His father regularly did checks on his boys. He’d find himself alone with one of them and ask the question, “How are you, son?” It opened the door for them to express anything bad in their lives, anything good, anything fearful.
Brad highly respected his father. He made no bones about life, never made anything better or worse than it already was. But he was a fountain of wisdom, of tenderness, of discipline – whatever was needed at the time. Brad valued his father’s opinion and sought it out his entire life.
Brad crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “Honestly? More centered than I think I’ve ever felt. I’ve embraced my role and shed all the negative that was drowning me.” He rubbed the stubble on his cheek with the palm of his hand. “I find myself getting so angry on Valerie’s behalf. I did before, when it first happened, but having her here now….” He paused. “Couple weeks ago, we went swimming and I saw the scars on her back. I had to leave. I had to go to the edge of the property and just try to rip the wrought iron fence apart with my hands. Dad? I don’t know what I’d do if Tyrone walked through that door right now.”
Phillip raised an eyebrow. “You think you’d react violently? What if he’s come to know Christ—like we’ve been praying for? What would you do then? Would you embrace him as your brother, or would you still want to hurt him?”
Brad felt his head flinch back as if Phillip had struck him. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
His father walked to him and put his hands on his shoulders. “Because, son, that is how Christ says we’re supposed to look at the world. We’re supposed to see sinners as He did and love them as He did.”
“Did you see what he did to her, dad? Weren’t you at the hospital the next day? I see glimpses of it and it kills me inside, a little at a time.”
Phillip stared at him with dark gray eyes. “I don’t know everything he’s done to her. That’s true. But God knows. And I do know this. If Tyrone were on his knees right this second repenting and asking for forgiveness, he’d get it. We want to call ourselves Christians; we need to be willing to walk like Christ. Even as He hung suspended from a cross, beaten so badly He barely looked human, He askedAdonaito forgive those very ones who did that to Him.”
Phillip lifted his hands then brought them down on Brad’s shoulders hard. “Our lesson is there, son, and you are unsettled because your heart is torn between a very human desire for retribution that comes from the flesh and a soul desire to be like Christ. Let God deal with Tyrone. You let go of it and help Valerie redefine who she is.”
He started out of the room but stopped and looked at Brad. “Your mom tells me Valerie claims not to believe anymore. We can pray for her, and witness to her, but I want you to guard your heart.”
“Yes, sir.” Emotion caught in his throat. He cleared it with a rough sound. “I know.”
While she waited for Sami,Valerie rolled up her yoga mat and slipped the strap over her shoulder. As soon as her friend finished speaking to the instructor, she joined Valerie at the door.
“You subbing for her next week?” Valerie asked, referring to the conversation Sami had just had.
“I am. That’s a little intimidating, if you want to know the truth.” She pushed the door open with her hip. “I’ve never taught solo before.”
“You’ll do fine.” They stepped out into the humid morning. Black skies made it look much earlier than it was. Valerie’s hip objected to the movement of walking and caused a dull ache to throb down her leg. “I can’t believe it’s about to storm again.”
“Especially after last night. Did you lose power?”
“It flickered, but just enough to make me wish I had a roommate. Or a dog.” Valerie laughed, even though she hadn’t slept all night. The ache in her hip and spine, and the storm that added sounds she couldn’t identify, stripped her of any hope for sleep. “I think I’m actually going to take a personal day and go home and rest. The weather is hurting my hip.”
She’d parked next to Sami, and they paused at their car doors. Valerie automatically scanned the back seat. “You sure you’re okay?” Sami asked, her eyes sliding over Valerie’s hip area as if she could see the artificial joint beneath her skin.
Despite the constant dull ache and the exhaustion creeping up the back of her neck, she nodded. “I’ll get some rest, try to come in later this afternoon. I’ve already texted anyone who needs to know.”
Sami opened her car door and raised a hand. “See you later. Enjoy the day. Hopefully, the storm will be gone by the time you get off work.”
As Valerie drove home, she glanced at the stack of journals on the seat next to her, so very thankful she’d left them in the car instead of bringing them out into the rain last night. A part of her wanted to read them, but a part of her wanted to put them in a closet and close the door. She didn’t feel ready to delve into the mind of the woman who gave birth to her. However, she’d promised Auntie Rose she’d read them, and she intended to keep her promise.
Eventually.
The ache in her hip became a shooting pain down her leg and a burn in her lower back. Despite the warm temperature outside, she turned on the seat heater to high, hoping to soothe the muscles.
After last night’s storm, Valerie wouldn’t have thought that any more water could possibly fall from the sky. Despite her feelings on the matter, she pulled into her driveway just as the first raindrop splashed onto her windshield. Leaving her yoga mat and the journals in the car, she very carefully walked to the front door. Protected under the overhang of her roof, she unlocked the door just as the clouds above let loose and dropped buckets.
She locked the door behind her and did a quick check of the house. All clear. Ignoring some inner warning about bathing during a thunderstorm, she turned on the faucet of her bathtub to the hottest temperature she could tolerate and poured a cup of mineral salts into the water.
She stripped out of her workout clothes and opened the medicine cabinet. Her hand hovered over the Ibuprofen, but her eyes stared at the prescription pain medication. Did she need to take one? It might help her relax enough to sleep the pain off. She hadn’t allowed herself that luxury in a long time. Months.
No. Over-the-counter medication would ease the ache enough so she could relax. She washed a few down with faucet water then waited for the tub to fill.
Finally, she slipped into the steaming hot bathtub, wincing a little at the temperature but knowing it would cool quickly. She eased herself into the water and lay back against her inflatable bath pillow. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and slowly let her breath out, going through some mental pain management exercises her therapist had taught her.
By the time the water cooled, the tightening in her hip had eased. She gingerly got out of the tub and dried off, then walked to her room, noticing that she had a slightly less pronounced limp than when she got home. Her surgical scar itched, as it often did even after all these years, but she knew better than to even touch it. She threw on an oversized T-shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts then grabbed her soft blanket from the foot of her bed.
In no time, she lay curled on her couch, wrapped up in the blanket, a cup of cinnamon tea steaming on the table in front of her, and some cooking show playing at low volume on the television. Instead of watching the chef French some lamb chops, she watched the steam rise from her cup and found her eyelids growing heavier with every passing wisp of steam.
