19

“Tyler. Wait. Amy, Tyler…can I have a quick word?” Chase bounded after them, making fast tracks down a private hallway that led to the parking lot.

Tyler stopped. “Yeah. I think we should. Not here, though. Come on back to the house.”

Chase nodded, looked at Pyper. She didn’t meet his eyes. Her small frame pulsed with tension. “Pyp, can I give you a ride?”

“I’m gonna go with my folks. See you at the farm.”

That gave Chase the entire half-hour ride to Franklin to stew, for steam to build. He loved the Brocks, but this was wrong. The flat-out rejection offered by each and every one of them felt in no way to Chase like the kind of thing Jesus would preach in the face of heartfelt reform. Plus, if they found it so easy to shun Mark, what kept them from shunning him? How could he ever be trusted and welcomed without reservation to the heart of their family and Pyper’s life?

He drove, steady at the wheel yet wracked by turmoil as door after door slammed shut in his face.

His emotional temperature skyrocketed right up to the moment he turned onto the gravel drive leading to the Brock’s home. He tailed Tyler’s vehicle to a graceful curve that angled directly in front of the entrance.

He parked his truck, bowed his head, and prayed with all his might because temper threatened to overwhelm, and that wouldn’t do. Pyper’s agony wrecked him. Completely and totally wrecked him. Evidently she could forgive him for his role in the reckless, shameful death of a human being as wonderful as Shayne Williams, yet she refused to acknowledge any form of hope for change within the life of her biological father. How could that possibly be the case? His mental spin increased.

No doubt Pyper was a beautiful soul, instinctively giving and kind and spirited. Certainly he understood why her fear and anger ran so deep. Despite his allegiance to Mark, he had given Pyper the necessary leeway to release twenty-years of pent-up hostility so she could come through it renewed and then release it forever.

Chase thought things over and shored his courage. The battle would be one of the toughest he had ever faced, but two pain-wracked lives—two strong-willed hearts on opposite sides of a jagged, barbed-wire fence had collided.

Maybe God could help him intercede. Perhaps God’s purpose here was to use him to help smooth the storm-tossed waters between the people he had come to love. Suddenly, instead of feeling trapped, Chase sensed a mission building.

But could he remain steady enough to see it through?

They convened in the great room. When Amy crossed the threshold, Chase watched her run gentle fingertips against the edge of the fireplace mantle, where silver-framed photos rested. For a time she lost herself in family snapshots, formal portraits of Zach, Pyper…

And within her eyes crested an ocean of sadness that twisted his stomach, because he didn’t think they were going to like what he had to say.

“Excuse me for being torn between two sides here, but I don’t think you should have treated him so harshly. Why are you painting him with the lines of a brush that’s decades old? What right do you have to do that? It’s not fair, and it’s not worthy of the people standing in this room—the one’s I’ve come to know and care for so much.”

Pyper crossed the room, headed for her mother’s side, but she drew up short and stared at Chase. Zach stood not far away, brows furrowed, arms crossed, gaze pinging from one person to the next as he visibly attempted to sort things through.

Tyler stepped into the tense and building void. “Chase, you’re right to be loyal to him. I don’t discount the ways he helped you find your way, but I need you to hear us out on this. You need to understand that—”

“No. There’s no need for an explanation. I get it. You’re all about second chances; you’re all about redemption; you’re all about that feel-good, all-encompassing word forgiveness, right up to the point when it involves someone who’s hurt you deep. Well, I know Mark far better than you, and I respect him. He worked hard to overcome. I can relate to that struggle because life forced me to walk his same walk. He’s a troubled, flawed man who tells me he’s working hard to be what he needs to be, what he wants to be. I had my doubts about his arrival, and I know how he hurt y’all. But after his witness today, after the way he accepted his cross with grace and humility, I feel he deserves a chance. Why did you lash out at him without knowing thing-one about the demons he’s slain?”

“Demons!” Pyper rounded on him. “The demons he’s slain? Chase, that man is a wrecking ball! Any demons he faced, he brought on himself!”

“Absolutely, and those demons will lurk over you as well, Pyper—over all of you—if you storm off and refuse to give him the time of day. That kind of judgment I don’t want or need. It’s toxic, unfair, and it certainly isn’t Christian.”

“Chase!”

Pyper’s cry mixed pain and anger; the realization registered then evaporated.

Temper erupting, he pressed forward through lightning strikes and storm clouds he could taste in the air. “The man you hate so much—and don’t even try to hide from that truth—is the man who helped me, and nothing but God led Mark Samuels to Nashville. If you can’t see that, then you don’t understand all the words you use about seeing His hand in our lives, and recognizing His actions, His interventions.”

Pyper’s eyes filled, and Chase rebuked the resulting stab of pain.

“That damaged man found healing; that damaged man repented and worked hard to restore himself. I’ve learned a lot from his journey, and he pulled me scratching and clawing from a black hole. I’m sorry for what he did. Truly I am.” His gaze roved Pyper’s precious face, then moved to Amy. “What he did to you and your mama is reprehensible, but you should look at who he is now.” Chase focused on Tyler and Zach as well. “All of you need to see his redemption rather than his past. He’s covered by grace. He’s loved. He’s forgiven. Right?” His gaze landed square on Pyper’s bewildered face. “Just. Like. Me.” He invaded her space. Fire burned in his chest, stirring an all-over ache as he strove to drive home his point. “Or do you believe Jesus would leave an honestly repentant man cowering in the sand, covered by sin?”

Zach launched away from the wall and stormed across the room. “You know, for all the preaching and singing we do about Christian values and living, this family is”—Zach shook his head, lips curled in disgust, green eyes dark and stormy—“completely messed up. I’m sick of trying to be perfect. I’m sick of trying to be something I’m not! I’m sick of everything. Hear?” He stormed through the front door, slamming it in vivid punctuation of his exit.

Tyler rubbed his forehead, groaning. Pyper tucked next to her mother. “You’ll never understand the damage he inflicted, Chase,” she remarked in a choked, quiet voice.

“Does that mean he can’t be transformed? Does that mean he can’t move through the wounds he bears, and the wounds he caused, to become something better? Pyper, if that’s the case, then how could you possibly believe it of me? What are we basing our relationship on exactly?”

“Chase, I’m not talking about you, and you know it.”

“But you’re being double-sided, Pyper. Don’t profess forgiveness if you don’t mean it.” Pyper was about to argue, but he cut her off. “I’m not just talking about him. I’m talking about me. Us. How can you say you forgive me the sins of my past but not even give him the time of day when he’s making a solid effort? How do you explain that?”

A laden silence snapped and crackled as dangerously as a downed electrical wire.

“I can’t believe you, you of all people, would side with him in this—and judge me to boot!”

“Once that boil of yours cools to a simmer, I want you to think about something. In what way did I ever make you feel I was judging you? I’m nowhere near qualified. Furthermore, I wouldn’t ever want the responsibility. All I wanted to do was share some wisdom I had to absorb the hard way. Take it. Or leave it.” He turned, forcing himself to disengage, even as it put a blade-tip to his heart. “I’ve overstayed my welcome, and for that I apologize. Pyper, call me when you feel like talking.”



The next morning, Pyper sat at the eat-in kitchen table, staring out the large, bay window. A golden sun just crested the distant tips of the mountains, spreading vivid rays through soft mists as it lifted into a sky of powder blue. The aroma of toasting bread—a homemade gift from Kellen’s wife, Juliet—warmed the air. Pyper stood, her mouth watering, her bare feet padding against cool ceramic tile. She crossed from the fridge to the toaster, butter tub in hand, knife at the ready.

“Something smells great.”

Her mom approached and Pyper turned in welcome. “Aunt Juliet rocks at making bread. Seriously. I’m in awe, and I’m hungry.” The toast popped, all golden and crispy. Pyper nabbed the steaming slices, dancing to the island to finish preps after she dropped two more pieces in the toaster. “Carbs are bad, but carbs are so good.”

“Preaching to the choir. Where’s the loaf? I think I’ll make some, too.”

Pyper went to work buttering. “I already have you covered. They’re toasting right now. I figured you’d want some when you smelled it. It’s like a siren call or something.”

Laughing, Amy ran gentle fingertips along the drifts of Pyper’s hair. In passing, she kissed Pyper’s cheek. “You’re the best, snug-a-bug.”

Though she’d never admit it aloud—to anyone—Pyper adored that childhood nickname, especially today, when she needed all the comfort and TLC she could find. Memories of yesterday’s explosion crowded in and she sighed, refusing delivery, returning to the table with bread in hand. “Has anybody heard from Zach?”

A crease appeared instantly across her mother’s brow. “He’s not in his room?”

“Not that I could tell. I’ll double check when I go back upstairs. I thought I heard him take off around nine o’clock or so. Maybe he went for a run or something. He stormed into the house pretty late last night.”

Her mother’s shoulders bent beneath an invisible weight. Pyper’s bitter mood hit the skids. How many times, and in how many ways, had her mother been forced to endure episodes like this and remain steady? And poor Zach was an innocent caught in the crosshairs. Pyper knew just how that felt, and she softened at once.

“Mama, I’m sure he’s OK.”

“I’m sure he is, too. Still, I need to check on him. I need to talk to him about everything that’s happened.”

With that, a figurative elephant entered the room. Straining to ignore the topic to come, Pyper devoured her toast. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw the way her mother steeled her spine before pulling bread slices from the toaster. “Have you talked to Chase since he left?”

“Nope.” Pyper looked out the window, craving avoidance. Confusion swept in from all sides. So did anger and sadness and love. Lots of love…

Silence held sway while her mom squeezed a plastic honey bottle in the shape of a bear; she added a dollop to the top of her toast. Before her mom could comment, Pyper latched on to some courage and picked up the ball.

“Mama, I’m furious at him.”

“Why, honey?”

Aghast, Pyper dropped her bread and stared. “Oh, my word. You need to ask?”

“Yeah. I want your take on all this.”

“He behaved horribly toward you and dad.”

“You knew he had a temper.”

“Maybe, but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen it in full color.”

“He spoke from love. Remember that.”

“So, you’re on his side. You think I’m awful for not running into Mark Samuels’s waiting arms and rejoicing to be reunited with a father I’ve never known, never cared to know, and spent the bulk of my life despising. Is that it?”

“Oh, Pyper, please. It’s more complicated than that, and we both know it.”

The sharp, parental tone left Pyper to wilt. She expelled a wavering breath. “I hate this, Mama. I hate having all these doubts, all this turmoil. Nothing is quite right—not with Chase, not with Mark, even my family. What am I supposed to do next? I’m at a loss right now.” She gave her mom a plaintive look. “Why couldn’t God leave well enough alone?”

“Maybe because He wants us to grow into something better than ‘well enough.’” Her mom sank onto the chair directly across the table. Reaching across the blonde pine wood, she linked their fingertips. “And all I want is for my daughter to be happy.”

The show of empathy brought a lump to her throat. “I’m trying, Mama. Promise. I’m trying to find the road ahead. The right road ahead.”

“For now, snug-a-bug, that’s enough. Trust in that. Believe in that. And, maybe this will help. As much as Mark did that was wrong, the one thing Mark and I did right was welcome you into this world. Without Mark, I wouldn’t have you. You are not a mistake. Even in that messy, sordid chapter of life, God had his hand on everything.” She leaned forward in emphasis. “He took my and Mark’s sin, forgave us, and turned it into something wonderful—you. And let me take that point one step further.” Her mom kept hold of Pyper’s hand and gave it an assuring squeeze. “At the end of the day, you don’t belong to me, you don’t belong to Tyler, you don’t belong to Mark…or even Chase. You belong to God, Pyper. So, pray. Pray hard, and ask God what He wants from all of this. Believe me, that’s what’ll bring you the most peace, and the greatest joy. Once again, voice of experience talking here.”

“Why do I get the feeling that’s not all you want to say?” Pyper frowned.

“Because you’re smart.” Her mother attempted a smile, but trouble formed a backlight to her eyes. “You need to talk to your dad.”

Pyper inhaled sharply through her nose. “He isn’t here right now, so I can’t, but I’ll certainly do so when we have our weekly dinner date at the Franklin Chop House tonight.”

Her flip answer was greeted by an arched brow and tight lips. All over again, Pyper dissolved into an emotional mess. “Mama, you’re not making this any easier.”

“Then maybe this will. I think you’re right to love Chase, past history and all.”

The comment caused Pyper to go still, and attentive.

“I have to admit, I had my doubts at first, but I’ve been forced to look at a lot of things since he entered our lives. Just like you, I’ve done a lot of thinking about what he’s dealt with in his life. You’re stung right now, Pyp, and that’s to be expected. But Chase loves you. He loves Mark, too. That leaves him split into pieces over this whole situation. Have respect for that. Maybe the end of a twenty-year-old horror story has God’s grace written all over it. Maybe God’s saying all of this needs to be laid to rest. You owe it to yourself to find out. You need to put this behind you, for once and for all. Talk to Mark, and talk to Chase, OK?”

The sliding glass doors in the family room came open and Zach burst across the threshold, ending their conversation. Dressed in shorts and a sweat-stained t-shirt, he had obviously taken out his frustrations on a run along the green trail not far from their home. Pyper gave him a wan smile that he acknowledged with nothing more than a brief nod.

Breathing hard, he paused for a few seconds to shake out his arms and stretch his legs. When he crossed through the kitchen he nabbed an apple and a banana from the wire fruit holder.

“Hey.” He grunted the word, never missing a stride as he strode out of the room.

Pyper’s heart ached. Zach needed reinforcement coping with the dramatic residue from yesterday. A disease crept its way through the fabric of the relationships she held most dear. She could heap the blame on Mark Samuels, of course. She’d even have enough left over to dish some over Chase and his hot-headed reaction after yesterday’s fiasco.

But Pyper knew her mom was right. She needed to take some ownership of the situation and move forward before matters turned worse.