A House Full of Hope

After a Saturday-afternoon attempt—and failure—to speak with Redd, Mark knew it was sunglasses-off time. No matter what happened with his relationship with his father, he had to let the town of Corinthia know that Mark Ryker was a changed man. And that he owed that change to the grace of God.

So on Sunday morning, he put away the sunglasses and donned the one suit he’d packed—more out of habit than because he thought he’d need it. He drove his rental car to the small church his mom had dragged Mark and Matt to when they were children.

Growing up, their dad had worked all the time and their mother had taken charge of raising the kids and seeing to their religious upbringing. Of course, Matt, the sweet, obedient child, had gone to church willingly. Mark had been another story.

He hoped his mother was looking down from heaven, seeing that her insistence and persistence had given him a foundation to fall back on years later, after his life fell apart. After he hit rock bottom and realized he could either die, or he could ask for help to climb out from under the guilt, anger and self-destructive behavior.

As the church came into sight, the thought of how far he’d come nearly overwhelmed him. He blinked back tears and, for probably the thousandth time, thanked God he hadn’t gotten addicted to the alcohol he’d used to numb the pain. And that he’d hit bottom while at the New Hope Mission. With God’s help, the staff and volunteers at the shelter had saved Mark’s life.

The white steeple of the Corinthia Church loomed bright and welcoming. Mark parked and approached the old redbrick building. As he walked in the door, the organist struck up the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

How appropriate. He had to smile at God’s sense of humor. With that smile locked in place, he searched for familiar faces.

Of course, the first person he saw was Hannah with her four children. And another woman beside her who—

He stopped in his tracks, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. The woman was Hannah’s mother, Donna Williams.

Hannah didn’t look up. She was busy whispering—fussing over the two youngest kids. As he forced himself to continue down the aisle, he vaguely noted neither husband had attended. He would need to make time to speak with Donna, to apologize to her, as well. Maybe after the service.

As if Donna were a bloodhound smelling trouble, she looked right at him. It took her about two heartbeats to recognize him, but then her eyes flared wide. She froze in place, staring, her eyes lasering fury his direction. Her face reddened, and he feared she might explode with a torrent of words. Words she’d probably wanted to say to him years ago.

He moved on, hoping to avert a scene with Donna. When he glanced to the right, old Mr. Jay from the bank gave a polite nod. Then Mark spotted his dad up front in what used to be his mom’s favorite spot, next to the organ. So he has come around and now attends church. This eased some of Mark’s fears, and he started down the aisle toward Redd.

But about halfway, he stopped. What was he thinking? This was not the setting to approach his dad again. He would embarrass him. So he turned to the back to find a seat.

A dumb move that meant he had to face everyone he’d passed.

Gabe Reynolds, who’d gone to high school with Mark, sat with a teenage girl and a woman Mark didn’t recognize. The woman, pretty, pregnant and apparently his wife, smiled kindly. Gabe merely nodded.

Two rows farther, Miss Ann Sealy, one of his favorite people from Corinthia, sat with a young man who looked familiar. Maybe her grandson. She waved but had a blank look, as if trying to place him. He’d thought of all the people in town, she would’ve been the one to give him a profuse welcome.

His chest tightened as he realized how few people would even know him now. And of those who did, how they might view him with distrust.

Shame scalded Mark’s face as he searched for the closest available seat. As he was sitting, he heard a commotion—Donna yanking her purse off the pew and stomping toward the door. Right before she exited, she glared at him.

After the door banged closed, he couldn’t help but look at Hannah. She stared after her mother, mouth covered, eyes wide. When she turned to him, her hand dropped and eyes narrowed. Her scowl said she blamed him for the outburst. He could imagine her thoughts. How dare you darken the doors of our church?

Well, the Williamses had spoken. Mark figured others might also. Probably wouldn’t matter that he was a new creature in Christ. How could the people of Corinthia ever see beyond the reckless boy who’d caused his brother’s death, hurt Sydney Williams and then skipped town?

He tried to focus on the service, but couldn’t get beyond the fact he was an outsider in his own hometown and might never be able to make amends. Yet God’s Word and the music penetrated the worry. He eventually relaxed into the pew, felt God’s peace wash over him. This was where God wanted him. He wouldn’t give up.

After the service, Mark strode toward the front to catch his dad before he left. When Mark reached the end of the pew, he waited for Redd to look up, to ask him to sit so they could talk. Who was he kidding? His dad raised his chin and stared straight ahead.

May as well have slapped up a sign that said Not Welcome Here. Still, he had to take a chance. “I’m glad you’re attending church, Dad. Mom would be pleased.”

Redd grabbed the pew in front of him for support as he stood. Then he looked at Mark with utter scorn. “Your mother and I worshipped together here for years. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” He limped away, his squared shoulders a shield against his wayward son.

The jab hurt. Physical pain knifed Mark’s chest.

No, he wouldn’t have known that. And he would regret it the rest of his life. Would regret that he hadn’t come home sooner. That he hadn’t come before his mom died.

He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pressure. Don’t go there. Think of the future.

Of course, he had no idea how to approach his father again in that future. Maybe the pastor could help. While Mark waited for the crowd to thin, he shook a few hands, drawing encouragement.

Miss Ann approached with a grin on her face. “Welcome home, Mark.” She’d aged over the years, but her sky-blue eyes and extreme Southern drawl hadn’t changed a bit. “You caught me by surprise this morning. Didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Thanks, Miss Ann. It’s good to be here.” An exaggeration. But it was nice to be following God’s lead for a change.

“If you don’t have plans for lunch, please join me and my grandson, Daniel.” She pointed across the room at the man who’d been sitting with her. Then she puffed out her chest proudly. “He came to visit me this weekend and to meet with Pastor Phil. He’s graduating from seminary soon.”

“I wish him well.” Touched by her kind invitation, he considered it briefly. But he had business to attend to. “I’d love to have lunch, but I need to speak with the pastor myself.”

“Oh, you’ll like Phil. He’s been here a few years and is a good counselor.” She suddenly reached out and hugged him. “You take care, now. Your mama would be so happy to see you at church.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the same sweet perfume his mom had always worn—White Shoulders. Sudden tears stung the back of his eyes. He pulled away, cleared his throat. “Thanks, Miss Ann.” He waved and hurried outside. No use in letting memories get him all choked up. No time for regrets, for worrying about something he couldn’t change.

“Good to have you with us today.” The pastor, who looked to be in his late forties with graying temples and a few smile lines around his eyes, stood alone on the church steps wiping perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief. He tucked it in his pocket and held out his hand. “I’m Phil Hartley.”

“Nice to meet you, Reverend Hartley. I’m Mark Ryker.”

“Oh, I see the likeness to Redd.” Kind eyes encouraged Mark to speak up. It was as if the pastor could tell he’d been hanging around. “Please call me Phil.”

“Thanks, Phil. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of this hot sun and go to my office.” He led the way through the sanctuary and along a hallway decorated with kids’ artwork, all centered on the theme of Jonah and the big fish. Apparently, the church still held vacation Bible school in the summer.

A sudden memory of arguing with his mother about helping with Bible school made him cringe. He’d told her he and Matt would rather work with their dad at the hardware store than with those wild kids.

She’d seemed hurt but had relented.

If only he’d known then what that rebellion would cost. If only he’d known how a rickety fishing boat capsizing in a pathetically small lake could change his family forever.

“Have a seat.” Phil gestured to a grouping of three chairs set up in the corner of the room, obviously for meetings or counseling sessions.

“I won’t keep you long. But I need a favor.” He proceeded to tell Phil a little about his family background.

“You had a twin who died?” Phil’s head tilted as if he was confused. Apparently, no one had ever told him the story.

Mark nodded. “It was my fault. I took him fishing, the two of us alone, knowing he couldn’t swim. He died of complications from the near-drowning.”

Pain filled Phil’s eyes, and it caused an echoing pain in Mark. “Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t talked about this in years. Had to force words that didn’t want to come. “My parents tried not to blame me. But I knew they did. And I buried the pain with alcohol. With rebellion. And unfortunately, dragged Sydney Williams into it.”

“So that’s the reason for Donna Williams’s animosity toward Redd?”

With a wince, he confirmed it. “We started dating, and her family wasn’t happy about it. I admit I’d fallen into a bad group of friends. Tried to pull her away from them when I saw she had a drinking problem. But it was too late.”