Chapter 15

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



“Jason ... I’m truly sorry.” Judy Dells, principal of the only elementary school in town sat across from him, looking very, very polished.

And truly sorry.

“I wish I could help you.”

“Come on, Judy—you’ve known me, what—“

”Going on three years. I suppose.”

“And I’ve handled your investments for half of that. Have I ever let you down?”

“On the contrary, you’ve always been a delightful surprise to my retirement account and to myself.” She sighed. “This isn’t about you. And it isn’t about Nicole. It’s about 372 children and their parents and what they perceive—and I repeat, the word is perceive—as a threat to their children. I wish I could help you.”

“She just needs a chance, Judy.”

“I know ... I know there are faults in the system. Maybe ten years ago, we could have pulled it off, pulled something together. But you’ve seen the headlines over the last few years, the congressional debate and the laws. Between kids hurt and teachers in trouble we have to stay above board.”

“She never hurt any kids. She was a kid herself. She has a lot to offer people, kids especially.”

“But a prison record’s still a prison record. It still sounds the same.”

“I have a so called record of my own.”

He didn’t clarify it. He hadn’t gone to prison, or a correctional facility, but that didn’t mean a judge wouldn’t have thought he should go. It was something he should have reminded himself years ago.

Judy, to her credit, didn’t look surprised or judgmental. “Which is why I let you handle my stocks and not the children at this school. There’s a difference Jason. I hope you can understand.”

He got up to leave, frustrated and grateful he hadn’t talked it over with Nicole. He didn’t want her to face another disappointment. Trisha had offered to let her work at the diner to spruce up the Italian dishes on their menu, but even though her father had agreed wholeheartedly, it wouldn’t be much work.

Nicole had put in applications at the fast food restaurants, convenience stores and a few other places, but none of that worked with her particular skills or interests. Reading, learning ... and Italian food.

She’d survived in New York. He didn’t want her to just survive down here as well.

“Thanks anyway—for your time.”

Judy nodded—he thought regretfully.

“Jason ...” she sighed again, and there was Judy—a friend of Trisha’s father, a growing friend of his own. She was no longer just the principal. He saw the struggle in her eyes.

“Based on what you’ve told me, she would probably do a bang up job working with kids or even as a teacher, if that’s what she wants to do. If she stays here for a long time, gains peoples trust ... it would help her. We still live in a small town. That means something.”

“That doesn’t help her now.”

“No ... but maybe you could try the high school. Her contact with kids would be different. Seen as different, maybe. I could call—get you in. Put in a good word for you.”

He could tell she doubted it. A county-wide policy was still a policy. Besides, he knew how people looked at ex-cons—had been around enough to know there was a reason.

And enough to know that there was hope.

“Thanks.”

* * *

Standing on the ladder in the soon-to-be commissioned library, Nicole took the books Rev. Lewis handed up to her and placed them on the newly built shelves. She’d labeled, cataloged on the computer, and sorted the books herself. She’d printed out colorful labels and signs for the shelves.

And felt an excitement at each book she set into place.

They had a small assortment, several of which she took home to read. Still, the shelves looked extremely empty. But if Rev Lewis was right, it would grow. People would come in, talk it up and donate more. So she spread the books out in their rightful place so they had room to grow.

But—though it had always been books that gave her pleasure—what she enjoyed most about this experience was her talks with Rev. Lewis. He never cautioned her, or corrected her ... not really. He just talked and asked her questions and answered the ones that she asked.

Sometimes with a question of his own.

“I just don’t understand it, though.”

“Is it something you have to understand?” he asked, looking up at her thoughtfully. “Nicole, I have a hard time understanding God and His love, God and His purpose ... even the early Christians in the Bible didn’t quite get it. Even though they knew His love, the Apostle Paul still had to encourage them to ‘grasp how grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.’”

She climbed down the ladder as he reached for his Bible—yet again. He never seemed to mind.

Words always seemed to mean more, to come through more clearly, when she could see them written down. Rev. Lewis seemed to understand.

He opened his Bible and showed her the passage.

She read it, focused in on the first part of the verse; being rooted and established in love. A love, she thought, that she didn’t come close to understanding.

She shook her head and stepped back. “It’s a weird love. Him putting Himself in pain because He loves us. Or says He loves us.”

“Mmm,” he agreed, looking thoughtful.

“It’s like with the lion—in the book you gave me. He didn’t have to die. He could have brought the army together like he had planned and defeated the witch before she killed him.”

“And therefore losing all those who were under her spell.”

“But if He’s God—“

”He can’t accept evil because He is God. And the day he comes to defeat evil, is the day those who are against Him perish. He wants all to have a chance.” He set his Bible down and leaned casually back against the shelves.

Including her, she thought, without feeling accused, but not by Rev. Lewis. She wasn’t against God, not necessarily, but she guessed she wasn’t for God either.

Despite the intensity of the topic, they remained casual. Rev. Lewis didn’t yell at her or lambast her with his own frustrations at her questions, as her own father had done—though never had those conversations been about God.

Rev. Lewis just talked ... and listened, and the more she was with him, the more comfortable she became, with him, with the subject of God.

With the subject of love

Why had it been so hard for her at first to talk about love?

“Nicole,” he said as he clearly thought through his words, “are you looking for a God who doesn’t see or judge evil? Both love and goodness are only what they are because they are separate from evil. Because there is a standard. Because both love and good make a standard.”

“Then I’m lost before I even started searching.”

“We all were lost. We all were messed up. Even myself. It has nothing to do with what you did or have done. It’s just that no one’s perfect. Its that we live in a world that’s broken. No one meets the standard. That’s why Christ came—like Aslan the lion—and died.”

“To fulfill a prophecy.”

“To fulfill the covenant. That’s different. The prophecies came because of the covenant. It’s ancient and its righteous. It was a promise God made with Abraham to bring Himself back to the people. In Abraham’s time, an ancient time, a blood sacrifice was needed to make a covenant.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Again, is it supposed to? Do I claim to be God?”

She sighed. “I’ve just seen too much ... felt so much ... ugliness. I don’t know what to look for. What you want me to look for. What you see. What my mama saw or what Jason sees. And I wonder if God saw it all. If He did, as you say, why He’s hanging around wanting to know me. The good and the ugly.”

“It depends ... are you looking for a God who only deals with the good of life, so you can say he ignores evil, and therefore will ignore you and me both, or a judgmental God you can blame and point to for all the pain in your life? Are you looking only for a distant God, or one who is here? One who loves you. One who did everything He could to take the punishment away so He could come close. That’s what the promise and the prophecy were about. Evil had to be dealt with. He dealt with it Himself.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what that means.”

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, and she knew ... somehow ... that he was praying–even in the silence. She just didn’t understand.

“And I pray that you,” he said at last, quoting the verse he had just shown her, “being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”

She still didn’t get it. She still didn’t understand; not the words, not the meaning.

And it made her wonder. Despite that Jason had called her a princess ... despite that he had called her beautiful.

It made her wonder if she was just too screwed up for any of it to matter.

* * *

Gabriel pulled up in front of the church and set his SUV into park. He watched as Nicole stepped out, registered that it was him, and reluctantly came forward.

He knew her hesitation had noting to do with the lights on the top of his SUV, but at the sight of him. Still, his internal cop radar seemed to kick in anyway.

Nothing had been the same between them since that night on the back porch.

She climbed in, reached back for her seatbelt. “Where’s Jason?”

Good afternoon to you, too, he thought with a sigh. “He got hung up in a meeting.”

She glanced over at him briefly.

So he was a little short with her. Could he help it?

“Are you here to question me now?”

“Have you done something wrong?”

“Not lately.”

“Then I’ll let you know.”

The drive was made in silence, but not in comfort. Gabriel was very aware of her—and aware that she was not the kind of girl he should get involved with, not the kind of girl that needed to get involved with someone at this point of her life.

Just as he was aware that he could never get involved with anyone until he dealt with his own past—his own shadows.

It didn’t change the attraction—hadn’t since he’d gone to her tiny New York apartment and fallen for the girl he found in her books, in her struggle. Or before, when she showed up on Jason’s front porch ... or maybe even years before that, when he’d seen her picture and the struggle within Jason.

She wasn’t just someone else’s sister anymore.

It drove him crazy.

He was also aware that he drove her crazy.

Gabriel pulled down the long lane to the house and nodded toward the agent stationed out front. She got out with a muttered thanks and shut the door.

Gabriel followed, not wanting to leave her alone—even with the FBI agent out front.



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