Missy Tippens - A House Full of Hope

Redd grabbed the pew in front of him for support as he stood. Then he looked at Mark with utter scorn. “Your mother and I worshipped together here for years. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” He limped away, his squared shoulders a shield against his wayward son.

The jab hurt. Physical pain knifed Mark’s chest.

No, he wouldn’t have known that. And he would regret it the rest of his life. Would regret that he hadn’t come home sooner. That he hadn’t come before his mom died.

He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pressure. Don’t go there. Think of the future.

Of course, he had no idea how to approach his father again in that future. Maybe the pastor could help. While Mark waited for the crowd to thin, he shook a few hands, drawing encouragement.

Miss Ann approached with a grin on her face. “Welcome home, Mark.” She’d aged over the years, but her sky-blue eyes and extreme Southern drawl hadn’t changed a bit. “You caught me by surprise this morning. Didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Thanks, Miss Ann. It’s good to be here.” An exaggeration. But it was nice to be following God’s lead for a change.

“If you don’t have plans for lunch, please join me and my grandson, Daniel.” She pointed across the room at the man who’d been sitting with her. Then she puffed out her chest proudly. “He came to visit me this weekend and to meet with Pastor Phil. He’s graduating from seminary soon.”

“I wish him well.” Touched by her kind invitation, he considered it briefly. But he had business to attend to. “I’d love to have lunch, but I need to speak with the pastor myself.”

“Oh, you’ll like Phil. He’s been here a few years and is a good counselor.” She suddenly reached out and hugged him. “You take care, now. Your mama would be so happy to see you at church.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the same sweet perfume his mom had always worn—White Shoulders. Sudden tears stung the back of his eyes. He pulled away, cleared his throat. “Thanks, Miss Ann.” He waved and hurried outside. No use in letting memories get him all choked up. No time for regrets, for worrying about something he couldn’t change.

“Good to have you with us today.” The pastor, who looked to be in his late forties with graying temples and a few smile lines around his eyes, stood alone on the church steps wiping perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief. He tucked it in his pocket and held out his hand. “I’m Phil Hartley.”

“Nice to meet you, Reverend Hartley. I’m Mark Ryker.”

“Oh, I see the likeness to Redd.” Kind eyes encouraged Mark to speak up. It was as if the pastor could tell he’d been hanging around. “Please call me Phil.”

“Thanks, Phil. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of this hot sun and go to my office.” He led the way through the sanctuary and along a hallway decorated with kids’ artwork, all centered on the theme of Jonah and the big fish. Apparently, the church still held vacation Bible school in the summer.

A sudden memory of arguing with his mother about helping with Bible school made him cringe. He’d told her he and Matt would rather work with their dad at the hardware store than with those wild kids.

She’d seemed hurt but had relented.

If only he’d known then what that rebellion would cost. If only he’d known how a rickety fishing boat capsizing in a pathetically small lake could change his family forever.

“Have a seat.” Phil gestured to a grouping of three chairs set up in the corner of the room, obviously for meetings or counseling sessions.

“I won’t keep you long. But I need a favor.” He proceeded to tell Phil a little about his family background.

“You had a twin who died?” Phil’s head tilted as if he was confused. Apparently, no one had ever told him the story.

Mark nodded. “It was my fault. I took him fishing, the two of us alone, knowing he couldn’t swim. He died of complications from the near-drowning.”

Pain filled Phil’s eyes, and it caused an echoing pain in Mark. “Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t talked about this in years. Had to force words that didn’t want to come. “My parents tried not to blame me. But I knew they did. And I buried the pain with alcohol. With rebellion. And unfortunately, dragged Sydney Williams into it.”

“So that’s the reason for Donna Williams’s animosity toward Redd?”

With a wince, he confirmed it. “We started dating, and her family wasn’t happy about it. I admit I’d fallen into a bad group of friends. Tried to pull her away from them when I saw she had a drinking problem. But it was too late.”

“So what happened?”

“I ran. Just wanted to escape it all. Took off and didn’t look back for years.” By the time he tried to make contact, his mother had died. Too little, too late. The story of his life.

His old life.

Mark forced the corners of his mouth upward. “But I’m in a better place now. Found God again. And felt led to come home to make amends.”

“Did you and your parents ever make peace?”

“No. Now Mom is gone. Dad won’t speak to me. And—” He snapped his mouth shut before he broke down and embarrassed himself.

With fingers steepled under his chin, Phil nodded. “So you’ve tried to apologize to your dad?”

“Yes. I’m here because I need your help in reaching him.”

Phil leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “I know Redd’s a stubborn man, but I think he’ll come around.”

Mark’s dad had always been stubborn. Stubbornly driven to build his hardware business. Stubbornly driven to punish Mark for Matt’s death. “In case he doesn’t, I want to at least help him financially. Did you know he’s renting out his house to the Hughes family?”

“Yes. Also heard he’s in a bit of a financial pinch. His store has had a rough time since the mega home- improvement store opened up not twenty miles from here.”

Oh, man. He hadn’t heard that news. “I’d like to make a deposit to his checking account. But I’m afraid Hannah Hughes will balk. She seems protective of him and…well…she doesn’t think much of me.”

“I don’t know how I can help. We’ve already tried to give him assistance after his hip surgery, and he was offended.” Phil shook his head. “Yet Redd’s continued to donate funds to our youth program even as he’s struggled.”

Out of nowhere, Mark’s throat constricted. It seemed he didn’t know his dad at all anymore. Had God changed Redd, too?

“Stubborn, proud man.” Mark stood and walked across the office to stare at a painting on the wall—more to distract himself than to admire the art. “If I give you cash, could you take it to the bank, tell Hannah you’ve received an anonymous donation and ask her to deposit it into his checking account?”

“No harm in trying.”

The tension that had invaded Mark’s shoulders the moment he’d approached his dad that morning eased away on a big exhaled breath. He turned back to face the pastor. “Thanks, Phil.”

“This is generous of you, you know. I hope your dad realizes the man you’ve become.”

Phil might think the gift was generous, but Mark owed his dad so much more. If all went well tomorrow, maybe he could set up an arrangement with Phil. A way to continue helping.

But would Redd accept the help if he found out Mark was the donor?

“Okay, I’m it. You better hide really well,” Hannah called to her children Sunday after lunch as they squealed and scattered around the grassy front yard. She covered her eyes and started counting slowly.

The past couple of years, Hannah had only wanted two things. A bigger home for her kids—check—and the certainty that each of her children felt important and special.