139

In a million years, I'd never expected to hear him utter those words. I drew away from him like he had the plague, scrambling back on the couch until I was as far as I could get and still be on it. He looked at me helplessly, realizing our relationship had changed forever.

"No!" I shouted. "No, no, no, no, no! You did those things to my mother? And you married him?" I said to her. "You married your rapist?"

The sins of the fathers visited tenfold upon the children. Suddenly, the reason he'd uttered those words were abundantly clear.

"Let me explain, Brooke. You need to hear the rest," Mom said.

"No, Marion. It's not your duty to tell. It's mine," this newly discovered stranger said. "It was my sin."

"Go ahead then," Mom said. "Tell it."

"After we'd done those horrible things to your mother; I was in her, just after having climaxed in her. She was crying, her eyes were red, snot was running from her nose. There were scratches on her, red blotches from where we'd manhandled her. She put her hand on my head and said, 'I forgive you'. I'd just done to most horrible thing any man could do to any woman and she put her hand on me and forgave me. I knew what I'd done was unforgivable, and she forgave me anyway. I didn't understand. It actually made me angrier. I fucked her again because she forgave me. She forgave me again. 'Bless him, Lord, because he doesn't understand.' I was outraged. How could she forgive me for what I'd just done?

"We dropped her off and tore off down the road, but I couldn't forget. She was right, I didn't understand. No one could forgive me after what I'd done. No one. I started going to church, trying to understand. I finally repented of my sins, but repenting wasn't enough. I needed to pay. I found her. It wasn't easy. I didn't even know her last name. I remembered the church she was going to get married in, asked the pastor if she'd gotten married. He said she'd gotten pregnant from some misfortune and the groom called the whole thing off. I was the misfortune. He gave me her last name and told me where I could find her. I went to her and apologized, told her I was ready to pay for my sins and she could call the police on me right then.

"Marion said, 'My daughter doesn't need you in prison, she needs a father. She needs a good father. Are you ready to be a good father to this little girl, no matter which of you planted her in my body.' I told her I would be the very best father I could, and if she'd have me, I'd be the husband to replace the one she lost. I wept, crying at her feet, and she picked me up off the ground and said, 'I've already forgiven you. I need you to be a man now. The time for regrets is past. I'll accept your offer.' So she married me and I've tried to be the best husband and father I could be, because I could never make up for what I'd done. It was only through her grace I was saved. I tried to protect you from what I was, and maybe I kept you too protected, too innocent. But I feel like I'm responsible, it's my fault all this happened to you. The sins of the father."

"Now, Henry. That's too Old Testament for me. God sent his Son to take our sins and wash them away and through him you were saved. The God I believe in is a loving God and he wouldn't need to visit your sins on our Brooke. These were evil man who haven't found the Lord, acting of their own volition. Let's not forget, my daughter may have inherited her love of sex from me. I've always had a fondness for the desires of the flesh. I've happily taken you unto myself on a regular basis I've loved it so much, even when you weren't much in the mood. It sounds as if God has taken them for their wicked ways and they're probably burning in hell as we speak. No. The past is the past and there's nothing for it. The thing we need to do is get our baby girl out of this blue funk she's in. I raised a fighter, not a quitter, and she's quitting and I won't have it. Brooke, I want you to get on your knees with me. You need to speak to God again."

"Mother, I already told you I don't feel close to God anymore."

"You may not feel close to Him, but He's close to you, whether you will it or not. Give me your hand and we'll pray together. On your knees now."

I took her hand and we knelt down. "Henry, you too. Take your daughter's other hand and pray with me."

He got down on his knees and offered his hand to me. I didn't want to take it. I was still shocked and angry at his revelation.

"Brooke," my mother said, "take your father's hand. He's done enough he's earned your hand in this one thing. We need to pray together. It's through our uplifted voices calling as one, God hears us best. Trust me in this. You will feel better."

I took his hand and we all bowed our heads.

"Lord, we ask for Your divine intervention on behalf of our daughter, Brooke Grant. She's recently suffered the travails of Job and her spirit is weak and unable to find You, her Heavenly Father, in her heart. I would ask, dear Lord, You send Your Spirit into her, to uplift her heart so she may find You again. Grant her Your strength, so she may endure all that's happened to her and find her way into Your loving arms once more. Grant her soul Your serenity so she can find peace. Please forgive her sins of the flesh and strengthen her resolve so she's able to resist their allure in the future. Let her find the understanding and forgiveness of Your Son so she may forgive her enemies and those who've hurt her. Open her heart to her earthly father who she feels has betrayed her in the means of her birth. Let her love him again as I love him as he has rued his evil past and tried to make amends by being the man he's become. I ask this in the name of Your Son, Jesus, our Lord and Savior, who You sent to take our sins and make them His own, to die for us and remove our stain. In His name we pray, Amen."

I don't know how it happened, but as Mom prayed, it felt as if a great weight was lifted from my heart and I was freed of my despair and anguish. The great pain I was feeling started to melt away. It was so simple. I squeezed her hand and that of my father. He squeezed it back.

"Can you ever forgive me, Brooke?" Dad asked simply.

"I don't know," I honestly replied. "It's a lot to take in. How did you forgive him, Mom?"

"He gave me my greatest treasure," Mom said, "you. No matter how it occurred, the means by which you came to me; he gave me you. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. Maybe it's why I could forgive him when he raped me. God let me know you were the blessing which would follow. It's very seldom we're given burdens greater than we can bear. That's not to say we can just say a prayer and all is right. God helps those who help themselves. You need to see a therapist, Brooke. This is not something you should bear all by yourself. You feel guilt from the pleasure you took. Guilt is a terrible thing. It can bring you to seek forgiveness as your father did, or it can cause you to seek ruination; to wallow in your sins. So I recommend a steady diet of therapy as well as prayer."

"Did you have a therapist?"

"I had a wise, compassionate pastor, a loving mother, and a good and saintly friend, Sister Mary."

"Tiffany's mother? I've heard you call her that before."

"Mary was a young nun, who also suffered from desires of the flesh. She made love to a boy, Tiffany's father, and became pregnant. She left the convent and married him and they had Tiffany. She understood the weakness a woman can suffer and helped me through a lot."

"She's Catholic and you're Baptist."

"I don't believe God differentiates between us sinners. We're all His children. What we call ourselves is of no more importance to Him than the words in a book. We're called to him and each find our own way."

"And now Tiffany has helped me."

"Her mother taught her well. She will always be a good friend. It's why she called us. She knew she needed help to reach you. We all need help once in awhile. Tiffany has recommended a good therapist. We need to make an appointment with her tomorrow. Your father and I will be staying for about a week or so, just to make sure you're on the right path again. Oh, this is getting harder and harder on my knees," Mom said. "I hope God won't take it ill if I start praying from a seated position."

She stood up, then helped pull me to my feet, then Dad. She hugged him.

"Help me make up our bed, Henry. I feel the need for some loving. It's been a hard day."

"Yes, dear."

He smiled at me and whispered, "She forgave me. I hope you can too."

They disappeared into the guest bedroom.