Nothing Sacred

“Yeah, Shelter Valley’s ruined you. You go anywhere else and leave your door unlocked like that and you’ll be robbed blind. Probably murdered. And then where would you be?”

He froze, opening his eyes, focusing on the carpet in front of him. “Heaven.”

“Oh, well, you’ve got me there, I guess.” Her voice was coming closer, so close, in fact, that he could see the high heels she’d worn to church right there beside him. Those delectable knees in their panty hose were there, too, by the chair adjacent to his. “But I don’t think they need you yet. At least, not as much as we need you here.”

As broken as he felt inside, David couldn’t stop the quick, sad smile he sent in her direction. “My sermon got to you, huh?” he asked. She didn’t know it yet, but Martha Moore was a chosen woman. One who had much to do here on earth. Many people to help. Much love to spread.

“No.” The intensity in that single word cut through the haze of his pain. David raised his eyes far enough to meet her gaze. “You did.”

She was crying. His strong, valiant, determined love was crying.

“I lied to you,” he said.

“In a way, yes.”

“I’m an immoral man preaching the word of God.”

“Are you?” The tears continued to trickle down her cheeks even as she smiled. “My daughter has another theory about that,” she said. “Ellen says you reacted to circumstances, made a mistake, and then the man you really are stepped forward and saved you. You’ve moved on.”

It was what he’d been telling himself all of those years. But he’d been lying to himself. Hadn’t he?

Only you can answer that.

I know.

Yes. You know the answer.

“My father was a rapist.”

“The man who got your mother pregnant might have been.” Martha’s voice was even, filled with warmth, calming him in a way he wasn’t sure human words had ever done before. “But this morning you spoke of your Father, and it sure didn’t sound like you were discussing a rapist.”

His Father.

He had a Father. Who wasn’t a rapist.

Yes.

“You know,” Martha said, running the tip of her stockinged toe against the back of his leg. At some point she’d slid out of her shoes. “You talked this morning about forgiving all those people who’d done things against us. Did you believe that message or was that just preacher talk?”

“Of course I believed it.” He held her gaze. “And before you do any more psychoanalyzing, I’ve already forgiven my mother. And my father as well.”

“Uh-huh.” Her lips tilted in an expression filled with understanding. And something warm and wonderful that he couldn’t define. “But when are you going to forgive yourself?”

Stunned, David stared at her.

“It seems to me you’ve forgiven your biological father for being a rapist, but you’ve never forgiven yourself for being a rapist’s son.”

She’s right.

Oh, God, dear Father in heaven, she’s right.

Yes.

This is what I came here to learn.

Yes.

This is how I am to be freed from my past.