Page 63 of Hunt for You
“Oh, nothing exceptTrouble.”
“We could start a club.”
He snorted. “I’m trying to help othersoutof trouble now, remember?”
I mock-pouted and glared at my coffee. “It’s so stupid that it has to be one or the other. There are some kinds of trouble that don’t hurt anyone. Why can’t we do that stuff without getting smited?”
“Oh, don’t worry—God won’t smite you for the stuff that doesn’t hurt you or others, Bridget. The problem is people… struggle to see the difference. I know I do. So if they see something thatfeelsdangerous, they back away. And they’re wary of the person who made them scared. I wish life wasn’t thatway, but I’m getting better at accepting things the way they are, rather than how I want them to be.”
And that reminded me of Richard—who used to say stuff like that to me in high school.
A memory drifted into my head—Richard sitting across from me in his Chaplain’s office looking concerned and trying to convince me that I was more than the things that had happened to me. No matter what other people thought.
Andthatmade me teary again.
Damn.
“Bridget—”
“You just sounded like Richard for a minute there,” I said hoarsely, dashing the tears away. “That’s all.”
“Well,” Sam said, sitting back in his chair. “From everything I’m hearing, that’s a compliment. Thank you. Everyone who knew him said Richard was a good man and…” I could feel his eyes on me, but didn’t want to meet that penetrating gaze. “Bridget, if it’s any comfort to you, I’mconfidentthat Richard is in heaven now. So don’t be sadforhim. It’s sad to miss him from here. But he’s never going to feel darkness or pain again, and he’s always going to have joy. That’s a beautiful thing.”
I did look at him then. “Is that where you’re going when you die? Even though you did bad things?”
He nodded. “And I’m very grateful that’s the case. If you’d met me a decade ago—”
“So, what you did before just doesn’t matter to God anymore? He’s like, you’re being good now, so we’ll just forget about the rest?” I asked bitterly, the memory of that letter floating through my head. I knew I was lashing out at my father and Sam didn’t deserve that, but my skin was too tight and my heart was racing, and I wassad,and—
“No, Bridget. God isn’t like people. It’s not all or nothing. It’s not just good or bad. God accepts my darkness, but shines light on it. And… I don’t know how to explain it except… he uses it.”
I arched one brow at him. “God uses yourdarkness?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Don’t get me wrong, He’s not pushing me towards it—quite the opposite. But… just like this conversation. He uses my past to help me connect with people. That’s why I serve in a prison. Usually,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Because those guys know about what I used to be. And they can see what I am now. And I’m not perfect—not even close. But they can see the difference. God takes what used to be ugly in me and turns it into something useful. I don’t forget where I came from. Ever. But I’m free of it. Most of the time.”
“Most of the time?”
He shrugged. “I struggle sometimes. You can’t live the way I lived for twenty-five years and just walk away without… carrying the marks of it.” He tipped his head towards his tattoos. “That’s what the old ladies feel when they get close to me. That’s what scares them. They can sense it on me. I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.”
“But that’s just baggage,” I said bitterly. “Doesn’t matter whether you’re different or not. Doesn’t matter if youwantedwhat happened. It only matters that it’s there. They’re judging you!”
“And sometimes I do things I’m not supposed to. We all have our issues, right?”
“Darkness.”
He nodded and leaned forward, folding his arms to rest on the table. “From God’s perspective, it’s like your shadow—everyone’s got one. It’s just that, the more light there is, the less you can see it.”
“But then, they’re judging you for things that they have too!”
“Yep. But my shadow’s easier to see than theirs. So sometimes they forget because theirs doesn’t show up as much. That’s all.”
“You’re being very nice to the bridge club bigots.”
He shrugged. “I’mgladthat God sees all the ways I’m dark and doesn’t reject me. He doesn’t get fooled by whether my shadow’s showing more or less. He just cares and helps me, regardless. It’s the people who point and judge. But if I reject them for that, I’m no different than they are. Just choosing a different darkness to care about. I get things wrong. So do they. If we reject everyone who ever does the wrong thing, we’d never stay in a relationship with anyone.”
I went very still, staring at him, because it was a weird way to see the world and God and this whole issue. It appealed to me for my own flaws… but for monsters like my dad? They shouldneverget a pass, no matter what.
Something in my chest kept pushing forward, wanting to talk to Sam about my past and see what he thought of that—would his eyes go wide, then shutter closed? Or would he shrug it off and not care?