Contingency (Covenant of Trust) (22 page)

“I’d have to learn how to play quarterback, put on about sixty pounds, grow about five more inches ...” He broke into a wide grin. “Then I’d have to lead Missouri to a national championship, get drafted, and make it through camp.”

“So, some of it is in your control, like learning the position and gaining weight, but a lot of it isn’t in your control at all.”

“My lesson alert just went off,” Brad said, squinting, grabbing the table to brace himself.

Cooper smiled. “Yep, an incoming lesson has been confirmed.” The youth pastor grew more serious and leaned across the table. “Your dad is doing all the things within his control to heal his relationship with your mom and with you.”

“Here’s the deal,” Brad said. “I have to be sure he’s really put this behind him. I can’t watch my mom go through this over some other woman in another year or two.”

“Totally reasonable. I’m going to pray that God gives you that evidence and assurance. I know when that happens, you’ll be just as powerful an advocate for your dad as you’ve been in demanding justice.”

“Yeah, but if, and I mean if, that happens, I don’t want my mom to be pressured into taking him back before she’s ready. Just because everyone else is okay with it, that doesn’t mean she should rush into it.”

“No, but it might help her focus on her own feelings if she knew you and Joel were both reconciled with your dad.”

Brad scowled, unconvinced.

“She’s a mom. You and Joel are always going to come first. She’ll sacrifice her own happiness to make sure you guys are all right. In fact, I’d bet she’s doing that right now.”

*******

That afternoon, Chuck
leaned over his desk, reviewing a contract line by line. It took a moment for him to realize the buzzing noise was coming from his phone.

*******

Brad sunk a
little lower in his chair outside the principal’s office as he imagined facing his mother. She’d never yell at him in public. She’d look at him and then drop her eyes in disappointment. Hearing footsteps, he raised his head, and was shocked to see his dad.

“I know what you mean,” his father said. “Son, you’re at a crossroad. Your first option is to acknowledge that you’ve done something wrong, accept responsibility and the consequences, renounce it, and then work to make up for it.”

His father looked him in the eye, and for the first time in weeks, Brad didn’t look away.

“Or, you harden your heart, put the blame on someone else, and believe that what you did was justified. Then you lash out at anyone who says otherwise. The second fight will be much easier to start, and the third one, easier still. Before you know what’s happened, you’ve lost control of your life.”

“You’ve tried both options?”

His father nodded. “The first choice is hard, really hard, but you don’t want to go where the second one takes you. Trust me on this.”

Just then, the principal’s door opened. “Mr. Molinsky?” he asked, looking to Chuck. Chuck patted Brad’s knee, then stood up to shake hands. “Brad, we’ll call you in shortly. I just need to talk to your dad first.”

Watching his dad disappear into the principal’s office, Brad thought back to that confrontation in their kitchen, to his own words, ‘I’ll never forgive you! I’m ashamed to admit you’re my dad!’ What if his dad had echoed his words, and matched his anger just now? Instead, his dad showed him compassion and respect and treated him like an equal.

Brad leaned his head back against the wall and strained to hear the discussion inside the Mr. McMillen’s office, but it was no use. At least they weren’t yelling.

*******

Mr. McMillen motioned
Chuck toward a chair and closed the door behind him. “Mr. Molinsky, thanks for coming. You’ve met Tim Matson, our football coach, correct?”

“Yes,” Chuck said, shaking hands with the coach.

“Have a seat, please,” The principal said, sitting at his desk. “First off, Brad’s one of the last kids I would expect to see in here, and I figure I’ll never see him again under these circumstances.”

“Thank you,” Chuck interrupted.

“In my experience, when kids, good kids, explode like this, they’re carrying some kind of emotional load. Are you aware of anything in Brad’s life, any atypical behavior that might be a sign he’s having trouble dealing with something?”

Chuck sighed. “His mother and I are working through some things in our marriage. We’re in counseling, but we’re living apart and it’s been a strain on Brad, on all of us, really. Everything was my fault and he’s carrying a lot of anger at me because of it.”

“The thing is, Mr. Molinsky,” Mr. McMillen continued, “we can’t deal with things on a case by case basis anymore. We have a policy and we have to stick with that for everybody, regardless of extenuating circumstances.”

Bill McMillen looked at Coach Matson, then back at Chuck. “Let’s get Brad in here, then, and get this over with.” He opened the door and motioned for Brad, just as Bobbi arrived. “Mrs. Molinsky, thanks for coming. Brad, come on in.”

Bobbi gave Brad a quick smile, but he didn’t return it. She followed him into the principal’s office. Chuck winked at her and stood up to give her his chair. The principal made quick introductions, then led everyone to sit down. “Brad, do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes, sir. I hit another student.” His voice didn’t waver as he looked squarely at his principal.

“Do you want to give your side of the story?”

“There’s nothing to tell. No matter what Owen said or did, I shouldn’t have hit him. I want to apologize to you, to Coach Matson, and to you, Mom and Dad.” Brad glanced around the room as he spoke. “And Coach, I want to apologize to the team on Tuesday when I’m back at school.” Coach Matson nodded. “What I did was wrong and I can’t excuse or explain it.”

“Let’s see,” Mr. McMillen said, checking the schedule on his desk. “Canfield West. They haven’t won a game in years. You won’t miss anything but a chance to pad your stats.” Brad tried to smile. Chuck knew that missing an unimportant game did little to soften the blow.

“Brad, Mr. and Mrs. Molinsky, I have to say that in all the years I’ve dealt with discipline issues, Brad’s the first ‘guilty’ student I’ve ever had in here. No excuses, no finger-pointing. I’m very impressed. You show a great deal of character, Brad.”

“I learned it from my dad, sir.”

“Mrs. Walcott will have some paperwork for us to sign if you wouldn’t care to wait for a few more moments.” Mr. McMillen stood and motioned to Coach Matson. “Tim, you want to come with me.”

As they left the room, Brad turned to his mother, “Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing, what I was thinking.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking quite a bit,” she said. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Yeah, I did.” He looked up as Chuck wiped his eyes. “Dad, I’ve been a total jerk. I’m sorry.” Brad’s voice broke, and tears began to form. Chuck reached across the chair and pulled him into a hug.

A moment later, the office door opened again. “Folks,” Mr. McMillen began, but he backtracked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay,” Chuck said. “We’re okay.”

“We just need a couple of signatures and then you folks can get out of here,” Mr. McMillen said. Chuck followed Bobbi and Brad out to Mrs. Walcott’s desk, where the principal handed Brad a disciplinary report. “All right, read through this and see if it’s accurate, especially the details of the incident.”

Brad scanned the form. “It’s okay.”

“Then you need to sign it here, and one of your parents needs to sign it right below that,” Mr. McMillen said, pointing to the signature lines at the bottom. With the signatures finished, he took the form, tore off the top copy, and handed it to Chuck. “This one belongs to you and your wife, Mr. Molinsky.” He took the second copy for himself. “This last copy is for your file, Brad.”

Mrs. Walcott winked at him, and nodded toward Mr. McMillen, still standing by her desk, discipline form in hand. Brad looked up, then watched in astonishment as the principal tore the sheet in half, then in half again. “You’ll still serve your punishment, but I don’t think we need a record of this. Don’t you agree, Coach?”

“Absolutely. I have to get back out on the field. See you Tuesday, Brad.” Coach Matson shook hands with Bobbi and Chuck a final time, and left the office with a wave.

“I’ll be right out,” Chuck said quietly to Bobbi. Once his wife and son were beyond the office door, out of earshot, Chuck shook hands with Mr. McMillen once again. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you cutting Brad some slack.”

“Cheryl, I don’t know what he’s talking about, do you?” Mr. McMillen asked, with a sly smile.

“No idea,” she answered.

“Thank you anyway,” Chuck said, as he walked out, hoping to catch Bobbi and Brad before they left. He made it outside as Bobbi eased her car in behind his, and Brad rolled down his window. “Dad, want some company Friday night in the parking lot?”“You bet!” Chuck answered, with a smile and a wave. He watched Bobbi’s car until she drove out of sight, then he got in his car and sat for a moment. In the afternoon autumn sun, the bright, warm car interior matched his mood. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the seat.
God, that was incredible. Thank You for giving me my son back.

Finally, they had the breakthrough they needed. He and Bobbi had reached an impasse. For weeks now, she remained polite, but never made eye contact with him, and until she called today, she never spoke first. Even though he hadn’t told her he answered Tracy’s allegations and filed the countersuit, he could tell she knew. This afternoon, though, she softened up around Brad. The door opened. Tomorrow night, he wouldn’t let Bobbi change the subject or walk away. He’d make her talk to him.

“Mom, you’re late,” Joel lectured, his arms crossed across his chest. “Is your phone broken?”

“Something came up.” Bobbi swung the front door open wide enough to get around him. She dropped her book bag in the study and began flipping through the mail, while Brad dumped his backpack and football gear at the bottom of the stairs.

“Something came up ... Let me guess.” Joel raised his index fingers to his temples, and closed his eyes. “Brad got in a fight and is suspended for three days.”

“Joel, how could you know that? We just left the school!” Brad smacked his brother in the shoulder.

“Brad, Brad, Brad,” Joel said, laying a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “When are you going to learn? I’m always right, and I know everything.” Brad glared at him. “Okay, Nathan Schoenberger. Somebody texted Jeremy. Nathan heard Jeremy talking about it and he sent me a message.”