The Forgiving Hour (15 page)

“Oh, Mom …”

“Please.”

There was no denying she wanted to see her parents and brothers. She missed them all, and three years was a long time.

“Sara, it’s important to us.”

With an internal sigh, she relented. “All right, Mom. I’ll come home for Christmas.”

“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. Wait until I tell your father. He’ll be so delighted. And the boys too. In fact, Josh has a surprise for you. He’s been wanting to tell you in person.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

Kristina laughed. “I can’t tell you. Josh wants to do it himself.”

A short while later, Sara said good-bye to her mother and hung up the phone. But the conversation lingered in her mind.

She couldn’t help wondering if she was doing the right thing, going home for the holidays. Boise held so many painful memories for her. Would this visit put them to rest or make them worse?

She wished she knew.

Claire basted the fabric according to the pattern’s directions, the hum of the sewing machine drowning out the drone of the television news coming from the other room. She had never been a great seamstress, but she was determined to get this shirt made before Christmas. It would probably be the only gift Dakota got this year. The bank account was empty, and the heating bill was bound to be high because of the extended cold snap.

“Hey, Mom?”

At the sound of Dakota’s voice, she jumped up from her chair and tried to hide what she was working on. “I thought you were in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” His mouth was pressed into a straight, thin line while a thoughtful frown drew his brows together above the bridge of his nose. “I need to talk to you.”

“All right.”

She quickly shepherded him toward the living room, flicking off the kitchen light as she passed through the doorway. While Dakota sat on the chair next to the sofa, Claire turned down the sound on the TV. When she faced him again, she felt a twinge of alarm. His expression was so troubled.

What now?

Things had been going well in the past few weeks. Dakota had seemed … different somehow. Happier maybe. More content perhaps. There’d been less swagger in his walk, less anger in his voice. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t all about to evaporate like a wisp of smoke.

She wanted to demand immediately that he tell her what was wrong, but she managed to hold her tongue, knowing it was better for him to do it in his own way. She could see that he was struggling to find the right words.

At long last, he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together between his knees, his gaze downcast. She saw him nod, as if agreeing with someone. Then he straightened and looked at her.

“Mom, I’ve got something to tell you, and I need you to hear me out without interrupting. Okay?”

“All right.” She went to sit on the sofa.

“Remember a few Sundays back, when I started going to church again with the Kreizenbecks?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, something happened to me that day. I sorta tried to tell you what it was.”

She hid a smile, remembering how he’d come home that day, babbling something about God loving him and making him new. His enthusiasm had reminded her of the little boy he’d once been, all smiles and goodness.

Dakota drew in a deep breath as he looked her straight in the eyes. He wasn’t smiling now. His look was intense. “Mom, I asked Jesus into my heart that day. He’s changed me. I’ve been born again.”

“Oh.” What else did one say to a statement like that?

“Jesus loves you too.”

She stiffened. “You’re not going to start preaching at people on street corners, are you?”

For just an instant, he grinned. “I might.”

“Dakota —”

“No.” He raised a hand to silence her. “Let me finish. Please.”

She acquiesced but didn’t relax. If she wanted to hear a sermon —which she didn’t—she could flip on the television on Sunday morning.

“Mom … do you remember the day we went to court to legally change my name?”

Claire drew back, surprised by the sudden turn he’d taken. “I remember.”

“Remember how you asked me never to talk about … about my father again? Not even when you weren’t around? Not ever, to anyone.”

“Yes.” The reply was short and clipped, and even she could hear how much bitterness was contained in that one, simple word.

“Well, I need to talk about him to you now. Pastor Henry says I need to be honest with you, to let you know what’s happening.”

She longed to forbid him to mention Dave, no matter what some preacher said, but she knew it would be wrong of her to do so. She bit her lip to keep herself silent.

“Jesus says I need to forgive anybody who’s wronged me, just like He forgave me for my sins.”

“Your
sins?” Her sarcasm was as obvious as her bitterness. “You’re just a boy. You’re not old enough to be worried about sinning.”

“I’ve hated my father, Mom, and it’s a sin to hate a parent, no matter what he or she might have done wrong. I don’t want to hate my dad anymore. A little while ago, in my room, I prayed and I told God that I was forgiving my dad for leaving us, for never coming back to see me, for forgetting me and you and everything else. I’m not going to hate him any longer.”

He might as well have shoved a knife right into her heart, the way it hurt. “How can you say that, after everything he did to you?” she whispered hoarsely. “After everything he did to me?”

“Because … it’s what I’m supposed to do. As a Christian. Jesus expects it of me.”

“And you think it’s that easy? Well, I’ve got news for you, little boy. It doesn’t work that way. Life’s hard, and you have to take your knocks, and some of them are going to leave you hating something or someone. I guarantee it.” She stood, her entire body shaking with anger as she pointed a finger at him. “You don’t talk about that man. You hear me, Dakota? You don’t ever talk about him again. Not to me. Not to that pastor whatever-his-name-is. Not to anybody. You promised me you wouldn’t. He hurt us. He deserted us. I hate him, and I’ll hate him until the day I die. You should too.”

On the verge of tears, she fled to the solitude of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Alone in the living room, Dakota bowed his head. It hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped it would, but he couldn’t say he was surprised.

I don’t think I handled that too good, Lord.

He knew what he’d wanted to happen. He’d hoped his mom would say she needed to know Jesus. He’d hoped she would immediately forgive his dad and find out how much better it was to let go of all those ugly feelings inside. Dakota didn’t fully understand how it worked. He just knew God had changed him, that God loved him, and that he’d been happier since accepting Christ than in all the rest of his life put together. That moment five weeks before, when Pastor Henry and John prayed with him after Sunday school, had changed everything.

Maybe if he …

Let it go for now,
he told himself.

But he couldn’t seem to do that. He wanted to make everything okay. He wanted to fix it. If he could just find the right words to make his mom understand what he was telling her. He knew how much she loved him, how much she’d sacrificed for him, how hurt she’d been by his dad. He didn’t want to add to her hurt. That wasn’t his intention.

Obey her, Dakota.

But if I could just make her see—

Honor your father and mother.

I know the verse, Father. But if I could just—

Trust in My promises, My son.

“Okay, Lord,” he whispered, “that’s what I’ll do. I’ll honor my mom by keeping my promise. If she doesn’t want me talking about my dad, then I won’t. Not for as long as it takes.”

He wondered how long that would be.

SIXTEEN

Feeling the plane’s landing gear descend, Sara leaned closer to the window so she could see the lights of Boise as they came into view.

“Your family’s going to be mighty glad to see you,” the elderly woman in the center seat said.

Sara glanced toward her and smiled. “Yes. And I feel the same.”

“Next time, don’t wait so long between visits.” The woman patted the back of Sara’s hand with her fingertips. “Time rushes away from us before we know it.”

She nodded, then turned her gaze out the window again.

The elderly woman was wrong about time passing quickly. At least, it sure seemed to crawl in Denver, Colorado. Sara wondered if it would have been different if she’d had the courage to stay in Boise. Probably not.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. If she’d stayed, would she have seen Dave again? Had he left his wife and son, she wondered, or had he and Claire Porter put their marriage back together? If Sara hadn’t sent him away that day, would there have been a chance the two of them could have …

She closed her eyes, at the same time mentally closing off the direction of her thoughts. Three-and-a-half years should have been long enough to rid her of the memories. They’d had an affair. Nothing more. She’d thought she was in love with him. She’d been wrong. Why did it still haunt her?

“You all right, dear?”

Sara looked at her seatmate. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just remembering the last time I was home.”

“Well, I hope you have a lovely Christmas with your parents and brothers.”

The plane touched down. Tires screeched. Jet engines roared.

The elderly woman’s eyes rounded as she gripped the armrests. “Oh my,” she said breathlessly. “I do hate this part.”

To distract her, Sara asked, “Did you say your son would be here to meet you?” She already knew the answer. It was one of the many things the two of them had talked about during the two-hour flight.

“Yes, he’ll be here.”

By this time, the plane was taxiing toward the terminal, and Sara looked out the window again. Anticipation quickened her pulse.

Despite the bad memories, it was good to be home.

The mall was packed with shoppers on this Friday evening, three days before Christmas. Dakota’s friends were all headed to the music store, but Dakota had something else in mind.

“Listen,” he told them, “I’ll meet you guys up in the food court in an hour.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rick Smith agreed.

“Want me to come with you?” John Kreizenbeck asked.

“Nah.” He waved, then allowed himself to be swept along by the crowd.

A short while later, he stood in front of the jewelry counter in the Bon Marché, staring at the bracelet. He’d seen his mom admiring it a couple of months ago, but there was no way she could spare the money to buy something so frivolous for herself. He could almost hear her saying those exact words.

“May I help you?”

Dakota glanced up at the salesclerk and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to buy that bracelet.” He pointed. “That one there. The Black Hills gold one.”

The clerk raised an eyebrow as he looked at the worn condition of Dakota’s coat. His gaze seemed to say,
You can’t afford that. Go away and don’t waste my time.

“I’m buying it for my mother for Christmas.”
Jerk.
“Could you get it out so I can see it close up?”