Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series (13 page)

“
No,” Chuck said, “absolutely not.”

Jack looked his direction. “Well, just pretend for the sake of the illustration.”

Chuck could see Tracy’s sideways smile in her son’s. “I’ll fake it the best I can.”

“
The first thing you do is define the problem,” Jack said. “You figure out what it’s really asking. Then you look at the information they give you so you can figure out what you really need and what’s a red herring.”

“
Physics may not be as useless as I thought,” Chuck said, impressed by his son’s insight.

Jack shook his head. “I’m still trying to define the problem. Is it Brad, or Shannon or both, or something deeper that hasn’t occurred to me yet?”

Like a curse.
Chuck felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, he saw his pastor standing with his hand extended. “Hey, Glen,” Chuck said, shaking hands.

“
Any news?”

“
No. You got a minute after the service?”

“
Sure thing.”

“
I’ll catch you up then.”

“
Is Bobbi here?”

“
No,” Chuck said quietly.

Glen nodded, and Chuck knew he understood. The pastor leaned across to shake Jack’s hand. “How’re you doing, Jack?”

“
Fair.”

“
Hang in there. You’ll never get over it, but you will get through it, I promise. Give yourself some time. It’ll get easier.”

* * *

Jack slumped back against the pew and watched folks file in for the morning worship service. Sure, it would get easier. Like nightmares only four nights a week? No, it was just like Shannon said—he was to blame.

He’d confessed it, begged God to take it away, and had wracked his brain to try and come up with a way to make up for it, but it was no use. God was giving him the silent treatment. Didn’t that prove his responsibility for his brother’s death?

The old guy who came into the mission couldn’t be his grandfather, anyway. That was just nuts. His mother’s dad, the ex-con, showing up here after all these years. Right. They should never have gone looking for him, especially that time of evening.

Jack glanced over at his dad, but he was paying close attention to the announcements or whatever. Maybe this afternoon he could catch his dad for a few minutes and tell him he wasn’t going back to college in the fall. Then his dad, the professional negotiator, would try to talk him out of it. Let him try.

The decision made perfect sense. For starters, he didn’t want to be on campus. On top of that, he was unsure what direction his life was supposed to take, so why waste time and money taking classes that might be useless?

He opened his Bible on cue like he was following the sermon, but he couldn’t focus. He wished he could talk to Brad one more time. Brad knew how to coach him through anything, even dropping out of college. Who did Brad talk to when he needed advice?

He twisted in the seat and laid his Bible beside him, but his cell phone jabbed into his hip. He glanced at his dad then reached in his pocket and moved the phone over. Just touching his phone brought his other secret to the forefront of his mind.

Last night, while his parents were at the hospital, he checked the calls on Shannon’s line. He knew who her accomplice was. If he could find out from Dylan where Shannon was and bring her home, that would be enough to make up for everything. After church, he’d seize this one shot to redeem himself.

* * *

As soon as the last prayer was over, Chuck left the auditorium through one of the side doors and took the long way around to Glen’s office, detouring through as many empty corridors as possible. He pushed Glen’s door open and took a seat. Glen startled him when he strode in a few minutes later. “That was fast,” Chuck said, shaking Glen’s hand.

Glen smiled. “I must’ve made everybody mad, so they didn’t want to speak to me.” He took a seat behind his desk. “So what’s the latest?”

“
Shannon’s still not home. Joel’s convinced she’ll call Bobbi today.”

“
We’ll pray that she does. How’re you and Bobbi holding up?”

“
Bobbi’s at her limit. I don’t know how she’s keeping it together.”

“
Same way you are, I expect.” Glen leaned up to the desk. “Which reminds me. I understand you were in the ER last night with chest pains and never bothered to call your pastor.”

“
Because it was nothing. A muscle spasm.”

Glen frowned. “Well, I’ll cut you some slack this time.”

“
I’m glad somebody is. You know, I didn’t hear much of your sermon today.”

“
What else is new?”

Chuck smiled but then dropped his eyes. “The . . . the prodigal son was across the page.”

“
That was more helpful than anything I had to say. What’d you find out?”

“
More questions. Is that how we’re supposed to handle this? Just wait it out?” Surely not. He couldn’t sit back and wait for Shannon to come home.

Glen sat in silence for several moments then folded his hands. “Chuck, can I be real honest with you?”

“
Always.”

“
I feel categorically unqualified to tell you what to do. Laurie and I only know the grief of never having children. I can’t tell you how to handle a wayward one.”

“
But I want you to,” Chuck said. “You know God’s Word, you follow His leading. I trust your counsel.” He felt the weight of another door closing. “I need your advice, Glen.”

“
Thank you, but who am I to tell you not to turn the city upside down looking for Shannon? Maybe you should ask Gavin about this one.”

“
You expect me to believe you’ve spent your whole ministry dodging parents?”

“
No, I just think you could get more credible advice.”

Chuck frowned. If Glen wouldn’t touch the situation with Shannon, would he tackle something as crazy-sounding as a curse?

“
May as well ask the other one,” Glen said. “I can tell you got something else running around in your head.”

Chuck sat up straight and took a deep breath. “Shannon . . . she said all of this— Brad’s death, her rebellion, even Joel and Abby’s infertility—all of it was the result of some judgment against me for the affair. That it was a curse.”

“
What a thing to tell a grieving father.”

When Glen dropped his eyes and took a deep breath, Chuck braced himself for the yes.

“
The answer is yes and no,” Glen said at last.

“
Great.” Chuck slumped back in the seat.

“
Now, hold on. Before you take all this guilt on yourself, hear me out. It’s an oversimplification to say action A causes result A to the exclusion of all others. Bad things happen as a result of a combination of things.”

“
But one of those things is judgment.”

“
Not always judgment on us. It could be someone close to us, and we’re caught by the fallout. Sometimes we’re completely innocent and just a victim. It’s impossible to say for sure.”

“
You’re not helping.”

“
I know. It’s a gift.” He leaned back in his chair. “Thing is, on the surface, Shannon’s got a point. You committed a grave sin with lasting, far-reaching consequences.”

As if Chuck needed reminding.

“
But to say your action is responsible for her willful rebellion . . .” He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished. “Plus, it’s presumptuous to declare how God has chosen to deal with His children. You ever feel like Job?”

“
Yesterday, yes.”

“
Job’s a perfect case. He never understood why all those tragedies happened in his life. Everything his friends said was theologically sound, but none of it was applicable. In the end, his conclusion was, ‘God is God, and I’ll shut up now.’”

“
So is that a hint?” Chuck asked. “Do I need to go?”

Glen smiled and shook his head. “Remind me to pray more for Bobbi. She has to deal with you all the time.” Then he leaned forward and snapped his fingers. “You ever see one of those mosaic pictures made out of a whole bunch of little pictures?”

“
Yeah, so?”

“
Each of us lives out our lives in one of those little pictures. God sees the whole mosaic, and He ordains how each of those little pictures fits together. You and I, because we can’t see the big picture, we struggle to understand what it all means. When we run up against things like why weren’t Laurie and I given a chance to be parents, or why God called Brad home, there’s just no discernable answer.”

“
Or why does Bobbi has to go through so much?”

“
Perfect example. None of it makes sense, and we’ll never get a satisfactory reason for the ‘why.’”

“
But what about sin? How does that affect the picture? God doesn’t ordain sin.”

“
I’d say it affects the little picture quite a bit, but God brings it around in the little picture so that it still fits in its place in the mosaic.”

“
Shannon and I are different pictures?”

Glen nodded. “Yeah, I think everybody gets his own picture.”

“
But if our sins affect innocent people, your analogy fails. How can the pictures affect each other, and remain discreet at the same time?”

Glen rolled his eyes. “You know, I’m making this analogy up as I go. It’s not perfect.”

“
Even so.”

“
Lemme think a minute.” He stared past Chuck for a moment, then nodded slowly. “What if the mosaic deals less with the actual events, but more with our responses to them?”

“
Keep going.”

“
When you sin, you choose how you respond to that. You can repent. You can deny it. Whatever. Our little picture reflects our responses to the whole gamut of situations God allows us to experience. Our sins, the sins against us, random events that don’t fit anywhere, they all shape us. God keeps throwing events at us, allowing things in our lives—including the fallout from the sins of other people—to get us where He wants us.”

“
What if we fail? He allowed Tracy to cross my path and I failed.”

“
Bound and determined to blame yourself, aren’t you? You think when you were with Tracy that God was surprised? That you caught Him off-guard?”

“
No, but—”

“
Either God can work around us and through us in spite of everything, or I need to turn in my preacher Bible.”

Chuck closed his eyes for a moment and tapped the armrest, absorbing everything Glen said. Everything he’d done to change, to make up for his sin, it was part of a process. His picture wasn’t done yet. So he still had hope. “I knew you’d know the answer,” Chuck said at last.

“
Hallelujah.” Glen smiled and pushed his chair back from the desk. “I don’t know if it’s
the
answer, but it’ll get you out of here so I can go eat lunch.”

“
Seriously, you make a lot of sense, Glen. It gives me a lot to think about and pray about.”

“
That’s where you’ll get the real answer.”

* * *

Jack parked Brad’s car beside the schoolyard at Stoneburner Elementary. A half dozen guys, three without shirts, were playing a pick-up basketball game. He quickly spotted Dylan Snider, wearing mirrored sunglasses with his T-shirt tucked in the back of his shorts. Jack blew out a deep breath and wiped his palms on his jeans. His one chance.

He got out of the car, leaned against the fender and waited. He wanted to talk to Dylan without the audience, figuring that would increase his chances of getting a straight answer, plus one-to-one odds were way better than six-to-one.

Moments later, Dylan bounced the ball behind him and shuffled toward Jack. “What do you want, Josh?”

“
It’s Jack.” He crossed his arms across his chest, doing his best impression of the cops who questioned him about Brad. Jack was taller and heavier than Dylan, and he hoped that mattered. “When was the last time you talked to Shannon?”

“
Not since we went out Friday night.”

Now Jack understood why Dylan needed the sunglasses. It made it easier to lie. “Shannon disappeared sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning. We’re trying to do all we can to find her before we bring in the police.” Jack was bluffing, not lying. There was a difference.

“
Sorry, can’t help you.” Dylan turned to walk away.

“
I thought you might be concerned. Girl out there somewhere, all alone.”

“
Oh, she’s not a girl anymore,” Dylan said. “Not after last night.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dylan took a step toward Jack, laid a hand on his shoulder and sneered. “Someday when you’re a man, you’ll understand.”

Jack brushed the hand off and jabbed Dylan in the chest with his index finger. “So help me, if you touched her . . .”

Absorbed by his outrage, Jack never saw the windup. Dylan landed a quick punch in Jack’s stomach, and a second one on the left side of his mouth.

Jack doubled over and gasped for his next breath as salty blood seeped in between his lips. Dylan hissed, “There’s no ‘if’ about it. Go home, Jack. Get over it.”