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DEAR ANGELA,
It has been fifteen years since my parents were taken from me. My life shattered into a million pieces that day and I thought I could never be put back together again. But I still had my sisters. I still had my grandparents. I still had my friends. I still had a life ahead of me, regardless of how I chose to live it.
It has taken me fifteen years to realize that you also lost your parents on that terrible day. But you lost so much more, didn't you? You lost your brother. You lost your friends. You lost your future. I can only pray you did not lose your faith. I seem to remember you were a believer and I hope you have held on to Jesus all these years.
It has taken fifteen years for me to invite Jesus into my own life and He is ever so gently gathering up all those broken pieces and putting them back together again. Angela, you are one of those pieces. I am sorry for your terrible loss. And I am sorry for the wasted years I've kept both of us chained to my anger, my bitterness, and my unforgiveness.
I forgive you for what you did to me that day. Please forgive me for what I have done to you every day since.
Forgiveness. It was like pulling slivers of steel from under the skin. Bitterness, resentment, yes, even hatred, had become familiar pain to him without him even realizing it. As Juliette shared with Victor her own journey toward forgiveness—of Angela, of Mike, even of her parents for abandoning them—his eyes were opened to all the things he'd harbored in his heart against his father, his mother, his sisters, all those who should have had his love. He didn't have to agree with their behavior, he didn't have to participate, but God had called him to be a light in their lives, not to be absent from their lives altogether. Rebuilding burned bridges was difficult; he had his work cut out for him. But he also had Juliette beside him, dealing with the past and facing the future with him.
Juliette's decision to open her heart to Angela had been easy for him to encourage and support. Honored that she'd asked for his help, he'd pulled some strings to find out more about where Angela was and how she was doing. So far, the news was encouraging, prompting Juliette to move forward with contacting her old classmate.
Her decision to forgive Mike, however, had all but done him in. When she asked him to go to the hospital in her place the day after Mike's assault, Victor had almost refused. But after an afternoon of angry prayer, and a terse phone call to Tom and Michelle for accountability and more prayer, he'd agreed. He wasn't happy about it, but he would go—in uniform—and bring back a report to Juliette.
When he entered Mike's hospital room, the nurse who was studying the monitor looked up with a scowl. Her patient's heart rate began to accelerate, and just for a moment, Victor was glad.
He took off his sunglasses and said what he'd come to say. "Mr. Wilson, I've come on behalf of Juliette Gustafson. I'm here to make sure you're going to live." Well, that wasn't exactly what he'd planned, but the effect those words had on the man in the flimsy hospital gown was probably more to his liking than the polite drivel he'd rehearsed in his head.
Mike's face fell. "How is she? I hurt her, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
Mike pressed his fists to his eyes. "Is she going to be okay?"
"You messed her up pretty badly." Not willing to give the man answers he didn't deserve, Victor crossed his arms and widened his stance, taking up as much space as he could. He was enjoying this.
The nurse's scowl had changed to a blank slate. He thought she was working hard not to show her newly acquired distaste toward her patient.
Mike looked up, his eyes filled with what Victor could only guess was supposed to be remorse. "She's going to be okay though, right?"
"No thanks to you, she is," he stated.
"Oh God, I'm a monster." Mike laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, a single tear making a track down the side of his face and into his carefully combed hair. Without looking at Victor, he asked, "What happens now? Are you here to arrest me?"
It took every ounce of control Victor could muster, but somehow he got the next words past his lips. "Against everyone's advice, Miss Gustafson is not pressing charges, because for some inconceivable reason, she believes better of you than what you gave her. Grace, Mr. Wilson. You don't deserve to be let off the hook." He took a step closer and waited until Mike looked at him. Victor saw the flicker of fear in his eyes, and he felt the echoing flicker of satisfaction in his own heart.
"However, Mr. Wilson, if you ever, ever lay a hand on my woman again, I will personally come for you. And believe me, charges will be pressed, the kind that you will never find a way out from under." The nurse hummed softly to herself, jotting notes down on the monitor feed. Victor was very aware that the flickering green line spiked a little higher on the screen; so was the nurse. She took note of it, but she didn't seem too concerned.
Mike nodded, wiped at his eyes with the edge of his sheet, and said, "Whether you believe it or not, I was once a good guy. My pride nearly killed me, though," he waved his hands around, indicating the room where he lay. "And I was ready to take Juliette down with me. I'll always be ashamed of that. But her kindness has given me a second chance, and I won't take it for granted. Please tell her thank you for me."
Victor didn't say anything at first. He needs forgiveness, Victor. He wrestled with her words. He fought. Hard.
Then he nodded. "I'll tell her."
Mike let out his breath in a whoosh and turned to look at the nurse. "You can stop pretending you're not thinking horrible things about me."
She returned his gaze, her eyes softening a little, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Wilson." She reached over and checked the electrodes stuck to his chest, adjusted the oxygen monitor on his finger, and patted his shoulder, perhaps a little harder than necessary. "Your doctor says you'll probably go home this afternoon. Who knows? You might come out of this a better man." Then she scooped up her things and wheeled her little cart out the door ahead of her.
Victor turned to go, too, but Mike called out after him. "Officer? Thank you for what you did, too. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. She deserves someone like you. I'm glad—"
"Don't," Victor cut him off. "For one second, presume to tell me what Juliette does and doesn't deserve, Mr. Wilson." He stood in the doorway, fingers flexing at his sides. "You've been forgiven, and you've been offered grace. What you do with it is up to you. But you no longer have access to the woman who gave them to you, do you understand?"
When Mike didn't answer, Victor took an aggressive step towards the bed. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mr. Wilson?"
"I understand."
"Good." Victor turned and left the room.
He climbed behind the wheel of his car, pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and didn't stop until he was standing at Juliette's front door, listening to Bob's exuberant greeting on the other side of it, and desperately hoping she'd answer his knock in her fluffy pink robe.
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THE END
Keep reading for an excerpt from
RENATA & THE FALL FROM GRACE
The Gustafson Girls Book 2
