30

Hayley couldn’t bear to talk about Trevor. But he should go to the Good Friday service. Maybe something there would pierce his unforgiving heart. Oh, Jesus…

Laureen patted Hayley’s hand. “Not to worry. God will work it out.”

Hayley tried to grab hold of that assurance, but the memory of Trevor’s rage-twisted face snagged it away. She gathered their empty cups and plates. “Ready to go back to cardiology?”

“Oh, my. Yes. They may be done by now.”

The two women had barely settled onto the hard, vinyl chairs in the waiting room when a man wearing green scrubs entered the room. “Mrs. Hiebert?” He glanced at a paper in his hand. “Laureen Hiebert?”

“I’m here.” Laureen tried to stand, wobbled, and sat heavily.

The tired-looking young man sat beside her. “I’m Dr. Albrecht. I performed your husband’s angiogram. Is this your daughter?”

“Close enough.”

Dr. Albrecht’s steady gaze seemed to carry a warning.

Hayley clasped her hands in her lap and wished she could pray.

“The angiogram showed severe blockage in two of Mr. Hiebert’s arteries, ninety-five occlusion in one and ninety-two in the other. Dr. Sharma, head of our cardiac surgery department, has booked him for coronary bypass surgery tomorrow morning at ten. Because of Mr. Hiebert’s high degree of occlusion, we’d prefer to keep him here until then.”

Laureen’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She rubbed her face and swallowed hard. “May…may I see him?”

“We’re getting him settled into a room. I’ll send an orderly to take you to him in a few minutes.” He placed his hand on Laureen’s shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself. Talk to your husband and then go home. He’s in good hands. Trust me.”

Laureen swiped at the tears dripping from her jaw. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dr. Albrecht walked away, and Hayley’s composure left at the same time. She hunched forward, elbows on her knees, and sobbed. This isn’t fair, God. How are You going to make this good?

A gentle hand stroked her back. Soothing, comforting. Hayley peeked to the side, and Laureen smiled through tears.

“God is in this, dear. Even when our feelings try to tell us otherwise. Think about it. From what the doctor said, Franklin could have had a heart attack at any time. But God prevented it, and now he’s booked for surgery. Tomorrow.” Laureen pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face. “This is a gift from a loving Father.”

How could Laureen be so calm? Her husband faced major surgery and could die at any minute, yet Laureen’s faith didn’t seem to waver. “How can you be sure God’s in control? It feels like a train wreck to me.”

“That’s why we pay more attention to God’s promises than our emotions.” Laureen inhaled a long, shuddering sigh. “My emotions are pretty battered right now, but I know my Rock is solid. I can trust Him. Even with the ones I love the most.” Laureen’s hand went to her mouth. “Trevor. I’ve got to call my son.”

~*~

Trevor ran his hands over the crumpled fender. Bent, but not torn. The handlebar too. A couple of the slender spokes were twisted, but he could handle it. It would take some work, but the bike was fixable. Then he noticed a stinging in his left hand and looked down. Blood dripped from the side of his hand where he’d brushed against the headlamp. Trevor groaned; his heart plummeted. Jagged glass and twisted metal were all that remained of the fixture he’d spent four months tracking down. How would he ever find another replacement? He flinched when a heavy hand grasped his shoulder.

Carlos cleared his throat. “Let me help you get your bike into the back. Good thing the mesh held the glass. Could have been worse.”

Trevor’s whole attention had been on his own troubles. As usual. He swallowed hard and pushed upright. “Look, man, I’m sorry. About all of this.”

Carlos bent down and grabbed the back of the motorcycle. “Good. Now let’s get this mess cleaned up. Then we’ll talk.”

A few minutes later, the two men faced each other across the desk. Carlos stroked his goatee while Trevor fidgeted.

“So that’s the guy you told me about. And Sinclair, that’s your birth name?” Carlos’s desert-dry voice calmed Trevor enough to meet his gaze.

“Yeah. And yes, that was my foster dad. Impressive, eh?” His attention dropped to the floor. “I really regret what happened.”

Carlos leaned back, his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head. “That’s an awful lot of hatred to carry around. Especially for a guy who’s been forgiven.”

Guilt zinged, and Hayley’s words echoed. What do you know about forgiveness? Not much, apparently.

“You’re right. It’s just…I’ve hated that man for so long, I don’t know how to give it up.” He slumped in the chair. “Hayley’s right. I don’t know anything about forgiveness.”

“Ah, so that’s what frosted your cornflakes. Tiff with the lady. Sounds like she’s got you pegged. So what’re you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do? I’ve totally blown it.”

“In case you didn’t hear me the first hundred times, God is the God of second chances, T-man. Repent. Give all your hatred to Jesus, who died to pay your penalty. Give Kirby to Him too. Let God be the judge. You are forgiven. Now step away. That’s forgiveness.”

Trevor hunched forward, hung his head, and concentrated on a tiny spring of hope. “God, I’m sorry. I would have killed the man if Max hadn’t stopped me. Forgive me, and help me forgive.” Tension seeped out of Trevor’s body, replaced by a strange peace.

Carlos raised one eyebrow nearly to his receding hairline.

“What?”

“Max. You said Max stopped you.”

“Yeah, it was weird. Ryan said he wasn’t even there, but I heard him, and he grabbed me when I started to kick the dirty…Kirby.”

“Interesting. Maybe your conscience sounds like Max now.” Carlos stroked his beard. “Or perhaps Max is more than he appears.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Don’t need to. But I need to know if this is settled. How are you?”

Trevor nodded. “Good. Forgiven…again. At least by God. And the tight spring inside just relaxed. I’m free. Amazing.” He paused, rubbed his chin. “But what about you, boss? Can you forgive me?”

Carlos slapped him on the shoulder. “Already done. Now you need to call your lady.”

“I think I’d better try that in person. I’d like to take off, if you don’t mind, after I apologize to the guys and clean up the mess.”

“Sounds like a plan. Right now, I need to phone my insurance adjuster.”

Trevor grabbed a broom and dustpan. “Thanks, boss. For everything.”

Half an hour later, Trevor lugged what was left of the display stand out to the disposal bin behind the shop. He let the lid slam down on the evidence of his feud with Kirby. He closed the padlock and walked back into the shop, leaving his hatred behind, locked in God’s mercy.

Trevor retrieved his jacket from the locker and pulled his phone out. He’d turned off the ringer after getting razzed by the guys, so he checked first for messages. No texts, but his mother had left a voicemail. He punched in his code and held the phone to his ear.

“Trevor, it’s Mom.”

The shakiness in her voice started an earthquake inside Trevor. His breath came hard as he strained to hear the rest of her message.

“I need to talk to you. We’re heading home, so please come when you can. Just remember, I love you, and so does God. Hurry home, please.”

Her muffled sob tore a gash in his heart. His mom, the rock of his family, sounded like she was falling apart.

Oh, God.

~*~

All the way back to the farm, Hayley’s despondency deepened. While Laureen sat quietly, her head resting against the seat back, Hayley sank deeper, until she could no longer remember why she’d wanted to live. God didn’t seem to care.

Once they were home, Hayley helped Laureen to the overstuffed chair, pulled the footstool close, and fetched Laureen’s Bible and a cup of tea. Then she excused herself and climbed the stairs. The shakiness that had started on the drive home hit with full force. Hayley dropped onto the chair and put her head down on her arms. “God, I’m so mad at You. What in the world are You doing? Franklin and Laureen love You, and You’re treating them like dirt. I thought You’d brought Trevor and me together, and now You’ve taken my dream away. Stomped on it. And me. I thought I could trust You. I want to, but this is too hard. Maybe You’re not real. Or not good.”

Dark whispers began. “That’s right. God doesn’t care. No one does.”

She jerked upright. “Who’s there?” She didn’t see anyone.

The whispers continued, close to her ear. “It’s no use. Life is an illusion. Give it up. You know how.”

The pills. Hayley hadn’t thought of them in weeks. Pain shot up her leg, straight to her heart, and she pushed her fist against her mouth to muffle a cry. The opiates she’d hidden were her only hope. She opened the bottom drawer and felt for the small bottle under a stack of papers. Her arm cramped, but she kept reaching until her fingers touched cold plastic. She pulled it out. Five pills.

One would ease her pain, two meant a long, deep sleep. The last time, three had almost freed her from her agony. Too bad her co-worker had picked that day to drop off some flowers.

There were five left. No more pain. The end.

Hayley held the bottle in the palm of her hand. What have I got left to lose?

Trevor? Already gone.

Franklin? He could die on the operating table, or before. Or after. Life was too fragile.

Laureen? She’d aced her test, but something still wasn’t right. What was causing her dizziness?

Her parents? They didn’t care, anyway.

Another whisper. “See? There’s no one and nothing left. Go ahead. End it.”

Hayley emptied the pills into her hand, and looked around for a glass of water. She’d left one on her nightstand, but now her Bible lay in its place. She picked up the Bible to hide it. But it slipped from her fingers and fell open onto the bed. Hayley reached to pick it up again, but the underlined words of Lamentations 3 caught her eye.

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Hayley sank onto the bed. In her mind, she was back in her Toronto home. She’d shaved her long, highlighted hair so she’d look as ugly as she felt. Then she’d turned up her stereo and swallowed three pills. She just couldn’t do life anymore. But she’d survived and God had something to do with that. So she’d searched her Bible for answers, and when she got to Lamentations 3, she’d found her life. Hayley read the words again, slowly, as though tasting each one. Bitterness and wandering. Described her then and now. But she’d found hope in God’s unfailing love. She’d failed, but He hadn’t.

What had happened to the hope she’d found back then? And now what was she thinking, to give into the dark voices so easily? She knew where to find the unfailing love she so desperately needed.

She slid off the bed onto her knees and buried her wet face in the crook of her arm. “Dear Jesus, I’m sorry. I let fear blind me to Your love and faithfulness. Forgive me, please. I do want to live. For You. Even if everything and everyone is taken away, I know You are faithful.”

Tranquility settled into Hayley’s soul as she knelt. She lifted her head and listened. No more dark whispers. A shaft of sunlight shone on her open Bible and illuminated the whole room.

Hayley stood, opened her hand, and stared. The pills were gone.