Authors: Derek Jackson
No, the truth of the matter was that the whole situation had become too personal. Chance Howard was not just a mystery man whose picture should be displayed on a newspaper’s front page like a wanted fugitive. He had been the special person, like an angel, that God had used to lay hands on her blinded eyes and heal her. And while anyone with the faith to believe God like that could’ve theoretically done the same, it had been
Chance
. Why had
he
happened to be outside Hope Springs Church at the exact moment Lynn found herself locked out of the restroom? And why had
she
happened to be just two pay phones away from him at a train station she never frequented? If it hadn’t been for Evangelist Barbara needing a ride and Sister Mattie unable to provide one, Lynn would’ve never even been there. Mere coincidence? Lynn didn’t think so, and apparently neither did Pastor Gentry.
Once she entered the Ruston town limits, Lynn pulled into a convenience store parking lot and pulled out the slip of paper on which Chance had written his phone number.
I’m probably too late
, she thought dejectedly. If Travis had caught a flight before she had, chances were good that he had already located Chance. Still, she hadn’t come all this way just to let her fears get the best of her. She took out her cell phone and dialed the number. Thinking she would probably just get voice mail, she wasn’t expecting anyone to answer, least of all Chance. So when he did answer, his voice jolted her, just like it had at the train station.
“Hello?”
“Chance? Oh, I’m sorry . . . I didn’t think anyone would pick up.”
“Is that what you normally assume when you make a phone call?”
“Well, no. It’s just that people think you’re so hard to get a hold of.”
“People think what they want, Lynn. You asked for a number to call me at, and I provided one. Doesn’t get much simpler than that.”
“I guess you’re right. I was calling to warn you about a potential problem . . . well, it’s more like a nuisance, that’s headed your way. Some of this might be my fault, so I apologize in advance, but you know that reporter who’s writing those articles about you in the
State
?”
“Remember? How could I forget? Those articles were the main reason I left.”
Lynn winced. “Uh . . . right. Well then, you should know that he’s headed your way.”
“What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“That reporter—Travis Everett—is headed to Ruston, probably to take another picture of you and get some more material for his story.”
“He’s headed to
Ruston
?”
“Yeah. He’s probably already here.”
“What? I can’t believe that a—” His voice broke off as Lynn winced some more, feeling even more guilty about putting him through this added pain. For a man as guarded about both his privacy and past as Chance was, his defensive walls were surely now crumbling down around him like the collapse of the Berlin Wall.
“Wait a minute,” Chance finally said. “You said he’s probably already
here
? Why do you say ‘here’? You’re in Columbia, right?”
Surprise again
. . . “Uh, well . . . no. Actually, I’m in Ruston, too.”
Chance was silent for a few seconds. “You’re making a habit out of following me, Miss Harper.”
“I know. Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know. That’s what has me worried.”
JUCINDA HARRIS HAD WORKED
at Louisiana Tech in various roles over the past twenty-five years, primarily in the College of Liberal Arts. The past two years she had been on a type of administrative leave, directly attributed to the painful loss of her only daughter, Nina. People had always said Nina was the spitting image of Jucinda—tall, long black hair, curvaceous physique, and free-spirited. Jucinda had moved here with Nina from Trinidad because of the chance to provide her daughter with a better education. Nina had certainly been on her way, too. The scholarship to Southern had been a fantastic start, and Jucinda envisioned Nina attending graduate school somewhere back East. The plan had been working perfectly until that boy . . .
Chance
ruined everything.
In retrospect, Jucinda knew she should’ve taken a more active role in her daughter’s relationships, but in truth, there were none until Nina and Chance were selected to go to Washington, D.C., in the spring of their senior year.
Nina hadn’t really dated anyone all throughout her junior high and high school years, which, of course, had made Mama proud. As beautiful as Nina was, there were many would-be suitors, but Jucinda had always stressed to her daughter the importance of an education above all else.
“What you have in between those ears is the only thing that matters,” she constantly reminded Nina. But something happened between her daughter and Chance during that Spring Break trip that Jucinda could never understand.
“What on earth do you see in that boy?” she’d asked Nina.
“I don’t know, Mama. He’s so sweet . . . and he carries on the most interesting conversations. I never knew he was like that.”
Jucinda had nothing against the boy being nice and carrying on interesting conversations. What she
didn’t
like, however, was that Chance was a country boy who would always live in the country. Jucinda had learned Chance had inherited a large tract of land just north of town from his late mother, meaning he would be settling here . . .
forever
. Jucinda couldn’t bear the thought of her educated, independent, free-spirited daughter living on a
farm
with cows and chickens.
Adding insult to injury, not only had Nina gotten involved with Chance, but she’d also gotten involved with some charismatic church while she was in college—a church that believed in speaking in tongues, prophesying, and casting out demons. She’d come back from college pronouncing herself born-again and Spirit-filled.
“Mama, they got the Holy Ghost,” Nina had argued to her mother one night. “And I wanted what they had. So I went down to the front of the church to receive salvation and the baptism of the Holy Ghost. Mama, it was so wonderful! God just filled me up and—”
“Stop that nonsense!” Jucinda had cried out, unable to take any more. “I will have none of that crazy talk in my house, you hear me? The nice Catholic church we attend is all the religion we need.”
Of course, this rift in their relationship had pushed Nina further away, infuriating Jucinda. All that she’d worked for and planned for her daughter was going down the drain in the name of misguided affection and spiritual emotionalism.
Years later, Nina’s discovery that she had liver cancer had initially devastated Jucinda, but she soon thought of it as something that might bring them back closer together. She had gone online and researched all the facts—how the success rate for beating cancer was much higher when it was detected early, and how the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in nearby Houston housed the country’s foremost cancer research hospitals.
But Nina, to Jucinda’s horror, would hear none of her mother’s careful research.
“I have faith, Mama. God is going to supernaturally heal me.”
“God’s going to do
what
? Honey, have you lost your mind? This is not the time to bring up your prophecies or Holy Ghost language or whatever it is you’re always talking about! Cancer is real, honey. But we’re going to be fine, because I’m going to make sure you’re seen by the best doctors in the country.”
“But Mama, one of the ladies at my church was diagnosed with cancer until this awesome man of God named Floyd Waters laid hands on her and declared her healed in the name of Jesus! She went back to the hospital, and the doctors couldn’t find the tumor! And you know what? Floyd Waters is coming to Lake Charles next month. It’s a divine setup! I’m going to be supernaturally healed, and then you’ll see how great God is!”
Jucinda didn’t doubt the greatness of God, but her daughter was clearly delusional. Unfortunately, she was also as stubborn as her mother and couldn’t be talked out of going to that healing meeting.
And then Jucinda’s worst nightmare came true—her only daughter, her pride and joy . . .
died
.
After Nina’s passing, with the autopsy clearly showing that the cancer cells had spread all throughout her body, Jucinda didn’t care about who’d been right or wrong. What good was there in saying, “I told you so,” if her baby girl was gone forever? The only person she could direct her anger and frustration on was Chance Howard—the one person Jucinda felt directly responsible for this mess. If Nina had never met Chance, then she would’ve been in grad school somewhere back East, away from all this foolish talk about supernatural healings and the Holy Ghost.
The two years since she’d run Chance out of this town had done nothing to ease Jucinda’s pain, and today, as she walked into the post office to mail a care package back to her aunt in Trinidad, that old wound reared its ugly head once more.
“Jucinda, there was a reporter in here today asking about Chance Howard,” Betty, the old postmistress, said as Jucinda set her box on the counter.
“What!”
“Yep. Came right up here and asked me if I knew where Chance lived. I didn’t tell him, but ol’ Walter DuBose did. That reporter got up out of here quick after that. I wonder what that was all about—do you think Chance is coming back?”
Jucinda was still speechless, in shock. If she as much as
saw
the man responsible for her daughter’s death, she swore she’d put her hands around his countrified, chicken-chasin’ neck and strangle him to death.
“You know, his old man’s not doing so well,” Betty continued. “Flora says Bennett’s bound to croak any day now. Chance probably came back to—”
“That’s
enough
, Betty! Not another word of this, you hear me?”
Betty nodded and finished metering Jucinda’s care package.
“If that boy is dumb enough to show his face here after how he treated Nina,” Jucinda continued, “then I’ll make sure the next time he leaves this town, he’ll only be headed one place—six feet under.”
Betty’s eyes went wide with shock. No doubt this was good gossip to start spreading around town.
C
HANCE HAD INSTRUCTED LYNN
to meet him before dawn at a docking point on the banks of Caddo Lake, a popular fishing and recreational spot seventeen miles north of Shreveport. Lynn wasn’t thrilled about boarding a
boat
and getting out on the water, though she wasn’t going to let that fear be known to Chance. The fifty-foot sport fishing boat with the word
Jacqueline
painted on the bow, however, was quite different from what she had expected.
“Who is Jacqueline?” she asked, indicating the boat’s name.
“My mother,” Chance explained as he helped her onto the deck. “Pop and I decided to name it after her, though if she were still alive, she’d probably kill us both. She hated fishing.”
“It’s . . . nice,” Lynn commented, far from an expert on what a nice boat should look like. Still, it seemed like the right thing to say.
“She’s just another boat to me, but she’s my pop’s pride and joy. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He led her to the starboard side, where an elderly man was untangling a mass of fishing line.
“Pop, I’d like you to meet Lynn Harper. Lynn, my father.”
The man flashed a near-toothless grin and extended his hand. “Name’s Bennett, but you can call me Pop, too.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“A pleasure? Ha! Wait till you get to
know
me!” He started laughing.
“C’mon, Pop,” Chance said, gently leading him away. “Why don’t you get this baby started and let’s get around to Big Cypress River. The fish will be biting there at dawn.”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n!”
“Your father’s . . . quite a character,” Lynn remarked as Pop hobbled over to the boat’s controls.
“He hasn’t been the same ever since Mom died. He has his good days and bad days . . . although probably not many more. He’s got some medical problem, but I’m not sure what.”
“Hasn’t he been to a doctor?”
Chance shook his head. “He’s like a stubborn mule with bad legs. He refuses to go to a doctor, and I can’t make him, either.” He walked toward the stern. “I’m coping with it, though.”
Lynn walked up next to him, resisting the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. “Seems to me like you’re coping with a lot more than you should have to.”
Chance shrugged. “That’s life, right?”
“No, that’s
not
life. God brings people into our lives to help share burdens. The Bible says that two are better than one, because if one falls the other is there to help him up.”
Chance nodded, but said nothing.
An awkward silence between them ensued, as Pop got the motor started and the
Jacqueline
chugged out to deeper waters. Sunrise was still an hour away, and the moon’s reflection cast silvery-white shadows across the water’s surface.
“Have you heard from Travis Everett yet?” Lynn asked, more to interrupt the silence than anything else.
“No. And if he’s able to find me out here on the river, I might start thinking you’re working with him.”
What?
“But . . . you couldn’t think . . . that I’m—”
“I don’t know
what
to think anymore. You want me to check off the reasons? How about this—the only woman who ever meant anything to me is gone and I can’t bring her back. My mother-in-law ran me out of the only town I ever lived in, and swore to hurt me if she ever saw me again. My father is in denial about his drinking problem, which probably won’t matter since he doesn’t have a whole lot of time left to live. Some crazy reporter is chasing me around like Tommy Lee Jones in
The Fugitive
, so apparently I now have to keep looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. Should I continue?”
“That’s not very encouraging,” Lynn admitted, “but here’s what I
know
—God has blessed you with a wonderful gift that can touch the lives of so many. Alright, you tell me this—if your life is as messed up as you just described it, then why did you go to all those church services, looking for people you could pray for?”