Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [132]
It wasn’t okay, but what was he supposed to say? “If you want.”
“There’s a girl we know,” Aunt Lois said, “about your age, maybe a year or two older, whose late father became a rescue-mission preacher and jail minister when he came back to the Lord after serving time. She would be sympathetic to what you’re going through and wouldn’t judge you on your past.”
“Never been married?”
Carl shook his head, then turned and looked out the window. Brady wondered what to make of that until Aunt Lois said, “She’s got a bit of a weight problem, but she’s a wonderful person and has a nice smile.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll meet her sometime.”
“I’ll send you a picture. By the way, what do you hear from your mama?”
Brady snorted. “Ma? You couldn’t prove by me she’s even alive. I know she’s in Tennessee. Haven’t seen her since Petey’s funeral.”
Aunt Lois and Uncle Carl glanced at each other. “You seriously haven’t heard from her since then?”
“Can’t blame her. Who wants a son behind bars?”
“You really don’t know she’s married again?”
“You kidding me? I know nothing.”
Carl leaned forward. “She’s on husband number three, Brady. And Nashville’s a distant memory. She’s waitressing again. In Little Rock. Her husband drives truck.”
“Hold on. Number three?”
“My,” Lois said, “you have been out of touch. She married some guy in Nashville a few months after she got there. Said he owned a grocery store. Turned out he just worked there, and not often. He beat her, and she eventually had to get a restraining order on him.”
“That doesn’t break my heart.”
“Brady! She has her faults, but nobody deserves that.”
“She does.”
“All right, we’re not going to discuss this. Thing is, this new guy at least has a steady job, but he’s gone most of the time. She’s not well, you know.”
“No?”
“Some kind of a lung thing, and of course she still won’t quit smoking.”
Brady hoped it would kill her, but he knew Aunt Lois wouldn’t want to hear that.
“Well, Brady, it’s great to see you doing so well. We have high hopes for you. Pray our request will go through and we can come get you for church one of these weekends.”
He’d pray about it all right, but certainly not in the way Lois hoped.
On the other hand, they were the only family Brady had and maybe his only friends too. It had been wonderful to see them, even if it meant his mother would be on his mind for a few days until he could find something else to think about.
A brief letter arrived a few days later, including what Aunt Lois referred to as good news and bad news. Brady agreed but would have ascribed opposite adjectives to each.
Aunt Lois’s good news was a picture of one of the plainest women Brady had ever seen. If she was less than ten years older than he was, no one could tell. He shook his head. She probably was wonderful, devout, and who knew, might make a great wife. But even though he knew he was shallow to be so concerned about mere looks, a guy should be attracted to a woman to consider a future with her, shouldn’t he?
Aunt Lois’s bad news was that they had received a cordial but definite rejection of their request to take Brady away from Serenity overnight “at this time.” The Department of Corrections had reminded them that Brady Darby was still officially a ward of the state but that it would be happy to reevaluate the request in due time.
“They didn’t say when ‘due time’ was,” Aunt Lois wrote. “But if we all keep praying, it’ll happen. Meanwhile, you hang in there. I have enclosed your mother’s address, in case you want to get in touch with her. I’m sure she’d be glad to hear from you and know you’re out and doing well.”
Fat chance. If his mother wanted to hear from Brady, she’d have to let him know herself. He didn’t expect to hear a thing from her until she thought he had a job and something to offer.
Aunt Lois closed: “I have also included the address of the young woman in the picture. Why not get acquainted by mail? You never know what might come of this.”
Brady tossed everything