Ransomed Dreams (37 page)

Something he hadn’t done when he fell in love with Angela. He hadn’t waited much with his career either. Pushing, solving cases, depending on his own abilities—he’d forged ahead without much thought for God.

That was changing.

And so, he’d wait.

Because the best was always worth waiting for.

I
t wouldn’t snow in Georgia. Not in December.

It hadn’t for any of Gracie’s childhood. Except for three years ago. Looking forward to celebrating her seventh wedding anniversary she’d thought the snow was a sign of good things to come. Everything white and beautiful.

Now white reminded her of hospital sheets. Not beauty. Or hope.

She walked across the cemetery lawn under foreboding gray skies. Weather reports hinted at a possible snow flurry but she doubted it.

Her dad took her hand and stopped next to a bare maple tree swaying in the wind. “Honey you know we love you and we’ve enjoyed having you home for Thanksgiving. Beth too, and the twins.”

Gracie tried to smile. It had been good to be around little ones over the holidays. Then again, it also increased the ache inside to have what her baby sister had—children. A strong sense of family Laughter. Hope and a future.

Beth’s live-in boyfriend had even hinted at a ring for Christmas.

Something Gracie would never have again.

If she was really honest, what hurt the most wasn’t the past. Though memories of the man who killed her family still haunted her. What hurt to the core was a fear of the future. Fear that she couldn’t handle the life Steven represented. Guns and danger. That he could die on any one of his assignments. And yet she missed him with a longing that took her breath away.

“Remember your moms wise words: ‘Face the past and you’ll find your dreams for the future.’” With a kiss on her head, her dad left her to her thoughts and made his way to the other side of the grounds to visit his mother’s grave site.

Gracie sat between the headstones marking her husband and children’s resting places. The wind whipped the loose hair around her face, and she pulled her leather coat tighter.

She fingered the velvet petals of the white and red roses she’d chosen for today Similar flowers had graced her family’s markers every month she’d lived in Atlanta. Mark had always brought home red and white roses on special occasions. Red for the fierce love he felt for them and white for the purity he saw when he looked at Elizabeth and Joshua.

“I miss you so much.” Tears stung her eyes as she fingered the lettering of their names.

Elizabeth Anne Lang. Dearly loved daughter of Mark and Gracie Lang. Resting in the arms of Jesus
. Little roses decorated the words carefully chosen during the darkest days of her life.

Joshua Allen Lang. Dearly loved son of Mark and Gracie Lang. Resting in the arms of Jesus
. Simple strands of metal ribbon flowed around the words.

It was almost more than her heart could handle. But she put the two small bouquets of roses on each of their headstones.

“Mommy loves you.” She fingered the gold locket, tiny and cold in her coat pocket. Then she moved to the next headstone.

Mark Richard Lang. Dearly loved husband of Gracie Lang. Resting in the arms of Jesus
. A simple cross and Bible flanked the words.

Gracie placed the last and largest bouquet of flowers in the heavy vase at the base of Mark’s headstone. Turning over the heavy container and dusting the cobwebs from it had provided a measure of distraction to regain her composure.

She stood and wiped her hands together. The roses were vibrant against the bleak sky She took a deep breath and returned to her children’s grave markers. “So much has happened since last
year. In spite of … everything, my job is wonderful. The children remind me of the joy I had being your mommy I miss you. I miss hearing your sweet voices.”

Gracie strained hard to hear the faint sound of her memories. Two little voices singing in church choirs and on long car rides became clearer.
‘Jesus lob me, dis I no.’ A
slight smile turned her cheeks upward. She’d loved to sing along with her precious little ones. Her throat stung with unsung choruses, and her arms ached with shadow memories of holding her two little babies.

“I still have the locket you gave me for Christmas.” She rubbed the delicate gold oval now resting in her hand. Placing a kiss on her fingertips, she touched Elizabeth and Joshua’s names again.

It was time to say good-bye, but she would always hold them in her heart.

She moved to her husband’s headstone. “Mark, I miss you more than I can put into words.”

Gracie pictured his gentle eyes caressing her. She could almost feel his thick blond hair beneath her fingertips. In her mind’s eye, she traced his smooth face and muscled arms. She had never loved or been so deeply loved in her life.

She wiped her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and then wrapped her arms around her knees. So much had happened in the last five months. Meeting Steven. Getting shot. Then getting kidnapped. Learning the identity of the man who had killed her family the one who’d tried to kill her too.

Looking up into the sky she recalled her mom’s words about facing the past and finding her dreams. Words she’d run from. Until now. Today they’d caught up to her. And she was too tired to keep up the grueling pace of fear.

“Step into God’s arms and spill out what you’ve believed about yourself—that you’re helpless, abandoned—and admit you’ve lived trying to prove those lies aren’t real instead of receiving what God says about you. Let yourself feel His forgiveness. And then listen to His truth.”

Was it really that easy?

She’d known God’s comforting arms many times. But this time, telling Him what He already knew and she didn’t want to admit, felt awkward. Like a teenager’s first date.

“Mom’s right. I know You know that. Daddy.” Wouldn’t Mom love to hear this? “I felt abandoned by You for a long time. By my family, too, even though it wasn’t their fault. And I still feel totally helpless.”

She rested her forehead on her knee. “I couldn’t get justice for my family by finding the man who killed them. But he found me and tried to kill me. He almost succeeded too. Because even after two chances, I couldn’t figure out how to escape.”

Anger heated her face and coursed through her limbs.

“I hate feeling helpless. Useless. I don’t know why You still want me to talk to You. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even hear the truth Mom said You’d speak to me.”

Hot tears forced themselves over her eyelids, and she flicked them away.

A picture of Elizabeth as a newborn, wailing in her crib, filled Gracie’s mind. As helpless as a newborn. The old saying felt like it’d been spoken over her shoulder.

She knelt and looked around, but no one else braved the cemetery on December’s first cold Saturday morning. Pulling her coat tighter, she studied Elizabeth’s gravestone.

She’d never thought of her children as helpless. Not in a bad way anyway. They simply needed her and she took care of them. Loved them. Took joy in holding them.

That’s how I love you.

Little shivers ran down her arms.

As a mother comforts her child, as she gently cares for her little ones, so I will care for you
.

Truth. This was what her mother had meant by listening to God’s truth. Too full for words, she looked up into the sky again. Only this time, joy slipped inside and took root deep in her heart.

A chilly breeze rustled the trees. And the sky blew out a few little drops of rain. She stood and let the blood return to her numb legs.

Her mom’s words about facing the past and finding her dreams finally made sense.

The gentle love of a mother to her newborn baby—God’s love for her—chased away the fear and left in its place a tentative excitement about the future.

There was one thing she had to do first, though, before stepping into that future. A part of her heart was still bolted shut. She wasn’t totally sure how to turn the lock and open it wide.

But now she had the key. And God’s loving arms surrounding her, comforting, caring, and spurring her to step ahead and leave the consequences in His able hands.

She pulled her leather coat around her and headed toward her dad’s warm car. The rain had stopped, but as she brushed the newest wet drops off of her sleeve, she noticed something that made her smile.

The rain had a few tiny snowflakes mixed in.

Gracie parked her parents’ Navigator and stared at the huge flag fluttering in front of a large, dreary gray building. The thick barbed wire of the familiar police headquarters next door did nothing to encourage her feet forward.

She rubbed the arms of her down jacket and put one tennis-shoed foot ahead of the other. Crossing the full parking lot, she walked through the double doors and into a large space with a few fake potted trees here and there and rows of plastic chairs dotting its perimeter. Tall windows streamed sunlight into the open waiting room.

Stomach rumbles and taut shoulder muscles made her reconsider this visit. But she stepped in line behind a somber group anyway. The men in light brown uniforms took her coat,
purse, and every bit of metal she’d carried into the correctional facility off High Hope Road.

She’d always thought that was a weird name for a street winding past a high-security prison. A place she never thought she’d find herself in the middle of December.

Or any other time.

“Please step through.” A bored guard ushered her forward. “You can pick up a visitor’s badge once you pass those doors.” He pointed to a heavy dark door at the far end of the waiting room.

Gracie swallowed the butterflies fluttering from her stomach to her throat. “Will I go in alone?”

“No, you’ll get an escort.” The bulky sheriff looked at her and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “They got a group of religious folks waiting to go back. Reckon you’ll go in with them.”

Minutes later, a suffocating feeling pressed into her as huge glass sliding doors closed behind her before the one in front of her had opened.

Trapped
. The word kept bouncing around her brain.

The small group of local church people in front of her walked in silence, their soft-soled shoes making little noise over the white linoleum floor. Every time they passed a few glass windows at shoulder level, she wanted to duck so as not to be seen by the inmates playing different sports in the little gyms.

When they arrived at the small visitation room, she considered telling the guard that she’d changed her mind. But she’d have to wait for this group of two ministers and their wives to finish speaking with those they came to encourage.

So she pulled a plastic chair up to the glass that would separate her from the man she needed to face.

And there she waited.

Small gray partitions between the visitors gave little privacy but she tried not to listen to the conversations around her.

Maybe he’d refused to see her.

That would make her life easier. She’d been obedient to that
still, small prompting at the cemetery a few weeks ago. She’d shown up. The rest was up to God.

Before she could slide her chair backward to go wait by the door, Thomas Perkins entered the room on the other side of the glass. His cold black eyes hadn’t changed since the last time she’d seen him, when he’d glared at her from the other end of his gun barrel.

He sat in an identical plastic chair, silent and staring right through her.

She bit her lip. All the practiced words escaped her.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we, Gracie?”

Jumping at his words, she tried to breathe slowly and steadily.

“I know why you’re here. Your good little Christian self came to say you’ve forgiven me.” His face stretched into a cold, hard grin. “Or to tell me to burn in hell because you finally got justice for your family.”

Anger churned in her stomach at his taunts.

She felt like Corrie ten Boom extending her weathered old hand toward the SS trooper who’d tortured and killed her sister. But Gracie knew what she’d come to this prison to do. Unlike Corrie’s soldier, the man opposite her had not sought forgiveness. Tom had only glared and taunted.

And yet her situation was similar. Nothing existed inside of Gracie’s shaking skeleton that could grant the needed strength to do what she’d come to do.

The picture of a newborn baby cradled in great—yet gentle—hands came to mind.

She wasn’t helpless. She was held in the hands of a God who simply bid her to love with His love. It was His love that would unlock this door in her heart. And believing in His truth would set her free.

Regardless of how the man facing her responded.

“Yes, Tom. I did come to tell you that I’ve forgiven you.” Gracie’s voice quivered. “Even before I knew that you killed my
family, I’d had my hand around your throat, wanting justice at the cost of your last breath.”

“Well, now you have your justice.” He spit the words out. “Happy?”

“No. Not because you’re in prison.” She held her chin up. “I’m relieved that you can’t hurt anyone else. But what makes me feel the freedom you gave up by drinking and killing three innocent people is that I’ve made a choice to release you. I’m no longer bound to you through unforgiveness.”

Tom leaned forward. “Thanks. That makes me feel
so
much better.”

“That part wasn’t for you. It was for me.” She pointed to the guard still standing by the door. “I’ve left a Bible for you, but only if you’re interested. If not, they’ll give it to someone else. What I came to tell you was that the freedom I’ve found, you can find too. It’s available even behind metal prison bars.”

“Not interested in your God-talk. It’s bored me since I was a kid. And I have no need of it in here.” He stood. “Thanks for nothing.”

Tom walked to the guard by the door and exited without looking back.

Maybe she could have said that better or quoted some of the many Bible verses she’d studied before coming today. But maybe it just wasn’t time for Tom to understand the truth. She’d continue to pray for him, though.