3. Chapter Three #3
“I suppose you’re delighting in this,” Father whispered hoarsely.
Before Collin could answer, his father interrupted him with sudden coughs.
Collin noticed a pitcher of water on the nightstand, along with a glass, and poured Father a drink.
He propped pillows behind his father’s back and brought the cup to his lips.
Father drank slowly until half was left.
Collin put the cup down and sat back in his chair.
Father cleared his throat. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
Father’s eyes locked upon Collin’s absent arm. “What happened?”
“War, the answer to everything these days,” Collin answered blandly, leaning against the back of his chair.
Father’s head dropped down. “Oh, yes. It seems like it has affected every family in some way. I wish I could have fought, but my pride took over me.”
There was the father Collin knew. Selfish and prideful.
Collin had curiously searched for his father in the records, and he wasn’t surprised to find him absent.
It was one of the few things that motivated Collin to enlist. No one was entitled over anyone.
Each man could serve a purpose in the war, either fighting or gifting donations.
Father wasn’t on either of those spectrums.
“Your daughters . . . are they here?”
“They are.”
Father’s lips parted into a soft smile. “Ironic isn’t it? We almost caused your marriage to crumble because we pressured you to have sons for heirs. Instead, you have three daughters.”
“I have never seen them that way,” Collin swiftly remarked. “They are daughters. Not heirs. They have the freedom to choose the life they want.”
Father’s mouth flattened. “That’s not what I meant. I just . . . don’t know how to speak to you. I have done so much wrong, and I . . . I don’t know how to fix it.”
Sincerity. Could this be? Collin’s posture tightened. Compassion.
“You can’t fix it,” Collin said, his voice cracking. “You can only ask for forgiveness.”
Collin’s chest ached. If Father asked for forgiveness, could he forgive him?
Would it take time? But time was running out.
God, please help me. This man had been cruel and only cared about his name.
He caused Anna and Collin more pain than they could have ever imagined.
They kept their daughters away out of fear they’d experience the same affliction.
Collin had spent two decades trying to protect his family, but there was only so much he could control. The war had been a testament to that.
“I cannot go back in time and fix everything, Collin. Believe me, I have wanted to for years, but the most I could do was repent and turn my life over to God.”
Collin’s gaze moved back to his father after hearing of God.
Never once had his father talked so seriously about religion.
If he did, he used it as an excuse by taking scripture out of context to justify his actions.
He quoted, “By much slothfulness the building decayeth, and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through,” when he took advantage of the impoverished.
It took Collin’s marriage to Anna to see how wrong it was.
Father rebuilt the business over the years, and Collin noticed a steady decline of residents at the settlement home. Perhaps his father did change.
“What do you mean?” Collin asked.
“I’ve gotten right with the Lord . . . I just haven’t gotten right with you.”
Collin rubbed the creases on his forehead.
“Son, I haven’t been the best father, but I want to spend my last moments making peace. I know it seems impossible because of the pain I caused, but . . . I’m asking for you to forgive me.”
Collin looked into his father’s clouded eyes. This was not the same man. Whoever Father used to be was gone, now asking for forgiveness.
Lord, help me forgive this man. Holding a grudge will do me no good. Help me let go of this anger and spite. Collin reached out his hand and placed it on top of his father’s icy one. Whatever time he had, he didn’t have long.
“I shouldn’t hold a grudge against you, Father.
What right do I have not to forgive you when Jesus died for us all?
” Collin’s throat clenched as he fought back tears.
He looked down at this helpless man who held his hand, asking to be forgiven.
Collin’s mind immediately went to Jesus on the cross.
He had been tortured and ridiculed by His own people, yet He forgave them.
Collin had no right to reject his father’s plea.
“I-I forgive you, Father.”
Father’s eyes flooded with tears as he faintly squeezed Collin’s hand. “Bless you, Son. Bless you.”
He had done the impossible, officially forgiven this man. As his father’s tears fell more rapidly, Collin experienced something he had longed for his entire life—a father’s love. I’m sorry I’ve doubted You, Lord. You can change lives, and now I have witnessed it.
“One thing, I beg you, Collin,” Father said, sniffing.
“What is that?”
“I-I want to meet my granddaughters . . . p-please.”