But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love
is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—
with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.
Psalm 103:17–18 (NIV)
The Spring Residence
4232 Brook Lane
Winwood, Texas
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Standing in front of her great-granddaughter’s brick home with her husband, Randle, in her Sunday best, Sweet Alyce smoothed her white-gloved hands over her bluish-green dress, her white hair covered with a decorative white hat. “How do I look?”
In denim overalls, with a white button-down shirt, Randle smiled, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Like a woman on a mission.”
“I am,” she said.
“Let’s just hope all goes well,” Randle said. “Especially since we’re blindsiding the girl, showing up on her doorstep unannounced and uninvited. She might kick us out.”
“If she’s anything like her mom, Daiana, she’ll at least hear us out,” Sweet Alyce said. “That’s common courtesy and Southern hospitality.” She sent up a silent prayer. Lord, please give us favor and work all this together for our good because we love You, and we’re called according to Your purpose. Finally, she reached out her hand and rang the doorbell.
“We’re coming!” a man said.
Suddenly, the front door opened, and there stood a white man, about six feet tall, with light-brown eyes and sandy-brown hair stylishly cut, in a dark green shirt and khaki pants, holding two four-year-old olive-tan boys with chocolate brown hair and hazel—brownish-green—eyes, one wearing a pale green plaid button-down shirt and beige pants and the other one wearing a yellow plaid button-down shirt and beige pants.
Instantly, Sweet Alyce knew in her heart these identical twins were her great-great-grandchildren, and she couldn’t wait to get to know them better.
“Hello?” the man said, looking curiously at her and Randle. “May I help you?”
Sweet Alyce took the initiative and spoke on behalf of herself and Randle. “You’re Brolin Spring—Francesca Palmer’s husband, right?”
“Yes,” he said, lines on his forehead. “Who are you?”
“Family,” Sweet Alyce said. “I’m Sweet Alyce, and this is my husband, Randle. We’re from Evergrace, Texas. We knew and practically raised Francesca’s mother, Daiana, while she lived in Evergrace. More than that, we’re Francesca’s and her sister Faith’s biological great-grandparents on their birth father’s side. He’s our eldest grandson—Elissandro Everall Evergrace, but most people call him Eli.”
“Elissandro Evergrace, the preacher?”
Sweet Alyce nodded. “He was Daiana’s childhood friend and first love.”
Brolin’s eyes got big, round, too, and he hugged his sons closer to him. “He’s Francesca’s dad?”
“That’s right,” Sweet Alyce said. “He didn’t find out until he received Daiana’s letter, eleven years after she had died.” She opened her white purse, then pulled out a copy of the letter Daiana had written to Elissandro. “Here’s a copy of the letter. You’re welcome to read it and pass it on to Francesca if she chooses not to speak to us directly today.”
Brolin shifted his sons in his arms, then lowered them to the ground before grabbing the letter, quickly scanning it while blocking the entrance into the house and letting Sweet Alyce and Randle stand patiently and quietly on the front porch.
Finally, Randle reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out two sticks of gum in green wrappers. “May I give your sons some gum?” he asked Brolin.
Brolin glanced up. “That’s fine,” he said. “Their names are Jacob and Jonah. They are four, and they love gum.”
“Here you go, little ones.” Randle unwrapped the gum and handed it to the boys.
“Thank you,” Jacob and Jonah said, smiling, then plopping the gum in their mouths before laying their heads against their father’s legs.
Brolin folded the letter, then exhaled. “This is incredible! Francesca has an entire family she knows nothing about. She’s definitely going to be shocked. Her entire life, she’s only known one man to be her dad—Copeland Palmer.”
“Is she home?” Sweet Alyce asked.
“Unfortunately, she’s at the news station, working through the night,” Brolin said. “She likely won’t make it home until eleven o’clock. But that’s probably for the best, so I can speak to her first, softening the blow.”
Sweet Alyce wasn’t going to be easily deterred. She came to see her great-granddaughter, and that’s exactly what she was going to do. “Young man, I’m one hundred years old, and my husband Randle is one hundred and two years old, and neither one of us takes time for granted, and we’re not about to start now. So, here’s what’s going to happen, at least tonight. You’re going to phone your wife and let her know that she’s got company staying for dinner and staying overnight. If Randle and I have to camp on this front porch, we will, and that’s not an idle threat. That’s the truth.”
Brolin frowned. “You’re not leaving?”
“Absolutely not! So, you might as well let us inside so I can fatten you and my great-great-grandsons up with a great home-cooked meal, and we can all get better acquainted until Francesca returns home.”
Brolin tucked the letter into his pocket, then shifted, stepping aside so Sweet Alyce and Randle could enter the foyer. Suddenly, he stopped, his eyes on Sweet Alyce and Randle. “Doesn’t Elissandro Evergrace already have a daughter who has seven kids?”
“That’s right!” Sweet Alyce said. “Her name is Freedom, and she’s your wife’s twin sister, Faith.”
Brolin’s jaw dropped. “She’s alive?”
Sweet Alyce nodded. “She’s been in the witness protection program since she was sixteen, so she’s been living with a new identity—a new name, but she’s still Francesca’s sister, and my goal is to get them back together so they can mend what’s broken between them and find closure and healing.”
He combed fingers through his sandy-brown hair. “This is a lot to take in, even for me, and I can imagine how Francesca will react. For years, she’s blamed her sister Faith for the death of their mother and for the destruction of their family. She’s hardly ever had a good word to say about her twin sister, and now, you’re telling me that Faith Palmer is the infamous Evergrace Daughter and highly sought-after photojournalist, Freedom Forrester-Evergrace, and she’s the mother of the Evergrace Septuplets.”
“Yes, on all counts,” Sweet Alyce said.
With Jacob and Jonah at his sides, Brolin escorted Sweet Alyce and Randle to the living room, and then they all sat down on the leather sofa. Sweet Alyce held her purse in her lap, and Randle covered her hands with his.
“Our grandson has his sixty-third birthday next week, on January the twelfth,” Randle said, “the same day as Sweet and I celebrate our eighty-seventh wedding anniversary. To commemorate the events, we’re hosting a celebration at The Alyce Family Farm, and we would love for you, Francesca, Jacob, and Jonah to attend.”
Brolin pulled the boys into his lap. “Is that all you want—our attendance, or do you really want Francesca to reconcile with her sister and accept Elissandro Evergrace as her biological dad?”
Sweet Alyce met his brown-eyed stare. “She needs to accept the truth, that Eli is just as much her dad as Copeland Palmer, and she needs to be reconciled to her sister—her twin. That child had no part in her mother’s death, so Francesca has no right to hold a grudge, blaming her for it. The only culprits were D’Santos Fears and Davelle Spight, and God willing, justice will be served, and they will pay the price for it.”
Sweet Alyce cleared her throat, slid her hand from beneath Randle’s, and then stood up. “Now, if you would, please direct me to the kitchen so I can see about whipping up a good home-cooked meal for you, Jacob, Jonah, and Francesca.”
Brolin lifted Jacob and Jonah, then lowered them to the leather sofa. “You don’t have to cook for us,” he said, standing. “We’ve got plenty of leftovers in the fridge.”
“Don’t argue with her,” Randle said. “Just do what she says, and you’ll have a better evening.”
Brolin exhaled loudly, audibly. “All right! I’ll show you to the kitchen but don’t say I didn’t warn you when Francesca gets home and refuses to eat because she just got blindsided with the news that she has a father she’s never met and a sister that she wants to forget.” He stood up and then led the way to the spacious kitchen. Sweet Alyce grabbed an apron from the pantry door, already dreaming up the perfect meal.
After Brolin left the kitchen, Sweet Alyce sent up another prayer. Lord, please pave the way for us to reach and reconcile with Francesca. Please soften her heart toward us and let her receive the news of her father and her sister well. Remove all bitterness, anger, resentment, envy, unforgiveness, unbelief, and jealousy from her heart; give us the right words to say so her ears will be inclined toward us. Lord, above all, let Your Holy Spirit correct and convict her, and Your everlasting love overwhelm and consume her from this day forward.
After her prayer, Sweet Alyce got busy preparing the best meal she had to offer for a great-granddaughter she couldn’t wait to meet and love. Occasionally, Randle would sneak a peek into the kitchen to see how she was doing, but she would always chase him away, telling him to stay with Brolin, Jacob, and Jonah until the food was ready.
Finally, after everything was done and the air was saturated with the smell of soul food wrapped in the aroma of family love, Sweet Alyce pulled off the apron and hung it back on the pantry door. She called Brolin, Jacob, Jonah, and Randle to the dining room table, which she had already set.
Brolin sat down, his light-brown eyes wide, as he looked at all the food on his plate. “This is great, absolutely amazing!” he said. “We usually don’t eat this well unless we’re dining out at a restaurant.”
“That’s because this is the microwave generation—full of instant gratification,” Sweet Alyce said. “Most of what you get then is fast food, instant meals, or frozen dinners.”
Jonah pointed to his plate. “What’s all this?”
Sweet Alyce smiled at him. “Honey, those are black-eyed peas, cabbage, hot-water cornbread, meat loaf, green beans, mustard greens, and mashed potatoes, and if you have room left after eating all of that, you’ll get a slice of chocolate meringue pie for dessert.”
“I like chocolate!” Jacob said.
“Before you dig in, though,” Randle said, “we’ve got to give thanks to God so He can bless this food. So, please, bow your heads and close your eyes.” He lowered his head, and so did Brolin, Jacob, and Jonah.
Sweet Alyce did the same, bowing her head and closing her eyes.
Randle gave God thanks for their food, then asked that He would bless it for the nourishment of their bodies and that He would bless those who partook of this meal as well. Finally, he said, “Amen, so be it,” and he concluded, clapping his hands.
Sweet Alyce opened her eyes and then grabbed her fork, ready to eat, when all of a sudden, she heard the front door open and close. Then, before she knew it, there was a stunningly tall and beautiful young woman standing at the arched entrance, with unblemished light-brown skin, hazel eyes, long dark-brown hair spilling over her shoulders, wearing a beige overcoat, a white draping blouse, a silver chain belt, beige pants, and black knee-length boots.
“Brolin, who are these people, and what’s going on?” she asked.
Brolin stood up, smiling. “Francesca, you’re home early!”
She shrugged off her beige overcoat, then laid it on the back of a nearby chair. “You didn’t answer either of my questions. Who are these people, and what’s going on?”
He walked briskly toward her, then put his hand on her arm. “Let me introduce you to Sweet and Randle Alyce from Evergrace, Texas. They’re the grandparents of Elissandro Evergrace, and they’re our guests for the night.”
Francesca’s hazel eyes grew round and big, and her mouth dropped open. “You’re both related to Elissandro Evergrace—the wealthy entrepreneur and the preacher of that megachurch, The Tree of Life Community Worship Center?”
“He’s our eldest grandson,” Sweet Alyce said. “That’s not all either: Eli and your mother, Daiana, were childhood friends, then high school sweethearts.”
Francesca frowned. “His nickname is Eli?”
Sweet Alyce nodded. “That’s what Danny called him, Eli, and he called her Twink and Twinkle.”
Tears welled in Francesca’s eyes. “Faith was right, wasn’t she?”
Brolin pulled Daiana’s letter from his pocket and handed it to Francesca. “Sweet Alyce brought a copy of the letter your mom wrote to Elissandro Evergrace, which he didn’t receive until eleven years after her death.”
Francesca took the letter, then unfolded it, and silently read it, with tears leaving tracks down her face. “So, Elissandro Evergrace is our birth dad.”
“That’s right,” Sweet Alyce said. “Randle and I are your great-grandparents too.”
Francesca looked up from the letter, her tear-filled eyes directly on Sweet Alyce. “Faith found him, didn’t she? She’s been with him all this time as the Evergrace Daughter, hasn’t she?”
“After your mom’s funeral, Faith was placed in the witness protection program with a military family, and they lived overseas, in Japan, but she enlisted in the military after she turned eighteen and became a photojournalist. It was only after her discharge from the military and return to the States that she eventually ended up in Evergrace, where she met Elissandro and discovered that he was her long-lost dad. Since then, she’s been living with him in the manor he had built for Daiana—Wintergrace.”
Francesca lowered the letter to her side, then dried the tears with her fingers. “She changed her name, too, didn’t she?”
“That’s right,” Sweet Alyce said. “Her full name is Freedom Faith Forrester-Evergrace.”
Francesca laughed. “That’s my sister, then—the elusive and camera-shy Evergrace Daughter with the infamous and often guarded Evergrace Septuplets.”
“That’s them.”
“When we were kids, Faith was always talking about saving herself for marriage to some blue-eyed boy she kept running into, first on stage at the Cheerwell Twin Festival and later as a ballroom dance partner at the Spirit of Dance Studio. Now, she’s the single mother of seven kids, all under the age of ten.” She gasped, then covered her mouth.
Brolin touched her arm. “What is it?”
She lowered her hand, her eyes wide. “That police officer who came to see me, his name was Justice Shield. And he said he had come from the Spirit of Dance Studio asking about Faith. He’s got blue eyes, just like Faith’s mystery boy.”
“You think he’s your sister’s first love?” Brolin asked.
“He’s more than her first love,” Francesca said. “He’s the father of her seven kids.” She looked between Sweet Alyce and Randle. “Isn’t that right?”
Sweet Alyce smiled. “You’re just like your mother—one smart lady, and you’re right about Justice Shield being your sister’s first love and the father of her children. Of course, neither of them knew the truth until quite recently. So, maybe one day, when you and your sister actually reunite and reconcile, you can get her to confide in you and tell you what’s really been going on in her life all these years.”
“You might as well pull out a chair, have a seat, and join us for dinner,” Randle said. “This is my wife’s home cooking, and she made it all as a labor of love for you, our newest great-granddaughter.”
“He’s right,” Brolin said. “Sweet Alyce has been in the kitchen for a while, and it would be a shame to let all of this food go to waste.”
“As we eat, we can also talk,” Sweet Alyce said. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions for Randle and me, if not about Eli and your sister, then at least about your mother, Daiana. As I was telling your husband, Danny was Eli’s childhood friend and high school sweetheart, and she spent more time at our family farm than she did in her grandparents’ house. So, we’ve got plenty of good stories and plenty of family photos.”
“All right!” Francesca said. “I’ll sit down and eat with you.” She slid the letter into the pocket of her overcoat, then she walked to the table and sat down between Jonah and Brolin.
Sweet Alyce stood up, went to the kitchen, fixed Francesca’s plate, and then came back and placed the plate in front of her. “Enjoy!”
Sweet Alyce sat down and thanked the Lord silently before eating.
After dinner, Francesca let Brolin walk upstairs to get Jacob and Jonah ready for bed while she, Sweet Alyce, and Randle spent time together in the living room, just talking.
She was amazed that both Sweet Alyce and Randle had reached the milestone of one hundred years, and she was fascinated with their stories about the Barn Chapel and the Grandma and Grandpa Ministry from The Alyce Family Farm. “This would make a great feel-good, human-interest story,” Francesca said, seemingly excited. “You’re both in your hundreds, and you’re feeding, counseling, comforting, and ministering to college students and young adults. That’s just the kind of news people need these days.”
Randle merely grinned, then pulled a stick of gum from his overall pocket. “Care for some gum?” he asked Francesca.
“Sure.” She removed the wrapper and plopped the gum into her mouth. “When we were younger, Faith and I loved bubble gum,” she said. “Mom would always have some on hand, and we would have bubble-gum popping competitions, especially when we were sitting in the backseat of the car, both of us bored out of our minds.” She smiled. “Naturally, I was the bubble-gum popping queen, and that’s about the only thing I did better than Faith: make, then pop bubbles.”
“Were you jealous of your sister?” Sweet Alyce asked.
“I was more envious of her resemblance to and relationship with our mom than jealous of anything she had that I didn’t,” Francesca said. “She and Mom acted more like twins than she and I did, and Mom confided more in Faith than she did me, even when we were teenagers. She even gave Faith the Evergrace guitar, which I’m assuming your grandson gave her when they were younger.”
Sweet Alyce touched Francesca’s arm. “Your mother loved you, just like she loved your sister, and she wouldn’t want you separated because of her. Neither would she want you blaming your sister for her death.”
Tears spilled from Francesca’s eyes. “I miss her.”
“So does your sister; that’s why you two need to cling to each other. So you can both heal.” She stared her square in the face. “Here’s the truth too: You can’t call yourself a true follower of Jesus Christ and say you love Him, God, if you hate your own sister and wish her ill will, even death.”
Francesca dried the tears with her fingers. “I don’t want her dead.”
“What do you want, then?”
“Peace.”
Sweet Alyce smiled. “That’s exactly what your sister wants too—peace. So you at least have that in common.”
Randle leaned forward. “Sweet Alyce and I have an invitation for you, and we’re hoping you’ll put aside all the anger, resentment, bitterness, envy, hurt, and jealousy from the past and accept our invitation in the spirit in which it’s given.”
Francesca glanced from Sweet Alyce to Randle. “What is it?”
Randle pulled a white and gold envelope from his overall pocket, then reached it to Francesca, and she accepted it and carefully opened it.
Silently, she read the invitation, then looked up, first at Randle, then at Sweet Alyce. “You’re inviting me and my family to the celebration for your wedding anniversary and your grandson’s birthday?”
“That’s right!” Randle said. “You’re family, and you have as much right to be there as anybody else.”
“But what do I call you?” she asked. “What do I call him?”
“Everybody calls me Sweet Alyce,” she said. “They call my husband Grandpa Randle. As far as what to call Elissandro, you’ll need to pray on that and let the Good Lord lead you.”
“What do you call the man who raised you?” Randle asked.
“Deacon.”
“Have you ever called him dad?” he asked.
“Not since I was little.”
“Who made you stop?”
“He did.”
“What do your younger brothers and sister call him?”
“Dad or Daddy.”
“So, what’s the difference between you and them?” Randle asked.
Francesca shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it, not until now,” she said. “Faith was the one who always noticed things like that. She’s the one who always said Deacon was making differences between us and the other kids, that he was the one pitting us against each other.”
“That’s because he wasn’t treating her like his daughter, like family, but like an outsider,” Randle said. “So tell me this: Who or what really separated you from your sister all those years ago?”
“He did.”
“Who?”
“Deacon.”
“How long have you known him as a father?”
“All my life.”
Randle pursed his lips. “That should tell you something about the quality of the man and the heart of the father, then.”
“How long has Faith known Elissandro Evergrace?” Francesca asked.
“Six years.”
“That’s not long.” Francesca frowned, her forehead furrowed. “What does she call him?”
“Dad.”