The Chance: A Novel (41 page)

But deep down he knew that wasn’t what God wanted from him. He winced. “You think . . . God wants me to give Ellie the letters?”

“They’re hers.”

Alan nodded, slightly dazed. “She’ll hate me forever.”

“She already does.” The chaplain’s wisdom was quiet and gentle, otherworldly. “Maybe God’s asking you to write a couple of letters of your own.”

A sick feeling grabbed at Alan’s stomach. “To Ellie?”

“And Caroline.” Chaplain Gray gave a light shrug. “What do you think?”

He couldn’t imagine it. “What would I say?”

“Same thing you told me. How you made a mess of everything. How sorry you are.”

“They would never forgive me. It’s too late.”

The chaplain put his hand over the open Bible. “‘I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He looked at Alan for a long moment. “That’s what it says. That’s the truth.”

Alan shook his head, and again he closed his eyes. It was impossible. Caroline was probably living a whole new life. She had rebelled against his heavy-handed faith, the way he wielded his controlling ways like a blunt sword at her and Ellie. She didn’t seem to be dating Peyton Anders. At least not if the media was any indicator. And she wasn’t remarried. She couldn’t be, because neither of them had ever filed for divorce. Alan had never been able to go against God’s plan and officially end things. The sick feeling grew worse. What a sad joke. He had gone repeatedly against God’s plan for his marriage along the way. Certainly when he moved across the country from Caroline.

And every time he hadn’t reached out to her since then.

What good would an apology do now? She’d think he was crazy. And if she knew about the letters, how he’d kept them from Ellie?

She’d wish him dead.

Suddenly, Alan knew as well as he knew his name that the chaplain was right. God was calling him to do everything the man had suggested. Write letters to his wife and daughter—the only women he’d ever loved. He opened his eyes and felt the resignation in his own expression.

The pastor looked subdued in an understanding kind of way. “You’re ready?”

“No.” Alan dreaded every aspect of what lay ahead. “But I’ll do it.”

“Okay, then.” Chaplain Gray folded his hands. “Let’s pray.”

T
he letter to Ellie was short and to the point. Every word ripped at another piece of Alan’s heart.

He sat at the dining room table, the one he’d been raised with. He had bought two cards for the occasion. A mountain scene for Caroline and a field of flowers for Ellie. Both of them blank on the inside. He held his pen over the middle of the flowered card.

Dear Ellie,

I should have written this years ago, and I am sure you’ll hate me forever when you hear what I’ve done. But God has changed me, and He wants me to do this. I have to do it.

He took a quick breath and then another. The walls were closing in. He kept writing.

The box you now have contains letters from your mother. Hundreds and hundreds of letters. She’s been sending them at least once a week since we left Savannah.

His words took shape slowly, the force of them more than he could take all at once.

All this time you’ve thought your mom didn’t reach out to you. But she did, Ellie. Keeping these letters from you has been one of the worst decisions of my life. I have no
excuses, none at all. I thought after her affair she might be a bad influence on you. That’s what I told myself. But even that isn’t the truth.

His heart ached, but he forced himself to move ahead.

The truth is, I felt hurt by what she’d done, and I wanted to hurt her because of it. But all I did was destroy any chance of reconciliation between us. I never took responsibility for my part in what happened, never thought about the reasons why your mother wasn’t happy. I failed her, and I failed you. God has shown me that.

His tears made it hard to see. He stopped long enough to wipe his eyes.

Forgive me, Ellie. I’ll be sorry as long as I live.

With a love I’ve never forgotten,
Dad

He put the card in the envelope, sealed it, and wrote Ellie’s name across the front. Then he opened the card with the mountain scene, the one for Caroline. This letter would be harder. The harshness of his tone, the lack of concern for her tender heart, the years of leaving her alone . . . all of it pressed around his lungs. He might not survive the next few minutes.

The silence in the house gave way to the noise of his beating heart. His pounding, anxious heart. He held the pen over the white space.

Dear Caroline,

I should’ve written this letter a long time ago. But lately . . . well, lately, God has changed me on the inside. Changed me so that now I can see what a wretched man I’ve been, how terribly I treated you, and how I pushed you away.

Honestly, I don’t know how I wound up here. When I look back, all I see is you and the joy and light in your eyes. You were so beautiful inside and out. I keep asking myself what sort of monster would berate you and control you and keep you locked away.

All at once the words came. He told her how the weeks and months had given way to years and how, over time, he didn’t recognize who he’d become or the person he’d turned her into. He talked about Ellie and how he had controlled her, too, and then he reached the part about her affair.

I knew it was happening. You were gone so often, home late at night. I figured you had friends somewhere. But by then I saw you as one of my possessions, Caroline. I never dreamed you’d really choose someone else. Now I can’t believe you didn’t leave me sooner.

He wrote about being angry and wanting to pay her back and how the Pendleton offer had been on the table for weeks before she told him about the baby. With every line, he felt a layer of brick crumble from around his heart. Caroline had been the most fragile flower, tenderhearted and kind to a fault.

I wonder who you are now, Caroline, whether you’ve
healed from the scars of my behavior. I pray that being away from me helped you find your way back to the woman you used to be. With everything in me, I want to believe you’re that girl again, the one you were before I ruined everything. I don’t expect you to care about this letter or contact me. But I’m giving you my information just in case.

The devastation of his actions, his meanness, felt like bags of rancid trash heaped around him. Alan had no idea why he was bothering with such a letter now. Like spitting at a forest fire. Still, because it was what he felt God was calling him to do, he wrote his phone number and address—the one she had been using all along to write letters to Ellie.

Alan felt every muscle in his body tighten. The worst part was coming. Once he wrote the next words, once she read them sometime in the next few days, there would be no wondering whether he might ever see Caroline again or hear from her. She would hate him. Period. He held his breath.

I have an awful confession to make, Caroline. Something I never should’ve done. Something that kills me to tell you.

He exhaled. After a few seconds, he grabbed the slightest breath.

Ellie hasn’t read any of your letters. From the first letter you sent to the last and every one in between, I set them aside in a box in my closet. I kept them from Ellie all these years.

He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve to live. He’d gone too far with his confession to stop now.

If you’re thinking I’m a horrible man for doing this, I can only say you’re right. But I had to tell you. I couldn’t write you without letting you know what I’ve done. I don’t blame you for hating me over this. But I can promise you one thing. By the time this is in your hands, Ellie will have the entire box. They belong to her. I assume the two of you haven’t connected, because your letters keep coming. I can only pray, Caroline . . . maybe this will open doors between you. If that good thing could come from this, then it’s worth having you hate me.

I’m sorry. I’m a changed man, and I have never stopped loving you. I don’t know what else to say . . .

Forever in knowledge that I was wrong,
Alan

He read it over and wondered how she would feel, the inevitable shock on her face, her anger when she realized what he’d done with Ellie’s letters. Picturing it was almost too much to take. His thoughts shifted, and he imagined Ellie’s reaction when he gave her the box.

And he needed to give it to her.

His heart beat faster, and he felt faint. As if he might pass out and never wake up again. He had thought about giving her the box at the end of the week on his day off. He knew where she worked—at a salon not far from the naval base. It was the last step of completing all that God was asking him to do. Now that he’d written to Ellie and Caroline, he couldn’t wait. He had to give Ellie the box of letters.

That Saturday, when she got off work, he would be waiting.

Chapter
Seventeen

E
llie heard noises coming from the bedroom.

She had already gone through their nighttime routine, and usually by now Kinzie would be half asleep. But not tonight. Ellie stood in the dark hallway and peeked through her partly open bedroom door.

Kinzie was on her knees beside her bed.

A week had gone by since their zoo trip, and Kinzie hadn’t missed a single night of praying. At least that’s what she told her mother. But this was the first time Ellie had seen her daughter on her knees. Ellie tilted her head, touched by the scene. The wood floor had to feel hard beneath her nightgown. The window was open, but no breeze filled the room. The early summer night was hotter than usual.

Kinzie fixed the bottom of her nightgown so it wasn’t bunched up. She didn’t seem to have her eyes closed the way she usually did when she prayed at dinnertime. Instead, she looked up toward the window and the night sky. “Hi, Jesus.” She sounded so confident that God was listening. “It’s me, Kinzie. I’m back.” Kinzie’s voice was barely a whisper, but Ellie
could hear every word. “Remember? I like to pray out loud when I’m by myself. Because it’s just you and me.” She adjusted her nightgown again. “I know you’re with me, Jesus, because you put the stars in the sky right over my bed.”

She giggled quietly and looked through the window again. “I keep thinking about Nolan Cook, the famous basketball player, and the way my mommy looked when she talked about him. If they used to love each other, then maybe they still do. Right?”

Ellie felt a chill run down her arms. Kinzie was thinking about Nolan? To the point of praying about him? She took half a step closer so she wouldn’t miss a word.

“Anyway, I want to pray for my mommy.” Kinzie’s shoulders drooped a little. “Please help her life be happy. I know she’s sad a lot. She doesn’t have her family because everything is broken. And she doesn’t have Nolan, either.” She itched her elbow. “Most of all, Mommy doesn’t have you. And that means she doesn’t have her happy-ever-after.”

Ellie blinked back tears. She had no idea her lack of faith mattered this much to Kinzie.

“That’s all for tonight, Jesus. Thank you. Love, your new friend, Kinzie.” She stood up, rubbed her knees a few times, and climbed into bed, probably satisfied with her prayer. But Ellie would never know that satisfaction, never share a moment like this with Kinzie. The fact that she couldn’t join her daughter in faith and prayer was one more price she would pay for her messed-up family. Even though she didn’t believe, she knew this much for sure as she finished the dishes and went to bed, and even the next day at the salon:

She would remember Kinzie’s prayer as long as she lived.