Epilogue 2
FORD
Seven months later
I wasn’t at church the next morning. As a matter of fact, I still hadn’t made it there. But I was going. Today. Whether my wife knew it or not.
She didn’t.
I walked around my kitchen, wearing my black suit and one of the ties Peyton had given me for Christmas (as a gentle hint.) My eyes kept drifting to the clock. Seven minutes til and I still couldn’t bring myself to walk to my Jeep.
My phone played a distinctive sound letting me know that my front door was being unlocked. I peeked my head around the corner in time to see Tally walking in.
She jumped when she saw me. “Oh, hi.”
“Well, Shabbat Shalom.” I smirked.
She laughed. “The real Sabbath was yesterday.”
“I see. Hmm. And that’s why you’re sneaking into my house when your family is at church? You’re comfortable breaking and entering as long as it’s not the Sabbath?”
She cocked her hip. “I’m here because I’m starving and once again, my children have eaten all the fruit.” She looked me up and down and her eyes got wide. “You’re going to church?”
“Don’t act so surprised.”
“Proud of you, Ford. I didn’t think you did that sort of thing.”
I loosened my tie. “I’m not a complete heathen. I just…”
She waited, saying nothing.
“I just haven’t been in a long time and…”
“You’re afraid the chapel will go up in flames if you walk through the door?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Something like that.”
“Why today?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen, a woman on a mission.
I followed her. “Peyton and Cash are singing a duet.”
Her brows flicked up. “What? No one told me that.”
“We’re not allowed to mention church to you. Ashton put the fear of God into everyone.”
Her mouth fell open. “Well, I want to hear them.” She snatched a banana from the wooden bowl on the island, then grabbed me by the arm.
“Where are we going?”
“To church,” she said in an exasperated tone as she dragged me toward the garage.
“Why do I have to drive?” I was just giving her a hard time now.
“Because your car’s nicer than mine. And mine has crumbled pretzels and goldfish crackers in every seat.” She stopped abruptly and I stumbled into her. She spun to face me, a touch panic-stricken. “I need to put on a dress. But we’re already late.”
“Nah. People go in jeans all the time nowadays.”
She shuddered. “Gentiles.”
It felt a little less daunting to get in the car and drive down my driveway with Tally as my sidekick. If she could be brave, so could I.
We pulled into the church parking lot at a quarter past the hour.
“How does this work?” she whispered as we walked past Peyton’s brand new Ford Bronco (Heritage Limited Edition) in robin’s egg blue. “Like is it just one big chapel and everyone’s going to turn their heads when we walk in?”
“Uh, yes, if we’re loud. We’ll tiptoe.”
“Like church mice?” She giggled.
“Yes.” I grinned. “Like church mice.”
When we got to the old, creaky wooden doors, I held my breath and slowly pushed down on the brass lever. We did indeed tiptoe like church mice, the only person the wiser was the new minister, Nick Slater, who gave us a subtle wink, without missing a beat of his sermon. I only knew his name because Mom couldn’t stop talking about him. But I guess anyone would be an improvement over Pastor Allen—who’d done an abysmal job of preaching Sophie’s graveside service and who was currently sitting on the front row because this congregation forced him to retire last year.
I slid into the back right pew, next to Lemon’s mom, Miss Lisa. Blue’s Mom, Missy, sat on her other side against the wall. Tally scooted in next to me, closest to the aisle.
“Good to see you,” I whispered to Miss Lisa and Missy.
Missy waved.
Miss Lisa squeezed my hand. “Glad you could make it. I was late this morning too.”
“Me too,” Missy whispered.
That explained why Lemon was four rows up, tucked under Silas’s arm. And Blue was sitting with Anna and their kids in the aisle behind them. The rest of my family was scattered around them. Ashton had all five of his and Tally’s kids with him.
I leaned over to Tally. “If you’re Jewish, wouldn’t that make Theo and Charlie Jewish too?”
“Yes. But they like coming to church with their cousins.” She glanced over at me, a timid look in her eye. “All of my kids are Jewish, even the ones Ashton helped me make.”
I tipped my head closer to hers. “I think that’s pretty cool,” I whispered.
She smiled and looped her arm through mine. “I’m glad we came.”
“Me too.”
Up at the pulpit, Pastor Nick rubbed his hands together. "It was prophesied that Jesus Christ would come way back in the Old Testament, by Isaiah."
Tally straightened beside me, her attention suddenly sharp.
“In Isaiah 53, we read: ‘But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.’”
I watched as Tally's lips moved silently as if reciting something to herself. Her fingers traced invisible words on her knee.
Pastor Nick continued, “‘He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.’”
Tally’s head snapped around to look at me. “You all believe this is talking about Yeshua?”
I stared at her. “I don’t know who Yeshua is.”
Her lips pursed together in disapproval. “Jesus.”
“Oh.” My face broke into a smile. “Yes. Definitely.”
She leaned forward slightly, her head tilted in that way she did when she was really listening to something.
Pastor Nick smiled. “Christ did that for you. So, the next time you think you’re nothing, that your life is worth nothing—remember that our Lord and Savior—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords—came here, to this earth, for you . No, not me.” He waved those words away like they were silly. “You might be thinking, he came for the people who do everything right. He came for BJ.” He nodded to Lemon and Silas’s neighbor. Everyone turned to the man. “Or Bo and Jenny Dupree.” He nodded to my parents and all eyes were on them. “Or our beloved Miss Lisa.”
Suddenly my head was in a headlock in Tally’s lap—and her head was resting on my back. “Stay down,” she hissed.
Miss Lisa and Missy giggled above us.
“But he didn’t,” Nick’s voice bellowed through the room. “Jesus Christ came for you. The best of the best. The worst of the worst. And everyone in between.”
“I think you’re safe now,” Miss Lisa whispered.
Tally released me from her armpit and I sat up with a silent chuckle.
“What does that mean?” my sister-in-law hissed. “He came for me? Or you?” She waved her hand around. “For everyone here? Came for what?”
I thought for a second, digging into the recesses of my Sunday School memories, trying to explain Jesus to someone who thought He was just a really good guy. It felt like describing sunshine to a blind man. “We believe He’s the Messiah talked about in the Old Testament.” But I knew she knew that. I had to do better. Dig deeper. “It means that without Him, we don’t stand a chance. We’ll never make it back to heaven.”
Tally was studying me, listening, waiting for me to go on.
“That He agreed to come to earth to pay for our sins. He performed the Great Atonement. It means at one ment. Being reconciled to?—”
She blew her lips out in a pfft . “I know what Atonement means. Trust me.”
“Okay. Well.” I thought for a second. “We believe He is the Passover lamb. He was the only person to ever live free from blemish. So He made reparations for us. Because we’re stained, which makes us powerless to do it for ourselves.” She had a tiny frown going, chewing her lips into a twist. I continued. “It’s like if someone did something really bad—let’s say Charlie murdered someone?—”
“Cash.” She laughed. “She’d murder Cash. I could see that.”
“So Charlie murders someone and she’s going to prison for the rest of…well, forever. The judge says the only way out is if a perfect person agrees to serve her sentence. She’s heartbroken and terrified because why would anyone—much less a perfect person—take her place?” My head tilted. “And then Theo—who is perfect and has never sinned—walks into the courtroom.” Tally’s eyes were bright, picturing it. “He walks up to the judge and says, ‘I love her so much that I’ll pay for what she did. I’ll take the sentence.’ The judge agrees and Charlie goes free.”
“So Theo takes her place?” Her hand pressed against her heart and she blinked a few times. “That’s who Jesus is for you all? He’s the one who came and took the sentence for what you were powerless to pay?”
“Yes. Only Jesus doesn’t just pay the price, He also breaks the bands of death and the chains of sin that bind us. That bound Him . And we all walk free. Forever.”
She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. Then she gazed up at the light coming through the stained glass window. Her eyes closed and she smiled for a few seconds. Then she looked at Ashton with Jane on his knee. At Theo and Charlie. Tristan tucked up against my dad. And baby Emily on my Mom’s lap.
Tally’s eyes were sad. “This is what I’ve been missing? My family, together, listening to stories about this man who came to earth to atone for all the people I love? For me?”
I smiled and my lungs ached because I’d been missing it too. Me. The King of FOMO had been missing out on the greatest gift ever offered. “Yeah.”
“This is why your mom’s been so concerned.”
I nodded again. “Because she loves you.”
Tally grabbed the top of the pew in front of us and leaned forward, about to stand.
“What’re you doing?” I whisper-shouted. “You can’t walk to the front to be saved yet. You have to wait until the pastor opens up ‘altar call.’”
“No, Ford. I’m not converting,” she said like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She tipped her head toward Ashton. “But I am going to sit with my family.”
Then she stood and padded quietly up the aisle. When she got to the Dupree section and the heads started turning, I couldn’t help but smile.
Mom gasped.
Ashton’s head snapped back. He grinned at Tally and I saw him say, “What’re you doing here?”
She slipped into the pew, past Christy and Holden’s family—each reaching out to squeeze her hand. When she got to Ashton, there was no room on the bench, so she sat down right on his other knee. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
A few minutes later, Nick wrapped up his sermon. “Now we’ll be blessed to have a special musical number by Cash and Peyton Dupree, who will perform Amazing Grace .”
I sat up taller as my wife and son walked to the front of the chapel and up the stairs to the stand. Cash’s guitar must’ve been stowed behind the pulpit. In one swift move, he had the strap up and over his head before I even knew what was happening, like a pro.
Since the day he found out he was mine, he’d been practicing guitar nonstop. It was clear he was a prodigy. Excelling way faster than I ever had.
Peyton focused on him as he got situated. When he was ready, she nodded and he strummed the first chord. They began to sing. Peyton’s tone was clear and confident and Cash’s complimented it perfectly. He really did have a great voice. They both did.
They’d only made it to ‘how sweet the sound’ when Peyton decided Cash didn’t need her constant watch-care and she looked out into the congregation. If there had been a magnet between her eyes and mine, she could not have found me faster. She stopped singing in the middle of the word saved . Cash glanced up at her. Then followed her gaze to me. He never missed a chord or a syllable. Just grinned and tossed his chin up at me.
But he was now singing a solo because my wife was choked up. I smiled, encouraging her to go on. But she didn’t. Just like that Charlottesville concert when I spotted her in the crowd and couldn’t make the words come out, our roles reversed. Heads started to turn, trying to figure out who she was looking at. But I couldn’t care about any of them.
Peyton lifted her hand and reached for me. That’s all I needed and I was up, striding down the aisle like I was in a cheesy musical where people walk and sing at the same time. The words of a song I’d known as long as I’d been alive, flowed out of my mouth like they’d been written for me.
I once was lost, but now I’m found.
Was blind, but now I see.
With Peyton still unable to form words, Cash and I were carrying this trio. I took the stairs to the stand in a single bound.
Wrapped in my arms, Peyton joined us for the second verse. People swayed gently in their seats, smiling. But not Mom. No, Mom was crying against Dad’s shoulder. She probably thought she’d literally died and gone to heaven, having all of us there together.
I laid my hand against Peyton’s beautiful, protruding belly. Baby Dupree—gender unknown (we wanted it to be a surprise)—would make his or her grand entrance in three months. I smiled out at my family of origin and down at the one I’d helped create. I wasn’t nothing and I never had been. No matter how many times I’d told myself I was. Too many spectacular people loved me for that to be true. I’d believed the lies my depressed mind had told me for years on end. But lies, I’d learned, are never the truth. They can’t be. It’s simply an impossibility.
As Cash played an interlude, Peyton smiled at me. “I love you, 3673,” she whispered. “I’m so happy you came.”