Harper couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She’d sold most of her belongings and collected her security deposit. Then, she’d driven all the way across the country in a beat-up VW Jetta, praying as the car coughed and sputtered into a gas station in southern Utah, as the fan belt broke in Kansas, and when she needed a tire change during rush hour outside of Indianapolis, Indiana.
But she’d made it. And here she was.
Yes, she still missed Estelle. The woman had been right. A week after Harper told her she was moving, Estelle died in her sleep. Her last words, spoken earlier that very evening, had resonated with Harper ever since. “You’ve got a family who loves you, hon. But no matter what they say or do, you’ve got a God who loves you more, and always has.”
She’d purchased a Bible the next day, and she’d been reading it ever since. It had become a good way to kill the long hours alone in motel rooms on her cross-country trek. She’d even bought a journal, which was mostly filled with questions about what she was reading.
Now here she was, driving a Cadillac, pulling up to the house that had become her home. The house was enormous, bigger than the four-bedroom she’d grown up in back in Kansas. The neighboring houses—all equally grand and pretty—weren’t so close the neighbors could spy for evening entertainment. And the trees! After the barren sand of Las Vegas, the vegetation felt as lush as a jungle.
She marveled at her good fortune. How had she landed here, in this amazing place? Nobody deserved it less.
Maybe God really did love her.
“What’s the holdup, girl?”
She turned to her passenger and smiled. “Just admiring the view.”
Red Burns mashed the button to open the garage door, and Harper glided the luxurious car into place beside her little Jetta. As soon as she shifted into Park, Red opened his door.
“If you’ll just be patient,” she said, “I’ll come around.”
“Don’t need your help.”
He shifted to get out of the car while she rushed to help. He waved her off and stood on his own. He beamed at her as if he’d finished a marathon. “Told you I had it.”
“The physical therapy’s helping after all.”
He harrumphed, as she’d known he would. He’d balked at the suggestion, but she and Derrick had insisted he at least give therapy a try. He was moving better and with less pain since he’d begun the twice-weekly sessions, but he’d never admit it.
She knew better than to press the point.
Inside, she settled him in a chair in the eat-in kitchen. “I have that leftover fettuccini we ordered yesterday, or I could make you a—”
“Pasta will work,” he said.
She took out the creamy dish and spooned the leftovers into a pan. While it warmed, she fetched Red a bottle of yellow Gatorade, his favorite, unscrewed the top, and poured it into his glass. “Here you go.”
He sipped the liquid, then leveled his blue-gray eyes on her. “Where’s that grandson of mine?”
She pasted on a smile. “Derrick’s been working hard lately.” Working and playing hard, she knew. She cared for Derrick, but she wasn’t impressed by how little time he made for his grandfather, his only living relative. At first, he’d driven up to Red’s from his Baltimore condo every weekend to visit. But lately, things had changed. He’d quit visiting as often, and when he did, he seemed stressed. Worried.
Whatever it was, Harper saw no reason for him to neglect his grandfather. Maybe Derrick had only brought her here so he wouldn’t feel as guilty about it.
Not that Harper had the right to judge. She hadn’t spoken to her own parents in years. Hadn’t spoken to her brothers, either. Sure, Dad had told her not to call, but she would someday. When things here were settled, when she knew the job would last. When she could handle their rejection.
“Works all the time, that boy,” Red said.
She spooned helpings onto two plates and carried them to the table. “Maybe I should learn to cook fettuccini Alfredo.”
Red smirked. “Stick to what you’re good at.”
She set the plates down and opened the silverware drawer. “You saying I’m a bad cook?”
“The worst.” His lips twitched with the insult. “But you’re the best nurse.”
She set forks on the table and plopped into her chair. “That’s because I have the best patient.”
“Humph. Don’t know about that.” He held out his hand, and she took it. She’d gotten accustomed to the grace he said before every meal. He uttered a quick prayer, let go of her hand, and dug into his meal, flashing his bald head at her as he focused on getting the pasta to his mouth. Red had a point about her cooking. She’d tried, truly she had, but she hated it. Apparently it hated her, too. Anything beyond grilled cheese sandwiches and canned soup seemed to revolt at her incapable hands.
She was no cook. But caring for Red? That came as naturally as breathing. Maybe because she loved the old man so.
Harper felt so fortunate to be working for him, living in this lovely house. The thought from earlier returned—maybe God really did love her.
Could it be true? Estelle had been so sure.
And now Red. And the pastor at the church Red attended.
“What you thinking on, girl?”
“The pastor’s message yesterday.”
He wiped his mouth, nodding. “Good message. Got a question?”
She didn’t have a question, not really. She just wasn’t sure about it. “You believe all that? That we have to forgive because God forgave us first?”
“Course I do. Which part bothers you? The forgiving or the being forgiven?”
“Second part, I guess,” she said. Because forgiveness for all her sins? All of them? Seemed too good to be true. When things seemed too good to be true, they usually were. Like this move to Maryland. Sure, the job was perfect, better than she’d ever imagined. But Derrick? She was starting to wonder if it was time to end the relationship. Not that he was doing anything wrong, certainly nothing she could put her finger on. He just seemed…tetchy lately. Short-tempered. When she’d asked about it, he acted as if she were the one with the problem.
More than that, she’d been very clear before she moved that she wasn’t going to sleep with him until she was sure they would stay together, until she was sure he could be trusted. She’d also been clear that the move to Maryland had been about taking care of Red, not about making promises to Derrick. He’d agreed at the time.
But lately, he’d been pushing her. Not just to sleep with him, but also to make promises she wasn’t ready to make. Promises about her love and devotion. Promises about their future. Between his making fewer trips to Red’s house and the way he’d pushed her when he did come, she didn’t know what to think.
Maybe she was too cautious. Maybe she’d been burned too often. And maybe she needed, like Derrick had told her over and over, to trust him. He hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t lied to her. He’d gotten her this great job.
Frustration pulled like a too-tight jacket. She needed to be sure about Derrick, sooner rather than later. But so much of the time they spent together, Red was with them. How could their relationship progress if they didn’t spend more time alone with one another? How could she learn to trust him when he was absent so often?
Because she wasn’t sure about him, she wouldn’t sleep with him, and she wouldn’t make those promises. Not yet.
Which brought her back to the pastor’s message the day before.
“And the first part,” she said. “The part about how, if we forgive others, we don’t let them off the hook.”
“We let ourselves off the hook,” Red said. “That’s the part that stuck with me, too. We forgive for our sake, not anybody else’s.”
“Right.” Harper needed to forgive Emmitt and Barry for what they’d done, for the crime that had landed all three of them in prison. Maybe if she could forgive them, she could trust Derrick. Maybe that’s what was holding her back.
“The second part’s more important.” Red set down his fork and stared at her across the table. “The part about how God forgives all our sins. You get that part?”
She shrugged. “Seems too good to be true.”
“That’s God for you,” he said. “Good, glorious, beautiful, perfect, and full of love for us.”
“Why, though, when people are so messed up?”
One eyebrow lifted. “People, in general?” he asked. “Or someone in particular?”
“Fine. Why would He forgive me? You know my past. Why would God forgive what I’ve done?”
Red’s smile lit his face. “He created you, didn’t He? He knows all your frailties. His love is big enough for all your junk.”
“I don’t get it.”
Red patted her hand. “You will. I believe soon, you will.”