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  David set the steering wheel down. He looked at Joseph, then at Leah, Rachel, and Daniel.

  “Okay, here’s the thing.” He sat down on the bench and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Your mother is a believer, and I’m not. I’m a facts kind of guy. She’s more…spiritual. Ever since she became a Christian a few years into our marriage, I’ve agreed that she can raise you guys in church. I figure if she’s wrong, it doesn’t hurt anything. And you guys seem to like it. But ever since I was a kid, I’ve hated church. It’s just a personal thing.”

  That didn’t satisfy Joseph. “But you wouldn’t hate our church. It’s a good church.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  Brenda knew that David would never tell them that he’d been the son of a preacher who had run off with the church organist, or how the church had thrown his mother and him out of the parsonage—leaving them homeless—in order to take a moral stand against the divorce that resulted. He would never tell the children how the church members had insisted that he was demon-possessed when his anger about his broken family surfaced. His father had died with a shipwrecked faith, and just five years ago, his mother died without ever forgiving his father—or the church.

  Brenda didn’t blame David for being bitter about the church.

  “But, Dad, if you’re a facts man, then how come you can’t see the true facts? It wasn’t so long ago that I was dying, and Jesus healed me. Now I’m perfect,” Joseph said.

  “Perfect?” Leah grunted. “Get real.”

  “I mean my body is perfect. I’m healthy and normal, except for all the medicine I have to take. But I was dying, Dad. God didn’t have to give me a heart transplant, but he did.”

  David met Brenda’s eyes again. She knew Joseph had put him in a tight spot. They had agreed that he would never denigrate the children’s belief in God. But how could he defend his own beliefs without doing that?

  “Isn’t that proof, Dad?” Joseph demanded. David swallowed. “To some people it is.”

  “But not to you?” He went back to the paint can and got more paint on his brush. “Dad, it’s like this. You know how I was dying, and I couldn’t be healed without a heart transplant? Somebody had to die so I could live?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s a lot like what happened with God. We were all dying, and we had no hope. So Jesus came and died in our place, so that we could have a new heart and a new spirit. So that we could live.”

  “I know how it works, Joseph.” David’s aggravation shone clearly on his face.

  “But how could you not want to live?”

  David gazed down at his son. “I think I am living, son. Don’t we have a good life?”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s not just this life that you have to consider.”

  Brenda suppressed her smile and caught a black drip cutting down through the white paint. She doubted David had ever had the gospel presented to him in such a clear way. She knew that seeds had been sown, whether they took root or not.

  Joseph was getting sloppier with his painting, but Brenda didn’t dare interrupt. His words to his father hit dead center.

  David reached out and tousled Joseph’s hair. “I appreciate your concern, son. I really do. And I’m proud of you for being able to make your case that way. Someday you’ll probably be a lawyer. If I ever have to face a judge, it’s you I’d want speaking for me.”

  Joseph’s face betrayed his sorrow as he looked up at his father. “When you face the Judge, Dad, I won’t be with you. You’ll have to answer him for yourself.”

  CHAPTER

  Three

  Up.…down… up.…down…”

  Tory Sullivan mouthed the words with Melissa, the physical therapist, as she moved Hannah’s legs in an effort to tone her weak muscles. The small woman sitting on the classroom floor had become like a member of their family, ever since Hannah had been born with Down’s Syndrome. Now, at twenty-two months, the child was just beginning to make the effort to stand on her own. Watching the other Down’s babies at the Breezewood Development Center had been an encouragement to Tory, reminding her that these children did develop, even if they did it slowly.

  But the struggle didn’t get easier for Tory. A former Miss Tennessee, she had always expected near perfection from herself and her family. Her home was immaculate and decorated like something out of House and Garden. Brittany, her ten-year-old, was into frills and curls, ribbons and lace, just as Tory had been at her age. Eight-year-old Spencer was a textbook boy—athletic, outgoing, and definite leadership material, even if he was sometimes a handful.

  And then there was Hannah. It was almost like the Lord had declared Hannah the one to be imperfect in the Sullivan house-hold, just to remind her that not everything could line up under her checklist of expectations. Everything didn’t have order and logic. God’s order often came without explanation.

  Hannah had taught Tory to lean on God more than she ever had before…to lower her expectations…to exult in the unexpected.

  Still she longed to know that Hannah would walk, talk, learn…That she would live a happy life without daily battles to function…That she would develop and grow and progress to her full potential.

  The truth was, she wanted everything for Hannah that she wanted for her other two children. But Hannah had challenges that Spencer and Brittany would never have. She always would. But Tory considered it a miracle that the baby had come this far when just a few months ago she hadn’t believed she would ever even sit up alone. She knew the walking wouldn’t come for a while yet, maybe even a year or two, but the fact that Hannah tried to pull up now gave her great hope.

  A knock sounded on the classroom door, and Mary Ann Shelton, the director of the school, stuck her head in. “What are you guys doing here so late? It’s after five.”

  “My fault,” Melissa said. “I had a dentist appointment this afternoon and had to reschedule Hannah.”

  Mary Ann came into the room. “I’m just glad I ran into you, Tory. I was going to call you. Can I talk to you in my office for a minute?”

  Tory smirked at Melissa as she got up from the floor and dusted off her pants. “Oh, boy. Hannah hasn’t been cutting class again, has she? Is that why I’m being called to the principal’s office?”

  Mary Ann laughed. “No, I just wanted to talk to you about a job we’ve had that just came open.”

  Tory couldn’t imagine what a job opening had to do with her. Mary Ann knew that raising Hannah took up every moment of her time.

  But the director led her into her office and sat down behind her desk. Tory sank onto the plush easy chair, feeling as if she had forgotten something important. She realized she had never been in here without Hannah on her lap.

  “So what’s this about a job?” Tory asked.

  Mary Ann’s eyes inspired excitement, whether she talked about school tuition or the janitorial staff. “We’ve had an opening for a part-time teacher’s assistant in the older children’s class, ages six to nine, and I was thinking that maybe you would be interested.”

  Tory frowned. “Oh, I don’t know, Mary Ann. I haven’t really thought about getting a job. I’m so busy at home with Hannah.”

  “Well, that’s just it.” Mary Ann set her hands palms-down on the desk. “You could bring Hannah with you and she could play in the nursery while you work with the older kids. I thought it would be an encouragement for you to see how these older children are learning. And I can tell from watching you with Hannah that you’d be a godsend for these children as well.”

  Tory had never considered working with the older kids, but the truth was, she spent a lot of time standing outside the door of that classroom, peering through the window at those older kids who could walk and dance and talk and sing.

  “You wouldn’t have to do any planning or preparation. Linda, our teacher in that room, would do all that. You’d just help two mornings a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’ve gotten another parent to commit to three mornings, and we have a coup
le of teenagers who help in the afternoons.”

  “Two mornings a week,” Tory repeated. “That wouldn’t be so bad. Might even be fun.”

  “And of course, it wouldn’t interfere with Hannah’s class.” Mary Ann caught her breath. “Oh, I forgot. It pays too. I don’t want you to think it’s a volunteer position. And it might be good for Hannah to play with some of the other babies without you around. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s wonderful to have you there. I wish we had more mothers as involved as you. I’m just saying that maybe she needs to start socializing a little and learning to separate from you.”

  Tory knew that was true. Even now she had a hard time leaving Hannah with a baby-sitter, even at church.

  “I’ll need to think about it.” She got up, anxious to get back to the child. “I need to talk to Barry and pray about it some. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure,” Mary Ann said. “Take your time. I will need to hire someone by the end of August. But you were my first choice.”

  Tory ran the possibilities through her mind as she drove home that evening, and wondered if taking the job would indeed be good for everyone involved.

  CHAPTER

  Four

  Cathy Bennet sat at her kitchen table, her patchwork family feasting on tacos, as if they had never been touched by divorce or remarriage or jail. Having her new family all together was a dream come true.

  She didn’t know why Mark had chosen to ruin it.

  “What do you mean, you don’t want to go back to school?” Her taco crumbled in her hand, and she threw it onto her plate. “Mark, I know you had school in jail, but you didn’t finish. You still need a diploma. I want you to go to college. I thought you were finally getting your head on straight.”

  “I am getting my head on straight, Mom!” Mark chomped into his taco, and shredded cheese and ground beef avalanched out.

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  Mark swallowed the bite in his mouth without enough chewing. “I didn’t say I planned to drop out altogether. I just want to get my GED, that’s all. Then I can go to college or get a job.”

  “A job?” Steve leaned up on the table, studying the boy who sat across from him. “Mark, what kind of job do you think you can get without an education?”

  “I have an education.”

  “A complete education.” Steve wiped his hands on a napkin. “Mark, you have to think of what kind of money you could make without finishing school.”

  Tracy tapped her spoon to the side of her glass, drawing all eyes to herself. “If he quits school, I get to quit, too.”

  Steve shot his twelve-year-old daughter a disgusted look. “You can think again, buckaroo.”

  “Why? In some countries kids are finished with school before they ever get to my age.”

  Nineteen-year-old Annie pushed her food around on her plate. Since she’d come back from Nicaragua with Sylvia, she had gone on a health food kick and refused to eat anything that even looked like it had calories. “You should see the kids in Nicaragua, wandering the streets digging through trash for food. They’d kill to be in a school like yours.”

  Cathy turned her gaze back to Mark, her blonde ponytail waving with the movement. “Why don’t you want to go to school, Mark? I thought after being in jail for a year you’d want to go back to normal.”

  Mark dropped his taco and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Don’t you see, Mom? I can’t go back to normal. I’ve changed.

  I can’t go back to public school because the guys I got in trouble with still go there.”

  Cathy met Steve’s eyes. “Well, at least he sees that.”

  Steve leaned up on the table. “So why couldn’t you go back to home schooling with Brenda’s kids? She’s already said she’d take you back. And she needs the money we’d pay her.”

  “Man…” Mark propped his face on his hand. “I feel like I’ve grown up past that. Going to school with little kids and having her hovering over me. I don’t have anything against her. I really like Miss Brenda. I do. But I just need to get on with things, you know?”

  Cathy started to tell him that he wasn’t as grown up as he thought he was, when Rick’s cell phone rang, injecting life into the otherwise silent twenty-one-year-old who sat staring at his food. He pulled the phone from his belt clip.

  “Hello? Yeah. What’s up, man? Nothing much.”

  Steve met her eyes in silent encouragement to rebuke him.

  Cathy touched Rick’s arm. “Rick, could you please take that somewhere else? We’re trying to have dinner conversation here.”

  He didn’t answer, just got up from the table and strode to another room. She watched him leave, wishing she’d made him turn off the phone before they sat down to eat. Since he lived on campus for summer school, he seldom came home to eat with them, and she hated calling him down when he did.

  She turned back to Mark. “Mark, let’s say you did get your GED. You’re only sixteen. You’re probably not ready to jump right into college.”

  “I told you, I’m not sure I even want to go to college. I’m tired. I need some freedom after being locked up for a year.”

  Tracy started drumming her fingers on the table.

  Steve reached out and stopped her hand. “But, Mark, there’s no freedom in having to work without a college degree. It’s hard. Why would you want to put yourself through that?”

  “Steve’s right,” Cathy said. “Honey, school is the best place for you now.”

  “Okay, but where?” he asked. “Do you want me to go to public school or do you want me to go to Brenda’s and study with Leah and Rachel and Joseph?”

  “And Daniel,” Cathy said. “Don’t forget Daniel. He’s exactly your age.”

  “But he’s different, Mom. He’s a good friend and all, and I’m glad to have him as my buddy, but he’s basically clueless. I’ve been in jail for a year. I’ve been around people who are hard to get along with.”

  “Then this should be easy for you.”

  “I don’t want to be baby-sat all day and hovered over. I can take a GED course and get out of school and have some freedom.”

  Steve got up and took his plate to the sink. “Mark, you don’t even have a driver’s license yet. You’re kidding yourself if you think this is going to give you extra freedom. And I think you need to define what freedom is.”

  “I know what freedom is,” Annie piped in, flipping her dark hair back. “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”

  Cathy smirked. “Thank you, Annie, for bringing the wisdom of Janis Joplin into this conversation.”

  Rick came back into the room just then and took his place at the table. “Freedom? Oh, freedom. That’s just some people talking.” He broke into singing “Desperado,” and Annie joined in. Mark threw his napkin across the table. Annie deftly caught it in the air and threw it back.

  Cathy ducked. “Hey, not at the table. Come on, guys.”

  Tracy wadded one of her own and threw it smack into Cathy’s face. Cathy caught it in her fist. The girl cracked up at the hit.

  “Nice going, Tracy.” Annie high-fived her. “Only I wouldn’t recommend you repeat that.”

  Cathy waited for Steve to call Tracy down, but his eyes were still fixed on Mark.

  “Mark, you must have given this job thing some thought. What kind of jobs are you thinking of?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe something like an electrician.”

  Steve came back to the table. “Electricians are trained. Some of them go to college. If they don’t, at the very least they go to vocational school.”

  Mark shifted in his seat. “They need assistants, don’t they?”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s a minimum wage job. And you’ve got a background, Mark. You’ve got a few strikes against you since you’ve been to jail. If you offset that with a college degree, people will forget about it and think that maybe you were irresponsible as a kid, but you grew up. But if you don’t even finish high school and you get
your GED and then try to get a job just a few months after getting out of jail, the chances are that you’ll have to take some crummy job that you hate just to make a living.”

  “Well, it’s not like you guys are going to throw me out in the street, is it? I can stay here for a while, can’t I?”

  Cathy took Mark’s hand. “Of course you can, honey.”

  Steve crossed his arms. “You can stay here, Mark, as long as you’re working toward something. If you’re going to school…if you have a plan…”

  Cathy turned to her husband, her eyes lashing him. “Steve, he’s only been out a week.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “It’s not like I’ve been sitting around doing nothing.”

  “Honey, I think he’s entitled to a few days of rest,” Cathy said.

  Steve looked as aggravated as she. “Of course he is, but now he’s telling us he doesn’t want to go to school, and if he doesn’t, then we need to know what the plan is. There has to be a plan, Cathy.”

  Cathy turned back to her son. “Honey, he’s right. You do need a plan.”

  Mark scowled. “I will have a plan, Mom. It doesn’t have to be his plan.”

  Cathy winced and stole a look at Steve. His face had that hard, tight look it got when he was angry. “He didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said weakly.

  “Yes, I did.” Mark got up from the table and shoved his chair back. “I’ve already talked to my dad about this. He’s all for it. He thinks the GED is a good idea.”

  Cathy bit her tongue. It wouldn’t do to remind him that his father’s ideas were usually bad. His involvement in Mark’s life had left way too much to be desired. It didn’t surprise her that the one time he advised his son on anything, he’d encourage him to drop out of school. Not certain how to proceed from here, she moved her gaze back to her simmering husband. He stared down at the table, the little muscle of his jaw popping rhythmically in and out.

  Rick bottomed his can of coke. “Hey, Mark can come stay with me on campus.”

  Mark’s face lit up. “Can I, Mom?”