The Breaking Point (10 page)

Gabe.

She stopped, fingers trembling on the door handle. Gabe. He needed her to be strong. To find help. Renee let her fingers relax, let go of the handle. She had to do this. She had to.

She pushed away from the truck, failure a heavy weight within her. Why did she keep fighting the same battles over and over? She was so tired of finding herself here, torn between fear and resolve. She didn’t remember inviting anxiety in, asking it to take up residence within her. And yet there it was, like a yapping little dog vexing her every step. Even when she knew that what she was doing was right, it was there. Nipping at her. Scraping her resolve raw with tiny, needle-sharp teeth.

Nothing she did helped. No amount of preparation or prayer. No number of reminders that God would be true to His promises.

She knew it was true. It just didn’t seem to make a difference.

Why?
Renee gritted her teeth and gripped the rope.
I just want to know why. Why am I always so afraid?

She didn’t expect an answer. Not really. Because she already knew it. Knew the crux of the problem wasn’t preparation, wasn’t prayer, wasn’t knowing what was right or wrong. It was deeper … simpler …

And much more difficult.

S
PRING
1974

RENEE LAY IN BED, LISTENING AS HER FATHER’S LAUGHTER
drifted up to her from the living room. How she loved the sound of his laughter! It usually made her feel safe and warm. But tonight it just made her stomach clench.

She had come home tonight after their softball team victory celebration—they beat the school rivals for the first time in two years!—dragged herself in the door, and told her parents they’d won and that she was going to bed.

“My, my, that must have been some celebration,” her dad joked from his recliner. “I can’t remember the last time you went to bed this early on a Friday night.”

Renee just gave what she hoped was a convincing laugh and headed up to her room. She’d been lying here for at least an hour now, her stomach churning, staring at the ceiling. Finally she
flopped an arm over her eyes and surrendered to the truth that had been gnawing at her all night.

I
lied to my dad.

Before she’d headed out for the game, he made one request of her. He knew it was Friday night—cruising night. And he knew her friends liked to go cruising, especially if they were jazzed from winning a game. So as he gave her a hug, he said to her, “Just do me a favor, hon. Don’t go cruising. If your friends want to go, just have them drop you at home, okay?”

Dad didn’t ask her things like that often. But some kids had been hurt recently when cruising had turned to racing, and he was concerned. She’d smiled at him. “Sure, Dad, no problem.”

If only that had been true. No sooner had she and the gang finished pizza than they hopped in the cars and headed to join the cruisers. Renee knew she should tell them to take her home, but she hadn’t wanted to spoil their fun. No one liked a wet blanket.

So she sat there, miserable, pretending she was enjoying herself. And then, when they finally dropped her off at home, she came to her room to hide.

She knew her friends would think she was nuts for letting it bother her. They talked all the time about how they put things over on their parents, how they got away with stuff. But this was different.

Renee couldn’t ever remember lying to her parents before.

You didn’t lie … you just didn’t tell him the whole truth.
Same thing. Same stupid thing.

She pulled the covers over her head, telling herself to go to sleep. She couldn’t. She flopped her pillow over her face, muttering, “Sleep, idiot!”

It didn’t help.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of being punished. Her parents
would be fair; they always were. No, what had her stomach clenching with this terrible sick feeling was one simple truth: She’d let her father down. And what would happen if she told him about it? He’d be hurt, disappointed. What if he never trusted her again?

Your dad loves you, no matter what.

Maybe so, but why put him—and herself—through what was bound to be a painful moment when nothing had happened?

I’m so sorry, God.

The truth will set you free.

She dug her fingers into the pillow. Right now all it was doing was making her miserable.

Finally, after another half hour of tossing and turning, she threw the covers back, grabbed her bathrobe, and stomped from her room. Her brothers’ rooms were dark, and she could hear their snores as she trudged downstairs.

Her mother was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes. She glanced at Renee, her expression reflecting surprise. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t sleep?”

She gave a quick shrug. “I … I just need to talk with Dad. You think he’s still awake?”

Mom nodded. “I think so. I see a light on back there.”

She forced her feet to move, even though each seemed to weigh about a ton, and made her way back to her parents’ bedroom, stopping in the doorway.

Her father glanced up from the book he was reading. “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”

Renee shrugged, then came into the room, hating the unfamiliar awkwardness that cloaked her as she stood at her father’s bedside. Words poured from her heart, but they couldn’t push past the constriction in her throat.

He laid his book down. “What’s up, Renee?”

Her stomach twisted as she pulled up a chair and sank into it. “I need to talk with you.” She couldn’t look him in the
eyes, so she stared at the bedspread, plucking at a stray thread, as she forced the words out. When she finished telling him what had happened, she looked at him. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

His somber expression made the ache in her heart even heavier. “I won’t say I’m not disappointed, Renee, but I’m glad you told me. And I forgive you.”

She lay her head on his chest, sniffling into the bedspread. When she felt his hand on her hair, the question that had been plaguing her slipped free.

“Do … do you still love me, Dad?” She knew it was foolish, knew what the answer would be even before she asked it, but she had to ask it all the same.

“Oh, honey.” His hand on her hair was gentle. “Nothing you could ever do would make me stop loving you. I may be disappointed or frustrated at times, but I’ll always love you.”

She threw her arms around him. “I love you, Boppo.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He patted her on the back. “Now, go get some sleep, okay?”

She nodded and jumped up, then met her mother coming into the room.

“Everything okay, dear?”

Renee threw her arms around her, dancing her around the room. “Everything’s great.”

Her mother laughed and gave her a hug. “Good. Now get some sleep.”

Renee padded back to her room, feeling lighter than the air she breathed. It was as though, without her even realizing it, the mountains surrounding the valley where she lived had been sitting on her chest. Now that crushing weight was gone. She jumped onto her bed and grabbed her Bible, then flopped onto her stomach. The Bible opened to Psalms.

Renee’s eyes moved to Psalm 32, and her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the words on the clean white page.

Oh, what joy for those whose rebellion is forgiven, whose sin is put out of sight!

Renee realized her mouth was hanging open. She clamped it shut and kept reading.

Wonder filled her.

Renee read it again, then again. Each time, she felt the power of God’s presence, the blessing of His pleasure. It was as though He was sitting right there on the bed beside her, telling her she’d done well.

She had been so afraid to tell her father what she’d done. Afraid of revealing to her dad—and to God—how she’d let them down. Afraid she might have damaged their love for her. How could they love her the same when they saw her for what she was: weak, faithless, foolish?

But they had. They loved her, no matter what. First her dad, and then God, had let her know nothing she did could change their love for her.

Why was I so afraid?

She hugged the Bible, lifted a finger to wipe the wetness from her cheek, then spread her still-damp fingers across the soft leather of her Bible, anointing it with the tears He had given her. Tears of gratitude. Restoration.

Lord God, don’t ever let me forget this night. Don’t ever let me forget that I don’t need to be afraid. I can trust You, no matter what. Please don’t let me—

Suddenly she laughed. Like she could ever forget what had happened! No way! Not when God had done so much, when He’d taken her from grief to joy, from prison to freedom…

Renee snuggled down under the covers again. She flicked off the light and the darkness closed around her like a warm, silken cocoon. She’d been changed. God had touched her, and from this moment on she would trust Him. No questions. No hesitation.

She’d learned her lesson, and she was glad. She didn’t ever want to go through something like that again.

D
ECEMBER
19, 2003

2
P.M.

OPEN YOUR EYES.

Gabe’s body refused to obey, just as it had been doing for … well, he didn’t know how long, but it seemed like a long time. Even so, he tried again.

Open … your … eyes!

It took every ounce of willpower, but his lids finally lifted. Slowly, drawing in deep breaths to keep his stomach from recoiling, he blinked against the glare of white that greeted him.

“Oooohhh, anyone get the number of the truck that hit m—” He froze. Truck. He was in his truck. But something wasn’t right.

Suddenly it all came rushing back. The argument. The truck out of control. The slam into—and through—the snowdrift at the
side of the road. The last thing he’d seen was Renee’s wide, terrified eyes as she reached for him …

Renee!

With a deep groan, Gabe pushed himself up and looked to where she should be sitting. His stomach dropped. She wasn’t there.

His pulse pounded through his veins as he took a quick inventory of the truck cab. Relief whispered through him when he saw Bo snoozing in the backseat. His gaze traveled the rest of the cab, the backseat, the windshield, the windows. That’s when he saw it—the towel taped over the window in the passenger door. From the abundance of duct tape holding the towel in place, Gabe was looking at Renee’s handiwork.