“I’ve never shown that self-defense move to another person.”
“Not even to your own mother?” Olivia asked.
Heath’s expression went blank. He inhaled and exhaled before responding. “My mother’s been dead for twenty-seven years.”
Ten minutes later Olivia was seated on one of the big room’s sofas at a right angle to Heath’s chair. Her furry slippers were propped on the edge of a secondhand occasional table, and both hands cradled a mug of strong, hot tea. She should have made the time to retrieve his chart from the office, but the Holy Spirit was urging her to seize this moment and make it more personal, less about business.
“I’m not sure what possessed me to say that because I rarely think of my birth mother.”
Olivia watched Heath cross one ankle over the other knee, jiggling his support leg in time with some cadence only he could hear. She’d seen the gesture before in applicants who were nervous. Or lying.
“Well, she was on your mind for some reason. Wanna tell me about her? I apologize if it seems like I’m prying, but as long as we’re sitting here together at midnight we might as well get acquainted.”
“Or I could show you another judo throw,” he joked. The most mischievous grin Olivia had ever seen on a male over the age of eight dimpled Heath’s cheeks. This handsome man must have been an adorable-looking child.
“I’ll take you up on that offer in a few days when I’m feeling at the top of my game. Tonight the only thing I’m going to throw is a soggy tea bag if you don’t tell me something about yourself.”
His leg stopped jostling. He stared at the cup in his hands.
“When I was a toddler both of my parents were killed in an accident.”
“Oh,” Olivia pressed three fingers to her lips to contain a gasp. “I’m so sorry, Heath.”
“I wasn’t more than a baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. It’s not like I’m emotionally scarred or anything. But they didn’t leave a will and nobody in the family could take me, so I was eventually adopted.”
“Still, that’s a terrible loss for a child no matter what the circumstances. How long have you known this?”
“Since middle school when my folks thought they should tell me the few facts they had.”
“Have you made contact with any family members of your birth parents?”
“No.” He shook his head. “There’s no reason why I should after all this time. If anybody cared about me, they’d have made an effort by now.”
“Maybe it’s as simple as not having your name.”
“My name was never changed.” His eyes were downcast. “When the Brysons adopted me, they just tacked their last name on the end. I dropped Bryson when I turned eighteen.”
Her heart was heavy with sadness. His adoptive parents must have been crushed by such an action from their son. “May I speak frankly?”
“Go ahead.” He seemed to accept whatever might be coming.
“You’ve only been here a few hours and I’ve already heard you mention resenting your parents’ faith and now your rejection of their name. Have you considered how terribly painful that must have been for the people who raised you as their own?”
Oh Father, how hurtful it must be when so many of Your beloved children do the same thing to You!
“Of course I have.” Heath dropped his chin, not so much to look contrite as to indicate that he got the point. “Look, they’re good, Christian folks and I show my gratitude the best way I can. But in all our years together we never saw eye-to-eye on anything important. So it didn’t come as a great surprise when they told me about the adoption. All of a sudden our failure to connect kinda made sense.”
Olivia sipped cautiously while she considered his revelation. This man was as confused and complicated as anybody she’d encountered in her social work career. He seemed to have everything going for him and nothing to show for it emotionally or relationally.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Heath insisted. “I’m beyond redemption.”
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