Love Overboard

Chapter 47

THE BEDSIDE LAMP CAST A warm glow on the wall of Lacey’s windowless cabin. She stared at the keypad on the phone, dialed twice, and hung up both times before the call connected. Her body slid off the bed and onto the floor. Lacey rested her forehead against the rough carpet. It felt comforting to be lower.

“God?” She clasped her hands together and propped them under her chin. “Since I’m on my knees anyway … Emily thought you and I should talk.” Lacey paused, but no ethereal voice answered. “You’re listening, right? I could use some advice. You used to do that kind of thing in those Bible stories, but I imagine a person has to be special to get an angel with a message nowadays.”

A picture of a poofy mop of gray hair framing a mischievous face flashed through her mind, and Lacey smiled.

“Yes. Emily Windsor is a kind of angel. I admit it. But did you have to send such an exasperating one?”

Lacey waited, but the Almighty wasn’t offering any audible responses. Unless she counted the washing machine tapping on the other side of her bedroom wall. Emily popped into her thoughts again. Maybe God already sent his opinion through a pushy little yenta and didn’t feel like repeating himself.

Forgiveness.

Raising her head, Lacey shoved herself up and sat with her back propped against the bed. She dialed again and held the phone to her ear.

It rang twice, and her father answered.

“Lacey, is that you?”

“Hi, Dad.”

“This is a treat. First, I get to see you on our cruise, and now we get to talk on the phone.” Rustling sounded. “Usually, your mom fills me in.”

“I stay pretty busy.”

“You’re an important person. Those Monarch people better be treating you right.”

“They are.” Lacey picked at a loose thread on the carpet. “How are you doing?”

Her father moaned. “Same as usual. I have my good days and my bad days.” He launched into a lengthy explanation of his latest malady. A volley of complicated health terms rolled off his tongue like he was reading a medical dictionary.

Lacey shifted positions on the hard floor and looked at the clock on her bedside table. “Dad,” she interrupted, “I just realized this is when you take your nap. You were probably in bed.”

“That’s okay. It’s worth it to talk to you. I’m glad you got over your little snit.”

Lacey jerked forward. She sprang to her feet. The old bitterness jumped inside of her like a dog with its teeth bared. “It wasn’t a … I didn’t.” She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a desperate two-second prayer. “God, help me do this.”

She sank to her mattress. “You know what, Dad? I hope you get better soon.”

“Me too, Lacey-bell. Me too.”

Her pulse calmed. “You’d better go back to bed and rest.”

“I should. Thanks for calling.”

“Dad …” So embarrassing. Could she skip this part?

“Hmm?”

Lacey took a deep breath. “I forgive you.” She almost choked on the words.

“For what?” Genuine confusion colored his voice.

“For … whatever.”

“Thanks, honey … I forgive you too.”

“Bye.” Lacey ended the call.

She stared at the phone in silence. A teardrop fell on the glass screen, and she wiped it away with her thumb.

That was harder than I thought, God. But I’m glad I did it. Thank you for pushing me.

It turned out forgiveness wasn’t a one-time thing. She suspected she’d be saying those words again over the years. But she felt … better.

As Abby would put it, lighter.

Like someone had opened the blinds in her brain and let the sunshine in.