Never Say Goodbye (10 page)

First, Scott
did
understand. Far too much. She'd seen it in his eyes. And that disturbed her greatly.

But even more disturbing was the fact that it had
taken every ounce of her willpower to drive away and leave him alone in that dismal place.

 

“Now, that's what I call the life of Riley.”

At her brother's teasing voice, Jess's eyes flew open. “Mark! You made it!” she said in delight, scrambling to her feet to throw her arms around him.

He returned the bear hug, then, still holding her hands, backed off slightly to look her over. “Well, I have to say the Texas sun seems to be good for you.”

“Lying around on a beach being lazy in a gorgeous place like Padre Island would be good for anyone. How long can you stay?”

“Just until Wednesday. I barely got away as it is. It was touch and go up until the last minute.”

Jess wrinkled her nose. “Three days isn't long enough to relax.”

“Tell that to my boss.”

“You work too hard, Mark.”

“I like what I do.”

“You need time for other things.”

“Such as?”

“Family.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” he said, spreading out a towel on the sand, then flopping down. “I always make it for at least a couple days of the annual family vacation. Speaking of which—remember all those trips we took in the camper?” he said with a chuckle.

“And all the times we put it up in the rain,” she replied, smiling ruefully as she sat on her towel and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Yeah. Listen, don't tell Dad, but I much prefer the
condo,” Mark admitted with a grin as he adjusted his sunglasses.

“I agree. Anyway, don't try to change the subject. You need time in your life for other things beside work.”

“Like what?”

“A wife might be nice.”

“There's plenty of time,” he said nonchalantly. “Besides, I didn't come out here to talk about me. I want to hear all about you. And Scott. Mom doesn't seem to know anything, and you aren't exactly forthcoming on the phone.”

Jess shrugged. “There's not much to tell.”

He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry. Don't buy it. We lived in the same house for more than twenty years. I can read you like a book.”

“Baloney,” she retorted, stretching out on the towel.

“Uh-uh,” he said, leaning over to tickle the bottom of her foot. “You aren't getting off that easily.”

“Stop that!” she said, swatting at him.

“Nope. Not till I get the truth.”

She sat back up and crossed her legs. “How old did you say you were?” she demanded, trying to look stern.

“Thirty-one. Going on ten,” he replied with an impudent grin.

“I believe it.”

“So let's have the scoop on Scott. Have you taken my advice yet?”

“What makes you think I will?” she hedged.

“You'll bow to my superior wisdom in time,” he said loftily, but the twinkle in his eyes belied his tone.

“You know, I think I'm beginning to understand why you're not married,” she said sweetly, making a face at him.

“Hey! Let's not get personal!”

“I agree. Let's not.” She lay back down and settled her sunglasses on her nose.

He gave her a moment's peace before trying a different tack. “Okay, fine. Have it your way. But how often do you get such a willing ear? Here I am, ready to put all my Listening 101 skills into action, and you're shutting me out.”

She lifted her glasses and looked at him. “You aren't going to give up, are you?”

“Nope.”

With a resigned sigh she sat up again. “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Let's not get too ambitious.”

“Okay, okay. At least tell me if you've talked with him.”

She eyed him warily. “First, a ground rule. This conversation stays between us. Agreed?”

“Sure.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, I've talked to him. Not about anything too serious. But our paths have crossed on a number of occasions—which Mom and Dad do not know about, by the way—and we've exchanged a few words. I also gave him a ride once. Now you have the whole story.”

“How is he?”

Jess frowned. “He looks older. But he seems to have found…I don't know how to describe it, exactly. An inner peace, maybe. I do know that he's close friends with a local minister who's also one of the prison chaplains. He seems to have found a lot of comfort in his faith.”

Mark's face registered surprise. “Really? I never thought Scott was all that religious. I mean, I know he went to church and lived a good life, but I never got the sense that he had a deep spiritual life.”

“He seems to now.”

“That's kind of ironic, isn't it?” Mark reflected. “In the midst of tragedy you lost God, and Scott found Him. Strange how life works. So how do you feel about this whole situation?”

“Honestly? Scared.”

“I think that's probably normal.”

Jess gazed out over the shimmering blue water. “I'm not sure I know what that word means anymore,” she said wearily.

“I can tell you what it doesn't mean,” Mark replied. “It doesn't mean keeping your feelings bottled inside. It doesn't mean ignoring issues. It doesn't mean pretending that everything's all right when it's not.”

“You think that's what I've been doing?”

“I'd put money on it. How are you feeling about Scott these days?”

“Confused.”

“Do you still hate him?”

“I keep trying to. But it…it gets harder and harder. Yet it seems somehow wrong to have anything to do
with him. As if I'm…I don't know…dishonoring the memory of Elizabeth in some way.”

“Maybe the best way to honor her memory is with joy and forgiveness, not bitterness and hate,” Mark said quietly. “Scott loved her, Jess. Yet because of him, she died. He has to live with that every day of his life. Think of the pain and suffering he's already endured. What will it serve to add to that?”

“But I can't forget what happened, Mark.”

“We don't have to forget in order to forgive.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“Hardly. But you'll find some good guidelines in that Bible peeking out of your beach bag. Try Ephesians, chapter four, verses thirty-one and thirty-two.”

A flush rose on her cheeks, and she reached over and tucked the Bible out of sight. “I haven't opened it in years. I'm not even sure why I brought it with me,” she said dismissively.

“Personally, I think it was a good idea. Try Colossians, too. Chapter three, verses twelve through fourteen.”

She stared at him. “Since when have you become such a Bible scholar?”

He shrugged. “Let's just say that I've been on my own journey. And I want you to know that…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, along the way I've been praying for you and Scott.”

Her throat constricted with emotion at this rare display of what her brother usually called “mushy stuff.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

“Hey, what are brothers for?” he said with a grin
as he stretched out on his towel, once more his irreverent self. “Call me for advice anytime.”

 

“Let all bitterness, and wrath, and indignation, and clamor, and reviling, be removed from you, along with all malice. On the contrary, be kind to one another, and merciful, generously forgiving one another, as also God in Christ has generously forgiven you.”

Jess read the words twice, then turned to the second passage her brother had suggested.

“Put on therefore, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, a heart of mercy, kindness, humility, meekness, patience. Bear with one another and forgive one another, if anyone has a grievance against any other; even as the Lord has forgiven you, so also do you forgive. But above all these things have love, which is the bond of perfection.”

Slowly she closed the book and lay back on her pillow. She'd spoken truthfully to Mark when she'd said she had no idea why she'd brought her Bible on vacation. Especially since she hadn't opened it in almost four years. It had been a last-minute addition to her luggage, and she hadn't looked at it all week. But something had compelled her to include it.

No, that wasn't entirely true, she acknowledged. It wasn't some
thing,
but some
one.
Namely, Scott. He seemed to have found his way through the labyrinth of pain and grief of the past few years far better than she had. She could see reflected in his eyes the very things her soul desperately longed for. Acceptance of what life had dealt him. Understanding that gave clarity to chaos. A clear and confident sense of direction
and destination. A perspective that tempered sadness with trust. He was clearly a man who had made his peace with himself and with his God and, in so doing, had found hope for tomorrow. And the Bible had apparently played a key role in his journey. Because that's where Scott seemed to go for comfort and guidance.

But he didn't just read the Bible. He clearly had an ongoing dialogue with the Lord, Jess acknowledged. His words to God in the cemetery had been a relaxed conversation rather than a stilted, formal prayer, suggesting that he was accustomed to speaking to the Lord on a very personal level. Even when Jess had considered her faith to be at its strongest, she'd never reached the spiritual depth, the personal relationship with God, that Scott now seemed to enjoy.

Because of that relationship, she had a feeling that although he was probably as lonely as she was in many ways, he never felt truly alone. And she envied him that. Even the love of her parents hadn't been able to assuage the terrible, desolate sense of aloneness that had darkened her days for the past four years. Something was missing from her life, something more than her beloved Elizabeth or the husband she had once adored. The loss was even more profound than that, and she felt it at the very depths of her soul. It was a sense of isolation—and separation—from the one unchanging reality of life. From God.

Her throat constricted with emotion, and Jess closed her eyes. Mark had been right earlier in the day when he'd noted the irony that Scott, the less “religious” of the two, had found his way out of the maze of
despair through faith, while Jess stumbled around in darkness, her bitterness toward God and her husband twisting her heart with a malignant anger. Scott had resolved his issues, while Jess's had simply festered. And he'd done it with the help of the God Jess had turned her back on. The God she had railed against in pain and anguish for taking her beloved daughter. The God she had abandoned as uncaring and unfair. Yet in his need, Scott had found in that very same God a loving, forgiving Father who stretched out His hand to those who called upon Him for help.

Jess knew that her rejection of the Lord had been motivated by anger and an inability to comprehend how a good and loving God could allow such tragic events to occur. She'd tortured herself over and over again asking “why?” and seeking answers where there were none. But as was slowly becoming clear to her, discerning the purposes of the Lord was a task far beyond the limited powers of the human intellect. After all, the Lord never called on us to understand His ways—just to accept them. And to trust in His abiding love.

That's what Scott had done. What Jess
needed
to do. Because she now realized that until she, too, found her way back to the Lord, she would never achieve the peace, and the healing, that Scott had found.

At the same time, she knew that it wouldn't be easy. Because the Bible verses Mark had recommended made it clear that though God was always ready to forgive us, He expected us to follow His example. Meaning that if Jess truly wanted to find her way back to the Lord, she needed to forgive, as well. And she
would need a lot of help with that, she acknowledged. She needed God. But how did one begin to rebuild a relationship with the Almighty?

Jess turned back to the Bible and idly let it fall open. The words from James that met her eyes provided the answer to her question so clearly that for a moment she simply sat there in stunned silence.

“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

It sounded so easy, she thought. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it was as simple as what Scott had done in the cemetery, when he'd simply talked with the Lord. It was certainly worth a try. Jess drew in a steadying breath, then let her eyelids drift closed. And though she felt as tentative and awkward as a baby taking its first steps, she began to speak haltingly in the silence of her heart.

Dear Lord, I know that I've been away from You for…well, for too long. I don't know how to find my way back…only that I need to, because my soul is hungry for the peace that I see in Scott's eyes, a peace that I now know only comes from You. He's changed so much, Lord. For the better. And I believe with all my heart that it's because he found his way back to You. I'd like to do the same. I ask for Your help and Your grace, and for Your loving hand to guide me in right paths as I begin this journey. Most of all, I ask Your forgiveness for turning away from You in bitterness and anger. And I ask You to help me find in my heart the forgiveness that You so generously offer to all who seek it from You—and without which true healing can never occur.

When she finished her prayer, Jess drew a long,
shaky breath. She knew that there was much more she could say. More that she could confess. More that she could ask. But this was a start.

Jess hadn't expected any immediate guidance. And none was forthcoming. Yet she no longer felt quite so alone. Because although the Lord's voice was quiet at the moment, she sensed that He was listening.

And she would do the same.

“A
re you sure about driving me home, Dad? I can just stay in the cab and save you a trip.”

“Don't even think about it, dear,” said Clare. “Your father doesn't mind giving you a lift. We'll just transfer your luggage to our car.”

“Welcome home, Clare, Frank. Hello, Jess. Did you have a good time?”

Frank paid the cabdriver, then turned to greet his neighbor. “Hello, David. Padre Island is always great. Everything okay here?”

“Just fine now, but we had a bad storm the day after you left. Saturday afternoon. Blew in here with a vengeance. We lost power for fourteen hours, and there were trees down all over the place.”

Frank frowned, then turned to Clare and Jess. “I'll get the luggage in a minute. I better go check the roses.”

“They're fine,” David assured him. “They took a beating, but a nice young man came by bright and
early Sunday morning and cleaned everything up. You'd hardly know there was even a storm.”

Frank's frown deepened. “Who was it?”

“Can't say I've ever seen him before,” David replied. “Of course, Marge and I have only lived here a couple of years, but he said he'd known you for a long time. When I asked his name, he just smiled and said he was a Good Samaritan. I kind of got the impression that he'd just as soon have done his good deed and gone on his way without being noticed. But I figured you'd want to know.”

Jess stared at the man as a suspicion began to niggle at her brain. Could
Scott
have been the Good Samaritan? Knowing how much her father's roses meant to him, and despite his less-than-kind treatment at the garden, had Scott nonetheless stepped in to help?

“What did he look like, David?” Frank asked.

“Tall. Good shape. Dark hair. A little silver at the temples, now that I think about it. So maybe he wasn't quite so young after all.”

Jess's suspicion changed to certainty.

“I'll bring your mail over a little later,” David continued. “Now I'll leave you folks alone to unpack and get settled.”

“Isn't that odd, Frank?” Clare gave her husband a puzzled look as their neighbor strolled back to his house. “Who on earth would have done such a thing?”

Jess drew a deep, steadying breath. “It was Scott.”

As she had expected, both heads swiveled in her direction and her parents stared at her in shocked si
lence for several long moments. Finally her father found his voice.

“What makes you say that?” There was a note of caution—and distance—in his tone.

Jess swallowed and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think maybe we better go inside so I can explain.”

Frank nodded curtly and reached for two suitcases. “Good idea. No sense airing family business in public. If you ladies can get those carry-ons, we should be able to do this in one trip.”

Once inside, Frank wasted no time getting back to the matter at hand. He dropped the bags in the living room, then turned to his daughter. “Okay, Jess. What do you know about this?”

“Why don't we sit down?” she suggested, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She should have known that eventually her parents would find out that she had talked with Scott. It had been silly to keep it a secret. And it made things very awkward now.

“I don't feel like sitting,” Frank replied, propping his fists on his hips. “You've been seeing him, haven't you?” he said accusatorily.

Clare stared at her daughter. “Is that true, Jess?”

Jess took a deep breath. “Not exactly. But our paths have crossed by chance on several occasions and…” A skeptical snort from her father made her voice falter.

“Frank, let Jess tell us the story,” Clare admonished him before sitting down across from her daughter. “Go on, honey.”

“Our meetings
were
by chance,” Jess repeated more forcefully. “He works for a landscaping com
pany, and I happened to be passing two of the job sites he was assigned to. I also ran into him at the cemetery on Elizabeth's birthday. And I saw him one day at the garden.”

“I didn't know you still went to the cemetery,” Clare said gently.

Frank brushed past that. “Do you mean you saw him at the garden other than the time we all ran into him?”

“Yes. About a week later. He asked about your roses, and I told him that you'd gotten into them in a big way. How you enter shows and everything. I also mentioned that we were leaving on vacation, so I guess he put two and two together, figured we were gone and decided to come over and attend to the roses after the storm. Which probably took a lot of effort, because he doesn't have a car. He must have taken the bus.”

Frank frowned. “How do you know he doesn't have a car?”

“He told me. The day I ran into him at the garden.” She frowned. “Dad, did you know that Scott turned everything over to me when he went to prison? Every dime?”

“Yes. It was the least he could do after ruining your life,” Frank replied coldly. “We discussed it at the time.”

Twin furrows creased Jess's brow. “I guess I didn't pay much attention. Money was the last thing on my mind. I always just assumed he kept
something
in reserve for when he got out. But he didn't. You should see how he lives.”

Frank's frown of disapproval deepened. “How do you know how he lives?”

Jess felt hot color creep up her neck. She was getting in deeper and deeper. “I…I gave him a ride home from the garden. It was raining.” She turned to her mother, hoping for an ally. “Mom, it's a terrible neighborhood. Run-down and dangerous looking.”

Clare shook her head. “I don't know what to say, Jess,” she replied helplessly. “I thought you hated Scott. But now…well, your attitude seems almost…sympathetic.”

“Frankly, I don't know how I feel anymore,” she admitted with a sigh. “He's changed so much. For the better. I can see it in his eyes. There's a remarkable humbleness and peace about him. And kindness. Look what he just did for you, Dad.”

“He probably had an ulterior motive,” her father replied brusquely. “Maybe he thought it was a way to get to
you.
”

“That's a pretty cynical attitude.”

“I'd call it cautious,” he countered stubbornly. “Why else would he do me a favor, except to build up brownie points with you? I've made it pretty clear to him how I feel. So have you—at least, until recently. So what's his motivation?”

Love. He's doing it because he still loves me.

The thought came unbidden, and left Jess momentarily stunned—and speechless.

Suddenly Frank's eyes narrowed. “You know, if his living conditions are as bad as you say, maybe he's having second thoughts about turning all his assets over to you. Maybe he's after money.”

The comment jolted Jess back to reality and she stared at him, appalled. “That's a terrible thing to say, Dad!”

“I wouldn't put it past him,” he persisted, his voice laced with derision.

“But how can you think that?” Jess demanded in dismay. “Scott made some bad
mistakes,
but he was never a bad
man.
Or mercenary. Or dishonest.”

Her father's eyes grew cold. “No. He was just a murderer.”

The bitterness in her father's voice was so venomous that Jess actually flinched. She knew her father hated Scott. But surely his hatred hadn't always been this virulent. Or had she simply been so caught up in her own pain that she'd never fully grasped the intensity of his feelings?

“Frank…those are pretty harsh words,” Clare said in gentle reproach.

He turned to her. “Are you getting soft, too? That man killed your granddaughter, for God's sake! And almost ruined your daughter's life.”

Clare flushed. “I know. But…well, he didn't do it on purpose, Frank. And he did go to prison.”

“I suppose that makes up for everything,” he replied sarcastically.

“No. But what would?”

Her mother's quiet, insightful question silenced her father for a moment, and Jess took the opportunity to reach for her purse and stand up. “I need to get home.”

Frank nodded stiffly. “I'll get the car.”

“Maybe I should take a cab, Dad.”

Frank sighed and raked his fingers through his thick head of gray hair. “No. I'll drive you. No sense letting this thing disrupt the family. But I have a bad feeling about this, Jess. I think reestablishing contact with Scott is a mistake. You're opening the door to a lot of things that are best left buried.”

She sighed. “That's the trouble, Dad. I'm beginning to realize that burying problems doesn't make them go away. And that maybe it's time I dealt with them.”

 

Jess entered the dimly lit auditorium and made her way inconspicuously along the back wall, scanning the last few rows of the seemingly packed house for an empty seat. She'd had no idea that religious retreats were such a big draw, she thought incredulously. Then again, perhaps the theme was responsible for the crowd. Maybe a lot of people were seeking guidance on how to cope with adversity.

Though Jess hadn't planned to attend the event, something had compelled her to keep the flyer. Then, when she'd returned from vacation, she'd dug it out of the drawer where she had carelessly tossed it. Now that she had begun to pray for the courage and strength to forgive, it seemed like a good idea to hear what Scott had to say. Not that she intended to make her presence known. This was simply a fact-finding mission. A chance to hear his story from the anonymity of a darkened auditorium. An opportunity to view the situation from a different perspective and perhaps gain some insight that would help her understand her feelings.

So far, perspective and insight had eluded her, she
acknowledged. Every time she'd seen Scott since his release, she'd been so busy trying to control her turbulent emotions, so focused on carrying on a rational conversation that she hadn't really been able to focus on
him.
She needed an opportunity to study him unobserved and unselfconsciously so that she could get a better handle on who he was now, this man who was still her husband and whom she had once known intimately, but who had changed in some dramatic, fundamental way. That's what tonight's outing was all about. She'd planned it down to the minute: arrive just in time for Scott's remarks, which were the last item on the agenda, sit in the back, then slip out unnoticed as soon as his talk ended.

Well, she'd arrived at the right time. But the sitting part didn't look too promising. However, just when she was about to give up she came upon a single empty seat in the last row. With a sigh of relief and a murmured apology, she edged past a couple of people and sank into the chair just as a sandy-haired, fiftyish minister with a kind face stepped to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Reverend Keith Young,” he said in a pleasant, well-modulated voice. “Let me add my own words of welcome on behalf of all the sponsoring churches, and thank you for your support of this wonderful event.

“For the last few hours, a number of highly respected Bible scholars have talked to us about the guidance offered in Scripture for dealing with adversity. And we've heard a number of amazing first-person stories about the healing and transforming
power of faith. While all of the stories are inspiring, we've saved perhaps the most
dramatic
story until last.

“I met our next speaker, Scott Mitchell, about three years ago when he was in prison serving time for vehicular manslaughter. Scott had been involved in a drunk-driving accident in which two people were killed—a judge and his own four-year-old daughter.”

A hushed murmur ran through the crowd, and the minister waited for it to subside before continuing.

“That night changed Scott's life forever. Today he has agreed to share with you his remarkable journey from grief and despair to redemption and hope. Please give Scott a warm welcome.”

As the audience applauded, Scott rose from a seat in the front row and made his way to the slightly elevated platform, where the two men shook hands warmly. Then the minister placed his left hand on Scott's shoulder and said something quietly. Scott nodded, and as Reverend Young returned to his seat, Scott set the Bible he was carrying on the podium and reached for the microphone.

For a long moment he simply looked out over the group in silence, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Once upon a time, in a different world, when I was a different man, I used to stand up in front of large groups of people all the time to give presentations on advertising campaigns and focus groups and consumer preferences,” he said quietly. His voice was calm and in control, but Jess heard the husky undertones, a clear sign to anyone who knew him well that his emotions were close to the surface. Curiously, it
wasn't a tone she had ever heard him use in public. He'd always been guarded about exposing his feelings to anyone except close family. Had he changed in that regard, too? she wondered, intrigued.

“In those days, I wore expensive suits and drove an expensive car and drank expensive liquor,” he continued. “I traveled first class, ate in the best restaurants, mingled with the right people. Everyone thought I had it all. Including me. But my wife, Jess, knew better.”

At the mention of her name, Jess drew in a sharp breath, and her heart began to thump painfully.

“Jess saw right through all the ‘stuff' I grew to value so highly. She recognized it for what it was—a distraction from what really counted. Namely love. And friendship. And family. And simple pleasures. And faith. She tried to help me see that, too, because she recognized that our diverging values were causing problems in our marriage. But instead of listening, I started drinking. Not enough to be an alcoholic, but too much at times. Especially one particular time. The night my world ended.”