Take a Chance on Me (29 page)

A slow smile creased Joe’s face. “That’s a great idea. Thanks.”

“I’ll set the sprinklers to go while you load up the residents.”

Joe nodded, and he and Dan headed toward the house.

Jensen picked up his tools, jogged to his truck, piled them in. He hollered at a couple of the other volunteers to add to the pile, just in case they needed to do any more work around his place.

But his house came equipped with state-of-the-art sprinklers, a trimmed boundary that he meticulously maintained in accordance with the NFS, and besides, it was south of Evergreen Lake.

Yes, the residents would be safe there.

Seemed like a better use for the house—a sanctuary rather than a hiding place.

Jensen ran to the Garden house, found a spigot, and turned it on full. Water began to spray the house and the grass to the perimeter of the property. He ran through the spray, relishing the cool water, and turned on the next line of sprinklers at the spigot behind the house.

In the strawberry gardens, the automatic sprinkler system rose from the ground. Joe had repositioned the heads so that they now sprayed to the farthest edges, creating a rim of water.

By the time Jensen reached the final spigot, the residents had packed themselves into the volunteers’ trucks, vans, and SUVs.

Jensen climbed into his truck, Joe sliding in beside him. He backed out, headed south. Smoke drifted across the road like fingers against the beam of his headlights.

“Thanks for doing this, Jensen,” Joe said.

“I’m glad to help.” More than glad, really.

“Well, I know this town hasn’t exactly been kind to you over the past three years.”

Jensen glanced at him, an eerie tightness in his chest. During the days at the Garden, he’d been able to forget, at least briefly, his pariah status in Deep Haven, working in camaraderie with volunteers from the community church. But now . . .

“The truth is, I didn’t know what to think. I was on the EMS team that responded that night, and I saw you weeping over Felicity. Felt like an accident to me.”

Jensen stared straight ahead, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

“I have to give you props for staying here.”

“I didn’t have much choice.” He didn’t mean for that to emerge with such a sharp edge.

“No, but I’ve watched you. People like you. You’re kind, and you do the work.”

“People don’t like me, Joe. They tolerate me, at best.”

Joe made a funny noise, one that sounded like disagreement.

Jensen glanced at him.

“Gibs doesn’t tolerate you. He thinks the world of you.”

“That’s because I saved his life.”

“I think you should stop right there and take a look at your words. You saved his
life
.”

“Okay, not his life, but—”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m trying to help you see the truth. You’re not the pariah you see yourself as.”

“You don’t understand, Joe. The town wants me to apologize. And I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Jensen looked at him. “Because . . . I’m not guilty?”

“Can’t you apologize and admit sorrow? That if you could, you’d change everything?”

Jensen turned onto Evergreen Road, not glancing at the resort. Darek’s resort.

Last time he’d been there, he’d been helping Felicity put together a plastic play set for Tiger. He’d swung the boy in the air, met him at the bottom of the slide. He’d sat at a picnic table facing the lake and listened to Felicity cry about her failing marriage.

He’d held her in his arms, brushing back her hair. And deep inside, he’d relished the fact that Darek had failed. The great and mighty Darek Christiansen had blown it.

But . . . he’d also stood beside his friend at his wedding. Pledged to help him be a good husband.

He shook his head.

“You wouldn’t change it?” Joe said.

“I would. Of course I would. But how can I fix it now? Frankly, if I were Darek, I’d hate me too.” The words settled over him, and he breathed them in. Yes, Darek probably had a reason to hate him, to blame him, and not just because he’d killed Felicity, but because—well, how would he feel if another man had been comforting his wife, listening to his wife, becoming his wife’s best friend?

Yes, he owed Darek an apology for that.

“Maybe Darek doesn’t hate you. Maybe he’s caught too—an apology, an admittance of sorrow, might allow him to forgive.”

“Darek isn’t going to forgive me. Ever. Even if I ask.”

Joe was quiet as they turned along the south side of the lake. The caravan behind them bumped along, lights scraping the forest.

“He might surprise you,” Joe said finally. “I spent ten years of my life hating my father for walking out on my family, for abandoning me, for abandoning Gabe. I hated him and believed I had a right to. The problem was, I was hanging on so hard to that belief that I nearly missed everything God had for me. I nearly left Deep Haven for good, without Mona, without Gabe—nearly missed having the life I have now. Because I clung to the worthless idol of my right to be angry. You’re doing the same thing—clinging to your innocence.”

They pulled into Jensen’s gated neighborhood, and he rolled down his window to key in the code.

“My given name, by the way, is Jonah.”

“I know. I’ve read your books.” The gate opened.

“I’ve always been struck by the words Jonah prays in the belly of the whale, as he’s slowly being digested. ‘Those who cling to worthless idols turn away from God’s love for them.’ I was clinging to the idol of my self-righteousness. But my very anger convicted
me, just as my father’s abandonment did him. I had to forgive—and ask for his forgiveness—to finally find what I was looking for.”

“Which was?”

“My life here.”

Jensen pulled into the driveway. Sat for a long moment, looking in the mirror at the lights from the other vehicles arriving behind him.

He wanted a life here. With Claire. With these people.

Even if he didn’t get clemency—and he knew that was a long shot. So long, in fact, that he’d practically dismissed it. But maybe, if Claire would stick with him through his prison stint, he could return here, to her. Figure out how to build a new life, not as a lawyer, but as a free man. He was pretty handy; maybe he could hang out his carpenter’s shingle.

Joe was right. Holding on to his anger, his innocence, had kept him from embracing what he had, right here. Claire. A life. Maybe even a future. Maybe it was time to let go and trust God for what He had, come what may.

If Gibs was right, that started with repentance. But Jensen had no idea how to go about saying he was sorry. Or even where to start.

He got out and opened the garage door. “C’mon, everyone. My home is yours.”

The moon overhead felt like an eye, watching him, too bright as Darek scraped out the forest near the north end of Evergreen Resort. Sometimes watery with the fog of smoke, other times bright, the eye was an X-ray, lighting him up—bones and tissue and heart. Examining. Judging.

Accusing.

And the clank of the dozer walking down the forest couldn’t douse his father’s words, lodged there in his head.

Don’t let this consume you, Darek.

How his father could read his mind, Darek didn’t know, but as he stood there in the middle of his quiet house, seeing Tiger’s unmade bed, his nest of stuffed animals, the rush of fury had nearly done just that.

Consumed him.

It wasn’t just the fury, but the cold grip of panic, the hole in his chest that could turn him inside out.

What if he lost Tiger?

He’d been standing there, trying to sort out the terrible noise in his head, when his father walked in quietly.

“I know you’re angry, and you have a right to be. But you have a choice. You can keep burning, keep letting this smolder inside, or you can forgive.”

Forgive.

“This isn’t about forgiveness,” Darek said. “This is about betrayal.”

He’d gone straight for his closet then, found his goggles and old hard hat, tied a bandanna around his face. In fact, he’d nearly put on his entire old uniform—gloves, the Nomex shirt, a pair of sturdy hiking boots. Then he’d headed out to the property line and climbed aboard the dozer, letting the noise shut out Tiger’s cries.

Evergreen Resort was all he had left.

And working to save it would keep him from climbing into his Jeep, driving to Nan’s, and stealing his son back.

Stealing. Yeah, that’s what they’d call it, despite the fact CPS had done exactly that.

He tightened his grip on the controls, his bones loose from the rumble of the dozer. Dirt and grime layered his skin; sweat trickled down his back. The headlights cut through the shaggy overhang of forest across the fire road. He estimated maybe another half mile he needed to cut, hours and hours of work. Deeper into the back of the property, the tangle of forest slowed his progress, and he’d taken more time to cut a wider swath, digging down to the mineral soil, the unburnable dirt that might hold back the line of fire.

Let Deep Haven burn. He’d protect the resort with everything he had in him.

Darek pushed over a tall blue spruce, watching it wave its arms as it fell. He crushed it onto the forest floor, backed up, went after a beautiful birch.

You don’t belong here.

He let those words fuel him.

He’d save his property, get Tiger back, and never, never bring another woman into his life. Their lives.

Darek uprooted a stand of saplings, spindly little poplar offshoots, digging deep and turning over the ground beneath them, exposing their roots, then burying them under the debris of the land.

Oh, he’d been a fool to trust her. Ivy turned out to be just as manipulative as Felicity. And a betrayer, like Jensen.

Jensen. His father brought him up too as he’d stood at the door, watching Darek assemble his gear.

“You’ve been letting anger consume you since the day Felicity died. You stopped going to church, walked away from God, and you’ve let it burn away the foundation of who you are, the man you could be.”

That hurt, but Darek had ignored him, grabbing a container of water.

His father didn’t move from his place in the doorway, blocking Darek’s exit. “God says that whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness. He does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded him. Don’t let your unforgiveness keep you in the darkness, Son. Let God help you forgive. It’s the only way you’re going to get through this. In fact, forgiveness is not optional.”

Darek had rounded on him then. “Are you kidding me? Forgive Jensen? If it wasn’t for him, Tiger would be safe at home with his mother. And let’s not even talk about Ivy.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that, despite the accident, God healed? Even used it for good?”

He hadn’t answered, just pushed past his father.

Good? Hardly.

Darek didn’t let his father’s words take root until he climbed into the darkness of the cab, turned on the dozer, and muscled it through the woods.

If Felicity were still alive, he wouldn’t have his son—he knew that. Because at the end, his marriage was headed toward divorce, fast. And the moment he untangled himself from Felicity, he would have hit the road without so much as a backward glance.

No, Felicity’s death could never be good, but it had woken Darek up to his son. To what he could lose—what he’d lost.

He blinked back the burn in his eyes.

What he’d lost. His father was back in his head then, following him just as he had earlier when he stepped off the deck. “You think you’re the only one to lose a son? The only one who has ever had to forgive someone for killing someone he loves?”

Darek had glanced back at him, frowned.

“Has it occurred to you that God did exactly that for you? You, Darek, were His enemy. Your sin killed His Son. And yet He reached out to forgive you, if you wanted it. Even though you didn’t know how to ask. Even when you didn’t
want
to ask.”

Yeah, but that was different. Darek wasn’t God.

He’d told his father that too.

“You don’t have to be. Forgiveness starts with you on your knees, taking a good look inside. I know it’s hard. You’re afraid of what you’ll find. But God isn’t going to stay away from you, Darek, when you need Him. And I promise, Jesus can help you do the impossible.”

His parents’ faith always started with “on your knees.” Well, they didn’t know what it felt like to have everything ripped from them. They didn’t know what it felt like to have someone you loved betray—

No. He didn’t love Ivy. He couldn’t love Ivy, not so soon. . . .

And yet he didn’t know how else to describe it, the feeling of wholeness, of . . . well, maybe he might call it love, but . . .

Whatever he felt, it told him the truth. He’d never loved Felicity.

Darek pushed a bundle of debris into the forest, that reality burrowing deep.

Yes, if he were honest with himself, he’d only given in to her because . . .

Because Jensen was with her.

Because Darek wanted to win.

Darek closed his eyes, breathing in hard. Regardless of how Felicity felt, he’d betrayed Jensen. And then he betrayed Felicity
by sleeping with her, using her. And then marrying her, knowing he had no intention of truly meaning his
I do
.