A Thousand Miles

Part 32

Rays of warm, golden sunlight filtered in through closed blinds and stabbed at him until he awoke. Shane rolled over, turning his back on the light, dreading another empty day. This would be the ninth empty day since he'd last seen JoLynn—since she'd turned her back to him there in her office, shutting him out completely. He closed his eyes, trying to summon sleep again, longing to pass another hour or two in blissful unawareness. But it was no good. He was awake.

He pushed the sheets back and sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed. His feet touched the classified section of the local paper, which had fallen to the floor at some point overnight. The red circles he'd drawn around a couple of ads glared up at him, and he reached down for the paper. But there was nothing, unless he wanted a job selling ad space, or a management track position in the fast food industry. He took a deep breath and dropped the paper back to the floor. A job was a job. So it shouldn't matter. And it would only be for nine months.

But he didn't have many expenses. He might be able to make it nine more months without using too much of the settlement money. And in the meantime he could write volumes about Austin and the surrounding Hill Country, having it all ready to submit when the term of his contract with Truman was up.

Shane scratched at the three days' worth of growth on his jaw, then stood and trudged to the small kitchenette. JoLynn's departure from his life had ripped a hole in his heart, and every day that passed since he'd last spoken with her only served to tear it open wider and deeper. This morning the pain seemed physical, and he raised a hand to his chest, indulging the ache for a moment during which the verse Rosa had him read drifted through his consciousness.

"...And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

To the best of his ability, he had acted justly. He had put it all on the table and apologized and tried to rectify what he'd done wrong. And no one loved the idea of mercy more than he did right now. JoLynn might never speak to him again, but if she would only forgive him for his part in her shattered world...if she would just forgive him...he might be able to find peace again.

"God, I'm sorry." The repentant phrase slipped out before he even thought about it. And with it came a rush of remorse and regret that nearly buckled his knees. He'd been so arrogant and self-focused. Not just in this situation with JoLynn's show, but for the entirety of his life. Since the beating that had nearly taken his life, after never having received the justice he craved, it had been impossible for him to not look out for himself first and foremost. Since no one else had ever stood as an advocate for him, he'd done it, regardless of who else got knocked down in the process. But now, the one he loved most had been taken down. And he was to blame.

"Lord," Shane ventured to reach out again. "What can I do? I can't make this right. I can't undo it. How can I make this up to her? How can I earn her forgiveness?"

But he knew the answer...didn't even have to think about it. There was nothing those boys could do to earn his forgiveness. Four million dollars from their families hadn't softened his heart in the least. Forgiveness couldn't be earned or bought. It had to be given freely. Still, there must be something...

Be still. Came the reply to his heart. And listen.

Be still? Listen?

It made no sense. But if that was the answer, then, all right.

He jumped when his phone rang from the counter beside him. The display told him it was the nursing home. He accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Quinlan?"

"Yes."

"This is Tracy at—"

"Hi, Tracy. What's up?"

"Mr. Quinlan, your father has had another stroke. He's been moved to the hospital."

Shane's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. "How bad...how is he?"

"Well..." There was a long, full pause on the line. "It was a major stroke. But he's conscious now." Another too-long pause. "And he's asking for you."

Shane blinked. "He's asking for me?"

"Yes."

"With words? He's actually asking for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Quinlan. The doctor wanted to make sure I told you to hurry. They can't say how much longer he has left."

"I'm on my way."