Wendell could think of a thousand times.
“You told us hurt people hurt people, and if anyone ever had a problem with us because of our skin color it wasn’t our problem. It was theirs. You said some people got made fun of for being too tall or too short. Too heavy or too skinny. Too smart or too slow.” Passion filled Jordy’s voice. “You said none of that mattered, because in God’s eyes we were all the same. We were all His children.”
“True. I said that.” Wendell was ashamed of himself for his words earlier. And grateful for his older son’s ability to put the issue in perspective.
“So Cami and I, we’re just a couple of children of God who happen to like each other.” Jordy managed the slightest smile. “I don’t know if I’ll ask her out. I’m not sure if we’ll be boyfriend and girlfriend or if we’ll get married one day. But I like her. A lot.” He paused. “I think Mom would like her, too.”
“Yes.” Wendell found his own smile as he stood and helped Jordy to his feet. “I think Mom would like her, too.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder and searched his eyes. “I guess I just want an easier road for you, Jordy. I don’t want people taking out their hate on you. Not for any reason.”
Jordy nodded, his eyes full of confidence and maturity. “I get that. But I can’t live to please other people. Only God. Heartache and hate are a part of life. Our job is to love. Besides”—he grinned—“God created all the colors.” He laughed. “Right?”
A chuckle came from Wendell. “When did you get to be so smart?”
The air between them was warm again, the tension gone. Jordy slipped his arm around his father’s shoulders. “I had the best teacher.”
“And I have the best son.”
The conversation stayed with Wendell long after Jordy turned in, long after Wendell was under the covers, staring at the ceiling over his bed. If he could protect his kids from the sort of attack he himself was under, he would. He’d spare them every time.
But Jordy was right. Earth was full of heartache. Hurt people would always hurt people. Which was probably why Andy Nelson had filed suit against Wendell and Hamilton High in the first place. Someone had hurt him. And when the dust settled on this case, Wendell prayed he might find out more about the man. The one he had been quick to criticize.
In case there was some way Wendell might show the man love and mercy.
Instead of judgment.
18
Andy Nelson would’ve given anything to avoid waking up in the morning. The trial against Hamilton High’s Wendell Quinn was set to begin in a few days, and there was nothing Andy could do to stop it.
He had dug this hole. Now it was no surprise he couldn’t find his way out of it.
There were several options, of course. He could take a bottle of pills or load up the revolver he kept at his bedside. But any of those would mean destroying his girls’ lives. And he couldn’t do that. The lawsuit was bad enough.
If he killed himself now, the horrible news would be splashed across newspapers all over the country. The world, even. And his daughters would suffer more than they were already. And they were definitely suffering.
Cami most of all.
The house was dark, the lights out in every room including his own. His attempt at finding sleep. Because the only thing worse than waking up in the morning was staying awake all night to get there.
The blankets on his bed felt like they were strangling him. Which wouldn’t have been so bad. At least his death would be by natural causes. But since the covers were making it hard for him to breathe, Andy flung them off his legs and sat up. He needed fresh air. Something to hurry the alcohol out of his system.
Andy had no idea how many shots of whiskey he’d had tonight. Not enough to kill him. But too much to pull a full breath into his lungs. He stumbled across his bedroom floor, down the hallway and out the front door. It was just after one in the morning, his neighbors would be asleep.
Since no one was watching, Andy didn’t care that he was only wearing sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He tripped down the front steps and landed spread out on the grass. The ground smelled of wet dirt and fertilizer. He sucked in as much air as he could.
Ten minutes, fifteen. Andy had no idea how long he stayed that way, but eventually he blinked his eyes open and looked around. What was he doing out here on the front lawn? And why was he shivering? He pressed his face against the grass again. It was freezing. The yard was ice cold, that was why.
He struggled to his feet and dragged himself back in the house. His clothes were wet and covered in mud and grass stains. A wobbly walk to his bedroom and into the bathroom, where he flipped on the light and stared at himself in the mirror.
A lunatic, that’s what he was. A raving, sick-in-the-head crazy person. What sort of man would turn on his own children? He felt a rush of nausea and he barely made it to the toilet in time. Another fifteen minutes. Thirty, maybe. However long it took for the alcohol to make its way out of his body.
Once more he got to his feet and looked around. He was more sober now, more aware of his surroundings. Why couldn’t he just die? What on earth could God possibly still want with Andy Nelson? He shuffled to the sink and wiped off his face. Brushed off the grass and mud sticking to his T-shirt.
Then he made his way down the hall to Cami’s bedroom.
Andy walked to the edge of his daughter’s bed, to the collage of photos that hung on the corkboard. His head hurt and his stomach still felt queasy. But he could focus now. The streetlamp outside her window gave him just enough light to see. The pictures showed a life Cami no longer had. A life none of them had.
She was a beautiful girl. Just like her mother.
“That’s why I’m so hard on you, baby.” He reached out and touched one of the photos. “It’s enough that you look like her. But when you started reading the Bible like she did . . .” He shook his head.
Tears filled Andy’s eyes. Tears so foreign he almost didn’t recognize the feeling. No, he couldn’t stand to watch Cami go the way of her mother. Headed into some Christian lifestyle where she’d turn against Andy and everything she’d known before.
He wanted to save her from making the same mistakes her mother made. New anger washed over him. Of course he was justified in filing the lawsuit. Andy gripped the edge of the bed, unsteady on his feet again.
Something on her dresser caught his eye. A book or a journal. Whatever it was Cami had forgotten it when she left. When he terrified her that night. Andy used the wall to navigate his way to the object, and a few seconds later he had his answer. He was right. It was a journal.
A quick flip to the last entry and Andy squinted so he could make out the words in the dark. The date was September 6. The first week of school.
It’s been a year since I started going to the Bible study club at Hamilton and my entire life is different. I’m happy and I have peace. All the anger I felt before about my mom . . . it’s gone. I gave it to God and whenever I think about taking it back I just talk to Him. He’s the best friend ever. Now if there was just some way to tell my dad . . .
Andy dropped slowly to the edge of her bed and read the entry again and then a third time. This was how Cami felt? Like God was her best friend? And her only problem was figuring out a way to tell him?
His body began to shake and bile rose up in his throat. Was this what he was afraid of? Cami’s belief that God had become someone she could talk to? Someone who gave her joy and peace?
Fingers of regret wrapped themselves around his neck and choked the air from his throat. All of this was his fault. Why had he acted so quickly? He had no reason to call the reporter, no need to make such a mess of things. Now the whole world knew his name. Andy Nelson, the man who had sued to stop his own daughter from attending a voluntary Bible study. His actions sounded mean and controlling, even to him. Why hadn’t he seen that before?