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Clearing his throat, her father said, “I was wrong. And prideful.”
She drew in a deep breath. “About?”
“Sending you away.” Looking down at his hands, she saw his fingers work and wring themselves together. Finally, his head lifted and he swallowed again. “The night you came to us and told us you were pregnant was surreal to me. I remember it in a haze—and with such disappointment and—anger.”
She really didn’t need this right now. “Dad…”
He held up a hand. “Just let me finish, please.”
Wilting back against the pillow, she conceded.
Her father rubbed his mouth then shook his head. “I had just counseled a father that day. His daughter was seventeen years old and had told her parents that she was pregnant. In my…stupidity…I essentially blamed him. Told him what a bad father he’d been and how the teachings of his household and his spiritual leadership had obviously fallen short. In a word, I judged him lacking.”
“Because his daughter got pregnant,” Lacey said dully.
“Yes.”
It all became startling clear. “I see now.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Tears formed in his tired eyes, and Lacey forced herself not to look away. Instead, she said, “So when I told you I was pregnant…”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t think the irony escaped me.”
Her throat ached with the effort to hold back her tears. “And you certainly couldn’t have me show up in church, pregnant.”
“No, my pride wouldn’t have that.” He sighed and looked away. “So, the only option available was to send you away.”
Old hurt welled up inside her. She forced it away. The time had come to forgive. It was the reason she had come home in the first place. And what he was saying was nothing she hadn’t thought about. She knew his sending her away had to do with his pride, she just hadn’t realized how much. Only now, he sat before her a humble and broken man.
Rising from the bed she pushed the laptop aside and walked to her father’s side. Kneeling beside him, she took his hand in hers. “I forgive you, Dad.”
A sob escaped him. “How?” he whispered.
“Because God forgave me.”
He knew what she meant. In one move, he gathered her to his thin, shaking frame and buried his face in her hair. “Thank you, Lacey. I know I don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t, either.”
He pulled back. “Can we move on from here?”
Lacey stood, her knees popping. She gave a shaky laugh. “I think moving on from here’s going to be the easy part—as soon as we get Bethany home.”
Her father stood, too, and stroked her cheek. “You’re a fabulous mother. You’ve done a wonderful job with her.”
Tears threatened once again but she choked them down. “Thanks, Dad.”
With one last hug, he walked from her room.
Which left Lacey staring across the hall at another closed door.
Bethany’s.
On impulse, she took a deep breath, walked to it and put her hand on the knob. She closed her eyes and opened Bethany’s door. Slowly, she opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
The mess from the other night had been cleaned up. She shuddered at the memory and tried not to visualize Bethany’s features over that of the wig holder.