Down by the River (18 page)

“No.” He winced. “I just need to know what I'm in for.”

“Then keep your mouth shut.” Her voice was tight. “I told them you had a few too many drinks and that someone drove you back to your house. Given the situation, even Ashleigh agreed it would be kinder to everyone for them to think you simply didn't handle Althea's illness well and downed a few too many drinks on an empty stomach.”

“I forgot I didn't have lunch. Even breakfast. I had planned to get something when I got to the office this morning.” He hit his head. “It was stupid of me to drink anything at all on an empty stomach.”

Jack reached a hand across toward Grace's, but wasn't surprised when she pulled hers back. “Thanks, Grace. For coming to look for me. For covering for me with the family.”

“I didn't do it for you.” Her voice was tight and tense. “I did it for Bebe and Roger and Samantha. And even your mother. It seemed bad enough that you took off like that with your mother just out of surgery.”

She looked at Jack with anguished eyes. “Whatever were you thinking, Jack? To take off that way? To go to a bar when your mother just had a heart attack and almost died.”

Jack turned honest eyes to Grace. “I was scared, Grace. Scared she was going to die like my father did. And I felt helpless because I didn't know what to do to make it better for her. Or for anyone. I couldn't even pray. I couldn't even comfort anyone. I didn't even feel I could approach God for my own mother. I didn't know if I would ever be able to share with Ma my regrets about so many things. Or be able to tell her I was sorry. Or that I loved her.”

“I see.” Grace fell silent then.

“I didn't handle things well.”

“No. No, you didn't.”

“Vincent said I needed a Greater Source to lean on in hard times than myself. He said just a person's self was too small to see you through the tough times. That it would fail you.”

The elevator stopped. She gave him a look of mixed anger and compassion. “Well, that's something to think about, isn't it?”

Feeling like a royal idiot, Jack got out of the elevator to face his family. It wasn't as though they hadn't all been disappointed in him enough times before. He knew that well enough. It was simply that this time he felt repentant for it down to the core of his bones. Lord, he wanted to be different.

A little later, Jack sat in his mother's room holding her hand, glad to see the mask of death had lifted off her face. She looked pale, but had smiled tentatively at him when he came into the room.

She squeezed his fingers. “I'm going to be all right, Jack.”

Tears pooled in Jack's eyes.

“You know, from the time you were just a little boy, you always ran off and hid when something really scared you. It used to worry me. I always thought you'd grow out of it.”

“Guess I didn't.” Jack saw no reason to lie.

“Was it Ashleigh who took you home from the bar, Jack?”

Jack had already told his mother his story and repented. Told her how sorry he was for all the miseries he'd caused her. Told her how much he loved her.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Ma, I don't even know. I don't remember. I remember leaving the bar with her, and the next thing I remember is waking up with Grace standing over me—and Ashleigh standing in the doorway with a nightie on.”

Althea shook her head. “She's a good woman, Grace Conley. After watching you with her this summer, I thought maybe you might be falling in love with her. And she with you.”

“Well, I'd say I've blown any chance of that possibility with her now.”

“Do you love her?”

“I don't know. I'm so hardened, I don't know if I'd recognize love if it bit me, Ma. But I do know I care a lot for Grace.”

“Well, I guess she knows the worst of you now.”

“Yeah, I'd say so.”

“It's hard for a woman to forget and forgive a man for going to another woman when she loves him.”

“I doubt Grace loves me.”

“Hmmmmm.” Althea muttered. “I don't know. There's a feeling when the two of you are around each other that seems awful strong.”

“I've sure felt that.”

“Jack, if you're really purposed to turn your life around, like you told me, there might be a place in it for you and Grace.”

“I don't know, Ma. She's a fine, good woman. And I might not be able to get past this with her. Even to see where things would go with her.”

“Well, I like her. I can tell you that.”

Jack got up to walk across the room. “Ma, why didn't you tell me the doctor said you had heart problems? He told me he'd talked to you about it at your last exam. Said you needed to take care. To take some medication, modify your lifestyle. You didn't even tell me. You changed the subject when I asked you about your visit to the doctor.”

“I don't like illness. I didn't want to think about it.”

“And you thought if you did that, it would just go away?” Jack turned to shake his head at her. “Obviously, it didn't.”

“Well, it might have,” she persisted stubbornly. “Health conditions do sometimes. And you know I've never liked doctors and such much. Half the time, I don't think they know what they're talking about.”

Jack shook his head. “Maybe I got some of those ‘run away from your troubles' genes from you, Ma.”

She grinned up at him. “Could be.”

“Will you try to take better care of yourself now that you've gotten a second chance here, Ma? Do what the doctors suggest? Try to stick around for a while?”

“I'll work on it.” She reached out a hand to take his. “I want to hang around and see how you make all these changes you promised me you're going to try to make in your life.”

“I meant all that, Ma.”

“I know you did, Son. And I'm proud that you want to turn over a new leaf. It's never too late to start over in life. Or to make changes.”

“Well, I guess we'll see,” Jack said. “We'll see.”

E
arlier the same day, Grace sat in the kitchen of the Mimosa—talking with Vincent over a cup of coffee and letting down after a hectic weekend. He'd dropped by that morning, as he often did, hoping to find Margaret in the kitchen. She'd gone over to the college to attend a planning meeting about the music concert to be held next month when the students returned.

“You had an eventful weekend,” Vincent commented as he dug into scrambled eggs left over from the breakfast Grace had made for the McAllisters and Bridges before they checked out.

She cut some slices of fresh banana bread and put them on a plate beside him. This was a favorite treat of Margaret's, and Grace knew she'd skipped breakfast before heading out to her early meeting. She'd be back soon—hungry and full of news. Grace looked forward to it. She liked having a house full of life and sharing.

“Yes, Vincent, my weekend was almost
too
busy.” Grace sat down to eat breakfast with Vincent. “I had three families at the inn over the weekend. We enjoyed the nice neighborhood gathering, and I opened the shop.”

“I saw a lot of cars parked near the shop and down the street behind the church on all three days.” Vincent looked up to smile at Grace. “And through the grapevine I heard the opening was a big success.”

“You know, I'd never, in a million years, have expected that little crafts shop to be so overrun with customers.” She propped her chin on one hand remembering it. “It was very gratifying.”

“It turned out to be a blessing Margaret came when she did, too. I heard she helped out a lot in the shop.”

“She did. And that surprised me. She's acted differently since she's been here.”

Grace looked over to see a small smile on Vincent's face.

“Does that smile mean anything I should know about, Vince? I saw you walking with Margaret last night.”

His answer was evasive. “She got upset about Jo Carson. It was a hard thing for her to understand Jo's gift. I don't think Margaret has been around deep spirituality much in her life.” He sent an apologetic look Grace's way. “I don't mean to offend you in saying that, Grace.”

“No. You're right.” Grace poured Vince another glass of orange juice. Like her boys, he always drank two glasses of juice with his breakfast. “I suppose that's my fault for not encouraging my children to seek deeper things. I was introduced to a more meaningful spiritual walk as a girl. My family prayed together. We had family study times with the Bible and other spiritual books. A strong faith was a part of my upbringing.”

Grace paused, thoughtfully. “The Conleys had a more formal faith. I often thought churchgoing for them was more like a civic responsibility. It looked good. And they went to one of the larger, more prestigious churches in the community. Charles even said once that it was good for business to attend church regularly.”

“And you were happy there?”

Vincent's question caused Grace a moment of honest assessment. “I thought so at the time. It was a beautiful church. There were some kind people. I was active in the work of the church.”

“But, looking back now, you think there was something missing.”

Grace frowned. “Perhaps. I see, particularly, that none of my children got, in their church upbringing, a depth of faith like I experienced in that church.”

“Or in their home?”

Vincent's intense eyes searched Grace's, making her uncomfortable. “Charles didn't believe in having family prayer or Bible times at home. He felt religion belonged in church.”

“I see.”

Grace blew out a breath.

“You think I didn't provide enough spiritual background for my children, don't you?”

“I didn't say that. But what I do know is that Margaret has never given her heart to the Lord. She's what a professor of mine in theology school termed a ‘church-attending Christian.' She's gone to church and thought that enough.”

Grace felt offended at that. “Margaret and all my children went to communicant's class and joined the church when they were young. They learned in the class about becoming a Christian and what it means. I saw to it that they all went, Vincent.”

“But Margaret went through the motions there. She didn't make a decision to give her heart to God then, just a decision to join the church. There's a difference, Grace.”

“Well, I know that. But I always assumed . . .” Her words dropped off.

She found Vincent watching her carefully. “You made your decision as a girl when you joined the church, didn't you?”

Grace felt a flush rise up her face. “I did.”

“So you assumed that when your children went through the class at church and joined the church you and Charles attended, that they would each make a decision, too.”

Grace dropped her eyes. “I guess I did.”

“Did you ever tell them how you came to know the Lord?”

“You mean give them my testimony, like I hear some people share in your church sometimes?” she asked.

He nodded.

Grace searched her memory. “Maybe not in that particular way, but I thought I shared my faith with my children.” She frowned. “Although it was hard. Charles never had as deep and personal a faith as I did. And Charles's mother, Jane, was very disdainful of overly intense faith and of religious people. In fact, she was often scornful of me when I talked about praying over matters of concern. She made fun of me for the time I spent going to Bible studies and Christian fellowship groups.”

“And Margaret spent a great deal of time with Jane.”

Grace winced. “She did. Do you really think Margaret is not right with God?”

“Grace, I think you know the answer to that. People do not resist the Lord and criticize things of real faith unless their hearts are not right.”

Grace felt crestfallen. “What should I do, Vincent? Confront her with it?”

“No. Find a right time to share your own testimony with her. Perhaps let her know how much faith means to you if you get a leading to do so. If the Spirit leads you further, let her know you hold regrets that faith wasn't cherished more by the Conleys.”

“I can do that.” Grace looked at Vincent candidly. “And I think you have many deeper experiences in faith than I do. You talk about a relationship with all three members of the Trinity—like you have intimacy with all of Them, in some separate way as well as in a corporate way.”

“A relationship with the Trinity is available to all for the seeking, Grace. God is no respecter of persons. Growth in God is a journey, but God doesn't make people take the journey. He simply invites them.”

“I'd like to move into a deeper faith walk. Being here, I've realized that. I think I even suppressed my faith in my married years, to fit in and go along with my husband's family's beliefs. To be an accommodating and respectful wife.”

Vincent smiled. “It is never too late to grow in God. I have some books you might like to read on the subject. I've always believed the best people to listen to, when you want to find a new direction, are people who have already found that direction. People who haven't, and are comfortable in staying where they are, will discourage your seeking.”

“I think that's true with almost anything, Vincent. People who have experienced something are always the ones who can best tell you about it. The others just know what they've heard others say. And that's not always reliable.”

“You're right.” He got up, preparing to leave.

“I think I'll go sit down by the river and pray.” He smiled at her. “Give you some quiet time here this morning to do some of that yourself.”

Grace watched Vincent walk down the path from her back porch. He was dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, and boat shoes with no socks, like when she'd first met him. He looked so young to have such a deep faith already.

Returning to the kitchen, Grace offered up the beginnings of her own prayers. “Lord, thanks for bringing that young man into my life. And help me to find the way into a deeper spiritual walk with You.”

She sat back down at the kitchen table to open her Bible for some quiet time. “God, please help me find a way to share with Margaret, too.” Grace knew this would be no easy task. Margaret often got up and stomped out of the room when Grace even talked about things of faith or opened her Bible to study.

Grace sighed. Vincent was right. Margaret showed all the signs of someone who had no relationship with God at all. She was, as Vincent said, just a “churchgoing Christian” and even the churchgoing aspect had become a sporadic thing since Margaret started college. To be frank, Grace wasn't sure how close any of her other children were to God either. It hurt her heart to admit it. She'd read them Bible stories and taken them to church when they were growing up, but she couldn't remember whether she ever had a deep conversation about conversion with any of them. She prayed for forgiveness for that.

“Lord, I wonder how many people sit in church every Sunday without having any kind of real relationship with You? Without having ever given their hearts and lives to You? And without ever hearing a message in their church urging them to get right with God or even telling them how to become a true Christian?”

Grace began a new kind of quiet time that morning, praying over these issues. Praying for her children. Reading her Bible and searching for answers as to how she could grow her own faith. She was drawn to the fervent faith she saw in Vincent. The depth of his relationship with God showed in his eyes, his actions, and his words. And it was inspirational. Maybe it would impact Margaret, too.

As this thought settled in her mind, Grace heard the front door open and heard Margaret's steps coming down the hallway toward the kitchen. Grace looked up to greet her with pleasure and saw an angry, flushed face.

“I am
so
mad.” Margaret threw her books and notebook down on the kitchen table and paced around the room with agitation.

“Whatever is the matter, Margaret? Have they canceled the concert? Did someone upset you at the school?”

“
This
is the matter.” She tossed a flier onto the table in front of Grace. “Just look at this!”

Grace studied the flier. To her surprise, a large picture of Vincent was in the right hand corner.

Margaret came over to hang over her shoulder. “Listen to this.” She started to read from the brochure. “The well-known and beloved inspirational writer Reverend Vincent Westbrooke will be at the campus again for another lecture on his best-selling biblical series
Faith 101
.” She stabbed her finger at the words.

Pointing down farther on the page, she read more. “At only twenty-five, Westbrooke has become a renowned authority on the Bible, with his ongoing spiritual series that invites the reader into a deeper study of the books of the Bible. In this campus lecture, Vincent Westbrooke will discuss his newest book, being released this month, entitled
Isaiah,
which is Westbrooke's fourteenth book in his acclaimed Bible study series.”

Margaret flounced over to sit down in a chair across from Grace now. Tears hugged the edges of her eyes. “There were people standing in line to get tickets to this lecture, Mother. The lecture is free, but, according to one of the people at the college, the auditorium is often packed for Reverend Westbrooke's lectures. So tickets often go fast.”

Grace poured Margaret a glass of juice and cut her a piece of banana bread and pushed it toward her. Margaret drank and ate without seeming to notice what she was doing. “This woman told me she owned every one of Vincent's books. She said it was a wonderful blessing he lived in this area and was willing to give his lectures at the college so frequently.”

She pulled out a paperback book and tossed it down in front of Grace. “I went to the bookstore to see if they had any of Vincent's books. They were sold out of the new one that's just come out. I bought the first one on Genesis so you could see it.”

Margaret got up to pour herself a cup of coffee then, noticing Vincent's breakfast dishes in the sink. “If that man had still been here when I came back, I'd have really given him a piece of my mind!”

“Why are you so angry, Margaret?”

She sat back down and burst into tears. “I didn't know any of this about him. It's just more of those secrets he's kept from me!”

Grace smiled. “Margaret, again I need to remind you that you have hardly encouraged Vincent to confide in you. You do your best to ignore him.”

“Well, that was because I thought he was only a little nobody preacher in a poky mountain town!”

Grace eyed Margaret thoughtfully. “And so you feel differently about Vincent now that you know he is a well-known writer as well as a preacher?”

Margaret stirred her coffee savagely. “He knew I didn't respect his being only a preacher. I made that clear often enough. And he never corrected me. Never told me he was a writer, too. Or that he was a best-selling author.”

She reached a hand across to poke her finger again at the book she'd laid in front of Grace. “Do you know the publisher is starting to reprint these little books in other languages? Read on the back side of the book! The series is being called ‘one of the most insightful and understandable Bible study series of the century.' Can you believe that? I could simply kill Vincent! I can't believe I had to learn about this by finding a flier about him at the campus.”

“Why should Vincent have told you about this?” Grace found it hard to follow Margaret's logic.

“Honestly, Mother. You know he's attracted to me. Why wouldn't he have told me this if he wanted me to like him?”

Grace shook her head and gave Margaret an indulgent smile. “Maybe Vincent wanted you to like him for what he was and not for his accomplishments.”