Brad, page 27
He tapped on her door then opened it at her bidding. He found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by fabric color samples. She had a pencil between her teeth and a pad of paper in her lap. When she saw him, she smiled around the pencil.
“Miss Flynn, I was coming to see if you want to have lunch with me.”
“Mr. Dixon.” She slipped the pencil behind her ear and gestured at the floor. “I need a few more minutes. I’m almost at a stopping point.”
He crouched next to her and fingered a swatch of cloth the color of dark mustard. “What are you doing down here on the floor?”
“In Savannah, our workspaces were so small, so to work with a bunch of samples or something, I’d go into the break room and take over the floor. I just got used to it as a way to help me really think. Something about being down here helps me isolate my thinking and draws out my creativity.” She reached forward and picked up a bluish cloth and a tannish cloth. After reading the labels, she made notations in the notebook and set them to the side. She did the same thing about three more times, then smiled up at him. “All done.”
She gathered all the samples into different piles and put some of them into a file envelope, then she shifted to stand. It pained him to watch her shift her body to stand up. He could tell the movement hurt her hip and back. Nothing about the movement looked fluid; nothing looked natural or graceful. Once she got to her feet, she limped to her desk and put the notebook and pencil down before she used the desk as a brace to stretch.
“Sorry. Sitting on that floor makes everything tighten up.”
It bothered him, but it didn’t appear to bother her, so he tried not to make a big deal of it. “Would it be better to use a conference table?”
“You’d think but it doesn’t feel the same. Must just be because of the way I trained my mind. Or, I like being down in the midst it all and that’s how I have to do it.” When she stepped away from the desk, she moved with more ease and less obvious pain. She pulled her purse out of a desk drawer and grabbed her ID out of the computer’s key-card reader. “Okay,” she smiled, “ready.”
He had his hand on the doorknob when she stopped and smiled up at him. “This is the third time this week we’ve had lunch. At this point, when we walk out that door, people are going to start talking. Are you ready for that?”
“Are you?” His smile and his glance made Valerie catch her breath. He could barely wait to have the world acknowledge them as a couple.
Her laughter filled the room. “If I weren’t, I would have said no to lunch. I just don’t know if you, as a Dixon whose life has been spent slightly separated from the pack, can fathom the amount of gossip that goes on in an office environment. What happened a few weeks ago in the women’s bathroom was just the tip of a proverbial iceberg.”
Brad thought he was ready for any interoffice gossip. Her words made him question that notion. Maybe he needed to back off and let her lead a public romance.
He ran his tongue over his teeth and smiled a little closed-lipped smile. “Well, Valerie, while I appreciate the schooling, I can assure you that I know all I need to know about office gossip. And, the best way to kind of get ahead of that is to come to your office three days in a row and take you to lunch. I might even convince you to let me hold your hand walking back into the building. That should really bring it all home, don’t you think?”
She looked up at him, processed everything he said, then threw her head back and laughed. “You are what your mama would call incorrigible.”
“I am that.” He held the door open and let her precede him out into the office area. “I actually have to restrain myself quite often.”
Three steps into the cubicle area, Valerie stopped walking. He almost stepped into her. She pivoted and grinned up at him before quickly rising to her toes and giving him a quick kiss on the mouth. He was so surprised that he could only grab a shoulder in response. “I, too, can be incorrigible. How do you think I learned the word?”
She winked and turned back to keep walking to the elevator. His lips tingled and hungered for a longer, deeper kiss. His heartbeat roared in his ears. Brad paused for half a second before resuming his course. He fought against the desire to look behind him and see if anyone watched or whispered at their backs.
Once in the elevator, she leaned against the wall and smiled up at him. “So much for sealing it,” he said.
“Better to just rip that bandage off.” She laughed. “Where do you want to eat?”
Valerie leaned back against Brad’s chest and laughed at the joke Ken just told. They sat in the middle of the floor of the apartment Ken and Brad currently had ripped apart for renovation. For the last three weeks, she’d brought them dinner two or three nights a week and shared it with them. Tonight, they had just finished polishing off barbecued chicken and potato salad.
“Thanks, Val,” Ken said, stacking his plate into the empty picnic basket. “You’re spoiling us. I’m used to Brad or Jon bringing takeout in the middle of the night. About once a week, mama takes pity on us.”
“I’m happy to do it, especially because it means I can work time into seeing Brad. Apparently,” she added dramatically, “he’s committed to you and can’t leave all the work to you, blah blah blah.”
She felt Brad’s chuckle before she heard it. “That’s pretty much what I said.”
Her phone chirped with an incoming text. She leaned forward and pulled it out of the pocket in the basket. “That’s Buddy,” she said. “I need to call him back.”
“Of course.” Standing from sitting on the floor always proved to be a chore. Brad deftly got to his feet and held a hand out to her, pulling her up. She winced and limped away, stopping to stretch her leg muscles as she dialed the phone.
“Hey, Buddy. What’s up?”
“I came by, but you’re not there. Are you somewhere I can meet you?”
With a frown, she said, “Sure. Do you know where Brad and Ken are renovating an apartment building?”
“Yeah. Sure. I figured that’s where you were. I’ll be there in about five.”
“I’ll be waiting.” She hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment.
At her elbow, Brad said, “Everything okay?”
He ran a hand over her back, and she had a feeling he’d be able to feel the tension in the muscles there. “No idea. He’s on his way over here.”
Needing something to do while she waited, she packed the basket then turned to Brad. “I know you guys have plans of what to finish before bed tonight. I’ll get out of your way.”
She slipped the strap of the picnic basket over her shoulder and started to walk away, but Brad grabbed her arm. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling her closer, “you aren’t in the way and you’re more important than any self-imposed deadline we set.” He cupped her cheeks with both hands and looked down at her. “If you need me, I’m here.”
Her smile didn’t feel natural or real. “I know. Thanks.”
He gave her a gentle kiss and she wondered if she would ever get used to how right, how perfect it felt to feel his lips against hers. Her swirling thoughts vanished into a vortex of nothingness and the only thing that existed was the feel and taste and smell of him. Each time they kissed, she soared above her daily mundane existence and escaped into this feeling of complete adoration.
Their lips parted and suddenly she could breathe again, open her eyes and see again, feel the ground beneath her feet again. She sighed and grinned.
Three weeks had passed. Three weeks of stolen moments and interludes, taken as breaks in busy lives.
“Well,” Buddy said from the open doorway, making the word sound like it had two syllables.
Valerie jerked away, feeling uncomfortable and a little guilty. Buddy knew about Brad. He’d seen them holding hands in church, swimming together at the Dixon estate, arms around each other while watching a family movie. She didn’t know why she felt nervous. She turned toward him and smiled. “Hi.”
“Valerie. I need to speak to you in private.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the apartment. Valerie looked up at Brad and saw his worried frown. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, handing him the picnic basket then rushing out after Buddy.
As soon as she got outside, he held up an envelope. “This came for you today.”
“To me?” With a frown, she reached for it. “Why would it come to your house?”
“I’m your emergency contact and the Georgia prison system does not have your current information.”
Her stomach fell out from under her and suddenly her entire world, her entire focus became that envelope. What? Why?
With shaking hands, she took it from him and opened it. She recognized Tyrone’s scrawl before she even had the letter open. A sob came out of her soul. She didn’t even realize she’d made a sound until she heard it.
“Is this the place to be reading that?” Buddy asked. He put a hand on her arm, but she jerked away.
“This is fine.” How she managed to voice the words around the parched mouth and tight lips amazed her. She opened the single page and had to re-read the beginning twice.
Dear Val,
I realize you don’t want to hear from me. But I felt that writing you would go a long way toward your healing… and mine.
You may or may not have heard that I come up for parole in two weeks. I want you to know that I have no intention of seeking parole.
In the five years since I have been in prison, I have developed a close relationship with our chaplain. About six months ago, I came to know Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.
I know this seems strange. I was such an evil man before. But, since then, I’ve worked hard to make changes in my life, in my heart, in my mind. Writing you and telling you was of the utmost importance to me.
I know you won’t feel safe until I can prove the changes inside of me. I know there is no recompense for what I did to you, but I pray that by finishing my complete sentence, you can have a little extra time of peace.
That is why I will not go before the parole board.
I pray that you can forgive me someday. There is nothing I can do or say to make up for what I have done but I beg you to forgive me.
Yours in Christ,
Tyrone
Valerie felt tears streaming down her face as she wadded the paper up in one hand and jammed it into her pocket.
“Valerie?” Buddy asked, his face drawn with worry.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no. No way. No.”
Escape. Just run.
Whirling, she ran to her car, pulling her keys out of her pocket. She glanced over at the apartments as she drove out of the parking lot and saw Brad standing with Buddy, looking after her with a look of confusion on his face.
While Brad waited in the living room, Valerie went into the kitchen to make tea. Normally, he would have followed her into the room and watched her work, but he sensed she needed some space. His unannounced arrival three minutes before had thrown her off somehow.
Buddy had convinced him to come after her. He didn’t go into any detail except to say she’d received a letter that upset her. He gave her twenty minutes, and when she didn’t come back to the apartments, he decided to go to her house. He used the excuse of returning her picnic basket to her.
Next to her keys, he saw the crumpled envelope and could make out the “Department of Corrections” on the return address. His stomach hurt at thoughts of what the letter might contain. Threats? Insults? Accusations?
Valerie finally came back into the room, carrying two steaming mugs. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes told him she’d been crying. Even so, she didn’t appear extra jumpy or on edge. Instead, he could detect a slow simmer of fury. Despite that, she calmly handed him his mug.
“Thanks.” He took a cautious sip and tasted peppermint. “What happened?”
“No small talk with you. Just cut to the chase,” she said, moving to the chair. She set her untouched cup of tea on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the chair cushion. “I got a letter.”
“That’s what Buddy said.” He sat on the couch close enough to her that he could reach out and touch her if she needed him to. “From?”
“From Tyrone.” She said his name in a whisper, then cleared her throat. “They sent the letter to Buddy’s address because mine is not accessible.”
“Right.” They sat in silence for several minutes until Brad said, “What did the letter say?”
She leaned back into the chair and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I don’t even know how to start.”
He reached out and put a hand on her knee. “How can I help?”
“You can explain to me how fair it is that I have to share eternity with Tyrone Baker.”
Maybe he’d expected her to say something shocking, but not that. “I beg your pardon?”
She surged to her feet and crossed the room, snatching the letter up and coming back, tossing it into his lap. “Read it yourself.”
With surprisingly steady hands, he pulled the single piece of paper from the envelope. It took seconds to read it, much longer to digest what it said. Then he had to process what she said about it. “Wait. You’re upset because he’s become a Christian? Do you think this is sincere?”
“Oh, I absolutely believe it. I have no reason to doubt it.” She paced to the dining room table and back again. “It’s infuriating to think that with everything he did to me, he can just,” she held up her fingers and snapped them, “be redeemed.”
Maybe he understood. “Valerie—”
“It’s. Not. Fair.” She enunciated every word.
“Maybe not to your human mind and heart. But God is a just God, and He makes it clear that—”
“Is that what you think I need to hear? More platitudes from Sunday school?” She interrupted him with a growl.
Standing, he crossed to her and made her stop her pacing by standing in her path. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged the tense muscles. “Here’s some truth. When I saw the scars on your back and shoulders that first time we went swimming, I was overcome with a desire to kill Tyrone. It was an overwhelming reaction and if he’d been anywhere near me, I probably wouldn’t have been in control of my actions. I had to excuse myself.”
Valerie’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I asked you what had happened. You never said.”
“I wasn’t ready to discuss the things that happened to me because of what happened to you. That wasn’t your burden to bear. I talked about it with my dad a few times and seriously prayed about it. I had to come to a place where I could forgive him.” He ran his hands from his shoulders to her upper arms and back up to her shoulders. She tensed up but he kept rubbing. “You know, the apostle Paul was a pretty hardcore anti-Christian man. He persecuted Christians and was even present and complicit in the stoning death of the disciple Stephen.”
She looked up at him with tears burning in her eyes. He could feel the tension in her body radiating through his hands. He continued. “When Paul had the encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus, he tried to join the Christians and they didn’t trust him. They thought he was just pretending so he could infiltrate their ranks.”
“So?”
“So, Valerie, there is nothing new under the sun. You are not the only person to feel this way about a once personal enemy coming into the fold of Christ. From our perspective, it doesn’t seem fair that someone who perpetrated a heinous crime against us would be allowed the same grace as what is available to us. But what we don’t see, with our limited perspective, is that we are as undeserving of God’s grace as anyone else. Christ died for Tyrone’s sins as much as He died for yours.”
She shrugged his hands off and stepped away from him. “He ruined my life.”
Brad nodded. “I get why you would say that. But I don’t think you’re ruined forever and ever. I think if you can forgive him, you’ll start to move on.”
She whirled around and lifted her chin in a regal manner. “Forgive him?” She spat out. “Forgive him? How dare you—”
“I don’t dare. I’m simply repeating what Christ said. ‘Forgive one another, as I have forgiven you.’ It’s up to you to forgive Tyrone for what he did to you. It’s not up to you to cling to the past and use it to justify letting memories and thoughts of him continue to dig a pit in your heart.”
The tears fell down her face. The anger left her expression and a mask of hurt settled over her features. “Why are you taking his side?”
“Valerie, baby, I am only on your side. You are the most important person on the earth to me and I want so desperately to help you, to see you healed. But I’m not going to nurture your negative thoughts. I’m only ever going to tell you the truth.”
“The truth, huh?” Throwing herself back into her chair, she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Here’s some truth for you. Tyrone Baker deserves death. He does not deserve eternal life.”
Brad slipped his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes, praying silently that God would give him some brilliant divine guidance into how to handle this conversation in a way that neither destroyed Valerie’s faith nor their brand-new relationship.
“Do you remember the story of Jonah?” He asked quietly.
“I was raised in the same church as you.”
“Do you know what kind of city Nineveh was?”
She raised her head and glared at him, finally speaking in a very sarcastic tone. “Evil?”
He nodded. “Very much so.” He sat down again. “Evil as in there are historical passages that talk about the military rulers cutting off the heads of hundreds of people and stacking them into a pyramid. Forced incest. Demon worship. The works.”
She waited a few heartbeats before replying. “And?”
“And God sent Jonah there to pass judgment on the city as a whole, a city of about 120,000 people, to give them a deadline for repentance. If they did not repent and turn from their evil ways, God would destroy their city as He had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. If they did repent, He would not destroy them.”
