The Forgiving Hour (42 page)

“You have no idea how good.” She touched his shoulder. “But I
will
miss seeing you so often, not to mention all this private chauffeuring about town.”

“I’m glad I could do it for you.”

Looking into his eyes, Claire saw nothing but love.

Lazarus, beloved.

The medical center’s elevator doors opened before Sara — and there was Dakota with his mother. Panic threatened to smother her. There was no graceful way to escape. The best she could hope for was to avoid eye contact while she slipped past them.

Only she made the mistake of looking up instead of down. Her gaze met his, and she found herself unable to move.

“Hello, Sara.” He stepped into the elevator, bringing his mom in with him, steering her with a hand on her back.

“Hello.”

“What brings you here? You’re not sick, are you?”

“No. Just an errand in the building.”

“Thank God.” He smiled sadly. “Mom gets her cast off today.”

She couldn’t avoid it any longer. She glanced toward Claire. “You must be relieved about that.”

“Yes.” The single word couldn’t have seemed colder.

“Well …” She forced herself to smile, hoping it looked friendly rather than frightened. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Before the doors could close and trap her within, she stepped out of the elevator.

“Take care,” Dakota called after her.

She turned just in time to catch a final glimpse of Claire. But instead of anger and hatred, Sara thought she saw confusion in the woman’s eyes. Then the doors closed.

I know you’ve forgiven me, Lord. But is it possible she’ll be able to do the same one day? Or do I want too much? Is this merely the cross I must bear?

Sara walked out of the lobby and into the bright sunshine. A mirage shimmered on the parking lot’s surface as heat waves rose from the blacktop. A siren screamed as an ambulance exited the freeway and sped toward the emergency entrance of the hospital. She could smell the exhaust from the many cars waiting at the busy intersection on Fairview Avenue.

When she opened her car door, a blast of heat rushed out to meet her. A swim in her complex’s pool sounded like a good idea, she thought as she got in and started the engine. But when she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, she steered her automobile toward the freeway on-ramp instead of heading for her apartment, realizing that what she needed most was a dose of her mother’s unconditional love.

She found Kristina weeding the vegetable patch. Her mother wore a large, floppy-brimmed straw hat and a loose-fitting denim dress. Her feet and legs were bare.

After a quick greeting, Sara hurried inside and up the stairs to her old room. In the dresser she found a pair of worn cutoffs and a faded, sleeveless blouse. She removed her suit jacket, skirt, and pantyhose, then dressed in the shorts and summer top before hurrying, barefooted, back outside.

“Where can I help, Mom?”

Kristina removed her hat and brushed red curls away from her forehead with the back of her wrist. Squinting up at her daughter, she said, “The carrots could use thinning.” She pointed with her spade.

Sara nodded, then went to the far corner of the garden. Kneeling in the dirt, she asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s over taking a look at Frank Eden’s new tractor. He’s probably salivating by this time.”

Sara laughed, knowing it was true.

“I’m looking forward to the day he retires, and he’s trying to figure out how we can buy the forty acres behind us. Men.” The single word was spoken with great affection.

Men.

Sara thought of Dakota. She missed him so much. Seeing him this afternoon had only made the missing worse. She knew in her heart that God would cause all things to work together for good. Even in this situation. She’d found a deeper peace and joy in her new closeness with the Lord and in her fresh understanding of His great love for her.

But only time would ease the sense of loss that lingered whenever she remembered Dakota and the happiness they’d once shared, however briefly.

At his mom’s invitation, Dakota stayed for dinner. It wasn’t like he had any place urgent to go.

After asking if he could help prepare the food and being refused, he went outside to the backyard. He set the oscillating sprinkler and turned on the water. Then he settled in one of the lounge chairs on the covered patio.

And he thought of Sara.

No surprise there. He thought of her a lot. The memory was always bittersweet, poignant. He wondered if it would always be so. He closed his eyes, remembering the way she’d looked when those elevator doors opened and they’d seen each other. As pretty as ever, but too thin. He hoped she was eating better, now that she’d found that place of peace in the Lord.

He heard the patio door open and looked toward it as Claire stepped outside, carrying a large bowl of tossed salad in one hand and a bottle of salad dressing in the other. He quickly got up to take them from her.

“The rest will be right out,” she said.

He placed the bowl in the center of the round patio table and followed his mother back inside.

It wasn’t long before they were seated at the table, enjoying both the food and the occasional mist off the sprinkler. They laughed over Claire’s clumsiness when using her left hand, weakened as it was from weeks in the cast. They talked about work and church. It was almost normal. Almost.

Suddenly, Claire’s expression turned solemn. “You still love her, don’t you? Even knowing what she did, you still love her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you still want to marry her?”

He could see her struggling to understand. “Yes, I do.”

“I know your readiness to forgive.” She looked off into the distance. “You’ve been like that for many years. But how could you forget? How could you forget that your father …
touched
her? That he was
intimate
with her?”

He searched for the right words with which to answer.

“Dakota, isn’t it better just to let her go? There are other women for you to meet, women who —”

“Mom.” He waited for her to look at him again. When she did, he continued, “I can’t tell you why or how I can forget. I just know God’s made it possible. There’s a part of me that understands what you’re saying. It’s a normal, human reaction. I won’t say I wasn’t shocked, that I didn’t feel anger and disappointment and confusion. But then, something happened inside me. Something …”

He let his words drift into silence, seeing in his mother’s eyes that she couldn’t accept what he was saying. Not yet. Besides, how did one illustrate the power of God to change a person’s heart? It was a miracle, and miracles couldn’t be explained.

Claire looked away a second time. “You won’t marry her as long as I have any objections, will you?”

“No.”

She released a sigh. He couldn’t be sure if it was out of relief or sorrow.

FORTY-FOUR

No condemnation.

There’d been no condemnation in Dakota’s eyes or in his voice when he’d answered Claire. Not even when he’d admitted he still loved Sara and wanted to marry her. Not even when he’d said he wouldn’t marry her as long as Claire objected.

Even with all that, he didn’t condemn her, he didn’t judge her. He simply loved her. He’d forgiven her without even being asked.

How was it possible? Claire didn’t understand.

No, that wasn’t true. She
did
understand. He didn’t forgive out of his own strength. It was Christ in him, the hope of glory. It was what Kevin had tried to tell her, but she’d refused to listen.

At midnight, restless and sleepless, her thoughts churning, her emotions raw, Claire could bear it no longer. She retrieved her Bible and concordance and carried them to her favorite chair in the living room. Once there, she looked up
Lazarus.
With a glimmer of hope, she turned to the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John and began to read.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the story of Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary. She’d read the entire New Testament while in Seattle. And because she knew the story, she hadn’t understood what possible relevance it could have in her situation. It seemed completely unrelated.

Martha therefore said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. Even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.”

Claire believed that. She didn’t doubt Christ
could
do miracles, even raise the dead. But He couldn’t wipe out the past.

She continued reading.

Jesus therefore again being deeply moved within, came to the tomb. Now it was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the deceased, said to Him, “Lord, by this time there will be a stench, for he has been dead four days.”

Dead four days … A stench … The stench of death … The stench of decay.

Jesus said to her, “Did I not say to you, if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

“I need to see your glory, Father,” Claire whispered.

And so they removed the stone …

She stopped reading, then went back a few verses. Had she nearly missed the lesson she was supposed to learn? Was there a stench of death and decay around her?

She felt like there was.

And when He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.” He who had died came forth, bound hand and foot with wrappings
;
and his face was wrapped around with a cloth.

Raised from the dead. Symbolic of the new birth in Jesus. But there had to be more than that. She
needed
there to be more than just symbolism.

Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Her heart began to race. She read it again.

“Unbind him, and let him go.”

An inexplicable excitement burbled up inside her.

“Unbind him,” she repeated aloud. “Unbind him, and let him go.”

And suddenly she understood why God had brought her to this book, this chapter, this verse. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, but Lazarus was still bound by his grave clothes. Jesus had to tell those who were watching to unbind him, to free him from those rags.

“That’s me, isn’t it, Lord? You raised me from death into life, but I’m still dragging all that old stuff along with me. All those old grave clothes are still binding me.” She closed her eyes. “But how do I get out of them? Who’s going to unbind me and let me go?”

Forgive Sara.

The command didn’t surprise her. She’d heard it before. “I don’t know if I can, Lord.”

Forgive her, beloved.

Almost without realizing what she was doing, Claire slipped from the chair and to her knees, folded hands pressed tightly against her forehead.

“Father, I don’t want to live in these rags. I don’t want the stench of death hanging over me. I forgive her. Not by my power but by Yours.”

Now go to her. Tell her.

She caught her breath. A chill rolled over her.

No. No, she couldn’t.

Restore her.

“No.” She shook her head as she began to weep. “I can’t. I can’t do it. Not that.”

Tell her, beloved.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she raised her head and shouted, “
You’re
God!
You
tell her! Don’t ask this of me!”

FORTY-FIVE

Sara was up early on that Saturday morning, early enough to be sipping a cup of coffee as the first fingers of dawn began to play across the earth. The sun rose slowly over the mountains in the east, spilling its rays upon ripples in the river’s surface, causing them to dance with flashes of gold.

The air was chilly, but Sara didn’t want to go inside for her bathrobe. She didn’t want to miss even a moment of daybreak’s breathtaking display. Instead, she drew her knees to her chest beneath her nightshirt and stayed where she was.

Perhaps she was hoping with the new day would come … something.