Lisa stepped out of the shower and dried off just enough to slip into her bathrobe. Carefully wrapping her wet head in a towel, she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror and stood frozen for a moment. Having just finished the novel, A Tale of Two Cities, she smiled at her own reflection and quoted her favorite line,
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair….
“Yes, Mr. Dickens, that about sums up my life as well.”
Lisa studied the face that had stared back at her for forty years, smiled, and then played back Ben Jackson’s departing words to her the night before. “Lisa, I am so proud of the woman you have become and I always want to be a part of your life. I know it won’t be easy, but would you at least consider taking our relationship to the next level?”
Lisa moaned, “How is it that the best of times always has a worst of times to take the thrill right out of it?” As always, the face in her mirror never seemed to have an acceptable answer to her deepest questions. Ben’s words, “it won’t be easy,” reverberated in her ears until she almost screamed at the face in the mirror, “I know, I know. But it’s never been easy, has it, Lisa? Ben Jackson is everything you ever wanted in a man and never thought you’d get; not you. Not after everything you’ve done in your life.” The face just stared back at her. That face had heard this argument many times before, but this time, this time Lisa could finally smile with her heart. “Ben Jackson knows it all and he still wants to have me in his life. He is the first man in my entire life that knows all my secrets and still loves me, which makes this the best of times.”
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Lisa’s face as she remembered her first meeting with Officer Ben Jackson. It was almost sixteen years earlier, while sitting in a jail cell on drug charges. “Ben Jackson was also there for the worst of times. How vile I was back then,” she practically chuckled, “my age of foolishness. I can hardly believe that was actually me back then, but it was and I own it.” The face just smiled back at her with that knowing look Lisa had come to admire. “I can own it because I have also come through the epoch of belief and know that I have been forgiven and am no longer that person who once behaved that way.”
Off in the distance Lisa heard Gladys chatting with a neighbor as she picked up the morning paper. Then Gladys’s cheerful voice calling out good morning as she reentered the house signaled to Lisa that breakfast was just about ready; but she wasn’t. Lisa hastily put on her uniform, pulled her hair up into a clip, slipped on her shoes and headed out to the kitchen. She had both dreaded and looked forward to this day for five months—and here it was. Five months, had it actually only been five months? It felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime that she never wanted to relive again.
The smell of hot coffee and Gladys’s pecan rolls filled her senses as she walked into the kitchen and took her seat across from Gladys. Pouring Lisa’s coffee, Gladys asked, “Are you ready for today? Everyone at the bakery is so excited to have you back. But, Lisa, we all know how hard walking into that bakery is going to be for you. Are you sure you want to put in a whole day of work the first time back after your father’s death?”
“Death? That’s a polite way to phrase it.” Lisa tried to make her response sound lighthearted but it didn’t come out that way. “I know everyone is concerned about how I will feel when I come back and I do appreciate it, Gladys. I know it will be hard, but I can’t let the past rob me of my future. The bakery is more than that one night when my father came into it, intent on killing me.” Then, remembering A Tale of Two Cities, Lisa tried to lighten the conversation, “Talk about an epoch of incredulity.”
Gladys quickly added, “And don’t forget a winter of despair.”
A sad-faced smirk was Lisa’s only response. She loved it when Gladys played along with her word games. They had just spent every evening of the past month reading this novel out loud together and Gladys knew how much this phrase had meant to her. She also appreciated the space Gladys had given her to pick the times when she was willing to talk. Most topics were out on the table now, all except for one. Lisa couldn’t go there yet; it was just too painful. So, bringing this conversation to an end, she quickly switched topics. “Thanks to you and Mrs. Bascom, that bakery is so much more than just that one night. You two led me out of my season of darkness, my self-destructive, self-hating, drug-addled existence. You took me into your home and loved me when I could not love myself. Mrs. Bascom gave me a job and taught me the skill of baking. That was the season of my life when I learned self-respect and a good work ethic. I guess I’d call that my age of wisdom, as well as my season of light. During those twelve years you and Mrs. Bascom poured wisdom into me and held up the Light of Truth until I could finally see it. I love you both, and I love that bakery.”
Lisa had quoted that Dickens’ phrase so many times they both knew it by heart. Gladys observed the glaring absence of the phrase, the spring of hope. She knew this was no oversight on Lisa’s part. The most important phrase in that whole quote was the only one Lisa had omitted. Sipping her coffee and letting Lisa lead the conversation, Gladys learned as much from the topics not discussed as those that were. Lisa’s spring of hope was still in question. Trying to push the conversation in that direction would only hurt her, therefore, Gladys patiently waited until Lisa was ready to bring it up.
Quietly finishing her breakfast, Lisa wondered what it would feel like to walk into the bakery in just a few minutes. It had been five months and three days since that terrible night. Turning her face away from Gladys, Lisa whispered, “If I take the back way I’ll have to walk through the security door off the alley.”
Gladys stayed quiet. She knew Lisa wasn’t talking to her, but was thinking out loud and just needed to get it out. They both knew what happened at that security door. “Gladys, I can’t get the image of my father’s bloodshot eyes out of my head. They were so filled with hate as he had me by the throat. But honestly, Gladys, the most dreadful image is remembering Hope’s face, so filled with fear and panic.” As if willing herself to face the memory, Lisa turned back toward Gladys and confessed, “Going through the front door of the bakery will be just as painful. The last person I saw walk through that door was my daughter, Hope.”
Even though Gladys knew Hope was never far from Lisa’s thoughts, this was the first time in two weeks that Lisa had said her name. Before the trial, none of the family knew Hope existed. During the trial they learned that Lisa had given her baby up for adoption when she was just seventeen and never talked about her. They were halfway through the murder trial before anyone in the family learned that, not only did she exist, Hope had been in the bakery the night Chuck Miller tried to kill Lisa. “Lisa, Hope will be okay. It has been only one month since she had to testify at your trial. You need to be patient and give her the time she needs to absorb it all. Her parents...” Seeing the quick flash of pain in Lisa’s eyes, she quickly corrected, “Her adoptive parents said they are getting her into counseling to help her deal with the fact that she killed a man. That can’t be easy for anyone, especially a young woman, regardless of the circumstances.”
“I know that, Gladys. I just wish my heart could accept it. I never wanted my baby to be tainted by my family. That was why I gave her up. Then she came looking for me, her biological mother. How could she have known she picked the very night my father had decided to visit me at the bakery?”
“Lisa, Mr. and Mrs. Winslow seem like really nice people and they love your baby girl.” Gladys knew it was hard for Lisa to think of her daughter as a grown woman. Whenever Lisa did talk about Hope, she usually referred to her as “my baby girl.”
“Do you really think she will ever come back here to Jefferson, Gladys? I have to hold onto the hope that Hope will return one day.”
Brushing a strand of hair away from Lisa’s face as she bent over to kiss her on the forehead, Gladys pulled back to look Lisa straight in the eyes and said with robust confidence, “Lisa, I do believe your spring of hope is coming. Love requires us to be patient. You have to give Hope time to resolve all of this. I know every day is an eternity to you; I know that.” Then pulling Lisa to her feet in order to give her a big bear hug, Gladys whispered into her ear, “I love you, girl. I couldn’t love you more if I had given birth to you. I know you are hurting and that you tend to bury your hurt in busy work. I want to help you walk through this but not talking about Hope is not the way to do it. We need to be praying for her, not just that she comes back here but for all that she is dealing with. You and I don’t know everything going on in this young woman’s life—but God does. So, we will daily, if not hourly, place her in His care and trust Him to protect her and heal her.”
Returning Gladys’s bear hug, Lisa suggested, “At the top of every hour I am going to pray for Hope and it will give me great comfort knowing that you are here at home doing so right along with me.” Then, feeling the need to confess her own need, Lisa added, “Gladys, would you also remember me while you’re at it? I feel so vulnerable right now. I am so weak and torn. One minute I am up in the clouds in love with Ben and the next I am in the blackest hole of despair over Hope. One day I feel like I can tackle anything and the next day I can hardly get myself out of bed. Why does life have to be so complicated? I love Ben. You know I do. But I also know just how hard life will be for him if we pursue this relationship. This is a small town in Georgia. Gladys, every preacher in every pulpit preaches repentance and forgiveness, but most people don’t really practice it in real life; at least they don’t when it comes to the type of crimes I committed. How can I ask Ben and his son to open themselves up to the kind of cruelty some people can dish out? Ben tells me to let him worry about that but I don’t think I can handle it. It is one thing when people treat me with cruelty; I deserve it. But Ben doesn’t really know just how mean people can be, and how hard it could be for his son.”
“Lisa, you are not giving Ben enough credit. Ben knows people and he can handle it. Yes, there are lots of small-minded people in this world. But we both know that there are just as many wonderful, goodhearted folks who have accepted you without holding onto your past. Why not try to remember all those people when you find yourself sliding into that black hole of despair? You can’t do anything about rude, self-righteous, hateful people, except maybe pity them. Obviously they have never come to know the forgiveness of God. When you encounter one of these people out there today, just say a little prayer for them and protect your heart from anger. As they judge you, you pray for them. I am not saying this is easy. It is one of the hardest things you will ever do. But, Lisa, I know it works because God tells us to do it.”
“I know you are right, Gladys. I just don’t know if I can do it yet. When I get those looks from people, and you know the looks I mean, I get filled with either shame or rage. The idea of praying for them right then seems beyond me. I am expected to show compassion to someone who is not showing compassion to me. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It isn’t fair, Lisa, that’s the point. It is godly. So when you get those stares today, and we both know you will, just remember that God never looked at you that way. He offered you love and mercy and He wants you to be His righteousness toward those who are still in darkness. Apart from you accepting that love and mercy, this is the best way of saying, “thank you,” to Him for all He has done for you. Loving the unlovely in His name is the godliest thing any of us can do.”
“Like you and Mrs. Bascom did for me, right? I was as unlovely a person as ever walked this earth and you were God’s arms offered to me.”
Hearing the living room clock chime reminded them both that Lisa was now officially late for her first day back to work. “It’s kind of good that I’m late today. I don’t have time to worry about which door I’m going to take, I just need to get there and get busy. But, Gladys, in thirty minutes it will be the top of the hour so remember to pray for Hope, and for me.” With that, Lisa flew out the door, turned down the driveway, and headed up the street as quickly as she could without actually running. She was determined that today was going to be one of those best of times kind of days.