The Chance: A Novel (2 page)

To Tyler:

It’s hard to believe you’re almost already finished with your second year of college, ready for the next season of challenges and adventures. Your blog, Ty’s Take, is being followed by so many of my readers longing to know how God is working in your life while you’re in college. What’s incredible is how you have become such a great writer in the process. I know you are planning to make a ministry-related career out of singing for Jesus on stages across the world, but don’t be surprised if God also puts you at a computer keyboard, where you’ll write books for Him. Oh, and let’s not forget your gift for directing. So many exciting times ahead, Ty. I can barely take it all in. I still believe with all my heart that God has you right where He wants you. Learning so much—about performing for Him and becoming the man He wants you to be. You are that rare guy with a most beautiful heart for God and others. Your dad and I are so proud of you. We’re proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, we’ll be in the front row cheering loudest as we watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, son. Keep shining for Him! I love you.

To Sean:

You’ve almost reached graduation, Sean, and we see God’s hand at work in your life constantly. You have taken up drumming, and most days you spend three hours perfecting your gift for music. I love your confidence when you say that you’ll be the best drummer ever, and then a decade after that you’ll open your own restaurant. Nothing like passion and a plan! You are growing up and listening to God’s lead, and in the process you are taking your studies and your homework so much more seriously. God will bless you for how you’re being faithful in the little things. Be joyful, God tells us. And so in our family, you give us a little better picture of how that looks. Stay close to us, Sean. Remember, home is where your heart is always safe. Your dream of playing drums as a professional musician is alive and real. Keep working, keep pushing, keep believing. Go to bed every night knowing you did all you could to prepare yourself for the doors God will open in the days ahead. I pray that as you soar for the Lord, He will allow you to be a very bright light indeed. You’re a precious gift, son. I love you. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best.

To Josh:

Soccer was where you started when you first came home from Haiti, and soccer is the game that God seems to be opening up for you. We prayed about what was next, whether you would continue to shine on the football field and the soccer field, or whether God would narrow your options to show you where He is leading. Now we all need to pray that as you continue to follow the Lord in your sports options, He will continue to lead you so that your steps are in keeping with His. This we know—there is for you a very real possibility that you’ll play competitive sports at the next level. Even with all your athleticism, I’m most proud of your spiritual and social growth this past year. You’ve grown in heart, maturity, kindness, quiet strength, and the realization that time at home is short. God is going to use you for great things, and I believe He will put you on a public platform to do it. Stay strong in Him, and listen to His quiet whispers so you’ll know which direction to turn. I’m so proud of you, son. I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.

To EJ:

EJ, I’m so glad you know just how much we love you and how deeply we believe in the great plans God has for you. With new opportunities spread out before you, I know you are a bit uncertain. But I see glimpses of determination and effort that tell me that with Christ, you can do anything, son. One day not too far from here, you’ll be applying to colleges, thinking about the career choices ahead of you and the path God might be leading you down. Wherever that path takes you, keep your eyes on Jesus and you’ll always be as full of possibility as you are today. I expect great things from you, EJ, and I know the Lord expects them, too. I’m so glad you’re in our family, always and forever. I’m praying you’ll have a strong passion to use your gifts for God as you head into your junior year. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you more than you know.

To Austin:

Austin, you are now in high school, and I literally wonder every day how the time has passed so quickly. This past summer as you grew to six foot five, we learned about your high blood pressure, how your congenital heart defect had become congenital heart disease. But rather than grumble and complain, you listened and learned and worked with us to adjust every aspect of your life. You eat differently, sleep more, drink water all day long, and you know the fruits, vegetables, and supplements that lower blood pressure. The results have been amazing! From that first day you stepped onto the high school football field, you have given one hundred percent of your special heart to every single play, and we couldn’t be more proud of you! Austin, I love that you care enough to be and do your best. It shows in your straight A’s, and it shows in the way you are tackling your health. Always remember what I’ve told you about being a warrior. Let your drive and competition push you to be better, but never, ever let it discourage you. You’re so good at life, Austin. Keep the passion and keep that beautiful faith of yours. Every single one of your dreams is within reach. Keep your eyes on Him, and we’ll keep our eyes on you, our youngest son. There is nothing sweeter than cheering you on—from the time you were born, through your infant heart surgery, until now. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.

And to God Almighty, the Author of Life, who has—for now—
blessed me with these.

Chapter
One

Summer 2002

H
er mom didn’t come home for dinner—the third time that week.

That was the first hint Ellie Tucker had that maybe her father was right. Maybe her mother had done something so terrible this time that their family really would break in two. And no one and nothing would ever put them back together.

Ellie was fifteen that hot, humid Savannah summer, and as the Friday afternoon hours slipped away, as six o’clock became six thirty, she joined her dad in the kitchen and helped him make dinner. Tuna sandwiches with a new jar of mayonnaise, warm from the cupboard. They worked without talking, her mother’s absence weighing heavy in the silence of the passing minutes. The refrigerator didn’t have much, but her dad found a bag of baby carrots and put them in a bowl. When the food was on the table, he took his spot at the head, and Ellie sat next to him.

The place across from her, the spot where her mother usually sat, remained glaringly empty.

“Let’s pray.” Her father took her hand. He waited for several beats before starting. “Lord, thank You for our food and our blessings.” He hesitated. “You know all things. Reveal the truth, please. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The truth?
Ellie could barely swallow the dry bites of her sandwich. The truth about what? Her mother? The reason she wasn’t home when the doctor’s office she worked at closed an hour ago? No words were said during the meal, though the quiet screamed across the dinner table. When they were finished, her dad looked at her. His eyes were sad. “Ellie, if you would do the dishes, please.” He stood and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be in my room.”

She did what she was asked. Twenty minutes later, she was still finishing when she heard her mom slip through the front door. Ellie looked over her shoulder, and their eyes met. Lately, Ellie felt more like the mother, the way a mother might feel when her kids were teenagers. Her mom wore her work clothes, black pants and a white shirt. As if work had just now gotten done.

“Where’s your father?” Her mother’s eyes were red and swollen, her voice thick.

“In his room.” Ellie blinked, not sure what else to say.

Her mom started walking in that direction; then she stopped and turned to Ellie again. “I’m sorry.” Her shoulders dropped a little. “For missing dinner.” She sounded like someone Ellie didn’t know. “I’m sorry.”

Before Ellie could ask where she’d been, her mom turned and walked down the hall. Ellie checked the clock on the microwave. Seven thirty. Nolan had another hour in the gym, another hour shooting baskets. Then Ellie would ride her bike to his house, the way she did most nights. Especially this summer.

Since her parents had started fighting.

She dried her hands, went to her room, and shut the door behind her. A little music and some time with her journal, then Nolan would be home. She turned on the radio. Backstreet Boys filled the air, and instantly, she dropped the sound a few notches. Her dad said he’d take away her radio if she listened to worldly music. Ellie figured worldly was a matter of opinion. Her opinion was the Backstreet Boys’ music might be as close to heaven as she was going to get in the near future.

The boys were singing about being larger than life when the first shout seemed to rattle her bedroom window. Ellie killed the sound on the radio and jumped to her feet. As much tension as there had been between her parents lately, neither of them ever really shouted. Not like this. Her heart pounded loud enough to hear it. She hurried to her bedroom door, but before she reached it another round of shouts echoed through the house. This time she could understand what her father was saying, the awful names he was calling her mom.

Moving as quietly as she could, Ellie crept down the hall and across the living room closer to her parents’ bedroom door. Another burst of yelling and she was near enough to hear something else. Her mother was weeping.

“You’ll pack your things and leave.” Her father had never sounded like this—like he was firing bullets with every word. He wasn’t finished. “I will not have you pregnant with
his
child and . . . and living under
my
roof.” His voice seemed to shake the walls. “I will not have it.”

Ellie anchored herself against the hallway so she wouldn’t drop to the floor. What was happening? Her mother was pregnant? With someone else’s baby? She felt the blood leaving her face, and her world started to spin. Colors and sounds and reality
blurred, and she wondered if she would pass out.
Run, Ellie . . . run fast.
She ordered herself to move, but her feet wouldn’t follow the command.

Before she could figure out which way was up, her father opened the door and glared at her, his chest heaving. “What are you doing?”

The question stood between them. Ellie looked past him to her mom, sitting in the bedroom chair, her head in her hands.
Get up,
Ellie wanted to scream at her.
Tell him it’s a lie! Defend yourself, Mom! Do something.
But her mother did nothing. She said nothing.

Ellie’s eyes flew to her father again, and she tried to step away, tried to exit the scene as quickly as possible, but she tripped and fell back on her hands. Pain cut through her wrists, but she moved farther away from him. Like a crab escaping a net.

It took that long for her father’s expression to soften. “Ellie. I’m sorry.” He stepped toward her. “I didn’t mean for . . . You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

And in that moment Ellie knew two things. First, the horrible words her dad had shouted through the house were true. And second, her life as she knew it was over. It lay splintered on the worn-out hallway carpet in a million pieces. She scrambled to her feet and turned away. “I . . . I have to go.”

Her father was saying something about how this was more than a girl her age could understand and how she needed to get back to her room and pray. But all Ellie could hear was the way her heart slammed around in her chest. She needed air, needed to breathe. In a move that felt desperate, she found her way to her feet and ran for the front door. A minute later she was on her bicycle, pedaling as fast as she could through the summer night.

He would still be at the gym, but that was okay. Ellie loved watching Nolan play basketball. Loved it whether the place was packed with kids from Savannah High or it was just the two of them and the echo of the ball hitting the shiny wood floor. With every push of the bike pedal, Ellie tried to put the reality out of her mind. But the truth smothered her like a wet blanket. Her mother had come home late again—the way she’d been coming home late since early spring. And today . . . today she must have admitted what Ellie’s dad had suspected all along.

Her mom had been having an affair. Not only that, but she was pregnant.

The truth churned in Ellie’s stomach, suffocating her until finally she had no choice but to ditch her bike in the closest bush and give way to the stomachache consuming her. One disgusting wave after another emptied her insides until only the hurt remained. A hurt that she already knew would stay with her forever.

Exhausted and drained, Ellie sat on the curb, head in her hands, and let the tears come. Until then, shock had kept the sadness pushed to the corner of her heart. Now she cried until she could barely breathe. Her mom didn’t love her father, which meant she didn’t love either of them. She wanted more than Ellie and her dad. There was no other way to look at it. Shame added itself to the mix of emotions because Nolan’s mom never would have done something like this.