“Ellie . . .” In the awkward, painful silence, Alan had to clarify something. “It would take me all day to tell you everything I’m sorry about. The list is too long. I . . . I loved your mother so much. I still do.” He moved to put his hand on her shoulder, but he stopped himself. His words sounded as broken as his heart. “I ruined everything. I’ll be sorry every day, for the rest of my life.”
Alan could only imagine the battle raging inside his daughter. She had every reason to hate him. Yet she was standing in front of him, which had to mean something. She looked at him, right through him. “I’m here because I forgive you.” She lifted her chin, holding tight to the walls around her emotions.
The shock working its way through him doubled. Forgiveness? That was the last thing he deserved or expected.
Ellie hesitated. “I’ve been teaching Kinzie about forgiving. So”—she sniffed, barely keeping her composure—“if you’re sorry, I forgive you.”
For a few seconds, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. Slowly, tears trickled down her face, and Kinzie noticed. She leaned up and wiped Ellie’s cheeks. “It’s okay, Mommy. You did it. Now you can feel better.”
The child’s words cut Alan to the core. Ellie looked at him, her gaze deep and intent, as if she were trying to see into the mean and calloused places where he had been capable of destroying the people he loved.
“I’m sorry, Ellie.” He took a few steps back and leaned against the entryway wall. The pain in his daughter’s eyes was more than he could take. “If I could do it over again . . .”
Something inside Ellie broke. Alan watched it happen. As if the walls could no longer contain her tears. They didn’t fall all at once, but they crumbled a little at a time. And as the walls seemed to fall, almost in slow motion, Ellie came to him. She eased her arms around his waist, pressed her head to his chest, and let the sobs have their way with her.
Alan couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe this was happening. His daughter was here, and she was in his arms. He brought his hand to her back and hugged her. Tentatively at first and then with more certainty. Deep down, Ellie was still a little girl like Kinzie, a girl who needed to know she was loved.
Especially since she had doubted that fact most of her life.
The hug didn’t last long. Ellie seemed to realize what she was doing and where she was. She gathered her emotions and stepped back. “We’re leaving, me and Kinzie.” She narrowed her eyes, seeing through him again. “I’m taking her to Savannah.”
Alarm pressed in around him. She had just found her way back to him. Her forgiveness felt like a start. A new beginning. “For how long?”
“Two weeks.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“We’re going to see my grandma.” Kinzie found her place at her mother’s side again.
Alan nodded. “Good. I’m glad.” He was, truly. He only wished he was going with them. “Can you . . . tell her I miss her?”
“Maybe you should do that.” Ellie’s response was quick, and in it was the anger that remained despite her forgiveness. An anger she would probably always struggle with.
“I wrote her a letter. She should have it by now.”
The shock of that relaxed Ellie’s features. That was obviously the last thing she had expected him to say or do.
“I wrote you one, too. It’s in the box.” He put his hands in his pocket. “I left it on top.”
Ellie looked puzzled. “I didn’t see it.”
“Maybe it slipped to the bottom.” He prayed she would see how different he was, how his heart had changed. “It’s definitely in there.”
“Okay. I’ll find it.” She took a step back. “We . . . have to go.”
Alan looked from Ellie to Kinzie and back. “Thank you for coming, for bringing her.”
The beautiful picture of the two of them here at his front door was one Alan would keep. No matter what happened after this.
Kinzie smiled at him. “Maybe we’ll come over after the trip. We could eat dinner with you.” She looked up at Ellie. “Right, Mommy?”
Ellie moved closer to the door. “Maybe.” She smiled at her daughter.
Kinzie took a step toward Alan, her eyes still on Ellie. She cupped her little hands around her mouth and whispered out loud, “Can I hug him, Mommy? Since he’s my grandpa?”
“Yes, baby. Of course.” Ellie crossed her arms and waited by the front door while Kinzie ran to him. Her hug was quick and certain, free from the baggage that stood between him and Ellie. “Nice to meet you, Grandpa.”
Again his tears made it tough to see. He pressed his fingers to his eyes and gave a quick shake of his head. “Thank you, Kinzie. You and your mom come for dinner anytime.”
“Okay.” She returned to Ellie.
Alan wasn’t sure what to say. They were leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. If Ellie found her mother, then there might not be any reason for her to come back to San Diego. This could be the last time he would see either of them—for a very long time, anyway.
“Bye.” Ellie was the first to speak. She kept her arm around Kinzie, and the two of them turned and headed down the steps.
He followed them to the door and watched them go. “Ellie.”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Kinzie did the same.
“Thank you. For coming by.”
Ellie didn’t smile. The sadness emanating from her was too great. Instead she nodded and their eyes held. Kinzie waved once more, and with that they walked to their car, climbed in, and drove away.
As they disappeared down the road, Alan realized something had changed. He no longer felt like a dead man walking. Their visit had breathed life into him the way nothing else could. He hung his head. God, You are amazing. So faithful. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness and yet . . .
She was Caroline’s daughter. Nothing else could explain her ability to come by on her way out of town and tell him she’d forgiven him. He got the impression that she wasn’t walking close to the Lord or even believing in Him, necessarily. Something in her tone yesterday when he tried to bring up God. Even so, she was her mother’s girl—kind and compassionate, gentle in spirit.
Kinzie was another one.
A feeling started in his chest and spread through his soul. It reminded him of a video he’d seen on the Weather Channel. The image showed a tornado not bearing down on a house but starting there. A foggy, twisting piece of cloud seemed to grow from the ground and connect to a piece of the sky overhead. The birthplace of a tornado.
He felt that way now as he thought about how much he’d missed with Kinzie. His heart and mind were spinning counter clockwise like the beginning of an F5 twister. His stubborn self-righteousness had cost him almost seven years with his only granddaughter. He hadn’t been there for her birth or her first steps, not for her first words or first birthday. He had missed watching her learn to ride a bike and learn to read, and he had lost out on six Christmas mornings.
The child had no father in her life; the soldier had been killed in action. The only father figure she might’ve had was him. Alan Tucker. But he’d been too busy being right to notice. Too set in his ways to grab the box of letters and get it to Ellie years ago.
Eleven years ago. When it wasn’t a box of letters but just one.
If tornadoes came suddenly and left, this one was different. The damage of his actions would tear him up with every reminder of what he’d missed, all he’d lost. The cost of it was more than he could comprehend and here was maybe the greatest cost of all.
The sight of Ellie and Kinzie driving away.
Caroline needed to get to yesterday’s mail, but not yet. Bills and advertising could wait. For now, she and John were eating lunch and talking about this morning’s sermon.
“I liked what the pastor said.” John’s words were thoughtful. “We should be different than the world.”
“We should.” A flicker of guilt seared Caroline’s heart. A real Christian never would have had an affair. She
dismissed the thought and smiled at her son. “That has to be our goal.”
John ate quickly, and after a few more minutes of conversation and a quick hug, he grabbed his basketball and ran out the door for the park. Only then did Caroline pick up the mail at the end of the counter.
She flipped past the electric bill and the Shell statement and two pieces of advertising, and suddenly she stopped cold. The next piece was a white envelope with her name written across the front. Her breath caught in her throat because at first she thought maybe it was from Ellie. Hundreds of times she’d sent a letter to her daughter without ever getting a response. If this were the first time, Caroline would have to go outside to catch her breath.
Just as quickly, she flipped it over and caught the name on the back. Alan Tucker. San Diego. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and she slowly found a spot at the kitchen table. Why would Alan write to her now? After all this time? A cold chill came over her. Was this the divorce paperwork she had expected back when he first moved away?
She had never considered remarrying, never dated. She refused to contact a lawyer, unwilling to admit that she and Alan were really over. If there would be a divorce between them, Alan would have to make the move. Caroline dreaded the day divorce papers might show up in the mail. She would certainly lose Ellie forever—in a custody battle. But the papers never came.
Her fingers shook as she held the envelope, staring at her husband’s name, his handwriting. The papers hadn’t come until now. Alan had probably fallen in love and now he was ready to remarry.
She slipped her finger beneath the envelope flap and opened it. Inside was a card, one with a beautiful photograph of mountains and a stream. What was this? She leaned back, desperate to calm her racing heart. Inside, the card was covered in Alan’s handwriting, and it seemed to continue onto a folded piece of lined paper. Whatever Alan wanted to tell her, the message wasn’t brief.
The card contained no divorce papers.
Her eyes found the beginning of the letter.
Dear Caroline,
I should’ve written this letter a long time ago. But lately . . . well, lately, God has changed me on the inside. Changed me so that now I can see what a wretched man I’ve been, how terribly I treated you, and how I pushed you away.
Caroline felt the room start to spin. What in the world was happening? Was she dreaming, or was it a trick? A prank? The Alan Tucker she knew never would’ve written a letter like this. She leaned one arm on the table to support herself. No matter how badly he had treated her, Caroline had never stopped praying for her husband—at least every now and then—that God would get ahold of his heart and remind him of the man he used to be.
The one she had fallen in love with.
But she’d never expected this. She struggled to believe Alan had written it. She found her place and continued. He went on to talk about how he must have been a monster to destroy the joy in her eyes and heart. He admitted that he was wrong to berate her and control her.
Then he talked about her affair.
Caroline felt sick to her stomach, waiting for the condemnation and accusations. But they never came. Instead, he took full blame for what had happened. Gradually, a feeling of release washed over her, and she stopped dreading each sentence.
I knew it was happening. You were gone so often, home late at night . . . Now I can’t believe you didn’t leave me sooner.
He talked about being angry when he heard she was pregnant and wanting to do whatever he could to get back at her. Shame made Caroline’s cheeks hot. His feelings weren’t a surprise. There was no other explanation for his decision to pull up stakes and move without even a weekend to prepare. Of course he wanted to get back at her.
He wondered who she might be now and whether time away from him had helped her. He explained that he was leaving his contact information for her—just in case—and he asked for her forgiveness.
I wish I still lived in Savannah. I’d come find you and look you in the eyes and tell you how sorry I am. I’d take you in my arms and try to love you back to the girl you used to be.
The years of losses piled up and brought life to her tears. Tears she had stopped crying over Alan Tucker long ago. She couldn’t imagine being in his arms again; the thought was too frightening to consider. No one had ever talked to her with such venom as the man she had married.
She took a deep breath and finished reading. Her heart skipped a beat when she reached the part about him having an awful confession, something he could barely tell her. Even so, she never expected what came next. Three times she had to read his words to believe what had happened.
Alan had kept the letters from Ellie? All this time? She pictured herself sitting at this table early in the morning and late at night, on afternoons like this, with John outside playing basketball. Year after year after year. So many letters, so many words of love and hope and explanation.
Not one of them had actually reached her.
Caroline pushed the card away and covered her face with her hands. The devastation of that, the weight of it, crushed in around her chest and made her feel like she was underwater. Her poor daughter, all this time believing that her own mother didn’t care enough to contact her.
Dear God, why? She couldn’t cry, couldn’t move. The idea that Ellie hadn’t heard from her since moving to San Diego was more than she could bear. Lord, help me . . . I don’t think I can take it. I’m not strong enough. Please, Father . . . help me.
I am with you, daughter. You will not fight this battle alone.
The words sounded so loud that she peered through the cracks between her fingers and looked around. As if maybe a burning bush had sprouted in her apartment living room. If you’re with me, then help me, Lord. My daughter must think I hate her. All this time . . . Father, all this time. What am I supposed to do next?
The suffocating feeling remained, but a thought occurred to her. One that brought hope. Ellie hadn’t responded because she’d never gotten the letters. But Alan said by the time Caroline was reading his letter, her daughter would have them. Once and for all, they’d be in her hands.
Two things sparked life in Caroline’s soul.
First, Ellie hadn’t been ignoring her letters the way she’d thought. She hadn’t been reading letters from Caroline and tossing them in the trash. And second, she was finding out that she’d been loved and cared for, no matter what she’d come to believe over the years.
She went to the window and watched John drive to the basket and make a layup, watched him celebrate with his friends. How much she had missed with Ellie. So many years. But maybe everything was about to change. The fact that Alan was sorry was already more than Caroline had ever imagined.
The bigger issue was Ellie. Caroline spread her fingers on the warm window. If Alan had given Ellie the letters, then he knew where to find their daughter. Wherever she is, God, let her know how much I love her. Help me reach her. Until then . . . I trust you, Father.
When she finished praying, she didn’t hear a response, like she had earlier, but she had a sense that hadn’t occurred to her for many years. As she missed Ellie and loved her and wished for the two of them to reconnect, one thing was true, especially in light of this bittersweet news.
God loved her more.
A little over a week ago, Peyton Anders’s guitar player had shown up out of nowhere and prayed for Ellie. And now, after so many seasons of heartache and loneliness, something miraculous had happened.
Ellie had gotten her letters.
Chapter Twenty-three
The timing was too crazy to be a coincidence.
That was all Nolan could think as he threw a bag of clothes together in his Atlanta house. They had two days off before they needed to be at the Hawks’ facility every day, leading up to the finals. Two days—the last day of May and the first day of June. If the front office had given him a calendar this year and asked him to pick two days he absolutely had to have off, those would be the days.
&n
bsp; Nolan had talked to Ryan Kelly again, and the man had given him Caroline’s work number and address. Her office was the first place Nolan planned to go tomorrow once he arrived in Savannah. She might not know anything, but it would be good to see her. Good to let her know how badly he wanted to find Ellie.
Of course, he still had no way of knowing where Ellie was or what she was doing. Whether she was out of the country or married or no longer alive. But if he had the next two days off, this much was certain: He was spending one of them at Gordonston Park, beneath an old oak tree.
Just in case she remembered.
They were an hour away from Savannah, and Ellie was exhausted. Kinzie slept seatbelted in the backseat, the way she’d been sleeping since they left Birmingham at six that morning. Ellie’s shoulders ached, and her eyes burned. The drive had been harder than she thought. So many hours, so many miles. But she wouldn’t trade it. The time with Kinzie had been wonderful. They listened to her Adventures in Odyssey CDs—something her daughter had been given at church. The stories were nice. Ellie couldn’t count the number of times her daughter had laughed out loud.
As she drove, time and again Ellie had been struck by an undeniable truth. Kinzie was a truly happy child, undamaged by the world around her. No telling how long that would last, given her family tree. But for now Ellie was grateful. In the rearview mirror, she watched Kinzie stretch and turn one way, then the other. A yawn came over her, and she sat up and opened her eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“Not quite.” Ellie laughed quietly and glanced at her daughter again. It was easily the most asked question of the trip. “Another hour.”
“That’s all?” Kinzie blinked, still sleepy. “An hour’s nothing, Mommy. That’s how long church lasts, and that always goes by really fast.”
“Well, then, we’ll be there really fast.”
Kinzie giggled. She looked out the side window. “It’s different here. More greener.”