The Lost Truth
Authors: T.K. Chapin
Copyright
© 2016 T.K. Chapin
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
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Version: 03.11.2016
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Available Books
By T.K. Chapin
(Inspirational Christian Fiction & Romance)
The Lost Truths
The Lost Boy (Spring 2016)
The Lost Love (Summer 2016)
The Lost Innocence (Summer 2016)
The Lost Way (Fall 2016)
Embers & Ashes Series
Amongst the Flames
(Book 1)
Out of the Ashes
(Book 2)
Up in Smoke
(Book 3)
After the Fire
(Book 4)
Love’s Enduring Promise Series
The Perfect Cast
(Book 1) FREE
Finding Love
(Book 2)
Claire’s Hope
(Book 3)
Dylan’s Faith
(Book 4)
Stand Alones
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Dedicated to my loving wife.
For all the years she has put up with me
And many more to come.
Table of Contents
For “you were like sheep going astray,” but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.
1 Peter 2:25
T
he rain pelted against the metal slates of the roof and poured like a waterfall over the edge as I sat in my cozy wicker chair on the back porch of my sister’s house. The sounds of the water as it slid off the roof composed a harmonic rhythm that eased my troubled soul. Slouched crookedly in my chair, I clutched a bottle of whiskey and held onto the last of the hopes I had within me. My eyes glazed over as the whiskey worked its magic, and the pain began to ease, if only for a moment.
I drank to help dull the pain that endlessly tortured my body and soul. While the whiskey might help with the pain, it never released me from the prison I had found myself in. The cement walls I had built up around me were thick with regret, and the bars were forged by my mistakes. The life I once knew as truth was further from me now than it ever was before.
The alcohol began to fail as minutes turned into hours, and the pain, both in my body and mind, began to rise like that of a boiling pot of water forgotten on a burner. Bringing the bottle back to my lips, I paused. Taking a breath, I look across the porch and through the onslaught of the rain coming down.
She left.
I took a swig.
The cinnamon flavored medication warmed my chest, thawing the coldness in my heart. As it ran through me, it relieved the tension and brought calmness as it took over. My eyes grew heavy as the pain quieted down.
Waking some unknown amount of time later, I noticed the rain had stopped and a blanket was draped over me.
Where’d the blanket come from?
Sitting up in my chair, I struggled to keep my eyelids open.
My sister, Janice, pushed open the creaking screen door and stepped out onto the porch, handing me a glass of water. “If you don’t stop being a drunk and get your life together, I’m going to kick you outta here!”
Taking the glass from her, I chugged the water. The coolness was a relief as it washed over the dryness that clung to my mouth. Leaning over to one side, I set the glass down on the small patio table next to my chair. Taking a deep breath in as I relaxed into my position, I looked up at Janice. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.”
“Don’t try to act like you care about anything besides yourself, Clay,” she snapped back at me as she bent over and grabbed the empty bottle of whiskey I must have dropped.
My lips tightened together as her words warmed my anger. She had valid reasons to be harsh with me. I was, after all, living at her house rent-free since I was kicked out of the rehabilitation center after not showing signs of
wanting
to get better. Janice had done a lot for me, and keeping my quiet was the least I could do.
Sighing, she softened her wrath toward me a smidge. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you, Clay. What happened was that they decided to cancel the speaker for tomorrow morning. That’s why I’m home early. Did you call Pastor Longfellow?”
My voice deepened as I responded. “I didn’t call John.” She didn’t understand what going to the church up the road really meant in my world. She didn’t get the fact that I’d rather be taken out to the street corner down in front of the Wagon Wheel down the road and flogged in front of everyone in Suncrest than to visit John for a counseling session. She also lacked the understanding of how truly painful the past was. The pain in my leg paled in comparison to the heartache that would come from stirring up the past and the heartaches of my yesterdays.
Desiring to escape the conversation with Janice, I pushed myself out of my chair. The pain in my leg shot down toward my foot as I gained my balance. She grabbed my arm to help me get my footing. Looking down at her neatly manicured fingernails as she gripped my arm, I said, “You’d better rethink that, Sis.”
She released. “I’m just trying to help . . .”
“Today’s
just
a hard day.”
I continued inside and sat down in the living room. It seemed like a simple enough plan, but when you have chronic pain, there is no simple plan. As I came over to the couch, I used the arm rest to help lower myself down. My now dull and achy pain decided to send a bolt of excruciating pain through my leg, and this time it reached clear into my foot and almost to my toes. Letting out an anguished roar, I fell backward into the couch cushions. After a few moments, the pain began to subside.
Hearing the screen door creak as it opened and then shut, I could almost hear my sister’s sadness through the sounds the door made. The sad tones didn’t stop there. They echoed through the house as Janice went into the kitchen and began pulling medication bottles from the cupboard.
Glancing over at the dusty television that sat on the entertainment stand in the living room, I could see a faint outline of the living room and myself in the reflection. Turning from the reflection, I looked up to the wall of photos near the TV, and my mind leapt through time as my eyes scanned all the pictures of our family. Uncles, aunts, cousins and so on filled the living room walls of my sister’s house. Focusing on one picture in particular, one of my late father, Michael, I thought for a moment about how disappointed he would be. Turning my head and my thoughts away from him, I saw Janice on her way in with another glass of water, but this time she also had a few Advils.
“I’m only forty-two years old. I don’t understand why I need to be waited on.”
Janice shook her head. “Why don’t you go for a walk and ask yourself that?” She handed me the medicine and the glass of water.
Adjusting to sit up straighter on the couch, I grabbed the pills from her hand and the water. She was almost to the hallway when I finished swallowing my water. “Janice.”
She turned. “What?”
“I just want to say I’m sorry. I know it took a lot for you to agree to let me come live with you, and I’m doing a poor job at showing my appreciation. Thank you for being my big sis.”
A genuine smile bloomed across her face, and she came back over to the couch and bent down on her knees. Grabbing my hand, she looked at me. “I love you. You’re my brother. That will never change, but if you want to kill yourself, I’m not going to let you do that in my house. Go see John, or you have to find a new place to live.”
“Oh, please! My drinking isn’t
that
bad. You know I can’t live on my own.”
She rose to her feet. “That’s right, you can’t. So it sounds like you’re going to go meet him tomorrow at two.” Leaving the room, she moved with such confidence that I knew I’d better go meet with him. John . . .
Janice had put up with me for over three months since I left the rehabilitation clinic. She was patient with me, but had also tried pushing me ever since I arrived. Walks, swimming, church, and now a counseling session with the pastor. I hadn’t done anything she wanted me to do, but the look in her eyes this time confirmed that I’d better do it.