“Thanks for agreeing to help Blair fix up this car,” Dad said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Blair, you’re providing a lot of assistance like we talked about, right?” Dad asked.
“The only thing he’ll let me do is hand him tools. He’s told me more than once that he’d rather I not come by at all.”
Blair had thrown him under the bus, of course. “She’s a headache,” he said, “as I’m sure the three of you have noticed.”
A moment of tense quiet followed. Dad broke it with an affectionate chuckle. “Yeah. We’ve noticed.” He softened the teasing words by wrapping an arm around Blair and drawing her against his side.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get the car running?” Mom asked.
“I know I can.” His family members gathered around as he explained what needed to be done and how he would go about it. As far as he knew, only Dad and Blair had an interest in car mechanics. But they all watched him with what appeared to be deep interest. Maybe because they’d never heard him say so many words in a row before.
“Wow.” Dad looked impressed. “Blair and I worked on it some, but everything you just described is definitely above our pay grade. We’re fortunate to have your help.”
Luke didn’t point out that nothing about their association with him had been fortunate. He hadn’t forgotten the years of struggle when they’d laid down rules he’d repeatedly broken. His feelings toward his parents were complicated . . . and he could only imagine how complicated their feelings were toward him.
Hailey smiled shyly at him, and his chest ached.
“Welcome back to Misty River,” she told him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I wish Ethan could’ve been here instead,” he said, speaking words he’d never have given himself permission to say if he’d thought about them first.
“Not instead,” Dad said quietly. “We never wanted him here instead of you. We always wanted youbothhere. We always will. We love you, Luke. Just like we love him.”
“And always will,” Mom finished, tears in her eyes.
Luke had to look away. He gestured toward the engine. “I’d better get back to work.”
“By all means,” Mom said. “We’re here to assist, so please tell us what we can do.”
An hour and a half later, Luke’s family finally left.
Lowering onto the ground, he sat against the Pontiac’s front fender. His arms rested on his bent knees.
Since his release three-and-a-half months ago, he’d broken no laws. He’d stuck to the goal he’d made for himself in prison and cleaned up his life. Yet his outwardly good actions weren’t enough to fix what was still messed up inside him.
He was miserable.
Finley and his parents had dealt with hardship, too, but they weren’t miserable. The one big difference between them and him was that they’d hung on to their faith.
“Your faithlessness doesn’t affect God’s faithfulness,” Finley had said to him. “None of the love He has for you is conditional.”
Was it worth trying to pick his faith back up at this point?
How, though? Was he just supposed to snap his fingers and resume his relationship with God?
He’d been through some of the worst things life can deal a person, and nothing should scare him. But two things did: trusting in God, and the fact that something inside him still wanted to be loved and needed.
He felt unworthy of love, yet the longing to be loved hadn’t left him despite everything he’d done to suffocate it, and all the years of isolation in prison.
The scaffolding holding him up inside was cracking, and he didn’t know what to do about any of it.
Mr. Dempsey?” A tall brunette who looked to be about thirty came to a halt in the reception area.
“Yes.”
