Page 32 of Trace of Doubt
Maybe they’d been stung by lending money in the past. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Ms. Pearce,” the pastor said. “Outside of a few hiccups, are you getting settled?”
“I’ve experienced good times and not-so-good.” I shared with him about James Peterson and how I valued his support as my parole officer. “My goal, and his too, is for me to beat the odds and weave my life into this community.”
“He’s active in the community, coaches Little League, and is on the school board.”
The info revealed a good man. “Sheriff Wendall has also been helpful.”
“Not like Officer Hughes?”
I refused to go there. “He’s concerned about his community and sister.”
“Ms. Pearce, let’s speak the truth here. While I must send an overview of our sessions to the parole board, I promise you our discussions are confidential. Randy Hughes isn’t on your side.”
“Yes, sir. Will he ever be?”
He sighed. “Doubtful, unless God gets ahold of him.”
His unspoken words aligned with Amy-Jo’s. I tried to pray for whatever misfortune had affected Officer Hughes, but until I could forgive him and mean it, the prayers wouldn’t surface. “Do you recommend I avoid Edie at church and stop the sibling arguments about me?”
“Have you asked her?”
“She insists our friendship is important. But we aren’t meeting in public.”
“Then you have your answer.” He opened a legal pad and scanned it. “You received severe beatings in prison, before and after you became a Christian.” Mrs. Emory gasped, and he took his wife’s hand. “I forgot to inform my wife about those.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Emory paled.
“Shelby was hospitalized four times with injuries from a gang,” the pastor said. “Broken bones and a concussion.”
“I... I was horrible when you entered the office.” She touched her mouth. “Please—”
“No need to apologize. I understand how I appear in light of my criminal record.” This part of the counseling I could handle. I explained the problems in prison were because I refused to admit knowledge of a crime I hadn’t committed, and I’d attempted to defend a young woman whom they had chosen to abuse. Other times were a refusal to be part of a gang and to avoid guards’ lewd advances.
“How did those occurrences make you feel about God?” Pastor Emory said.
“He promises never to abandon us, and I’m alive.”
“Have you forgiven the women and the guards?”
“I’m trying. Just when I think I’ve moved past it, a memory pops up that brings it all back.”
“With a vengeance?”
I nodded. “Discernment and wisdom are lifelong lessons. But sometimes it’s all a blur.”
“If you’re willing, we can work on what happened to you in prison.”
The thought of reliving the beatings clawed at my stomach. Some injuries couldn’t be healed. “Not sure if I’ll ever be able to place them in a locked corner of my heart. Maybe looking over my shoulder is a good habit. Anyway, I’d like to put the ugliness behind me.” I meant it, as long as he didn’t probe into Travis’s death.
“In the weeks ahead, we’ll visit those painful moments. Talk through your emotions and pray for healing. Mrs. Emory and I have prayed for you, and we’re here to offer friendship as well as guidance.”
My twice-broken arm ached. No reason except the vivid details of the beatings jarred my senses. Always did. I could only assume the psychological and spiritual growth demanded courage. Other people’s actions in my history included. “External rehabilitation is easier to accomplish than internal.”
“But you’re not alone, neither have you been since you made a decision to trust Jesus. Who we are stems from examining our past and choosing to move forward with God.”
Mrs. Emory jotted something on a piece of paper and slid it my way. “Please call me anytime, day or night.”
