Page 4 of Second Chance Fate

2

Caleb Harrison joggedwith a steady rhythm along the trail that weaved through the dense wooded area he knew like the back of his hand. He felt the familiar burn and stretch of his muscles as he pushed himself to his physical limits and absorbed the quiet peace of the early Sunday morning. His weekly run was a test of both discipline and endurance. It was a practice of being present and not letting anxiety cloud his thoughts. Twigs and leaves snapped beneath his feet, and beads of sweat dripped down his back. He concentrated on the sounds around him and sensations he felt to ground him in the now.

When he rounded Widow’s Bluff, the dirt path widened to a clearing, and he was met with the majestic sight of the sun rising in the sky, casting a soft glow over his postcard-perfect hometown. The mountain range provided a backdrop to the panoramic view of breathtaking scenery. Tall, lush pine trees and colorful orange and yellow aspens filled out the landscape. The sound of rushing water from the river that flowed through the center of town could be heard over the birds chirping and squirrels darting from tree to tree above his head.

Growing up the son of a pastor, and now a pastor himself, Caleb spent more than half his life in church, and while he felt God there, it was a building;thiswas where he felt closest to God. This was where he felt connected to something bigger than himself.

For most people, Sunday mornings were the last day of their weekend, the day before they had to go back to work. It was a day spent in a variety of ways. From lazy mornings in bed, football, errands, laundry, grocery shopping, food prep, rest, and in some cases, church. For Caleb, it was the busiest day of his week. It was the day that all of the other days led up to. Much like NFL players who practiced all week so that they would be at their peak performance level when they put on pads and uniforms and went out onto the gridiron to face their opponents. Caleb’s week was spent in prayer and meditation to prepare to step behind the pulpit and face his congregation. It was his game day.

Also, like those athletes, Caleb had a pre-game ritual. He didn’t step one foot in the sanctuary without warming up first. He ran ten miles every Sunday morning before his service, rain, shine, or even snow. He had to clear his mind of all the negative thoughts and self-doubt that tried to encroach on him. He had to silence the voices telling him that he had no business standing up in front of people telling anyone anything.

Caleb spent his entire life watching his father be the man that everyone in the town looked to as their spiritual guide. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up in the middle of the night and heard his father speaking to someone who’d shown up at their house in distress. Whether it was relationship difficulties, illness, loss of a job, mental health challenges, grief and loss, family conflicts or crises, substance abuse, domestic abuse, or legal problems, he always seemed to know exactly how to handle each and every situation with an air of authority and calm that people trusted and responded to. He had a gift forlistening just as much to what people weren’t saying as to what they were saying. He also did not have a judgmental bone in his body, so he made people feel safe, feel seen.

George Harrison—yes, he was named after the British musician and shared a birthday with him; both men were born on February 25th—was the spiritual backbone of Hope Falls for over forty years. When his father retired, stepping down from his senior pastor post, and Caleb accepted the role for Hope Falls Community Church, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. Not literally, although his father was six foot six and wore a size sixteen shoe, but figuratively.

Caleb’s father lived a full life. He knew real loss. Caleb was an only child now, but he had a half-brother who died of SIDS. His father’s first wife battled depression and got into a car accident while being under the influence. She ended up divorcing his dad because staying with him was too painful of a reminder of her son. It was five years before his dad met Annie, Caleb’s mom, and they got married.

Before any of that happened, his dad served in the Army. He was a Vietnam vet. When he came back, he had a drinking problem, which he got under control, but he still attends AA meetings to this day.

His dad’s life qualified him to counsel people. Caleb’s did not. He’d been raised in Hope Falls by loving parents in a community that adopted them as their own and supported him. He was sheltered, protected, and nurtured. Everyone told Caleb he was his father’s mini-me. That he was the apple, and his father was the tree. It was true that Caleb was born with charisma; it was his inheritance. His dad passed it down alongside the shape of his hands and the steady way he could look you in the eye and make you feel, if only for a second, like you truly belonged, but where was the substance.

Caleb’s wholesome upbringing planted seeds of doubt in him. It made him feel like the world’s biggest fraud. Like he was an impostor, a nepo baby. There were days he wondered what he was doing trying to take the place of a man who had so much more experience and wisdom. He fought with the nagging doubt tugging at the edges of his conscience, questioning why anyone should listen to him. What did he know about struggle or pain?

His dad lived through real tragedy and heartbreak, and those experiences had shaped him into the man people instinctively turned to in times of need. His raw wounds were transformed into badges of wisdom. His understanding came from scars that run deep.

Caleb’s life, in stark contrast, was as close to unremarkable as you could get. It was devoid of adversity. How could he offer guidance when he hadn’t truly been tested? Caleb hadn’t been haunted by trauma or loss. He had empathy for suffering, but he had no firsthand knowledge to draw from. His insight came from books, YouTube, or was recycled from his dad, not from real, gritty, personal experience.

He’d never even been in a serious relationship. He wanted to be. He wanted to have a wife, kids, a family. He wanted that more than anything. But it just hadn’t happened. He’d seen it happen for other people. Over the past few years, he’d watchedallof his friends fall madly in love with their soulmates. He wasn’t exaggerating. Even his best friend Josh, who was a confirmed bachelor and swore he wouldneverget married, had tied the knot. Caleb performed the ceremony. He officiated most of the weddings.

Caleb dated a lot. He got set up… a lot. But he’d never felt that lightning bolt of attraction. He’d never been unable to stop thinking about someone or counted the minutes until he saw that person again.

That’s not exactly true. There was one person. But she didn’t count. He spent his 21st birthday in Daytona Beach with his best friend Josh, and he met someone there. The problem was, he was drunk ninety percent of the time they spent together, and his memory was blurry. But from what he did remember, he felt all the things people said they feel. All the things people write about and sing about. Unfortunately, because he was so intoxicated, he only remembered her first name. Rebecca. He didn’t remember where she lived, what college she went to, or what any of her friends’ names were. He had no way of finding her. He’d tried. He thought about her at least a few times a week, if not every day. At this point, he was beginning to wonder if she had been a figment of his imagination. He probably would have forgotten how she looked, but he had a photo strip from a booth they’d taken pictures in. She had black hair and striking blue eyes. And there’d been something between them. Something more special. Something more than just a spring break hookup, not that he had a lot to compare it to. That was the only random hookup he’d ever had.

Could it be possible that his mind was playing tricks on him? Had he built up their encounter in his mind to something it wasn’t? Was he delusional?

That thought drove him to run faster, trying to leave the doubts trailing in the dirt behind him. He knew people saw him as the confident, young, charismatic pastor with the easy smile. But that’s not what he saw when he looked in the mirror. He saw himself as the Tom Hanks’ character when he turns back into his 12-year-old self at the end of the movieBig,walking down the street in the oversized suit, metaphorically.

Trying to push those insecurities away, Caleb inhaled deeply, focusing on filling his lungs with the brisk, fresh air instead of the self-doubt that wanted to crowd his mind. He let thesensation of the earth meeting the soles of his feet ground him, hoping each step would bring him closer to clarity and peace.

Caleb was still trying to outrun his personal demons when he lifted his head and saw the “Golden Years Retirement Home” sign, its letters painted in retro style that matched the bright red rocking chairs lined up on the patios of the residents’ living quarters. The complex sat at the far end of the Riverside Recreation Area, tucked between the towering trees with views that overlooked the river.

As he got closer to the main building, the familiar scent of blooming roses from the bushes that surrounded the wheelchair ramp next to the entrance mixed with the earthy pine and faint campfire aroma that always lingered in the air and reminded him of his youth.

“Morning, Pastor!” Gladys Hill waved from a rocking chair on her porch in front of her living quarters as she worked on her knitting. Her silvery-white hair was in curlers with a scarf tied around them.

“Morning, Miss Hill.”

“Pastor, you tell that Freddie to turn down that bass. My dentures were rattlin’ last week,” she shouted.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a thumbs-up.

Freddie was the bass guitar player on the worship team. The sound mix was fine, but Miss Hill insisted on sitting right next to the speakers. Caleb made a mental note to speak to one of the ushers to see if they might be able to persuade her to relocate somewhere she’d be more comfortable and have a better experience.

Caleb was used to everyone having an opinion on how things should run. He found it easier to let them vent their viewpoint as long as it didn’t hurt anybody. If he tried to set everyone straight who put their two cents in where it wasn’t needed, he wouldn’t have time to sleep.

The dirt trail curved, leading away from the senior home down to the river. It merged with the running path, and ahead of him, he saw something that caused him to pick up his pace. On the bridge, about a hundred yards away, there was a woman with long, flowing blonde hair. With her back to him, he couldn’t be sure if it washeror not, but before he even had a chance to process that thought, his feet had already begun to move faster. Each time the soles of his feet hit the pavement, his heart pounded wildly in his chest. His pulse and adrenaline both raced.

Caleb had only caught glimpses of the blonde beauty a handful of times over the past six months, but each one had left a lasting impression on him, one that was impossible to forget. From the first time he laid eyes on her, something was different, special about her. He was drawn to her. He’d had every intention of speaking to her, but the problem was, every time he saw her, one second she was there, and the next she was gone. He was beginning to think maybe she was a mirage in the desert of his love life. Maybe she was literally a figment of his imagination, that she wasn’t even real.

---