Lifting their hands, the pastors began to pray, one after the other praising and thanking God with simple eloquence and humble gratitude. At the end, they spoke a gentle “Amen” together, which the congregation echoed. Then a woman whom Ivy recognized as former classmate Becca Inman stood in the midst of the crowd and began to sing a well-known Easter hymn in a clear, beautiful voice. Others began to join in, coming to their feet as they did so. With the song gaining in volume, Ivy, with Ryan at her side, also rose.
She did not realize that tears streamed down her face until Ryan pressed a clean linen handkerchief into her hand. With her thoughts elsewhere, she barely managed a smile for him. Instead, she envisioned that glorious day of resurrection. That miraculous event proved the sacrificial intent of the crucifixion, but for so long Ivy had ignored it, seeing it as just one more improbable, two-thousand-year-old story that had nothing to do with her own life today.
Ivy knew now what a fool she had been. She’d looked at her father, a man who had always gone to church, and seen the bitterness that had marked his life. She’d wanted no part of that, and somehow that bitterness had equated with church in her mind, and church had equated with Christ. Only when she’d been introduced to her Savior and surrendered her life to Him had the stories of Easter become dear to her, more dear than all she had given up to follow her Lord.
She had found forgiveness and a new beginning by surrendering her heart and soul to Jesus Christ. In many ways, she felt resurrected herself. But sin, as she had learned, still has consequences. She understood that, like everyone else, she lived with the consequences of her choices in the here and now. Thankfully, she could trust God to give her everything she needed to cope with those consequences. He would help her stop making the mistakes that had so devastated her life.
Ivy closed her eyes and claimed that promise again now. Dear Lord, show me how to live to please You, and help me make up for all I’ve done. Help me mend what I’ve broken and ease the pain I’ve caused. Help me endure the anguish I’ve caused myself and find some measure of peace. Most of all, show me Your will for my life, and help me to live it. Thank You for Your Son and His sacrifice. Thank You for Your forgiveness and for choosing to see me through Him. Amen.
She felt a moment, an instant, of that longed-for peace. Then, suddenly, there came a shift in the atmosphere, a literal tightening of the air around her, like the moment before a lightning strike. Ivy opened her eyes to encounter the angry visage of her father. Stunned, she could do no more than stare back at first.
He looked worn and tired, far older than his fifty-four years. The skin of his long, narrow face drooped in loose wrinkles, while gray streaks roughened the thatch of his light brown hair and liberally salted his bushy eyebrows, giving him the hangdog expression of a man who had seen and lost too much. As her heart lurched into her throat, Ivy’s conscience cried out, I did that to him! Thankfully, the words did not make it to her mouth. Ryan spoke first.
“Hello, Olie. I was just telling Ivy last night how long it’s been since I saw you.”
Her father ignored Ryan, his icy, gray glare burning into her like the flames of the still-flickering torches. Ivy glanced around, realized that the service had ended and took a tentative step closer, saying urgently, “Dad, I—I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Me?” he mocked. “You didn’t expect to see me here?” He stabbed a finger at the ground, declaring, “This is my home, girl, not yours, not anymore. I thought I made that plain when you showed up the last time!”
“Dad, please,” she begged softly, all too aware of Ryan standing there. “That was a long time ago. I know I disappointed you. I disappointed myself, and I’ve paid a heavy price for it. Can’t we at least talk about it?”
“Talk?” he scoffed. “Not likely.”
“I just want to tell you how sorry I am, Daddy.”
“Don’t call me that! I’m not your daddy. No tramp like you will ever be a daughter of mine.”
“Olie!” Ryan exclaimed, his tone that of the scolding assistant principal.
“You don’t know the truth about her,” Olie told him roughly. “No one does, because I’ve kept her secrets.” He shook a finger at her. “But only so long as she stayed away. Now she’s here, the truth will finally come out, and the truth is she sleeps with a man she never married and makes her living spreading filth. She even got herself—”
“Please don’t!” Ivy cried, interrupting him before he could spew the worst of it. “Please! I’ve changed.”
“Change?” Olie ridiculed. “It’s too late for change! Just go slither back under your rock and leave us be!”
Ivy couldn’t bear anymore. Clutching Ryan’s arm, she stammered an incoherent apology.
“S-So sorry. I—I never thought he’d be here. Excuse me! I—I need…” She took off at a run, fresh tears streaming down her face.
Behind her, she heard Ryan speaking in his stern, assistant principal’s voice, but she didn’t even try to register the words. What did it matter anyway? What did any of it matter? Her father would never forgive her, never let her forget, even for a moment, what she’d done. As if she could!
Ignoring the curious stares of others, she hurried away, wanting only to reach the privacy of her room, where she could pour out her heart to God and see if she could recapture even a glimmer of the peace she so desperately wanted.
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