Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series (34 page)

* * *

Bobbi sat at the kitchen table paging through the stack of Black Friday ads from the morning paper. A few things caught her eye as possibilities for Jack or Shannon. She whispered a prayer of thanks for that small miracle. Two days ago, the thought of Christmas was more than she could manage.

“
What’s the score?” Joel called as he stepped through the kitchen doorway.

“
Twenty-one to seventeen,” Jack called back. “But Nebraska has the ball.”

“
I didn’t hear you come in,” Bobbi said, pushing back from the table.

“
Don’t get up.” Joel hung his jacket on one of the kitchen chairs and leaned down to hug her. “But before football,” he said, taking the chair next to hers, “you were going to tell me how wonderful you feel.”

“
Is it that obvious?”

“
You were one hundred and eighty degrees different on the phone yesterday. The house even feels different today.”

“
Let me pour us some coffee and you can tell me what else I’m going to say to you,” Bobbi said, teasing him. “How was Thanksgiving?”

“
It was good, actually. Rob didn’t say anything snide, and Angela was very gracious.”

“
Was Abby’s brother there?”

“
Perfect Josh? Of course. And perfect Amber with perfect little Zachary.”

“
You sound snide now.” She set a cup in front of him and rejoined him at the table.

“
I just get frustrated with them. Home should be the place where you can count on unconditional love. With Abby, it’s the only place she doesn’t get it. I hate it for her.”

“
Do you think Shannon’s afraid we’ll judge her somehow? Is that why she’s staying away?”

“
You tell me,” Joel said, taking a long drink from the coffee.

“
What are you talking about?”

“
You know better than anyone what’s going on with Shannon. You’ve been the prodigal, Mom.”

“
What?”

“
You walked away from God because He hurt you. You refused to have anything to do with Him for weeks, but then something brought you back.”

Bobbi leaned back in her chair. “Joel, how do you know these things?”

“
It’s not any special insight. Basically, I don’t think before I speak.” He smiled broadly. “So when is your doctor’s appointment?”

Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. “At least I could surprise Dad. It’s Wednesday.”

“
Still with Dr. Kremer? He’s the best.”

“
Yes, that’s who Dr. Karsten recommended.” She took a sip from her coffee. “Listen Joel, I want to ask for your forgiveness.”

“
What on earth for?”

“
I’ve been difficult these last few months. I’ve caused you a lot of grief, and I’m sorry.”

“
If it makes you feel better to apologize, then I accept, but you didn’t have to. I understand.”

“
You played a big part in snapping me out of this, you know. You weren’t afraid to be brutally honest with me and with Dad. We needed that. I don’t think either of us was thinking especially clearly.”

“
Yeah, it’s tough being the only sane one in the family.”

“
Hey, I’m sane!” Jack carried his pie plate in and put it in the dishwasher. “Nebraska scored. Now they’re up twenty-four to twenty-one.”

Joel grimaced. “This is nerve-wracking.”

“
You should go watch the game,” Bobbi said.

“
I’m recording it. I can watch it when I get home, provided Jack doesn’t blow the ending for me.”

“
Sorry,” Jack said, and disappeared back into the family room.

“
So what are your plans for Christmas?” Joel asked.

“
I have no idea,” Bobbi answered. “I hadn’t thought much past this week.”

“
Great! You can come to our house then.”

“
Are you sure Abby wants us?”

“
It was her idea. She wants to do it for you, you know, to take some of the pressure off.”

“
I’m good now. I can do Christmas.”

“
Mom, let Abby do this for you.”

“
All right. Christmas is at your house.”

* * *

Bobbi shook her head as she watched Chuck back out of the driveway. Incorrigible. She specifically, explicitly stated she did not want anything for Christmas, and yet as soon as they finished off the Thanksgiving leftovers, Chuck announced he and Jack were headed to the Galleria.

She settled in the corner of the family room sofa and clicked through the channels on the muted television. The shows couldn’t steal her attention away from Joel’s comments. Did she know Shannon better than anyone?

Was she as hardheaded as Shannon seemed to be? That unreasonable? Probably. Dying from cancer had made perfect sense to her, but it was completely insane. Whatever Shannon was doing must make perfect sense to her.

She closed her eyes. What else? What else might by cycling through Shannon’s mind? Probably the same kinds of things that dragged through her own mind during the last few months.

No options.
Shannon must feel like she has no other options when, in fact, options are everywhere.
She also likely believed no one understood what she felt, that her hurt was worse, or at least different, than everyone else’s.

But something brought you back,
Joel said. Not something. Someone. More than one, actually. Did Shannon have anyone to challenge her? If not, what would bring Shannon home? In the Biblical story the prodigal son came home after he came to his senses, “came to himself.”

It had to be her decision, though. No one would be able to convince Shannon to come home, just like no one could convince her to change her mind and go to the doctor. Not until she couldn’t fight anymore. Not until she was ready to let go of her anger and her shame. Not a moment before.

Dear God, did You worry about me like this? At least You knew where I was, and You knew I’d come back. I know You want me to trust You, rejoice in You in spite of everything, but could You just let me know she’s okay? Can I ask for that much grace?

* * *

Shannon Molinsky sat in the food court at the Galleria staring at the stream of people passing by without really focusing on any of them. Thankful to have someplace to go besides her cold, empty apartment, she wondered how many more days she could hang out here before mall security started checking up on her.

Her Thanksgiving celebration consisted of splurging on dinner at Denny’s, if slinking into the restaurant alone to grab a carry-out dinner that she had to keep her coat on to eat could be called splurging. Hardly. Not when everybody else was at Aunt Rita’s. She was tempted . . . so tempted to just show up yesterday, but . . . she didn’t have answers to the questions they’d ask. Why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away so long? What were you trying to prove? Those answers, so clear-cut back in July, were a tangled November mess.

Plus she had her own questions. Could she go home? Could she face her dad? Would her mother forgive her for what she’d done? And Jack . . . would Jack ever speak to her again? Was there any real reason to stay away, or had she simply backed herself into a corner that she couldn’t get out of?

She finished off the cappuccino, her last splurge, her last spare cash for the month, and took a notepad and ink pen from her purse. She wrote down headings for two columns,
Stay away
and
Go home
.

“
Stay away, that’s easy.” She quickly wrote,
Don’t have to face Mom, Dad, Jack, or anyone else.
Then her pen hung in midstroke. There was no second reason. Surely there was more to it than that.

As she stared out across the rush of people, the crowd seemed to part. That old brown leather jacket . . . It couldn’t be . . . It was! Her dad and Jack were headed her way. Panicked, she grabbed her purse and knifed through the food court into the nearest store. They stopped at the counter at Subway. While their backs were turned, she slipped out of the store and hurried to the nearest exit.

She ran to her car, then collapsed against it. Her breath came in great gasps until her heart rate slowed down and her hands stopped shaking. She glanced back at the mall entrance and burst into tears.
Why did I run? Dad . . . He would’ve said, “Shannon, thank God you’re okay! Let’s go home.” I am so stupid.

She pulled her coat tight around her and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. Then she remembered the list. She left her list on the table. What if her dad found it? She hadn’t listed any reasons to go home yet. What would he think?

Get a grip. There’s a very slim chance they would find the list. Even if they did, who’s to say they’d read it, and then figure out it was mine?
She unlocked the driver’s side door, and with another lingering look at the mall entrance, she toyed with the idea of going back inside. Not . . . yet.

* * *

“
Let’s grab a seat for a minute and rethink this,” Chuck said, handing Jack a Coke and a package of cookies. “All the ideas I had for your mother are a bust. I need some inspiration.”

“
And I need cookies.” Jack dropped into a chair at a nearby empty table. “Oh, hey, somebody left their shopping list or something.” He set his Coke and cookies down and picked up the slip of paper. He glanced at it, then handed it over. “Dad,” he said weakly, “read this.”

“
What—” He recognized the handwriting immediately. Shannon.

“
You think that’s really—”

“
It’s hers,” Chuck said. “The question is, how long ago.”

“
It couldn’t be more than a few hours. With the mall this busy, they’d have to clean the tables constantly.”

“
Come on.” Chuck grabbed his drink and hurried off.

“
Lost and found?” Jack asked when he closed the distance between them.

“
I’m going to have her paged. Maybe she’s still here somewhere.” He cut through the crowd until he arrived at the information desk. He didn’t have time to wait for the lady at the desk to look up. “Hi, I need your help. My son and I found some personal papers at the food court that belong to my daughter. Could you page her for me?”

“
What’s her name?” the lady asked, pen poised to write.

“
Shannon Molinsky.”

Chuck strained his eyes, looking down each concourse leading to the information desk. His heart fluttered every time he saw a young girl with long dark hair, but for thirty minutes, he and Jack watched and waited in vain.

“
Do you want to leave the papers here?” the lady at the desk asked gently.

“
No, I’ll see her soon enough,” Chuck said. “I just thought if she was still here, that would simplify things. Thanks for trying.”

The lady nodded, and Chuck walked away, headed toward the entrance where his car was parked. “Dad, I’m sorry,” Jack said just before they stepped outside.

“
It’s not all bad, Jack. We know she’s here in town, and we know that she’s thinking about coming home.”

* * *

“
Bobbi!” Chuck called even before he got the front door open. “Bobbi, where are you?”

“
Back here,” Bobbi called from the family room. “What’s wrong?”

“
Nothing.” He strode back through the house, leaving Jack to lock the car and shut the front door. He met Bobbi in the kitchen, her face pale with worry. He grinned and put Shannon’s slip of paper in her hand. “Here, read this.”

“
What is it?” Bobbi turned the paper around and immediately her eyes brimmed with tears. “Where did you get this?” she whispered.

“
It was on a table in the food court at the Galleria. I had Shannon paged, but she either wasn’t there any longer or she wouldn’t answer the page. Do you know what this means?”

“
That she can’t think of a reason to come home?”

“
It means she
is
still in St. Louis somewhere, and she’s thinking about coming home. She’s just about had enough.”

Bobbi blinked but said nothing. She wasn’t buying it.

“
Honey, think about it. If Shannon was living some great exciting life, she wouldn’t be trying to reason out whether she should come home. Plus, if she was surrounded by friends, she wouldn’t be making lists like this at the mall.”

“
How do you know she wrote it at the mall?”

“
The pen was still there.”

“
Why would she leave her pen?” Bobbi studied the note again, then her eyes widened. “Chuck, you don’t think she saw you, do you? Maybe that’s why she left everything. She saw you and she didn’t want you to find her.”

“
Oh, Bobbi, if I was that close . . .”

“
Mom! Can you believe it? She was there!” Jack bounded into the kitchen. “It won’t be long now!”

She held the paper like it was a rare treasure. “This is an answer to prayer. I asked God just this evening to let me know she was okay, and He did.” She wiped a tear away.