It was three o’clock in the morning and, as usual, Lisa Miller could not sleep. The amber glow of her clock radio cast gloomy shadows in her bedroom. These shadows danced across the ceiling, changing shape whenever the clock updated the time. The reflection of the time and date being projected upon her ceiling had become an interesting metaphor of her life over the past five months. Watching the date blinking on the ceiling, Lisa pondered to herself, “Has it really been only one month since I was found not guilty of murdering my father?”
Frustrated at not being able to sleep, Lisa made the mistake of looking over at the stack of newspapers setting on her dresser. Five months of articles exposing every ugly detail of her life. Having read every one of them dozens of times, there was no need for her to retrieve them because they were now emblazoned in her mind. Against everyone’s advice, she had ordered copies of all the back issues published while she was in jail. To these, she had added all the current newspapers with articles about how the prosecutor in her case was now being taken before a peer review board for his unethical behavior during her murder trial.
The articles chronicled every foolish decision she had ever made in her life and they beckoned her back into the shadowy world of what if. What if she had done this instead of that? What if the prison had warned her they were releasing her father as the courts had ordered them to do? What if she had taken that weekend trip Gladys had talked about? What if her daughter, Hope, had not chosen that night to come looking for her birth mother? What if?
Lisa turned away from the dresser, refusing to take the long journey down the path of what if again. Pleading with God to help her control her destructive thoughts, she prayed, “Lord, You know I spent years wishing I had never been born and blaming You for all of it. But now, at forty years of age, there are parts of my life I would never change—even if I could. Since I don’t get to pick and choose which parts I would keep and which parts I would erase, I have to learn how to incorporate all of these segments of my life into one, now that it is safe to do so.
“God, I really am thankful my murder trial forced me to face it all. Ashamed of so much of my life, I felt the only way to survive was to lock away my secrets and just live in the present. I always looked at my life as three separate and distinct parts; my brutal childhood, my foolish and destructive youth, and finally my wonderful redemption. Even though I knew You had forgiven me, I was afraid to tell anyone about my baby girl. I had given her away and wanted to leave her in my past. I saw no reason to tell anyone about her since she was gone forever.
“I thought I was content to live the rest of my life with this one secret. After all, she was living that wonderful life I always wanted for her. I convinced myself that there was no reason to tell my sister or Gladys about my little girl after all these years, so I tucked her existence deep in my heart and grieved her loss alone.
“Lord, I don’t know if I will ever have a chance to explain everything to my daughter, but I want to be honest with her and confess who I was and who I have become. I want her to understand that You are the reason I am now who I am. I never wanted her contaminated by me or my family. You know I was too much like my mother back then to be trusted with a child so I gave her up for adoption twenty-two years ago to give her a better life than I had. But then that night everything changed in an instant. She came looking for me. I don’t know how she found me, but she came walking into the bakery that night wanting some answers from her birth mother.”
Suddenly, the memory of her grown daughter’s face, standing at the bakery counter that night, trying to summon enough courage to admit why she was in the bakery, filled Lisa’s heart with pride—she was a lovely young woman. Hope didn’t have to say a word. One look at her and Lisa knew who she was and why she was there. “God, I was blindsided that night. Hope came walking into the bakery wanting answers. Even though You saved me almost twelve years earlier and I had not used any drugs or sold my body since, I was not prepared to explain any of this to my daughter. But just as I started to tell her everything, my father burst into the bakery kitchen, determined to kill me. If it had not been for Hope, he would have succeeded this time.”
A shudder ran down Lisa’s spine as she remembered the look of terror in her daughter’s eyes. “God, I am thankful I did not die, but I wish Hope hadn’t been the one to save me. The fact that she took a life – even though she had no choice, is a burden no one should have to carry.
“I really messed everything up, didn’t I? I panicked and reverted back to my old life method of dealing with stressful emergencies; I ran. Actually, I did something even more foolish, didn’t I? I talked my daughter into running. In my panic, I didn’t even think to ask for Your help, God. I just didn’t want her life ruined. I wanted her to get out of the bakery, out of this town, and out of my life so she could be safe again. At the moment it seemed so rational to me. But God, You and I both know that when it comes to my family my rationale has never been very rational, has it?”
Overwhelmed with all this emotion, Lisa sat up in her bed and remembered the admonition Gladys gave her earlier that evening, “Lisa, holding on to all these newspaper articles is like drinking a little poison every day. Every time you reread these articles you allow them to drag you back into a black hole of despair. You need to toss them out, Lisa. Holding on to them is holding on to the pain as well.”
Lisa put on her robe and slippers, picked up the huge stack of newspapers and headed for the trash cans at the curb. Resting the stack of papers against her right hip, Lisa quietly lifted the lid with her left hand and allowed the newspapers to slide out of her possession. A strange relief came over her as she stared down into the trash can. Gladys had warned her that reliving the ugly past made focusing on the future impossible. “Lord, is Hope ever going to give me a second chance? I foolishly talked her into leaving the scene of a murder. I thought I could take all the blame and keep her out of it. But once Hope found out I was on trial for murder, she risked everything, came forward and testified at my trial. Even though it was self-defense, it was my idea for her to run. Because of me, my daughter is all tangled up in Prosecutor Gordon’s legal troubles because he found out about her halfway through my trial and threatened her if she dared come forward. God, I couldn’t have made a bigger mess of things if I’d tried. I thought my days of drama were over, but here I am again, asking You to fix me and help my daughter.”
Startled by a car turning the corner, Lisa quickly replaced the trash can lid and made her way back to her bedroom. Not able to sleep, she thought about jumping in the shower but noticed the clock blinking 3:35 a.m. and reluctantly slipped back into bed. Just because sleep was eluding her, she had no right to disturb Gladys’s sweet slumber. This was going to be a long night.
After two more hours of tossing and turning, the familiar click of her clock radio signaled it was finally 5:30 a.m. and her workday was about to begin. She quickly reached over and turned off the alarm before it had a chance to ring. Usually, before the alarm could begin to ring, she would be on her feet, heading for the shower, eager to start her day, but ever since that night in the bakery, her usual routine had been anything but usual. Studying the blinking clock, Lisa mused to herself, “I have waited months for this day to arrive, but now that it is here, I’m not sure I am ready for it. Will I ever feel comfortable in my old routine again? For the past eleven years my life has been Bascom’s Bakery. For the past eight years I have been responsible for opening up the bakery, firing up the ovens, and getting the pastry dough prepped and chilled for a long morning of doing what I do best, baking goodies for everyone in town at Ruth Bascom’s bakery.
“I always looked forward to the three hours of solitude in my beloved kitchen before the bakery helpers started pouring in with chitchat and gossip. I seldom joined in the gossip fests with the young girls who worked with me in the kitchen. I was almost twice their age, and I knew what it felt like to be the brunt of gossip in a small, southern town.”
Again, Lisa found herself the central topic of the town gossipers. Wanting to get a glimpse of the infamous town tramp, she knew they were probably planning to make their way to the bakery today. “God, that really is what I am dreading today, isn’t it? I know Ruth will try to protect me. But God, I hate the fact that she has to. Her bakery means the world to me and I do not want to bring shame to it, or her. Twelve years ago, Ruth Bascom gave me a job when no one else would. She and Gladys believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Gladys gave me a home and Ruth gave me a job and taught me a skill that gave me a sense of pride for the first time in my life. I love being a pastry chef.
“Ruth was so strict with me. I had such a foul mouth and flash temper back then. At first, the girls would make nasty comments to each other about me. They were too afraid to go face to face with me because I would let go with words most of them had never heard. Ruth would pull me aside and remind me that those words were never allowed in her bakery and she would make me apologize to them. Ruth knew how hard it was for me to apologize to those girls, but she made me do it anyway. Not all the teasing was mean. Most of the time they were just trying to lighten my mood, but I didn’t handle it well. I didn’t know how to react to the girls without getting angry. Ruth would quickly step in whenever the teasing began to take on a mean spirit. Eventually we would all chime in and repeat her warning, “Girls, I think we need to change the topic. If it isn’t kind then don’t say it.”
Remembering those early years both embarrassed Lisa and warmed her heart. Ruth Bascom and Gladys Carter were her angels from heaven and she knew it. “God, they loved me because You loved me and they taught me all about Your forgiveness. Several times Ruth had been forced to fire a worker because they could not, or would not, accept the fact that I had (at one time) been a drug-using prostitute. Although my past was not a daily topic of discussion, I never denied it or made excuses for it. I knew I had been forgiven, but I also knew that most people are not as forgiving. Gladys and Ruth were my anchors. Whenever I encountered such people, Ruth and Gladys would remind me that no matter how they behaved, I was to respond in love.” Looking up at the ceiling, Lisa confessed, “I guess I have not fully learned that lesson yet, have I?”
Hearing the second click of the clock, signaled the radio was about to come on. Lisa reached over to shut it off but remembered there was no reason to hurry this morning. This being her first day back to work since all of this started, she was not expected to show up at the bakery until eight-thirty. She leaned back against her pillow and listened to the morning weather report and was glad to hear that her walk to work would be bright and clear of any late summer showers. But that welcomed news was quickly followed by the hot topic of the newsroom.
It’s a sunny day here in Jefferson, Georgia. On the local front, Prosecutor Gordon continues to defend his behavior in the recent murder trial of local woman, Lisa Miller. As we all know, Miller was found not guilty last month of the murder of her estranged father, Chuck Miller. Prosecutor Gordon has been given a leave of absence in order to defend his actions in this case, but unnamed sources close to the case have assured this reporter that Judge Kirkley is determined to make sure Gordon will never return to his former position.
Lisa climbed out of bed, turned off the radio and headed for the bathroom. “I sure hope this unnamed source knows what he is talking about. I just wish my name wasn’t always dragged into every news report about Gordon. Thirty-one days since I was found not guilty of murdering my father. Thirty-one days since I have seen my daughter. Thirty-one days since Ben Jackson declared his intentions to seriously date me.”
This last thought forced a smile on Lisa’s face. “I can focus on Prosecutor Gordon or I can focus on Ben Jackson. I can focus on my daughter, Hope, or I can focus on my first day back to work since all of this started. Although Hope is never out of my thoughts, I have to give her time to get over the horror of my murder trial. So today I intend to shower and get ready for my first day back to work. I’ve missed the bakery something awful.”
Lisa noticed the time on her clock radio and hurried into the bathroom to take her morning shower.