you acted on pure, loving instinct. Do you honestly believe there's fault to be found in that? Did you think we wouldn't understand? Is that what drove you into—into”—he gestured flatly with outspread hands—“spiritual seclusion?”
Collin's heart thundered against his ribs, freedom setting its pace. Freedom, hope and a promise trying desperately to take root and come to life.
“So you knew? Mom and everybody—you knew?”
“Yes, Collin.”
“I had no idea.”
“Do you think we'd want to open up sores, revisit that awful night by bringing back something that wounded you so deeply?” He blew out through pursed lips, seeming to consider everything. “Maybe we were wrong to try to shield you from that pain. It might have helped you let go of your troubles a lot sooner.”
“I'm just as guilty on that count, Dad.”
His father placed an arm around Collin's shoulders, nodding toward the work they had finished. He breathed out a satisfied sound. “Repair jobs. They're hard, sweaty work, you know? No arguing with the results though. Sometimes you just need to hunker down and start again. Right?”
Yes, Collin knew what he was saying. But was he ready for that last, fateful step?
Honestly, right now, he just didn't know.
14
Collin sighed, nervously twitching at his tie. Blasted thing refused to lie correctly. Loosening the knot, he worked at it all over again. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was somewhat comforting. White dress shirt in place. Khaki slacks, too. A blue blazer hung on the back of the door, ready to be worn.
And a confounded tie of royal blue silk that possessed a will of its own.
The third time was a charm, and his stalling ended. Collin slid the sport coat on. With an attitude of resolution he left his home behind beneath gray skies that foreshadowed a soft summer rain. Climbing into his truck, Collin trembled as he started the engine and pulled out—turning right onto Jefferson Avenue.
Toward Sunday services at Woodland Church of Christ.
****
If walking into Woodland a week ago had been accomplished on shaky legs, this time they felt like overcooked spaghetti.
Collin looked around, feeling such familiarity, yet such a sense of disconnect. So many people wandered past—so many faces with a light he could only attribute to an aura fostered by God. By a commitment to faith and hope.
It would take time for him to reach that point again; there remained a strong willed, stubborn part of his heart that felt like he was giving in and surrendering to something he promised never to revisit. But then he thought of Daveny, who had instigated a domino-style chain reaction in his life that culminated right here—in this moment of returning.
Those thoughts so enveloped Collin he made it to the halfway point of the main aisle without fully realizing it. To the right, as always, a pew full of Edwardses were in attendance.
He paused by his family, but only for a moment. When Collin looked into his mom's eyes, he could have sworn they sparkled and filled, but it may have been a trick of the light slanting in through the stained glass windows.
She held out a hand but followed the track of Collin's gaze, seeming to realize he was headed to a pew a few rows ahead. That's where Daveny sat, unaware of his arrival, chatting amiably with her seatmate, Kiara.
Collin held and squeezed his mom's hand then kissed the back. He felt sure she sensed his wariness, even before he quietly disclaimed, “Don't make a big deal out of this, OK?”
“Out of what?” she retorted. “You're where you're supposed to be. See you after services.”
Collin forced down the fear and continued on. Thank God—and that was the first time he'd had that thought in a very long while—the second spot next to Daveny remained empty. He tucked into place, touching her shoulder lightly.
“Collin!”
His name came out as a murmured exclamation of delight and welcome.
She gave him a
Collin's heart thundered against his ribs, freedom setting its pace. Freedom, hope and a promise trying desperately to take root and come to life.
“So you knew? Mom and everybody—you knew?”
“Yes, Collin.”
“I had no idea.”
“Do you think we'd want to open up sores, revisit that awful night by bringing back something that wounded you so deeply?” He blew out through pursed lips, seeming to consider everything. “Maybe we were wrong to try to shield you from that pain. It might have helped you let go of your troubles a lot sooner.”
“I'm just as guilty on that count, Dad.”
His father placed an arm around Collin's shoulders, nodding toward the work they had finished. He breathed out a satisfied sound. “Repair jobs. They're hard, sweaty work, you know? No arguing with the results though. Sometimes you just need to hunker down and start again. Right?”
Yes, Collin knew what he was saying. But was he ready for that last, fateful step?
Honestly, right now, he just didn't know.
14
Collin sighed, nervously twitching at his tie. Blasted thing refused to lie correctly. Loosening the knot, he worked at it all over again. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was somewhat comforting. White dress shirt in place. Khaki slacks, too. A blue blazer hung on the back of the door, ready to be worn.
And a confounded tie of royal blue silk that possessed a will of its own.
The third time was a charm, and his stalling ended. Collin slid the sport coat on. With an attitude of resolution he left his home behind beneath gray skies that foreshadowed a soft summer rain. Climbing into his truck, Collin trembled as he started the engine and pulled out—turning right onto Jefferson Avenue.
Toward Sunday services at Woodland Church of Christ.
****
If walking into Woodland a week ago had been accomplished on shaky legs, this time they felt like overcooked spaghetti.
Collin looked around, feeling such familiarity, yet such a sense of disconnect. So many people wandered past—so many faces with a light he could only attribute to an aura fostered by God. By a commitment to faith and hope.
It would take time for him to reach that point again; there remained a strong willed, stubborn part of his heart that felt like he was giving in and surrendering to something he promised never to revisit. But then he thought of Daveny, who had instigated a domino-style chain reaction in his life that culminated right here—in this moment of returning.
Those thoughts so enveloped Collin he made it to the halfway point of the main aisle without fully realizing it. To the right, as always, a pew full of Edwardses were in attendance.
He paused by his family, but only for a moment. When Collin looked into his mom's eyes, he could have sworn they sparkled and filled, but it may have been a trick of the light slanting in through the stained glass windows.
She held out a hand but followed the track of Collin's gaze, seeming to realize he was headed to a pew a few rows ahead. That's where Daveny sat, unaware of his arrival, chatting amiably with her seatmate, Kiara.
Collin held and squeezed his mom's hand then kissed the back. He felt sure she sensed his wariness, even before he quietly disclaimed, “Don't make a big deal out of this, OK?”
“Out of what?” she retorted. “You're where you're supposed to be. See you after services.”
Collin forced down the fear and continued on. Thank God—and that was the first time he'd had that thought in a very long while—the second spot next to Daveny remained empty. He tucked into place, touching her shoulder lightly.
“Collin!”
His name came out as a murmured exclamation of delight and welcome.
She gave him a
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