Clyde pulled into the church parking lot on Wednesday evening, wishing Lynda had agreed to come with him. Maybe he had been foolish to push, but he wanted her to enjoy all the things in life that he enjoyed. He had waited twenty years to live, but truth be told, so had she.
He backed his sedan into a parking space, glad he had finally managed to get it repaired, and then he stared across the church lawn with his hand suspended above the gearshift. He froze.
Neil Blaylock was walking toward the front door, coming from the other side of the parking lot with Susan by his side.
She patted his arm and leaned to speak in his ear, but in spite of her prodding, Neil seemed to drag his feet. He almost didn’t look like himself because his behavior was so drastically different from usual. His face was red, and he looked like he might be sick at any moment.
Clyde knew that feeling. He had walked up that same sidewalk two years ago, anxious about coming to the little church in his hometown—where he was known for only one thing. It hadn’t taken him long to realize he’d be better off at the congregation in Slaton. He had attended there for a while, but in the end he couldn’t stay away from Fawn. And the baby. Even JohnScott had become like a son to him.
Clyde cut the ignition and rested his fist on top of the steering wheel, opting to wait a few minutes before going in.
JohnScott’s truck pulled past the sedan, and soon he and Fawn were hurrying up the sidewalk. Neither of them noticed Clyde. JohnScott was carrying Nathan, and Fawn was scurrying ahead of them, wielding a purse, a diaper bag, and a stack of construction paper. They surrounded Neil in front of the door, forming a huddle of encouragement.
Fawn tilted her head to the side, and JohnScott slapped Neil on the back. Susan took him by the hand, almost pulling.
Clyde’s hand tightened around the gearshift as envy tightened around his heart. He should have been glad Neil was returning to the church. Clyde had begged the Lord’s forgiveness for years of bitterness against the man, and he had finally gotten to the point he could let it go. Now here he was feeling the sting of resentment again.
He didn’t want Neil to be back at the church. He didn’t want him sitting on the pew down at the front. Didn’t want Nathan to crawl in his lap during services. Didn’t want Fawn to smile at him. He didn’t even want him there for Susan.
But when Clyde examined his heart, took a close look, and came away with a verdict, he realized it wasn’t that he didn’t want those things for Neil. He did. He wanted the best for him, but he also wanted Neil to be the best he could be. The best father, husband, and grandfather that his family needed. No, it wasn’t that Clyde didn’t want it for Neil.
It was that he didn’t believe it.
As he slid down in the seat so as not to be noticed, his memory swept back to his senior year of high school. He and Hoby had been first-team all-district offensive linemen guarding Neil all season, protecting him. Clyde was used to watching Neil. He had watched him back then, he had watched him in his memory for twenty years in prison, and he watched him now on the sidewalk in front of the church. And Clyde knew.
Neil was faking left.
Three running steps, a mock pitch to the left, then straight on to the end zone. Neil only used the trick play once in the entire season, though the Panthers had practiced it all year. The coach—and Neil—wanted to save it till it counted. The state championship. If they had revealed it anytime before that, the play would have been worthless. In the end it ran without a hitch. No team expected Trapp to run a sneak, because Blaylock was a passing quarterback, and when he completed that perfect play in Austin, it landed him first-team all-state, first-team all-American, and a full ride to Texas Christian University.
On the sidewalk in front of the Trapp congregation, Neil’s family finally coaxed him through the doors, and Clyde stared at the spot where they had stood moments before. A few latecomers scurried into the building, but Clyde stayed put. Thinking.
Neil had seemed nervous going in, but was it anxiety from returning to the church after eighteen months, or was it fear of something else? Clyde didn’t buy the penitent-sinner routine, but he couldn’t imagine why Neil would go back to the little congregation if he didn’t mean to repent of his ways.
Clyde peered out the side window of the sedan. Charlie Mendoza was on his tractor behind the church building—uncharacteristic for a Wednesday night—and Clyde figured the old guy was dutifully reciting his midweek prayers as he circled the field. Maybe Clyde should worship on his own, just him and God. He could go up to his property on the Caprock, because up there he was always three hundred feet closer to heaven.
His eyelids dropped as though they were weighted with lead. No. That wasn’t how God wanted it, and that wasn’t how Clyde had planned it. Even if the baptized believers were a tangled mess of problems, God wanted Clyde in the middle of them—worshiping, forgiving, tolerating. If he expected them to overlook his faults, he needed to overlook theirs, too. Especially Neil’s.
But Clyde wasn’t sure he was up to it today.
He opened his eyes just as the glass door swung open and Neil stepped out of the building.
He held the door, speaking to someone just inside, then raised one finger and mouthed the words “Be right back.” Letting the door close behind him, he stepped around the hedges and out of sight of the front windows. He took a deep breath, looked at the sky, and then rubbed the back of his neck as if it were tight.
Then he noticed Clyde. Neil squared his shoulders and crossed his arms, but he only hesitated a moment before he … laughed. Instantly all traces of his nervous jitters evaporated, and Neil once again became an arrogant rancher.
Clyde got the impression Neil was making fun of him for hiding in his car, slumped down in the seat, but Clyde didn’t change his position. He continued to watch Neil, wondering at the speed the man’s temperament had changed, wondering at the cause behind it. Wondering if the man had ever been what he seemed.
Neil put his hands on his hips, shook his head as though he had just heard a good joke, then walked confidently back into the building.
Coldness crept up Clyde’s spine, not because he was afraid of what Neil might be up to, but because he was afraid for Neil himself.