Forgiving Paris: A Novel(56)

Until that moment on the hill.

Tears welled in his eyes. “You love me?” Jack spoke the words into the wind. “You took my family!”

There was no answer, no voice in the breeze. But a story came to Jack, one his mother used to tell him and Shane when they were little. Before they went to school each morning.

“A boy makes his plans,” she would say, a hand on each of their small shoulders. “But God ordains his steps.”

At first Jack hadn’t understood why his mother had quoted that Bible verse. But in time the words made sense. The people of God ought not write their to-do lists with indelible ink, but rather with the faintest pencil. Because in the end, God would have the final say about a person’s story.

“This world is not our home,” their father had told Jack after they buried Shane. “God decides the number of our days. The miracle is in having had Shane at all. Every day of his life was a gift, a blessing from God.”

And there were other reminders. His mother would tell him that he was the clay and God the potter. “He will make of your days what He wants. So long as you keep loving, Jack. Love God. Love people. Don’t ever stop loving.”

Her words had filled his heart on that lonely hilltop, and he closed his eyes. Love God. Love people. Jack was very good at his job. But he had long since stopped doing either of those things. He hadn’t loved God and he certainly hadn’t loved people. Not when they could be gone in a single undertow or the instant detonation of a roadside bomb.

There on that flat rock overlooking Lake Grapevine, everything his parents had ever told him, everything he’d ever read in the Bible, all of it landed on him again, with crystal clarity. And he understood something he hadn’t before.

While he had used his life with the FBI for good work, he had missed out on really living.

Tears stung his eyes. “Good plans… even now, Lord? I’m supposed to believe that?”

And then the strangest thing had happened. As if out of thin air, a man had appeared on the trail below. He stopped when he saw Jack and then he made his way up to the top. The guy was young, black and athletic with pale brown eyes that had seemed the very definition of peace.

“Hey,” the guy said. “Can I join you?”

Jack felt himself tense up. He squinted at the man, every instinct on high alert. Had he been trailing Jack? Was he part of a drug ring sent to kill Jack in the isolation of the trail? Jack had his gun, but suddenly as he studied the man he knew the answer. Knew it deep inside him. He wasn’t going to need his weapon. The guy clearly didn’t want a fight. And if he was out to get him, Jack would know soon enough. He hesitated before answering the man. He nodded. “Sure.”

The guy was maybe in his mid-twenties, same as Jack. He brushed a pile of old leaves from a flat rock a few feet away and sat down. Then he looked directly at Jack. “I’m Beck.” He paused. “You’ve been running hard, Jack.”

A chill ran down Jack’s body. He was wrong about the guy. He must’ve been trailing him, watching him. Probably a hired assassin sent from one of the traffickers Jack had taken down. He started to stand, started to reach for his gun.

But before Jack could say or do anything, Beck smiled. “I won’t hurt you, Jack. I bring you good news.”

Jack looked around again. How did the guy know his name? Was he being punked by the other Dallas agents? Or had he hit his head and now he was dreaming? He blinked a few times and stared at the man. “Beck?”

“Yes.” He bent down and picked up a handful of loose dirt. “God is the potter. We’re the clay.” He turned to Jack again. “Your mother used to say that.”

“How… how do you know that?” Jack’s mouth had felt dry. He wasn’t sure whether to run or fall to his knees.

“See, Jack.” The strange man let the dirt sift through his fingers back to the ground. “Even though we’re only clay, God loves us.” He turned his otherworldly eyes to Jack. “He loves you.” A soft chuckle came from the guy. “And yes, God is real. But then… you already knew that.”

For the next half hour Beck had sat there, talking about what it meant to live and love. To put off all fear of loss, and embrace life. “By the way.” Beck leaned over his knees and stared at Jack. “Shane and your parents… they’re good.” His smile faded. “But they want more for you. We all do.”

“My family is dead.”

Beck shook his head. “No.” He looked out over the lake and his eyes lifted to the blue sky above. “They trusted in Jesus.” Once more he turned to Jack. “They don’t live here. But they’re more alive than ever before.”

Jack had wondered if he might pass out from the strangeness of the situation. Who was this guy and why was he saying these things? How could he have known not only Jack’s name, but Shane’s… and the fact that his family was long gone.

A minute of silence had passed between them. Then Beck stood and faced Jack. “Live life to the fullest, Jack. Jesus died so you could do that.” Beck’s kindness pierced straight through him. “Have you been living that way?”

Jack’s answer wasn’t needed. Obviously Beck already knew the truth. Jack looked at the water. “I made a lot of bad choices. After my parents died.” It was true. Jack was a good guy by the world’s standards. But he had moved from one girl to another.