16

The steady rumble of the truck engine soothed Chase’s troubled mind. The rhythm and jostle of the ride from Kellen’s office to the soon-to-be inaugurated Reach branch just a couple miles away afforded him the opportunity to pray. When he angled to a stop and parked to the left of the building, it occurred to Chase that his appeals to heaven centered not so much on Mark, or Pyper, or even the will of his own heart. Rather, he dug as deep as he could, begging God to take his upcoming actions, meager though they might be, and make good use of them.

The rehab center was housed in a flat, squat facility wedged between a pair of taller office buildings. Chase strode through a set of double glass doors. Behind a frosted glass reception desk emblazoned with the words Reach North, a stout, middle-aged woman with weathered features busied herself unpacking supplies from a banker-box on the floor at her feet. Her kind-eyed gaze earned Chase’s nod of greeting and a smile.

“G’afternoon. I’m here to see Mark Samuels.”

“Mr. Bradington, right? He told me to expect you. He’s in the first office to the right, straight ahead.”

“Great. Thank you, ma’am.”

At the threshold of Mark’s office, Chase stopped and shored up his strength. Mark’s back was to the door as he dropped a few squares of sticky notes, some paper clips and pens into an open desk drawer, whistling quietly.

Now…or never.

Chase walked inside. “Hey, Mark.”

“Chase.” Focused on the task of assembling his office, Mark hardly broke stride, but he tossed Chase a glance accompanied by a lopsided grin. “Your call couldn’t have come at a better time. Heaven knows I could use some muscle.” Mark tossed legal pads and a batch of manila folders into a side drawer then turned in full. “Or, if you’d rather, you can help me put a few nails in the wall and make this place look a little less antiseptic—”

Their eyes met and Mark’s conversational track came to a halt. He went still. It didn’t surprise Chase any that his sponsor could read the meaning behind tense shoulders and a stiff, edgy attitude. Chase also didn’t bother to acknowledge Mark’s opening comments, which was just about unheard of.

A split second passed between them, silent yet full of unspoken recognitions that Chase sensed in full—sorrow, guilt, regret, leagues of sadness. He watched Mark pull himself together, and wondered if there were times like this when even battle-hardened life counselors needed to pause and remember the fundamental truth that no one entered eternity without being tested.

The idea left Chase with much to think about.

Mark cleared vulnerability and any form of personal emotion from his features by relaxing his stance and the tight line of his jaw. He looked steady into Chase’s eyes, but a tell-tale throb against the base of Mark’s throat told Chase everything he needed to know.

“You seem out of sorts. Everything OK?”

“No. Not really. I need to talk to you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Rule one, Chase? Face life square. Same goes for what you feel. Face it and deal. Untended emotions are like weeds. They overwhelm, then consume. Be open, be true to who you are, then hold fast and withstand the storm.

With no difficulty whatsoever, Chase called on the memory of those words from Mark—his most trusted ally. It took only seconds for Chase to be swept into the hours upon hours they had spent together in therapy while Mark taught, molded, uplifted, and helped Chase emerge from ruin.

At one point, Chase had thought his exit from recovery would be the end of the battle. He knew now that wasn’t the case—at all. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for what was about to happen, but all the same an ache built at the center of his chest. He needed to catch his breath before he launched into a confrontation. He needed to tread lightly, do the Christian thing and give Mark time to explain, but he refused to flinch from Mark’s unyielding gaze.

Chase finally broke their stare-down and took in the small, bright space Mark would call home at Reach. “The place is shaping up.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“Like all of life.”

“Now, that’s a profound statement.” Mark guffawed, forcing a wedge of humor into the stilted moment.

Chase bypassed the banter and hefted a framed picture of a dangerous looking precipice painted by golden sunlight that featured the words: ‘Take the leap. When you do, one of two things will happen – you’ll either fly on God’s wind, or He’ll catch you if you fall. The irony left him somewhat dazed.

“That piece of artwork seems to have caught your attention.” Mark cut in. “Hammer and nails are in the corner, on top of that stack of boxes. Hang it wherever you want. What did you want to talk about?”

Silence held sway while Chase gauged hanging spots for the photograph. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“About how little I really know about you.”

When Chase glanced his way, Mark offered nothing but a shrug.

“Do I remember you saying once you came from Michigan?” Chase turned his back, angled toward the supplies Mark had indicated.

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago. I grew up there. That’s quite a conversation starter. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Suburban Detroit, right? St. Clair Shores?” Chase eyeballed a spot on the wall, hammered a nail into place.

Mark moved in, surrendering pretense. His brows furrowed, he tapped a ruler against the palm of his hand. “That’s right. Why the sudden interest in my past? I’m the one who’s supposed to be looking out for you, not the other way around, right?”

“Like I said, I’m curious about your background. I got to wondering what’d prompt you to move from South Carolina to Tennessee. To Nashville in particular.” Chase hung and finessed the angle of the picture then refocused his attention on Mark. A dangerous circuit of energy, sizzling and electric, surged through the atmosphere. Chase combated the current by leaning against the wall, waiting a couple of beats, but all the while he stepped closer and closer to the edge of that canyon and made ready to fly—or fall—into the hands of God. Diplomacy ruptured into directness. “Did you come back for Pyper? And Amy?”

Mark dropped the ruler on his desk; its clatter vibrated through the atmosphere like gunshots. He hefted his chin and looked Chase straight in the eyes. Then he nodded. “You found out. I wondered when you would.”

“Do you like hiding?”

“Actually, I don’t like it at all. And I don’t like being judged, Chase. You don’t know the half of what I’m all about, so you best be careful. Let’s keep that straight from the get-go. Hear?”

“Don’t counsel me, Mark. Not now. Not after what you’ve done. Not after the way you’re sliding into town like a snake, not even announcing yourself or allowing the people who’ll be most affected by your presence to have a chance to brace and deal with the upcoming implosion.”

Mark’s features fell, emphasizing the tired groves around his eyes. “How did you find out?”

“From my agent, if that matters. Evidently a reporter corralled Pyper today with all kinds of questions and innuendo about you and your daughter and your ex-wife.”

“So, they know I’m here.”

“I don’t know about the rest of her family, but Pyper sure does, and I would imagine she’s filled them in.”

“Chase, I don’t intend to hurt her. I don’t intend to hurt any of them. Just the opposite. All I want is—”

“Well, you’re too late on that count.” A surge of adrenaline crested through Chase’s body. “The hurt already happened. That nosey little ink slinger blindsided Pyper during a breakfast interview because she uncovered the sordid family history along with a connection between you and me and my stint at Reach. She wants fodder for her scandal sheet—the juicier the better—and she found just what she was after, a life-rocking story she can twist and spin into dirt about a good, decent family.”

“A good, decent group of people, Chase. I’m not the villain here.”

“From where I sit, that’s exactly what you are!”

“Step back and think about what you’re saying. I haven’t done anything wrong coming to Nashville. In spite of my past, I have the right to live my life as I see fit. I’ve got some goodness and decency to me, too. We all do. You haven’t lost sight of that fact, have you?”

Diving his fingers through his hair, Chase met Mark’s gaze. “So, the truth is Amy Brock was your wife. She married you and together you had Pyper.”

“That almost covers it, but life is never that cut-and-dry, now is it?”

“All right then. Explain it to me. Help me understand.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, and Chase could almost see the man tumble into the realm of an ugly past. “Amy was pregnant with my child when we came to the tail end of high school. Those were the days, Chase. Once upon a time, I was a gifted basketball player. I was the team captain in high school aiming for some kind of scholarship and the means to a better life, the means to keep some kind of adulation going. I know now that basketball was secondary to what I really craved. Acceptance. Acclaim. Affirmation. All those ‘A’ words that mess with your head in such big ways.”

Like fame as a singer. Of course, Mark didn’t say the words, but Chase sensed that warning in Mark’s an otherwise steady tone. Chase firmed his lips, tightened his shoulders and delivered a narrow-eyed stare. He waited and bristled.

“Amy was the sweetest thing.” Mark propped a hip against the edge of an aged but sturdy wooden desk. “Gorgeous, innocent, a conquest worth the battle—and she was mine. Completely. I looked at her like a possession and worked my way past every one of her morals. Every one of her beliefs. We made love, and my every intention was to wish her well at the end of summer and move on to a life of bliss.”

Like so many high-school romances, Chase figured, if you could even refer to them as such.

“Anyway, late spring came to life. Graduation—freedom—lay just around the corner. That’s when she met me at my house. She could barely talk, but somehow she got the words out. She told me she was pregnant.”

“So, you married her.”

“Yep. Not out of love. Out of duty. I had no choice. It was what I felt I had to do. At first, marriage was OK. A friend of mine hooked me up with a job on an assembly line at an auto plant. I earned enough money to land us in an apartment, and Amy worked part-time for as long as she could.”

“Then?”

“Then Pyper was born, and Amy wanted to be a mother. Everything was up to me. The responsibility weighed heavy. I had dreams back then. I had big goals and ambitions. But instead of dreams, I woke up every day to a wife and a daughter and a home to maintain. Shackles and chains. Day in and day out I was forced to deal with the fact that their welfare depended on me. Resentment didn’t just grow, it took me over. I hated everything about my life. Liquor became a crutch. It helped me escape. It soothed the rage, or so I thought. As you know full well, the numbness wears off and before long, you’re looking for more. For different. For relief.”

“But—”

“No buts. Hear me out.” Spinning away, Mark basically collapsed onto the rolling chair behind his desk. Squeaks filled space for a moment. “Liquor didn’t work anymore. Not all by itself. Everything escalated. I was out of control. I needed more. I needed escape. That’s when I discovered gambling. I hit it lucky a few times at the local casino and like a fool I figured I could beat the system. That led to debt, to more stress, to more resentment. Once that piled up, all these hot, angry pin-pricks came alive, eating at me, making me think things, feel things, do things, I’d never dream of had I been functioning in a sane state of mind.” He paused, peered at Chase while he leaned forward on his knees. “Do you know that tune?”

Chase answered that forthright question with a glower; he brimmed with revulsion. “No. That tune isn’t familiar to me at all. Never—ever—did I hit a child, or a woman. Nor would I. As you know better than most, I was content to ruin myself instead.”

“Oh. I see. So, you think your actions haven’t hurt those around you? Those who care about you? Think again. Voice of experience here. You don’t need fists and hands and shouts and temper to cause severe damage, Chase. Think that over.”

Think it over? How flippant, bordering on self-righteous. This was the man from whom Pyper had escaped as a child with angry scars bubbled across her heart and distrust simmering through her spirit. That was wrong, a sin in need of punishment, yet Mark returned, as though bent on wreaking more havoc.

“So what you’re trying to tell me is this arrival of yours is some kind of an attempted do-over? Some kind of make good? Do you honestly believe they’ll grant you a fresh start like that?”

Mark flexed his jaw and glared. “I’m praying for grace. I owe myself, and Pyper, nothing less than the effort of trying to rebuild what’s been broken. I’ll make something else clear, since you’re involved directly. It doesn’t matter to me if I retain your trust or not. I’m going to do what I need to do. You won’t stop me.”

“Hurt her, and I will, and you’ll need a whole lot more than a fresh start if you do, Mark.” Chase growled the words. “Pyper is scarred by you, but she's bright, and beautiful. She’s vibrant. Passionate. You missed all that. You messed it up. You hit a defenseless child. How could you, and why? What’d she ever do to you? I can’t get my head around such a thing.”

Chase designed his words to hurt. He knew they painted pictures that would ram home the damage Mark had done. His words also lashed wicked gouges across the terrain of their friendship—and the layers of trust Mark had mentioned. Right now, he didn’t even care.

“You’re right. And, God alone knows what I've missed.”

“No. Not just God. Pyper does, too. And so do Tyler and Amy.”

Mark straightened and squared his shoulders. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I left South Carolina. I want to lay down permanent roots in Tennessee. I want to make amends. That’s been my hope, my solitary prayer, for close to two decades. Believe it. Don’t believe it. I couldn’t care less. I know what’s true.”

Chase clenched his jaw, remained silent for a time behind a flinty-eyed stare. “Those are pretty words, Mark, but I still can’t believe this. The only thing that keeps me from knocking you into tomorrow is the fact that you're not the same man you were then.”

“No, I'm not. I changed. I received a new life by nothing more than God’s hand. That change is real. Just like yours. Consider that before you spend too much time condemning me. That’s all I ask. I left Michigan for South Carolina where I found a job and the means to clean myself up. I landed at a facility where I could disappear and heal and grow. I found my truest self in the heart of the mountains. I forced myself clean and found my way home. I didn’t end up in your pathway because I’m some kind of angel, Chase. That’s been clear from the start. I’m just the opposite. I wrecked lives with careless abandon because I valued the power of amber fuel, freedom and power above everything else—even the love of my family—the love of my child, and a good woman.”

“So when exactly were you going to spring this on her? At the benefit? In front of TV cameras and media types with microphones and recorders? Were you going to out yourself as her father then?”

“Would you please trust me on this? I wouldn’t think of disgracing her that way. I plan to see her before the start of the event. That way we can have a few private words, and, yeah, the venue might force her to be still for just a few minutes and simply listen to me. I don’t want to reveal myself publicly before we have a chance to talk, but the details are up to God alone.”

Chase rested in a silence that calmed the air between them. “Why didn’t you tell me about her? That day at your apartment—when I found that tabloid—why didn’t you come clean?”

“Why would I? What business would it be of yours what I choose to do with regard to my daughter and my desire to make amends?”

Chase gestured widely, astounded. “Gee, I dunno…maybe because you’re the one who’s always professed an interest in social feeds and keeping up on my career. What an error of evasion! What a lie! You’re like Adam and Eve hiding in the tall grass, cowering in a space between knowledge and guilt and shame, thinking God won’t see you.”

Mark’s eyes glinted, and turned hard as stone. “God sees everything about me, Chase, the good and the bad. I’m warning you once more not to judge.”

“But you knew from the start I was involved with Pyper. We even talked about her. You knew I had feelings for her. All along, you couldn't find ten seconds in a day to tell me she was your daughter?”

“That’s right. Like I said, this has nothing to do with you, Chase. This is between me and Pyper.”

Chase snarled and shook his head. “That's where you're wrong. Your connection to Pyper became my business the minute I found my way into her life.” He clenched his jaw then shook his head all over again. “Finally my dreams were sweet. Finally life was good. Full. Because of her. Because Pyper looked at me with trust. With belief. She let go of what you put her through and allowed herself to be open with me in spite of all my mistakes. I treasure that gift more than I can ever say. I want her to love me freely. Now, I’m not so sure that can happen.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I’m trapped between the two of you, and I share your history of addiction. But know this. I vow to be there, at her side, holding her up, no matter what. If it’s a choice between you and her, she wins. End of story.”

“Or maybe the beginning, depending on your point of view. Regardless, what the two of you share doesn’t change a thing about me and what I need to do. So, do what you promise. Be there for her. Love her. Love that girl well.” His chin quaked. Chase watched as Mark clenched his jaw in rebellion to that reaction.

Chase paced the narrow confines of the office then rounded on him. “You know what? Don’t speak rehab lingo to me anymore. I’m finding it intolerable coming from you right now. Furthermore, I will not let you rip the carpet from under her feet again.”

“Understood, but I meant what I said. I don’t intend to hurt her.”

Chase let out a sound that crossed between a growl and a roar. “If I were a different man, I swear—” he balled his hands into fists, barely controlling the rage that burst through his body. “I want to flatten you, but at the same time, I want to honor the person I loved and trusted for months during the worst episode of my life. How do I handle that contradiction, Mark?”

Emotions pouring free, he rushed on. “You struck that beautiful girl in anger, in misguided fits of drunken temper. You stole irreplaceable pieces of her innocence and trust by shoving her and her mama out of their home for no other reason than meanness and spite. I had no control over any of this, but the ramifications are killing me. Through no fault of my own, I’m going to have to do something I swore up and down I’d never do.”

“Which is?”

Chase looked him in the eyes and absorbed a fresh eruption of pain and turmoil. “The fact that she’s involved with me is going to throw her into the middle of her worst nightmare—an unavoidable confrontation with her estranged biological father. Because of my ties to you, her heart is about to get broken.”