Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [6]
“It’s all right, Dad. I’m grateful for what you’ve done already, and I know you couldn’t really afford that and certainly didn’t owe me anything after the way I’ve disappointed you.”
“I wouldn’t say you’ve disappointed us.”
“Well, I hope I have, Mom! I’ve tried to!”
Ravinia said it with a smile, but Grace looked pained.
“I’m just saying, I appreciate knowing, and I will make this work somehow. I’ll start my career the way everyone else does: in debt. I’m not aiming for some high-paying corporate job, but I’ll be able to dig out eventually.”
“You know you could go to our denominational school and—”
“Mom! I’m way past that. Anyway, if I was honest on the admissions forms, they wouldn’t take me. Now I need to go eat within the next half hour, and then I’m studying till midnight. But I’m not leaving you until you tell me what happened, so unless you want me to starve . . .”
7 p.m. | The Darby Trailer
“I’ll keep your mom’s plate warm,” Aunt Lois said as she and Peter and Brady crowded around the tiny kitchen table. “Brady, you want to pray for us?”
“No, ma’am. You, please.”
“Petey?”
Peter shook his head. “All I know is, ‘God is great, God is good, now we thank Thee for our food.’”
“Well,” Aunt Lois said, “that’s not half bad, but let me. Dear Lord, thank You for these precious boys and for my sister-in-law, wherever she is. Protect her and bring her back to Yourself. Give her strength when she finally hears what I have to tell her.
“Now, Lord, never let these boys forget all that I’ve taught them about You, that You died on the cross for their sins so they don’t have to go to hell but can live in heaven with You. And thanks for our food. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Peter was smirking when Brady opened his eyes, so Brady shot him a scowl before Aunt Lois noticed.
The woman had good intentions, Brady knew. It was hard not to love Aunt Lois.
A minute later Brady noticed a tear running down his aunt’s cheek. “What’s wrong?” he said.
“I’m just thinking about your mama and the news I have for her.”
3
Gambrell Hall
Ravinia Carey sat with her arms folded, shaking her head. “That’s it? They just ‘felt it was time’?”
“Well,” her mother said, “maybe it was time. We’d been there nearly four years, and perhaps your father had done all he could.”
“I didn’t do it alone, Grace. You worked as hard as I did.”
“They didn’t use the old ready-for-a-younger-man line?”
Thomas had always found his daughter’s direct stare disconcerting. He shrugged. “Actually they did.”
She huffed and looked away.
“Well, attendance was down a bit.”
Grace jumped in. “But that was as much because of the plant closing and several families having to leave.”
Ravinia waved her off. “Just tell me they did right by you, other than kicking you to the curb.”
“I got severance, yes.”
“How much?”
“Well, that’s confidential, Rav. I felt it was fair. . . .”
“It’s not confidential from your own daughter! Tell me they gave you a month for every year you served.”
“Oh,” Grace said, “they wouldn’t have been able to afford that. With core families leaving—”
“How much, Dad?”
“A week for each year.”
“Unbelievable.”
“But you know they had provided a parsonage at no cost,” Grace said.
“Like you would have been able to afford rent on that salary. And I’m sure it was a castle. Anyway, all that means is that you have zero equity. Honestly, Dad.”
“Rav, listen to me,” he said. “I don’t know what the future holds, but—”
“Please don’t tell me you know who holds the future!”
“—but I know this: I made a commitment a long time ago, and I’m not about to stray from it now. I told the Lord I would obey Him and follow wherever He leads.”
Ravinia looked away. “I’m trying to find something in that to admire. You’re consistent; I’ll give you that. But how long will you keep banging your head against a wall?”
“Oh, honey,” Grace said, “we’re happy to serve. You know that.”
“But why isn’t anyone else happy with