Page 138 of Redemption
Breaking into my thoughts, Tanner asks, “What made you change your mind?”
Silas grins, the wrinkles on his face a testament to the life he’s lived. “He did. He kept coming back every week until, finally, I had no choice but to listen to what he had to say. It was hard to believe I deserved his forgiveness, and it was much easier to hold onto the guilt than forgive myself.”
The idea settles low in my stomach, making me a little nauseous. Is that what I’ve been doing? Was it easier to hold onto the guilt of Langston’s death than to face the fact that I had to forgive myself?
Hayes looks like he’s also taken a punch to the gut, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
“So how did you do it?” I ask. “Forgive yourself, that is.”
Silas turns to me. “I found God. I went into that prison not knowing a thing about him besides the fact that he existed, and I left knowing that there wasn’t a thing I could do to make him give up on me. That man I hurt was a pastor. He visited me every Saturday, packing his Bible. And even though I begrudged him for it, he didn’t miss a chance to tell me about God’s love and forgiveness. One day, he visited me and told me the story of the thief on the cross. Do you know it?”
I nod, but Tanner shakes his head.
“When Jesus was crucified, two other men were hanging on crosses beside him. The man on his right was a thief—known for being a bad man—but as he hung there, he asked that Jesus remember him in his Kingdom. Not only did Jesus forgive him, but he told the thief that he would see him again in Heaven. After the pastor told me that story, I spent many nights lying awake thinking about it. If God could forgive a sinner on his deathbed, could he forgive me too? God chipped away at my heart, and eventually, I had no choice but to believe he could.”
My heart races in my chest, and beside me, Hayes looks sick to his stomach.
We came here for Tanner to hear Silas’s story, but it seems we are getting our own butts handed to us.
Is it really that simple?
I’m not so sure.
Who can love without constraint like that? How can he love someone who has made so many mistakes—pursuing the one who’s failed instead of the many who haven’t?
______________________
“MJ.” My name is yelled down the hallway.
It’s Monday after our visit with Silas, and I was about to head home when I heard my name being called. Turning around, I look for the source. Tanner runs toward me at a dead sprint, fear clouding his face.
“What? What’s wrong?”
By the time he reaches me, he’s huffing, trying to catch his breath, and clutching at his head.
“It’s—It’s Bella. Something is wrong with her.”
Every instinct goes on high alert. “Where is she at?”
“The field.”
I take off sprinting, leaving him to follow me.
He keeps up with me easily, and as we run, my heart thunders in my ears.
Bella is pretty responsible with her diabetes, but there are times when even the most responsible diabetic has an episode.
And if it’s enough to scare Tanner, it’s enough to scare me.
The field seems a million miles away, but eventually, we make it.
Bella is lying on the bench on the sidelines, her eyes closed and face pale.
I slow to a jog as I approach, not wanting to startle her, and when I’m close enough, I gently say her name.
“Bella. Bella, honey, can you hear me?”
She doesn’t answer, and Tanner frets, pacing the field behind me and still clutching at his head.
