Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series (31 page)

“
I understand. Believe me.” All her life, Shannon proved that Bobbi forgave him, that God forgave him. She undermined that assurance when she took off. She’d be back though. She had to come home.

Chuck leaned forward, trying to bolster the old man. “The whole reason Jack and Brad were out on the street that night—they were looking for you. Brad figured out who you were, and they took out after you. Jack’s coming from Columbia. He dropped everything to get here.”

“
Does he know?”

“
Know what?”

“
About the, uh . . . about what I did?”

“
Yes.”

“
And he’s still coming?” The old man pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly. “You know, he has Teresa’s eyes,” Ed said gently. “Looks like you, but he has his mother’s eyes.”

“
He also has a very tender, gracious heart. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

* * *

Jack exited the highway and rehearsed for the thirty-seventh time what he would say to his grandfather. His grandfather. He wasn’t crazy. His grandfather
was
in the mission that night. He wished he could tell Shannon. It wouldn’t help things, but at least she’d know.

Of course the question remained, Where’s he been all these months? And why’d he show up today all of a sudden? “Oh, come on,” Jack muttered as the light turned red a block ahead of him. “I don’t have time for this today. You can give me red lights all the way back, if I can just shoot straight to Dad’s office. How ’bout that?” Of course the light didn’t change. He rolled to a stop and tapped the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll just sit here.”

Soon his mind wandered back to that night back in June. The handshake. Brad tearing out after Ed. He had to jog to keep up with Brad’s long strides. “This is wrong,” Brad’s last words, then the shot and that sound, that thud.

A quick toot from the car behind him brought Jack back to the present. “Yeah, okay. I’m going.” What was he supposed to call the guy? Just Ed? That sounded wrong. Grandpa or something would never work for a stranger. Mr. Reynolds. He’d go with that, at least to start out.

What on earth had they talked about for the last two hours? His mother probably. Jack shook his head. He’d be bound forever to this man by a woman neither of them really knew. Funny how life works out sometimes.

He pulled into the lot at his dad’s law firm and parked in one of the visitor spots. No other visitors. His heart caught for an instant. What if his grandfather got tired of waiting? What if he left? No way, Jack reassured himself. His grandfather was in there, and he was going to meet him face to face at last. He threw his Cardinals cap on the passenger seat and smoothed his hair. When he got out of the car, he stuffed his shirttail into his baggy jeans, then he took a deep breath and walked inside.

Even from across the lobby, he could see his dad smile when he walked in. His grandfather never moved. He flinched when Christine called his name.

“
I’m so glad you made it here safely,” she said. “Don’t worry. It’s all good. I promise.”

“
Thanks,” he said, without breaking stride or moving his eyes from the man in his dad’s office. He wiped his palm on his jeans, then opened the door to his dad’s office. The old man snapped around when Jack stepped inside. “You
are
real. I didn’t imagine you.”

“
You’re not disappointed, are you?” He had a twinkle in his eyes that reminded Jack of his mother.

“
Are you kidding? Ever since that night . . . and here you are in my dad’s office . . .” Jack caught himself before he babbled any more. Fat lot of good it did to rehearse his speech on the drive here. Calm down. Act normal. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “You came looking for me. You obviously want something.”

“
I came to St. Louis to find my daughter. I was too late.” He looked away.

“
I’m sorry,” Jack said. “That’s a terrible way to find out.”

“
But I found out she had you. And I thought, well, I hoped . . .”

For forgiveness. Since his mother was gone, his grandfather needed his forgiveness. “You know, I loved my dad before I ever knew him, just because he was my dad. When I found out I had a dad and that he wanted me, that changed my life.” His dad winked at him. “Mr. Reynolds, you’re my granddad. I love you, too.” Jack wanted to hug him, but the old man didn’t seem open to that, so he awkwardly slid his hands into his jeans pockets.

“
You understand what you’re saying? You know what I did, don’t you?”

“
Yes sir, but this is the way I see it—my mother was a drunk and a prescription drug abuser, but I love her more than anybody understands. I’d give anything to tell her that again.” He blinked several times to steel himself before continuing. Seeing his grandfather made him miss his mother more than he had in years.

“
Not only that, but I have a sister who left home partly because she couldn’t stand to be in the same house with me. Nothing would make me any happier than for her to come home. I love them both because of who they are, not because of anything they did. It’s the same with you.”

“
That’s, uh, that’s Jesus’ kind of love.”

“
I sure hope so.” He motioned toward the office chairs. “You and my dad were the only people who knew my mom. You’re the only connection I have to her now. I need to talk to you as much as you need to talk to me.”

“
Reckon so.”

Jack dragged the other chair closer.

“
I’m going to leave you alone,” his father said as he pushed back from the desk and swiveled his chair around.

“
Oh no, Dad. You need to help us both out. You can fill in the gaps.”

“
Let me at least call your mom, I mean, Bobbi, and let her know you got here safely.” He slipped out, closing the door gently behind him.

His grandfather watched his dad for a moment. “You reckon he thinks that offends me? Calling his wife your mother?”

“
Maybe.”

The old man snapped his head around to face Jack. “I’m, uh, I’m used to mostly talking to myself. You startled me.”

“
Sorry. But my dad, he does a lot of negotiating so he’s very aware of how things come across to other people.”

His grandfather nodded toward the lobby where Jack’s dad gestured as he talked on Christine’s phone. “He teach you about Jesus?”

“
Yeah, but my brother Brad was the one that made it all click for me.”

“
I saw that happen that night, you know? I saw it and I know who it was. I came here to tell him that.”

“
Are you serious? That’ll blow it wide open!” All the details Jack didn’t know or couldn’t remember no longer mattered. “I can’t tell you what this means to me,” he said, trying hard not to cry.

“
Bet I know.” He allowed the corners of his mouth to lift in the slightest smile. “Tell me about your mother.”

“
Gosh, where do I start? She was beautiful. I know every little boy thinks his mommy is pretty, but she was beautiful.” Jack reached in his back pocket and pulled out the only two pictures he had of her. “See? I wasn’t kidding.”

His grandfather held the pictures, poring over them, blinking ever more urgently, until he swallowed hard and handed them back. “Looks like her mother. Her mother was a beautiful woman, too.”

Jack smiled at the photos once more before slipping them back into his wallet. “When I was little, like before I started school, she was home all the time. I don’t know what we lived on, but it was great.”

“
She was a good mother?”

“
She was the best.”

“
But she was a drunk . . . or worse.”

“
I don’t think she was until the very, very end. And I only knew of her having one boyfriend.”

Reynolds nodded toward the lobby again. “Him?”

“
No. She loved my dad, but he was never her boyfriend. She started seeing a guy she worked with not long after we moved back here. His name was Colin something. I don’t think they were serious.”

For the next three hours, Jack wracked his brain trying to recall every birthday and Christmas, every trip to a zoo or a theme park, and every book his mother had ever read to him. They paused briefly to eat the sandwiches his dad had sent for, and then his grandfather told what few things he remembered.

Finally Ed Reynolds pulled himself to his feet. “I’d best get going this time. That other meeting, and all.” He reached out a hand toward Jack. “You gave me a great gift just now. Seeing you, listening to you, it makes me feel like a curse has been lifted.”

Jack shook the old man’s hand and grinned. “I don’t think I have that kind of power.”

“
Words have power. I did a lot of damage to your mother with words. Now you’ve given me renewed hope with yours.” He reached across the desk and shook his dad’s hand. “Mr. Molinsky, good day to you.”

“
But wait!” Jack stepped between his grandfather and the door. “Where are you staying? How am I supposed to get in touch with you again? What about Thanksgiving?”

“
I know where to find you. Don’t worry.”

Jack watched him until he disappeared out of the building, then he dropped back in his chair. “I’m exhausted.”

“
I don’t doubt it,” his dad said.

“‘
The curse has lifted,’ he said. God’s working, Dad. That means Shannon’ll be home soon.”

“
I think that’s exactly what it means.”

Chapter 20

Appointment

Thursday, November 27, Thanksgiving Day

Bobbi left Chuck asleep and stole downstairs before the day’s first light. Today marked the first holiday since . . . well, her first without all her kids there. She blew out a deep breath. If she couldn’t even form the words in her mind, how on earth would she get through the day? Plus, if she had any hope of making it through Christmas, she had to do Thanksgiving.

The first scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen as the automatic coffeemaker kicked on right on time. Rather than sit at the kitchen table and watch it drip, she wandered into the study to her favorite corner of the love seat.

Thanksgiving. Grateful heart. Maybe she could fake it for the day. Say all the right things. Smile with plastic joy. Everyone would marvel at her courage and her faith. Chuck would see right through her, though, and he would call her on it. And if he didn't, Rita would.

“
Father, I’m going to confess to You right now, I’m having a very hard time being thankful. I know I have Chuck, and Jack and Joel, but it’s hard for me not to focus on what I’ve lost. I don’t want to slip back to where I was. I want to trust You. I want to lean on You. I want to hold onto the hope You give, but today it’s harder for me to find it. Help me find what’s true once more, rather than being controlled by what I feel.”

What she felt right now, though, was a craving for that coffee that was surely finished brewing by now. As she passed the desk, she saw a note Chuck had scribbled after talking to Detective Ramirez. Brad’s killer was a twenty-four-year-old drug dealer and gang enforcer. His first arrest came at age thirteen after assaulting a police officer.

Even though Ed Reynolds gave them a description, a name and a license plate, the police hadn’t made an arrest yet. The gunman, street smart and with friends in the neighborhood, had disappeared. They couldn’t arrest him if they couldn’t find him. The detective assured Chuck, in time, they would bring the guy in. A little more patience was all they asked for. As if she had a choice.

In the kitchen, Bobbi poured a cup of coffee and started to take her usual spot at the table, but two Bibles lay open, along with a couple of notebooks. She instantly recognized Jack’s tight script. On closer inspection of the other notebook, she felt a quiver, deep in her spirit. Brad. His notebooks.

She set her coffee cup down and tenderly took Brad’s notebook, closing it, afraid to allow her eyes to drift across his words. She eased into one of the kitchen chairs and closed the two Bibles, keeping the notebook close to her.

A night owl like Brad, Jack must have come back down to the kitchen to study after she and Chuck went to bed. Of course, now he’d have to find his place again since she had closed all the books. Was Jack struggling with Thanksgiving, too? Surely not. He was probably just reading. He probably read from Brad’s notebook all the time. Just like he used to talk to Brad almost every day. Just like she used to.

She laid the notebook on the table in front of her, then reached for the reading glasses she kept in a case by the sugar bowl. “Talk to me, Brad,” she whispered, and slowly opened the cover.

Psalm 19:12
Who can understand his errors?
—
Will I, can I ever really understand how and why my heart and mind conspire in sinful presumptions? Is it as necessary as it seems to understand how and why?

Cleanse me from secret faults
—
from the faults I
’
m unwilling to admit even to myself. To be cleansed, they must be recognized, identified, brought out into the light.