Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [125]
“Mm-hm.”
Well, that clearly made her day.
She gave him a thick manila envelope and instructed him to follow a colored line on the floor to a waiting area for a van. A corrections officer used a wand to scan the bar code on his envelope, and Brady was directed out a door that led to an underground garage.
As he joined half a dozen others waiting for the van, Brady shivered in the cool air. A couple of the others chatted, but Brady avoided eye contact. He just wanted to get aboard and see sunlight for the first time in years.
When the van finally emerged at street level, Brady shaded his eyes, and when he grew accustomed to the light, he didn’t recognize the area around the county jail. Everything had changed. Five years before, he had arrived at a facility that seemed isolated in an industrial park. Now the street was crowded with chain restaurants, shops, and condos.
The first parolee was dropped at a Greyhound station and greeted by a couple of thugs who would no doubt have him back in the joint within twenty-four hours. The same would be true for Brady if not for this program.
He was cautiously hopeful. He had a craving for dope and a woman and any kind of excitement he hadn’t had for five years. But he was going to give this thing a chance. Still, he’d learned not to turn over any new leaves or even make any unrealistic promises to himself. His only goal was to never get himself busted again.
Brady knew he wasn’t ready for total freedom and might not be for a long time. Accountability, Lieutenant Dale had emphasized. Well, if that’s what it took to transition a guy like him from the joint to sobriety and then to real outside freedom, Brady could handle that. He wanted that.
Two more men were dropped at the airport, met by men in suits. Brady had no idea what that meant. Relatives? Friends? Someone who had promised them help or jobs? Flying somewhere—that sounded cool.
“Next stop, Serenity!” the driver called out.
Brady glanced at the other three parolees. Maybe they’d be program mates.
“That where you’re goin’?” one said.
The others nodded.
“Me too,” Brady said, and they all traded fist taps.
“Should be interesting,” the first said.
“I’m not expecting much,” another said.
I am, Brady thought as he peered out the window. The van cruised past his old haunts on Touhy Avenue. He felt like an alien.
And the old trailer park? It was now the Addison RV and Camper Resort, jammed with row after row of all manner of the same, hooked up to power and water for the weekend or for a few weeks. Looked like a nice place to live, only no one lived there longer than a few days at a time anymore.
Adamsville
One Saturday Ravinia insisted on coming back after dropping Summer off.
“You don’t have to do that, Rav,” Thomas said. “You know I can manage.”
“No, I want to talk to you. I’ll be back.”
Thomas did not understand how Grace slept through the night anymore, after having been in bed most of every day. Even now, as he sat in the living room watching for Ravinia’s return, he could hear Grace’s deep breathing.
When Rav arrived, she strode from her car with a look that evidenced a serious purpose. What was it that could not wait until their next meeting at ASP? Bad news about her and Dirk? Thomas hoped not. He believed the best chance for Rav and Dirk spiritually was for them to come back together.
Ravinia breezed past her father with a “Be-right-with-you-do-you-want-anything?”
He shook his head and heard her making herself some tea. Something felt right about his daughter treating their home as her own.
Finally she sat across from him in the living room, cup and saucer in her lap. “This may surprise you, Dad, but I need to tell you there are things I miss about my faith. Now don’t go getting excited. I’m just saying I miss . . . I don’t know, I guess I miss Jesus. He was the best part of the whole deal.”
“I can’t argue with that. He is the whole deal.”
“How I wish that were true, but I’m not here to reignite old arguments. It’s just that I want you to take Summer to church and Sunday school every