Oceans Apart (42 page)

Of course this wasn’t Max’s dog; his mind was merely working overtime.

“C’mere, boy. Let’s see if you have a collar.” Connor held out his hand and the dog came closer. He had a blue scarf around his neck, and Connor had to run his fingers beneath it to figure out that yes, the dog did have a collar. And a tag, too. He twisted the tag to the top of the dog’s back and leaned closer to read what it said.

The tag held just one word.

Buddy.

“Buddy . . .” His heart slipped into an unfamiliar rhythm and with a burst of adrenaline he rounded the corner—

And there they were.

“Surprise!”
The voices rang out in unison, and Connor took in the faces before him.

Michele and Elizabeth and Susan—and
Max
—all running toward him with open arms. And there in the back, eyes locked on him, was his father. He was older, grayer, but seeing him now erased the eight years they’d been apart in as much time as it took to speak a single word. For an instant he remembered the car accident. If the man inside had been his father . . .

God . . . thank You for giving us this second chance. Thank You.

“Dad . . .” Connor mouthed the word, and across the yard the old man nodded his head and gestured toward the others. His turn could come later.

“Oh, Daddy . . . you’re home, and look who’s here!” Susan and Elizabeth reached him first, and Connor swung them around. As he 325

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did he caught Michele’s eyes in the back of the group. She was crying and laughing all at the same time.

“Yes.” Connor looked at his son and stooped down to his level.

It had to be a dream. The scene was too amazing, too wonderful, to be taking place in his own backyard. “Max . . .” The boy ran to him and jumped into his arms. “I’m back, Mr.

Evans! Forever and ever. Mrs. Evans came to Hawaii and got me and Buddy, and Ramey called Mr. Ogle and said no, I didn’t want to live with the Mollers, and now here I am. Isn’t that a
miracle?”
Again his eyes found Michele’s. She only nodded to him that yes, it was all true. He wasn’t dreaming at all, because he could feel Max’s hands around his neck. “Yes, Max.” He hugged his son tight to his chest. “It’s the biggest miracle I could ever imagine.” Elizabeth yelled for the others to join her on the swings, and the children skipped off together. Connor didn’t know what to do first, but he saw Michele motion toward his father. With his eyes fixed on the strapping man at the other end of the yard, Connor went to him and the two did something they’d rarely done.

They embraced.

His father placed his hand against the back of Connor’s head and held him as if he were a little boy again, held him the way Connor had always wanted to be held. But before his dad could say a word, Connor drew back and searched the man’s deep blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I . . . I didn’t say it the other night, but I’m sorry.” His throat was thick, but he was too stunned for tears.

“What happened between us . . . it was my fault.” In all his life he’d never seen his father cry. But now, tears fell onto his weathered cheeks, and when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Instead, while the kids played in the distance, he pulled Connor close one more time and held him as if he might never let go.

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When they pulled apart, Connor’s brain began firing some of the questions that had been flash frozen in the shock of the moment. “I can’t believe you’re here . . . how did . . . ?” His father only nodded at Michele. “She called me, Son. From Hawaii. She told me what was happening, what she wanted to do.” This time his father leaned close and kissed him on the forehead.

“I told her I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” He paused.

“Your son’s beautiful, Connor.”

He looked over his father’s shoulder at the boy running in circles around Susan. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?”

“But that woman”—his dad pointed toward Michele—“is beautiful inside and out.”

“I know it.” Connor glanced at Michele. “I think I need to go tell her so myself.”

His father patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, Son, I believe you do.” Connor left his father with the children and pulled his feet through the grass to where Michele stood, not far from the patio door. She still had that sheepish grin, the one that told him yes, everything was exactly how it looked. She had done it all while he was gone on his trip.

“Michele . . . how did you . . . ?” He shook his head. His thoughts formed a logjam in his heart, and he couldn’t make himself voice even one of them.

She came to him then, slipped her hands along his sides and wrapped them around his lower back. Her lips met his, but the kiss was a quick one, promising more later on when they were alone.

She drew back and placed a single finger to his lips. “Shhh. We can talk about it later.”

“But how did you—”

“Later.” She smiled at him again, her eyes swimming. “First there’s something you have to tell that little boy.” She looked beyond him to the children playing near his father. Buddy was frolicking at 327

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their feet, thoroughly enjoying his new home. “The girls already know you’re his daddy. I told them Thursday morning.” Her eyes met his again.

“Were they . . . were they okay? The girls, I mean?”

“Yes.” She gave him a look that silenced his fear. “They’re fine.

Now it’s time for you to tell Max.”

What? His heart was beating so hard he expected it to burst from his chest and do flips across the yard. Was she serious? Right now? Thirty minutes ago he was trying to figure out how he’d live the rest of his life missing a green-eyed little boy with a face like his own, and now . . . He gave a shake of his head and forced his mind to think straight. What had happened to her in the past few days? A miracle, no doubt, but why?

“Michele . . .” His heart broke for all she’d been through, the price she’d paid for his selfish decisions one night an ocean away from her. “I’m so sorry. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” Her voice was tight with emotion, but her smile was as genuine as he’d ever seen it. “And I forgive you, you know why?” He had no idea. “No . . . I guess I don’t.”

“Because love happens when you forgive.” She held her finger to her nose and made a sound that was more laugh than cry. “Max told me that.”

Once more he looked at her, but she only nodded toward the children. “I have dinner ready inside. I’ll bring everyone else in.

That way you and Max can be alone for a few minutes.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Okay, guys, everyone inside to wash hands.”

His father must’ve been in on the plan, because he looped an arm around each of the girls and whispered something to Max.

Connor watched the boy grin and look straight at him. Connor nodded and used his finger to call Max to his side.

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As soon as they were alone together, Connor begged God for the right words.
Don’t let him hate me for not telling him sooner. Please,
God . . .

“Max . . . I have something to tell you.” He sat back on his heels, ignoring his dry mouth and the way his throat kept tightening.

“Can you believe it, Mr. Evans?” Max raised his hands high in the air and hooted. “I get to stay forever, and Buddy, too.”

“I know.” He gave his son an impulsive hug, and then tried again. “What I want to tell you, Max, is that—”

“And guess what!” The boy was vibrating with excitement. “You get to be my pretend daddy now, Mr. Evans. Isn’t that just the bestest thing you ever heard?”

“Max.” Something in his tone made the boy settle down and catch Connor’s gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Evans?” A worried look flashed in his eyes, and Connor had to hold back a smile. He needed to get the news out fast, before the boy misunderstood.

“Remember how your mommy told you that maybe one day you’d find your daddy somewhere out there?”

“Yes.” Max’s eyes were wide, his breathing still fast. “I remember.”

“Well, Max . . . Mrs. Evans and I found out something you should know.”

“Okay, but guess what?” Now the boy’s eyes were almost full circles. “I don’t want that daddy anymore, Mr. Evans. I want you.”

“Good.” Connor allowed the smile to fill his face. “Because we found out I’m your daddy, Max. The one your mommy told you about.”

For a long time, Max only stared at him, searching his face as though maybe this was a joke or perhaps he’d heard wrong. Then he did a giant gulp and his voice fell to a whisper. “You’re . . . you’re my daddy? My real daddy?”

“Yes, Max.”

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“So you mean . . .” Max did a little laugh. “You mean God answered all my prayers, every single one?” Relief spilled across Connor’s soul. The boy wasn’t upset with him. “Yes . . . and I know why, too.”

Max looked bewildered, giddy with joy and stunned all at the same time. “Why?”

“Because somewhere up in heaven, your mommy has been bug-ging God probably every day to make sure things worked out just like this.”

The boy looked like he might soar around the yard and never come down, but instead he flung his arms around Connor’s neck and whispered not far from his ear. “Can I call you
Daddy?
Like

’Lizabeth and Susan do?”

“Yes, Son. You can call me that the rest of your life.” Connor was thinking how he’d never been happier, never felt more free, when the girls rushed into the backyard. “Daddy, Daddy . . . look what Grandpa caught!”

With careful movements, Connor’s father stepped into the backyard behind the girls. His hand was cupped over something on his wrist, something impossible to make out.

Michele stood a few feet behind him, and Connor winked at her, silently telling her that yes, he’d talked to Max; mission accomplished. She grinned, her face glowing in a way that spoke volumes about their future.

Max ran to the girls. “What is it?” He peered between them at the thing that had stirred up so much attention.

“Well?” Connor chuckled at the sight of his father surrounded by his children.
All
his children. “What’d he catch? A bumpy brown toad?”

“No.” Max turned to him and their eyes held. “You won’t believe it, Daddy.” The boy’s face broke into a smile that seemed to go on forever.

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“Tell me.” Connor stood and made his way closer to the group.

The sound of Max calling him
Daddy
still echoed in his heart.

Max took his hand and pointed to the monarch on his father’s wrist. “It’s a butterfly.”

And so it was.

The prettiest butterfly Connor had ever seen.

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READER NOTE

Dear Friends,

As always, thank you for traveling with me through the pages of
Oceans Apart.
I pray that the story of Max and Connor and Michele and the steadfastness of Kiahna has touched you as you’ve read.

And I pray that in the process you’ve felt God working on your own heart.

I certainly felt Him working on mine.

From the beginning I knew
Oceans Apart
would be about forgiveness. I asked myself how it would feel to be Michele, to have a husband I loved and to suddenly, in a moment’s time, be asked to forgive him for something as monstrous as unfaithfulness.

Then I let God complicate the story. What if a child was involved?

Suddenly I knew I had to write it out, process the idea by plac-ing it on the pages of this book. Only then would I see that yes, forgiveness is possible. Even when the greatest wrong of all has been committed against you.

Those of you reading this know what I mean. Some of you have rips and holes in your own marriages. Admissions of affairs, unex-plained absences, and other areas of pain or betrayal, areas that will never be fixed without forgiveness.

Others of you aren’t struggling in your marriage. But perhaps you’ve been the victim of gossip or unfaithfulness on the part of a friend. I think we can all relate to that, and like Michele, we won’t find peace until we forgive. Forgiveness doesn’t make a problem go away; it simply gives you the peace Christ intended. Often, when both parties are willing to work on a relationship, healing will come. But sometimes it doesn’t.

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Even then, forgiveness is the only way to the freedom Jesus wanted for us, the freedom He died for. Without forgiveness, bitter roots grow in our hearts and choke out any good fruit that would otherwise grow there. And we can’t have that.

So yes, forgiveness was the obvious life lesson from
Oceans Apart.

But while I was writing it, God showed me another lesson, one that became almost as important. The lesson of second chances.

Second chances.

The idea that all of us are caterpillars, really. Furry little creatures scooting along the ground wondering why we can’t seem to fly. And then God, in all His goodness, encourages us to crawl in a hole, bury our old selves, and die to the life we once knew. If we’ll do that, if we’ll trust Him with our entire existence, then He’ll give us something beautiful in exchange.

He’ll give us wings.

The ultimate wings come when we give our lives to Christ and let Him be Lord of our lives, our Savior. Without those wings, a person cannot see heaven—a tragedy none of us need face if only we accept God’s gift of grace.

If this idea is confusing to you, if you’ve never considered Jesus’

second chances, then make a phone call. Find a Bible-believing church and find out more about the God who made you, the One who created a plan for your salvation.

But if you’ve known God and find yourself stuck on the ground again, remember this. Second chances happen throughout our lives. Jesus told us to forgive seventy times seven—in other words, to always forgive. And in return He promised us the same. No matter where you’re at in life, no matter what you’ve done, God waits with open arms, ready to give you that second chance. Even for the seven-hundredth time.

It’s a good idea to take Him up on the offer. Because only then will you be able to use the wings He’s already given you.