arm across a teak table in his hall, she crashed a piece of pottery to the floor. Without a single glance back, she lashed the door open and fled, slamming it so hard, the thunderous sound still rang in her ears when she slid in her car.
Forgive him?
“Never,” she hissed, grinding the ignition through a hot blur of tears.
Judge not, and you will not be judged.
She froze, hand stiff on the steering wheel before she fisted the dash. “No—he doesn’t deserve it! He didn’t have compassion on his own granddaughter, much less his wife and daughter.”
Condemn not, and you will not be condemned.
A guttural groan rose in her throat, grating past her lips in a keening so raw, she collapsed over the wheel in a painful sob, aching for all she had lost.
Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
“Oh, God, I c-can’t do this,” she said with a violent heave, “he’s d-destroyed any love I m-might have ever had …” Fumbling for a Kleenex in her purse, she wept bitterly, heaves ravaging her body while despair ravaged her heart. Time ticked by in painful shudders, and when the tears finally slowed, she was as depleted and torn as the soggy tissue in her hand.
The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.
Her limbs stilled, fluid and grief sealing the air in her throat.
Unfailing love.
The kind God had given to her. Unconditional, unmerited, full of hope and forgiveness she didn’t deserve.
Just like her father.
The very thought wrestled in her mind, wringing anguish from her soul and more tears from her eyes. “God help me,” she whispered, “I have no power to do this.”
Out of nowhere, like a feather on a breeze, a still small voice drifted in her mind …
May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The power of the Holy Spirit.
His
, not hers.
Fingers trembling, she pushed the hair from her face. Her eyelids fluttered closed as
His
Word—those of the very God who
created
hope—settled over her like a cocoon of peace and calm, slowing her tears and racing her pulse.
Hope.
Lost through a baby.
Restored through a Savior.
Her head jerked up and she stared at the sky, awed by a million stars that seemed to blur into the glittering promises of God, the ‘Bright Morning Star.’ Swiping her eyes in wonder, she breathed in the cool night air, drinking in deeply of His joy and peace.
And His hope—oxygen to her soul.
Tears pricked.
And to her father’s.
“Oh, God, forgive me,” she whispered, voice broken and hoarse. Frantically rifling through her purse for more Kleenex, she blew her nose and patted her face, overcome by a sudden rush of love that chased all of her anger away. With a violent surge of her lungs, she flung the car door wide, not even bothering to close it as she sprinted to her father’s front porch. Her blood pulsed wildly in her ears as she rammed her finger to the bell, the boom of her heart louder than those silly bongs echoing inside.
Eons ticked away like ragged heartbeats until the door slowly creaked open, revealing the haggard form of her father.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, and with a broken sob, she flung her arms around his waist, not even minding that he stood rigid and still. “I forgive you, I do!” Heaves racked her body as she clung with all of her might, the emotion swelling in her throat nearly choking her words. “And I will love you forever, no matter what.”
Quietly, hesitantly, movement inched around her, so slowly, she almost missed it.
And then, for the first time in her life, in one hushed moment of awe …
She wept in the arms of her father.
“Hey, where is everybody?” Lacey bounced into Tess’s kitchen, making a beeline to where Tess was pulling fresh-baked cookies from the oven.
Glancing over her shoulder with potholders in hand, Tess did her best to force a bright smile. “The girls took Davey and Spence to a movie, and Jack’s down on the dock waiting for you.”
“Ah, yes, the surprise moonlight picnic—you sure raised a true romantic, Mrs. O.”
Tess paused with a hot cookie tin, jaw gaping. “You are not supposed to know about that, young lady,” she said with a teasing lift of brows, “thus the surprise?”
“Yes, well next time, keep Davey out of the loop if you want your secret secure.” She bent close to the cookie sheet Tess had just placed on the counter and sniffed. “But don’t worry, I taught drama in my last teaching gig, so the man will never know.” She groaned in pleasure after another sniff, peeking up with an impish grin. “Mmm … dessert, I hope?”
Opening the oven door to put in more cookies, Tess felt the blast of heat—both in the kitchen and in her face—over a subject she needed to broach with Ben’s daughter. “Monster cookies,” she informed her, a girl she loved like a daughter despite the ache in her heart over the secret Lacey had never shared. Her smile grew taut as she slammed the oven door and turned, dabbing at her forehead with the back of her arm. “For your father,” she said with a dry smile, “who
still
hasn’t connected the significance of said cookies for the neighborhood ‘monster.’”
Lacey’s laughter filled the kitchen with song, in stark contrast to Tess’s sobs several weeks ago, which had filled Ben’s with her unfathomable grief when he’d told her about their grandchild. A confession that had nearly ended their friendship.
Ponytail bouncing as much as she, Lacey grinned, hand poised to steal a cookie while her hazel eyes peeked up with a pixie twinkle. “Well, the ‘monster’ just
may
have to relinquish that reputation after the headway he and I made last night.” She nodded to the cookies. “May I?”
“Yes, of course, sweetheart—help yourself.” Tess feigned ignorance with a curious tilt of her head as Lacey shimmied into a chair with her cookie, her voice almost giddy as she relayed the surface details of her breakthrough with her dad. Of course, Tess was already fully aware of all that had transpired between Ben and his daughter because he’d called her after Lacey had left, humbled and awed over the healing God had wrought.
But it hadn’t come easy. The night he’d dropped the bomb about their mutual granddaughter, Tess had fled in tears, outrage spewing forth from a wellspring of hurt buried so deep, she hadn’t even known it was there. Outrage at Ben for his selfishness, at Lacey for her silent deception, at Karen for never letting her know, and at Adam for destroying their family. Texting her children she wouldn’t be home until late, she had walked for hours that night, finally ending up weeping in a chair on her dock. Her fury had depleted her faith like low tide depleted the marsh all around, leaving nothing but the foul scent of sulphur and death.
And bitterness. Oh,
lots
and
lots
of bitterness.
She’d made up her mind right then and there, in the midst of her anger, that she wanted nothing to do with Ben Carmichael for a long, long while, too steeped in venom over a man who could so readily turn his back on his own.
Let he without sin cast the first stone.
Her breath had stilled along with the sea breeze at the whisper of a still small voice while the moon crept behind a billow of clouds as dark as her soul. She’d closed her eyes then, her anger greatly impaired by the conviction piercing within. Yes, Ben had turned his back on his own, but hadn’t Tess done much the same? Turned her back on Adam when he’d begged her to quit nursing for a season so she could be the wife and mother he wanted her to be? They hadn’t needed the money, but as an overachiever,
she
had needed the success, opting to rise in the ranks rather than accompany her husband on countless conferences and trips. She’d sensed the growing strain in their relationship and the silent anger that simmered beneath, but she thought it would end when the children got older.
Only her marriage ended instead.
Guilt as sinister as Ben’s slithered into her mind, reminding her she had not only turned her back on her husband and marriage, but her children as well. Adam had pleaded for reconciliation a year later, but Tess had been too bitter to take him back, severing all ties except those he maintained with the children. It wasn’t until she’d sobbed on the dock the night of Ben’s confession that she suddenly realized she had robbed her children of both a father and stable home life as surely as Ben had robbed Lacey of the chance to save her daughter’s life.
And so, eyes rimmed raw from tears, she had gone back and banged on Ben’s door long after midnight, not surprised when he’d answered looking haggard and hopeless like a man who’d just lost his soul. But it was his soul and hers that had been healed that night, and from that moment on, it was as if tragedy had bonded them together, both emotionally and spiritually. A bonding that had paved the way not only for her to truly forgive both Adam and him, but to introduce Ben to an intimate relationship with God. That night Ben Carmichael not only became a new creature in Christ, but a man she could now love to the depth of her soul. And God help her, she was well on her way!
Since then, they’d secretly spent a part of every evening together, whether discussing theology, their past, praying for their families, or just basking in the glow of all of God’s blessings. Somehow they’d managed impromptu dinners when her children were gone or in bed, stolen moments on the dock, or long late-night walks along the shore. So naturally the moment Lacey left after their amazing breakthrough last night, Ben had called Tess immediately, overcome with gratitude over what God had done in his life. But no more so than her, when they’d celebrated with iced tea and stale monster cookies down on his dock.
“You’re the reason everything has turned around, Tess,” he’d whispered, “and I don’t want to waste another minute without you firmly fixed in my life.” His lips had punctuated each phrase with a caress of her eyelids and nose, finally straying to nuzzle the lobe of her ear. “I want to see you on a regular basis,” he whispered, his mouth fondling hers with such tenderness, she all but melted into his arms. “And I want to be
way
more than neighbors, Miss Perky …”
So did she. But both of them agreed they would take it slow. Or at least
she’d
agreed. Ben hadn’t been so inclined, but Tess needed more time. Time for her and her family to slowly adjust to having Ben in their life. Time to get to know him better, good points and bad. And time to make sure his newfound faith was truly based on his need for God, and not just his need for Tess. A wispy sigh feathered her lips.
“Tess?” Lacey’s voice broke through her reverie, bringing her back to the kitchen. “Are you all right?” She half ducked to study Tess’s face, two tiny wedges bridging her brows.
“Yes, of course, although …” She swallowed hard. “I do think we need to talk.”
“Uh-oh …” Cheeks bulging with cookie, Lacey paused before gulping it down, a crooked smile offsetting the flecks of concern in her eyes. “Am I in trouble?”
Tess didn’t smile. “You tell me,” she said quietly, taking her own seat beside her. Drawing a deep breath for strength, she took Lacey’s hand in hers, her gaze tender but direct. “Honey, were you ever planning to tell us about the baby?”
Blood leeched from Lacey’s face, sagging both her mouth and her shoulders. Her hand slowly sank to the table along with the half-eaten cookie, voice weak and threaded with shock. “W-What?”
“Your dad told me last week, honey,” she said quietly, determined to fight the sting of tears that threatened. “Everything—from kicking you out of the house to the hateful things he said about you ruining Jack’s dreams of seminary.” She blinked hard to dispel the persistent moisture that lined the inside of her lids, her words fading to an aching whisper. “Right up to his prideful delay in providing a surgery that just might have saved our girl.” Swallowing her grief, she lifted her chin in an effort to go on. “But as tragic as it was for me to hear, it bonded us in a way that allowed me to talk to him about God. Which is why
he
finally confessed his guilt to you last night at dinner.” Her eyes softened. “He’s given his life to Christ, Lacey, and that’s largely because of you and your faithfulness in forgiving him and seeking restoration.”
A river of regret, and perhaps reverence and awe, flowed down Lacey’s face, but when she collapsed onto the table in a broken sob, Tess could no more stop from swallowing her up in a ferocious hug than she could stem the flow of her own tears. “Aw, honey, I forgive you for not telling me,” she whispered as she knelt by her side, “but were you ever planning to?”
Tess felt Lacey’s shaky nod against her chest, her voice thick with nasal fluid and grief. “Eventually, y-yes, b-but not in the b-beginning,” she began, her violent shudders causing her words to stutter. “I’d p-planned to give the b-baby up. But when she was b-born sick, I … I j-just couldn’t let her g-go, so I decided to k-keep her. And I would have t-told you eventually, I swear. But then s-she d-died …” Lacey collapsed against Tess’s shoulder, her heaves racking both of their bodies.”
“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s behind us now,” Tess whispered, gently rocking Lacey as if she were her very own. “And our precious little girl will greet us someday in heaven.”
Lacey jerked away, her swollen eyes a tortured plea. “I planned to t-tell you soon, Tess, I promise, b-both you and Jack, b-but I was s-so scared you would h-hate me.” She swiped at the tears on her face while Tess rose to hand her a paper napkin from the caddy in the center of the table. Tugging a chair close to Lacey’s, she perched on the edge while Lacey blew her nose.
“I w-wanted to re-establish our relationship first, b-before I d-did.” Lacey hiccupped loudly, the sound bringing a trace of a smile to Tess’s lips. “B-but now that Jack and I are b-back together, I’m s-so afraid it will ruin what we have.” More moisture pooled in her eyes as she clung to Tess like a lost little girl. “Oh, Tess, I’m so afraid he’ll h-hate m-me …”
“Sweetheart, Jack loves you—always has, and although he’s likely to be shocked and upset and yes, even angry for a time like his mother …” She pulled away to cup Lacey’s face in her hands, tender affection warming her gaze. “He’ll get over it, just like I did when I realized how God has brought beauty from ashes when we put our hope in Him.”
Lacey slapped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, giving an angry sniff. “But it shouldn’t have been like this,” she hissed with a slam of her fist to the table. “If I hadn’t tempted Jack beyond his control that night, and if Daddy hadn’t begrudged Mom and me from the beginning, Jack and I might be married now with a sweet little girl named Hope Olivia and heaven knows how many others.”
She gouged fingers into her hair on either side of her head with a painful groan that revealed her intense frustration. “It’s just not fair! Because of me and my stupid, selfish sin, I triggered a chain reaction of death—first in my relationship with Jack, Cat, and my father, then in the death of my baby, death of your marriage and that of my parent’s, and finally the death of my mother.” She stared at Tess, wild-eyed. “The wages of sin is death, Tess, and boy oh boy, I earned a killer paycheck on this one.”
Tess grabbed Lacey’s hands. “Stop it,” she whispered, an urgency in her tone. “You are not responsible for other people’s sins, do you hear? And you are certainly not responsible for the death of your child.” She clutched Lacey’s arms, stilling her with the intensity of her gaze, the caress of her thumbs. “Life is messy, darling, because human beings are fallible and prone to sin, all of us. Our sins are webs we weave that lock us in, trap us into the sticky and sinister world of guilt and shame.” Her chin lifted despite the barest trace of a quiver. “But our God has set us free.”
More tears slipped from Lacey’s eyes. “I know,” she whispered, her nasal words trailing into pain, “but it’s not fair that everybody has to suffer because I messed up …”
Tess enveloped her in a tender hold, stroking her hair with the soothing touch of a mother. “Unfortunately, darling, sin is never fair, but it
is
redeemable.” She deposited a kiss to Lacey’s hair and gently lifted her chin, smiling into her soggy eyes. “In a sinless world, Lacey, God’s perfect will would always prevail, which is what eternity is all about, but in a fallen world like ours where He’s given us free will?” She caressed the side of Lacey’s face with the tips of her fingers. “His permissive will takes over for each of us, allowing good and bad through the choices we make. Like it or not, people are attached to our obedience and our sin, and whether we choose life or death, blessing or curse, God’s way or the world’s—there is redemption and hope in
His
Name.” She tugged on Lacey’s ponytail with a smile. “Not to mention untold blessings that have a way of sneaking in the back door.”
Lacey sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her wrist. She hopped up to wash her hands and snatch a Kleenex from Tess’s window shelf, then trudged back to plop into her chair, face and eyes all puffy. “Such as?”
“Well …” Tess rose to fetch them both a tall glass of peach iced tea, smiling over her shoulder as she pulled the pitcher from the fridge. “For one thing, God redeemed your soul and then your life when He led you back to Isle of Hope—where, I might add …” She washed a fresh peach from a bowl on the counter and sliced a thick wedge, slitting and sliding it onto the rim of Lacey’s glass. “You get to enjoy, and I quote, ‘the nectar of the gods, bar none.’”