Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [124]
“Not Mom. She’s always been in your corner.”
“That she has. We’ve always known that the journey is more important than the destination, as they say. I just wanted to win people, you know.”
She nodded. ”Working here has to be awful, then.”
“It’s pretty rough. Some men pretend to listen. Some have even prayed with me and then started a study program with me. But not one has persuaded me in the end that anything took or stuck or that he was serious. Each had his own agenda.”
“And yet you’re still at it. Still singing with Mom?”
“You bet. Those are the most precious times we have these days. Mostly we just continue our love affair with our eyes.”
Ravinia cocked her head and covered her mouth. When she pulled her hand away, her lips were trembling. “That’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Thomas realized, to his great delight, that after more than a year of these regular meetings, he and his own daughter had become friends and confidants. In many ways this unexpected relationship so late in his life had become an oasis. He looked forward to their every meeting and was disappointed anytime it was postponed.
Ravinia, despite the pressures of being separated and shuttling her daughter back and forth between her husband and her parents, not to mention helping out with the care of her mother a couple of times a week too, also found time to do pro bono work.
Thomas was more than impressed; he knew that work as a public defender—especially regularly defending some of the dregs of society—was not much more than pro bono in itself. She and Dirk had to be struggling to make ends meet, especially with both of them having to pay rent.
Ravinia’s helping with Grace fell into the same category. She could have easily begged off of that or cut way back, citing time pressures, Summer, marriage counseling, whatever. But she never shirked her duty. Whenever she was at her parents’ home, she was cooking, cleaning, waiting on Grace.
Rav would sit with her mother, talk with her, read to her, bathe her, even do bedpan duty. Nothing was beneath Ravinia. Amazingly, when Grace asked, Ravinia would even sing old hymns with her, harmonizing as she had learned as a child.
From the leased hospital bed Thomas had moved into their bedroom, Grace was often too weak to converse. But she would sing softly or hum all hours of the day.
The highlight of her week, however, was Saturday, when Ravinia would bring Summer by to see Grandma before carting her off to Dirk’s. Somehow the rambunctious youngster had come to understand that she had to tone down her enthusiasm when visiting Grace. She would sit still and talk softly and—when allowed—actually crawl into bed next to Grandma and assure her that she was there and that everything would be all right.
Thomas wondered if Summer would always possess that gift of mercy and maybe someday become a doctor or a nurse.
“Grandma,” Summer said, “who watches you when Grandpa is at work?”
“Wonderful friends from church,” Grace said. “They love Jesus and they love me.”
“If they ever can’t come, I will.”
43
Adamsville County Jail
Brady Darby was being processed out after his longest single stretch ever behind bars.
A black girl with a look that said she had seen and heard it all sat behind a computer and passively gazed at him, perched on a chair with one of his knees bouncing. He needed some meth, and he wasn’t likely to get any before arriving at the halfway house in his new civvies with a modest amount of cash in his pocket.
Thirty years old, and that constituted the extent of his worldly goods.
“Anybody need to be informed of your release?” the girl said, long, ornate nails poised on the keyboard.
“Haven’t heard from my ma since I been in here,” he said. “Maybe my aunt Lois.”
“You got a phone number for her?”
“No, but I remember her address.”
“Let me have it and we’ll try,” she said. “You know where you’re going, right?”
“Some Hug-a-Thug place is all I know.”
“Serenity in Addison.”
“Addison, really? That’s where