Page 20 of Redemption
“The foundation matters, my son. Upon sand, it crumbles. Upon rock, it stands firm.”
“I asked you an honest question, and you speak in riddles, Priest.”
A smile graces his face, completely at odds with the darkness swelling inside me. “Many have said the same thing about the good book.” He raises his Bible with a shake of his wrist. “And yet the answers are there for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear.”
“Riddles do me no good!” My frustration boils over into a yell, but I force my voice to quiet. “I don’t need riddles. I need answers. What do I do now? How do I change what I’ve done? How do I get my family out of this hell of a life I’ve created? How do I fix the damage I’ve done? How do I kill this monster I’ve unleashed? How do I undo what I’ve become?”
The smile fades from his face, and I can only imagine what I look like. Possibly like the tortured beast I am.
I stand at a crossroads, between my past and my future, but I have no idea how to leave one behind and walk down a new road. I have no idea how to change my ways. The world I’ve created would eat me alive.
“How do I stop being myself?” It takes more strength than I anticipated to utter the question.
“Become born again, my son. Ask for forgiveness. Change your ways. That’s all it takes to become a new man. It’s a promise made to us all—that we can do it at any moment we choose. God is always ready and willing to forgive us for anything. But it is we who must ask for forgiveness and choose anew.”
I shake my head as his hopeful words land. “It can’t be that easy. Not for me. Not after what I’ve done. That’s impossible.”
When he doesn’t reply immediately, I glance up from the marble floor to see something on the priest’s face that I’ve never seen before. A new softness. A gentle kindness.
“Even for you, my son. Even for men who have done worse than you. There’s always a new choice to be made. All you have to do is believe that you are forgiven, and it is so.”
With disbelief, I jam my hands into my hair and grip the strands. “It can’t be that easy. Nothing’s that easy.”
“But it is. You don’t even need me to say the words. Sincerely ask for forgiveness, vow to change your ways, and then you go free. You’re absolved of your sins the moment you can forgive yourself in truth and release all guilt. God withholds forgiveness from no one. All you have to do is ask for it and receive it.”
Shivers rake over my body as the enormity of what he’s saying crashes into my mind like a container ship ramming the pier. Threads of hope begin to grow, but I can’t believe they’re real.
“How?” My question comes out as a harsh whisper.
“How do you ask?”
That wasn’t what I meant, but I nod anyway, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“The words don’t matter, my son. It’s the sincerity behind them. How you feel in your heart. You can do it right now.”
A rough laugh spurts from my lips. Of course he’d want that. Another sheep for his flock. A black sheep, to be sure. But I haven’t met his one requirement—I don’t know if I can forgive myself. That could take a lifetime, not an instant.
“The sooner you do it, the sooner you go free, my son. Free yourself from your torment. Only you can do it. This is the only way.”
“What if I can’t?” I whisper the question, feeling once more like a complete stranger to myself. And perhaps I am. Maybe I’m already someone else. Lachlan Mount wouldn’t have this conversation.
Maybe he died on the floor of the library. What is happening to my life?
“Try.”
Like it’s the very hand of God Himself, an unseen force drops me to my knees on the marble slab beneath us.
Why am I spending so much time on my knees?
“Because it’s where you need to be,” the small, quiet voice replies.
Shaken by the force and the voice, I bow my head and whisper to the rock beneath me, “Please forgive me, even if I can’t forgive myself yet. Please spare my wife and daughter. Please spare my mother and my brother. If there is any mercy or justice in you, take me and spare them. Free me from this hell I’ve created.” A sob is torn from my chest.
A hand touches my hair—the priest’s hand. “You are forgiven, my son. You are forgiven. Your freedom is always in your own hands. Only you decide how you go forward from this day. Only you decide. No one else.”
Pop-pop.
Instantly, I’m ripped from my penance as the sound of suppressed gunfire disrupts the silence of the moment. All of my senses slam into full alert.
