Friday's Child (17 page)

“Is the lump cancer?”

“No. Which, although I’m thankful for, it’s still killing her.” She took a deep breath. “The other thing is, I haven’t been honest with you or with anyone. I’m Abbie’s mum, not her sister. It’s a long story, but Mum was ashamed of what I did, and insisted on bringing Abbie up as her own.”

He nodded. “I see. Did you argue the point with her? Try to insist she was your daughter and you’d bring her up?”

“You don’t argue with mum…
didn’t
argue with her. She said I would be Abbie’s sister, nothing more. It was a better option than having her adopted. This way I got to see her every day.”

“Who’s her father?”

Right on cue Patrick walked in and answered the question without a pause. “I am.” He looked at her. “I’ve had the blood tests done. The doctor said he’s going to rush the results.”

“Thank you.”

He looked past her. “Pastor Jack. Thanks for coming over.”

“Thanks for the call. I was about to suggest that Eleanor and I go and get something to drink. It might be an idea if you joined us.”

Eleanor looked at him. “Pastor…”

Patrick spoke over her. “If this is about what I think it is, then it affects us both.” He looked at Shay as they left the room. “Can you sit with her while we’re gone? My phone’s on. Ring if there’s a change.”

Eleanor walked down the hallway with the two men, footsteps echoing, the clinical stench assailing her senses. To say she was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Yes, she needed to talk to Patrick, but surely this bordered on counseling and she didn’t need that.

A small voice within her, one she hadn’t heard in a long time, began to whisper.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have faith like Patrick’s again? To have a relationship with God? To be loved unconditionally? To be forgiven.

They reached the café. Pastor Jack looked at them. “Grab a table and I’ll get the drinks. You guys want tea or coffee?”

“Tea,” they said in unison.

Pastor Jack smiled. “Tea it is. I’ll bring it over.”

She nodded, moving slowly over to the table in the corner. Sitting down, she pulled over the sugar bowl, listlessly moving the spoon through the small white granules, trying to ignore Patrick.

But the voice wouldn’t let her.
He came back. He had the test. Surely that means something?

“Elle?” Patrick’s soft tone brought her head up to meet his gaze.

“Why did you call Pastor Jack?” she asked.

“Because he needed to know about your mum so he can help you with organizing the funeral and so on. Besides, I can’t help you with this other hang up you have. I just thought if he explained—”

She pushed the sugar around the bowl. “I miss it,” she whispered. “I miss reading and praying.”

“So why did you stop?”

“Because…” She broke off as Pastor Jack put the tray onto the table.

“Tea and pastries. Cassie’s answer to all life’s problems.” He sat and winked at them. “Which accounts for my expanding waistline.”

Patrick smiled. “You could always join me in the gym.”

Pastor Jack looked at Patrick’s bandaged hand. “Perhaps one day.” He pulled his Bible from his jacket and set it on the table. “Shall we start by giving thanks?”

She nodded, closing her eyes. The familiar words warmed her, almost as much as the cup she wrapped her hands around when he finished speaking. If only it were enough to warm the frozen heart and soul within her. Patrick had gone some way towards doing that over the last few days. But she wasn’t sure whether she wanted this conversation or not. Did she really want to know for sure she was eternally damned?

Patrick studied his pastry, slowly pulling little pieces off and eating them. “So why stop reading and praying, Elle?” he asked, almost as smoothly as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“Because I didn’t see the point.” She pulled a corner off the pastry, the sugar making her fingers sticky.

“That’s not a reason,” Patrick said bluntly. “That’s an excuse. A bit like, I’m too tired or the cat ate my homework.”

“What was I meant to do?” Guilt tied her stomach in knots and she dropped the pastry to the plate. “I’ve forfeited my salvation. There’s nothing I could ever do to atone for my sin. So as my redemption was lost, I had no relationship with God. That’s why I work in the nightclub. I’m past help. So there’s absolutely no point in reading or praying.”

“But you’ve been in church every week since you moved here a few months ago,” Pastor Jack said.

“Mum insisted we went as a family.” She took a long sip of her tea. “I can remember as a child being taken to London. We stood outside Buckingham Palace as the Queen drove past and went up to the gates. They opened automatically and she went in and the flag rose on the pole to say the Queen was in residence. A bit later we passed the palace again. There was a long queue of people in their best clothes, hats, suits, pretty dresses. She must have been holding a garden party or something. They showed their invitation to the soldier on the gate and he let them in. I wanted to go, but Mum said without a personal invitation, the soldier would turn me away.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Church is a bit like that garden party. It’s full of people who have a personal invitation from the King, only I don’t have one. Because I did something so wrong, so bad, that even He can’t forgive me.”

Pastor Jack handed her his Bible, his grey-green eyes catching the light as he moved. “What Biblical references are you basing this on? Can you show me?”

She took the Bible. It felt strange in her hands. Like an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. Familiar, comforting, yet its cover burned her fingers. Her conscience flared up, yelling at her. She wasn’t worthy to even hold this Book, never mind look inside it. She put it down. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I—”

Patrick reached over the table and took hold of her hand.

Pastor Jack put down his cup and gave a gentle smile. “We’re all fallen. No matter how hard we try this side of heaven, we won’t be perfect. Not even me. That’s why Jesus came in the first place. To do what you and I can’t do in a million years, please a Holy God.”

Eleanor sighed. “I know all that. My point is I threw it away. I turned my back on God and now I’m lost for all eternity.”

Pastor Jack paused. “There’s only one thing stopping you from opening the Bible, Eleanor.”

“What’s that?”

“Satan. He doesn’t want you finding out the truth. He’d rather keep you in his kingdom.” He slid the Bible back to her. “Show me where it says you can’t be forgiven.”

Slowly, her trembling hands turned to the passage in Hebrews chapter ten. “Want me to read it?” she whispered. As the two men nodded, she took a deep breath. “Verse twenty-six:
If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much more severely do you think someone deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood of the covenant that sanctified them, and who has insulted the Spirit of grace?”

Pastor Jack sipped his tea for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “OK. There are various views about quite what the unforgivable sin is, although all agree it’s a sin that leads to death, eternal death. Matthew twelve, Mark three, and Luke twelve refer to blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. Hebrews six calls it the enlightened falling away and crucifying the Son of God all over again, subjecting Him to public disgrace, and the passage you read, Hebrews ten, to trampling the Son of God under foot and insulting the Spirit of grace.”

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“From what is said in the Bible passages, the unforgivable sin seems to be ‘knowing and being convinced of the truth concerning Jesus, and
willfully
rejecting Him.’ I would add that those who fear they may have committed it and worry that they have, actually haven’t done so because their heart is clearly not hard enough.”

“But…” Heat rose in her cheeks and she studied her hands intently. “I broke the commandments. I couldn’t keep them.”

Pastor Jack finished his tea, setting the cup on the tray. “We all break them. Jesus himself said that thinking something is the same as doing it. But what you have to remember is that there is forgiveness for all who repent of their sin and ask God for mercy. First John one verse nine says ‘
if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’
And again, in Romans eight verse one it says ‘
therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.’
”

“But I can’t atone for that sin.”

“Eleanor, the price has already been paid.” Pastor Jack smiled. “And doubts are just Satan reminding you and trying to tempt you into more sin. Almost like an open packet of chocolate biscuits and that little voice that tells you ‘go on, one more won’t hurt.’ Once you confess your sins, God forgives you and forgets them. He throws them into the deepest sea. True repentance means turning away from the sin which is confessed. You don’t need to keep apologizing, unless you’re still committing it over and over. Even then, He won’t give up on you, unless you harden your heart and no longer care about Him. The only things that still stand are the consequences of that sin which you have to deal with on a regular basis. But the sin itself is dealt with, wiped out and forgiven.”

Tears pricked Eleanor’s eyes. Was there hope? “So, it’s not too late for me?” she whispered.

“No,” Pastor Jack assured her. “He’s waiting, arms open for you to turn and run into them. The key is in that verse you read.
Deliberately keep on sinning.
True repentance means confessing and turning away, turning your back on it and taking the forgiveness offered.”

Tears ran down her face unhindered and, not caring she was sitting in a public place, she buried her head in her hands and sobbed. Chairs scrapped somewhere then she felt two hands on her shoulders and heard Pastor Jack’s quiet voice as he prayed. She followed his words in her heart, and for the first time in fourteen years felt forgiven and accepted.

15

After Pastor Jack left, Patrick smiled at Elle across the table. Hopefully they could talk for a few minutes, sort some things out before going back up to ITU. “How are you doing?” he asked.

A huge smile lit her face, making her eyes sparkle for the first time in days. “I’m a lot better than I have been. Actually feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Or at least part of it.”

“That’s because it has. God took the weight of sin from you and tossed it into the abyss.” He paused and winked at her. “And you know what the best bit is? He threw away the key, too.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath. “Need to tell you some things. I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have told you about Abbie like that.”

“No you shouldn’t. I’d honestly wondered, because although she had your mannerisms, she looked like photos of me when I was her age.” He pulled a face. “Though she’s far prettier than me, and I don’t wear dresses or those low cut tops she favors.”

“Tell me about it. She drives…drove Mum mad with them. She’s so proud of her womanly figure. All I ever wanted to do was hide mine.”

He shot her an appreciative glance that had her blushing from the tips of her ears down to where her slender neck vanished into her shirt. “There is nothing wrong with your figure, then or now.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously, Elle. You are a very beautiful woman. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. And it’s possible to dress to show off your figure without sending the wrong signals. Have to ask Niamh to take you dress shopping. Both you and Abbie. And before you say something, it’s not an imposition. She loves shopping and has exquisite taste.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile lit her face. “And I want everyone to call me Elle now. It’s what you call me and I prefer it.”

“Then Elle it is. There’s something I want to talk through though, without you running a mile if possible.”

“Ask away.”

“You left all those years ago without saying a thing. Did I do something wrong or hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” She piled the plates back onto the tray. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“I’d have married you,” he said without hesitation. “But right now we just need to concentrate on Abbie and getting her well. We can pick this conversation up again later.”

“I’d like that.”

He glanced at his watch. “We should get back up to ITU. The results should be back by now.”

She stood and walked with him into the hallway. “Can’t we take the stairs? I don’t like lifts.”

Patrick shook his head. “It’s eight floors, with three flights of stairs per floor. It’s far quicker to take the lift. I thought you were in a hurry to get back up to Abbie.”

“And I thought you had to keep fit in your line of work.” She winked at him.

“Women,” Patrick moaned half-heartedly.

“Secret agents,” she replied in the same tone. She pointed to the bank of lifts. “Oh look, it says out of action. What a shame. I guess it’s the stairs after all.”

“Fine. The stairs it is.”

She grinned and headed to the stairs to find a janitor standing there.

“Stairs are closed, love. I’ve just mopped them. You’ll have to take the lift.”

“Oh. But it says out of action.”

The janitor pointed. “Those three service lifts are in general use.”

She looked at Patrick.

“We’ll be fine. Come on.” He took her hand and led her to the bank of lifts. “Pick one.”

She pressed the button for the elevator and winked at him. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s random. But I tell you something that isn’t.”

“What’s that?”

“The way I feel about you. It hasn’t changed.”

Patrick grinned. “Nor has the way I feel about you.”