And me.
I’d hidden behind a tree, not wanting anyone to see me. Partly because I wanted to make sure my dad was dead and the other part mourning the man he could have been. A man who should have loved me as most fathers love their children.
“So you knew I wasn’t dead.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“It wasn’t my story to tell. By the time your father died, you’d been gone sixteen years. The investigation had stopped, and I assumed, if you’d wanted contact, you would have stuck around once the casket was in the ground.”
“I hurt people.”
He takes a deep breath. “Zane struggled for years with your disappearance. By the time I realized you were alive, he seemed to be doing better, and bringing it back up felt cruel.”
“What I did to him was cruel.”
“We all make mistakes, Tessa. But you don’t have to continue living in them.”
“They might as well be cement around my ankles.”
“There’s only one way to break free.”
I glance over at him. “How’s that?”
“Him.” He nods toward the cross. “Ask for forgiveness, and choose to live in the light. There will be moments where the darkness settles around you, moments of weakness where you slip and fall, but He is always there to pick you back up. You say that you feel like you can’t stay on your feet? Then remain on your knees, Tessa, and pray.”
The tears I’ve been fighting against begin to fall, and Pastor Reeves wraps an arm around my shoulders as I completely fall apart. Every single wall I’ve carefully built comes crashing down in this moment, and if it weren’t for his arm around my shoulders, I imagine I would fall right out of the pew and onto the floor.
My entire life has been one battle after another.
From the moment I was old enough to understand my childhood wasn’t like the other kids’, to the first time my dad’s hand knocked me to the floor, to this moment right now, it all comes rushing over me in one constant wave of emotion.
The pain of the abuse.
The guilt of believing it was my fault.
The agony of never feeling loved.
The anger of not knowing why they couldn’t just love me.
I let it all out as I sit here on this pew in front of the cross.
“Lord, I come to You today, asking You to walk with Tessa. You know her heart, God. You know her pain. Please wrap her in Your loving embrace and help her see that she belongs to You. That You have always been here with her and that You will always be here with her. Lord, help her to find her way back to You and seek comfort in Your loving embrace. I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” I whisper.
The weight that’s been on my shoulders for the last eighteen years lessens, and I draw in a deep breath as I wipe my eyes and settle my gaze back on the cross. Please forgive me, God. Please help me. I want to do better. I want to know You.
The Bible Zane gave me sits in front of me, unopened. Reaching out, I run the tips of my fingers over the golden letters printed on the front. Holy Bible. I still remember the first time I ever held one.
Zane had given me that one, too.
“You okay?” Zane drops into the booth seat across from me and slides a mug of chamomile tea toward me.
“Pastor Reeves said that I don’t have to continue living in my mistakes.”
“You don’t.”
