Trish, a growing pile of used tissues in front of her, sat at the kitchen table with Marge and Keith.
“I’m sorry and ashamed,” she said to Keith, wiping tears from her eyes. “I played you along while I was fantasizing about Holt Douglas. Then when I found out about his past, I spent way too much time hoping he would have to pay for his sins.”
Keith looked down at the table and remained silent.
“What are you going to do next?” Marge asked.
“Crawl in a hole and not come out.”
“It will be crowded with two of us in there,” Marge said.
“That’s just it,” Trish said. “You’re trapped in that chair, but you’re more free on the inside than I am. If Daddy were alive and saw the way I’ve acted . . .”
Trish grabbed another tissue.
“He’d tell you to rise up and walk,” Marge said, then leaned forward as much as she could. “Look at me.”
Trish raised her tear-streaked face.
“Everyone who cares about you knows how stuck you’ve been since your daddy died. We’ve not been talking behind your back, but some unhealed sores can’t be hidden. The beautiful thing is that the Lord has surrounded you with people who want to see you whole and would do anything in the world to help make it happen.”
“I would,” Keith interjected. “I’d do anything for you.”
Keith’s words sent another rivulet of tears streaming down Trish’s face.
“Will you forgive me?” Trish sniffled.
Keith took a deep breath and looked directly in her face. “Yes.”
Trish reached across the table and grabbed Keith’s hand. He pulled her hand to his lips.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this—”
“No,” he interrupted. “No matter what, you’ll always be beautiful to me.”
After Keith left, Trish returned to the living room where Marge was sitting in her chair with her eyes closed. Trish moved toward her bedroom.
“We’re not finished yet,” Marge said.
Trish stopped. “What else could there be?”
“Holt Douglas has given you a chance to take a big step toward your own healing.”
“How?”
“Because if you can forgive him, it will help you forgive the boy who hit us. Trish, I love you, but what Holt said about the bitterness in your heart is true.”
Trish leaned against the entranceway to the living room. “But, Mama—” she started to say.
There was an anguish in Marge’s face that spoke louder than words.
“Okay,” Trish said in surrender. “You’re right. I’ve put that off for too long.”
“Part of your healing will be asking Holt to forgive you. You can’t take back what you’ve set in motion in his life, but you can tell him how sorry you are for doing it.”
“It will be so embarrassing, and I’m not sure he’ll even talk to me.”
“That’s all I’m going to say,” Marge said. “Listen to your heart.”
When Holt woke up, it took a couple of seconds for the events of the previous day to sink in. The sound of paws scratching the kitchen door that led out to the deck forced him out of bed. After he let Henry out, Holt slipped on a pair of jeans and brewed a pot of coffee. He was pouring the first cup when there was a loud knock on his door. He peeked through the living room window. It was Skip.
“I had to come by and see you on my way to work,” Skip said. “I was totally shocked when I heard the news. I tried to call, but your phone was turned off.”
“What did you hear? Ralph wouldn’t talk to me, so I don’t know how he spun it for the public.”
“He issued a press release that went out to all the lawyers in the circuit late yesterday afternoon. Basically, he said you lied on your employment application about potential criminal conduct in your past. According to Ralph, the district attorney’s office has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to the integrity of people enforcing the law in the Coosawattee Judicial Circuit.”
“That’s pretty much it. I can’t blame him. If you’re looking for a defamation of character case, I’m not a good prospect.”
“What’s he talking about?”
“Can you stay for a cup of coffee?”
“For you? Of course.”
Holt told Skip the full story.
“It’s been ten years,” Skip said. “The statute of limitations has run out on the charge—”
“No, I lied to the state patrol officer who interviewed me at the hospital and told him my friend was driving.”
“Ouch. That would toll the statute. However, I’m still not sure a vehicular homicide charge would stick. There wasn’t a formal investigation, and by now the evidence—”
“You sound like my lawyer, but that’s not the point, is it?”
“No, I guess not. At least Ralph doesn’t have jurisdiction. Any prosecution would be up to the DA’s office in your hometown since that’s where the accident occurred. All Ralph can do is embarrass you, and you can bet there will be an article in the local paper this afternoon.”
Holt winced. The public humiliation was just beginning.
“Oh, and Ralph put out the word that he’s already working on a replacement—Sheriff Blackstone’s nephew. It looks like our local DA and sheriff are burying the political hatchets.”
“At least something good will come out of this for Ralph.”
Skip took a sip of coffee. “It won’t get him my vote. Have you talked to Angelina?”
“She knows about my past but not the job.”
“How do you think she’ll react?”
“I don’t know.”
“I hope it’s better than Mr. Spratt. As soon as the e-mail from Ralph landed in his in-box, he came down to my office and ordered me not to discuss future employment at the firm with you.”
It wasn’t surprising news, but it nevertheless stung.
“Sure,” Holt replied, trying not to sound hurt. “I appreciate you stopping by.”
“Hey, we’re solid. I did tons of stupid stuff growing up. Just nothing—” Skip stopped.
Holt finished the thought. “That ended up with your best friend dead.”