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Cries of Grace (Cries Series) (Volume 2)

By Angela Beach Silverthorne

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Chapter 1
The day hung over Bren, heavy and unsure. Another life-chapter would close to herald in a new one.

Bren watched Caroline stuff the last shirt into her suitcase. Fear and joy, two diametrically opposed feelings, laced her insides into knots.

“There. I’m done.” Caroline swung her petite body around and faced Bren. “I’m headed down the hall to do my last hugs. Wanna come?”

Bren felt her chest tighten. “No. I think I’ll finish packing.” Standing up, she walked to the window to look out over the campus. People were scurrying from one dorm to the other. Parents and siblings were lugging suitcases, carrying overfilled, used liquor boxes and oversized beanbags to cars parked in every available spot. The ritual of campus evacuation happened twice a year.

“The time went by too fast, didn’t it?” The words faintly tumbled from Bren’s mouth.

Caroline came up behind Bren, placing a hand at the small of Bren’s back. “It sure did. You were the best part of the last five years. I’m so glad we roomed together.”

Bren turned around and smiled. “Who would’ve thought we’d make it through undergraduate and graduate school together. Same room. Same view. Looking back, it seems impossible, doesn’t it?”

The girls laughed and hugged. Bren had dreaded this day for weeks. Bittersweet memories filled her mind, softening the moment into a triumph of blessings.

Bren declared, “Just think, in two weeks you’ll be Mrs. Thomas Canfield.”

“And you’ll be my maid of honor.” Caroline squealed, causing Bren to laugh out loud. “I’m so excited. You know how much I love Tommy. We’ve waited so long, and it’s almost here.” Caroline squealed again.

“You know I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.” Bren walked back to her cot, swinging a large duffle bag on top.

When Bren heard the door softly close, she began to cry. Thinking of the future was daunting. The last five years had given her a driven purpose. For the first time in her life, she had known what was expected of her. She felt secure, and she liked the woman she had become. But over the previous few weeks, old feelings, insecurities, and tension had filled her dreams, leaving her days marked with worry. What would it be like to go back to The Haven? Would the nightmare of the assault on her family five years before loom over her? Could she cope with the past and build a new future?

Reaching under her bed, she pulled out a small trunk. With the tail of her shirt, she rubbed its top, removing the light coating of dust. Her hands trembled as she opened the leather treasure. Lifting her grandmother’s journal up to her chest, she pressed her sacred gift in close. Bren had read its contents many times and more often in the last few weeks. Lowering her head, she pressed her lips to the top of the journal. She could almost smell the lavender scent she identified with her grandmother, GG. More tears burned as Bren remembered their last moments together. Would she ever be whole again? Would this intense loss ever find rest in her soul?

Bren pushed the duffle bag to the floor, sat down, and opened the journal to her grandmother’s last entry.

Dearest Father,
Tonight my heart found peace. Perfect peace. Since my darling husband died, I have struggled to remain strong and focused. Every foot forward was because You gave me the strength, Lord. Now my precious granddaughter, Bren, is back in my life. She came disheartened and broken, but You, Heavenly Father, loved her through it all. Jesus, You gave us the words to calm her spirit so she could begin to feel Your strength. The Haven has now become her home. She is strong. You have a mighty warrior in this child. She will honor You, Jesus, just as I have. I know my time on Earth is short. Bren will need You every hour. The fifth point on the star is coming. I feel him approaching. His gift will be love. Love is the only thing that can win over the evil ready to attack us. You proved the power of love when You gave Your life for us. Let love soak this land that has been consecrated to Your glory. Put a balm of blessings over my Bren’s heart after I’m gone. She has much work to do. Don’t let her wind her heart around what-ifs but around You and the kingdom work that needs to be done. Let my last breath be declaring my love for Thee.
Your child, Gwendolyn Grace (GG)

Bren closed her grandmother’s journal and placed it lovingly back into the trunk. The words grounded Bren. She had a lot to get done. The next day’s trip back to The Haven would be her first in over a year. Cards, pictures, letters, and phone calls had kept her informed while she was in nursing clinicals and finishing up the last semester of studies. But it wasn’t the same as being there. Had everyone changed as much as she had? Would they all look at one another like strangers? The thought caused her chest to ache. Would Joseph look at her differently? For five years he had been devoted to work at Th e Haven. Copious letters and pictures showed the beautiful progress and growth he and Moses had accomplished. Joseph always insisted every new project have Bren’s stamp of approval, especially since Falon had left.

Falon. Bren closed her eyes, stalling another avalanche of tears. Falon wouldn’t be there to help ease Bren back into home and the business. Bren understood. Falon had stayed for a year to begin restoration on The Haven. At that point she felt comfortable to leave and pursue the dream she and Lael had envisioned. The last time Bren spoke to Falon, she was finishing her doctorate degree and running a home for abused children in Montana. Bren knew her grandparents were in Heaven applauding Falon’s strength and determination to help others and rejoicing to see The Haven in its height of lushness. Business had quadrupled. New partners had come on board. More importantly, The Haven was at peace.

It had also been a year since Bren had seen her mom and sisters. Plans to go home over Christmas break ended when Bren got an opportunity to tutor under a renowned midwife in Durham, North Carolina. She almost reneged, but her mother insisted Bren go. Thank goodness for the twins. The girls had been great communicators. Since they were ten years old, they called, sent letters, and drew hundreds of pictures, many filling up the wall above Bren’s desk. Whenever she got blue, she would cast her eyes up and see her whole family in vibrant colors, active, safe, and happy. They would no doubt welcome her wholeheartedly.

Looking at her wall of memorabilia, she spied a crayon drawing of Moses and Miriam trimming the Christmas tree. They were family. Moses was more like a father than hers could have ever been. Would things be different when she returned? After the satanic attack on The Haven, Moses was injured. Thinking he was going to die, Miriam convinced Dominique to come to the hospital and marry Moses and Miriam. In the middle of questions and reservations, Miriam stood determined.

Standing close to Moses, Miriam whispered in his ear, “Dominique’s here to marry us. You better wake up in time to say I do.”

Moses coughed and sputtered, opening his eyes wide. “Woman, I decide when and if I’m gonna be married!” Then his eyes softened when he saw her anguished look. “You’re my woman, the love of my life. Will you marry me?” Miriam flung herself over Moses body, causing him to wince in intense pain.

Bren laughed just thinking about it. She’d been in the room as a reluctant witness. Uneasy, thinking Miriam’s plan might not be legal, or that Moses might not respond, Bren stood ready to protest as Moses’s advocate. When Bren did suggest an alternative action, Miriam’s response stood final. “My man’s gonna marry me even if he can only lift his little finger to signal yes!”

Looking back, Bren knew their marriage had been an anecdote for healing. Within three weeks of hospital stays and rehabilitation, Moses was walking with a cane. As a wedding gift, Falon contacted Isaiah Bennett and purchased a plot of land large enough to make a road between The Haven’s Purple Region and Moses’s home place, Moss Run. She deeded it over to a weeping Moses and Miriam, assuring them it was to make their travels to The Haven easier. Over the next five years, Moses not only worked at The Haven but managed to restore Moss Run to Miriam’s specifications.

Bren started taking down one picture, one drawing at a time, holding each a little longer to savor the memory. Lifting one picture caused another to fall to the floor. Pushing her desk away from the wall, she retrieved the photo. It was of Creed at his undergraduate ceremony from the University of North Carolina. She remembered meeting his mother, Jennybelle, at the coliseum and watching her cry through the whole ceremony. Creed graduated with honors and immediately began law school two weeks later. He had lost the lanky, scrawny look and developed into a tall, handsome man. Every time Bren saw a picture of him, he had a new girl on his arm, a measure of Creed’s outgoing nature and continued success. Bren knew Moses’s dreams for Creed to be a successful lawyer were being realized.

The door opened with a knock. Stacy, a fellow student, stuck her head around the doorframe. “Hey, are you going to the graduation ceremony tonight?”

Bren shook her head. “No. My family made the trek for undergraduate, but I told them not to come for this one. I’m not staying. I need to go home.”

Stacy waved and blew a kiss. It didn’t register with Bren when she said it, but all she could focus on were the truth in her words. She needed to go home.


Bren had already loaded the car, cleaned the room, and showered before collapsing on the cot, exhausted. Car horns blared, voices were raised in jubilation, fi reworks exploded, and people ran up and down the hall. Bren let go and drifted off to sleep. A deep silence draped around her. She felt the world shift . Fitful dreams collided into one another, disconnected and troubling. A man’s face ebbed between each venue, hazy and unrecognizable. The last thread of visions cleared and she was running, continuing to look over her shoulder. In a flash, the man’s face appeared again, handsome and regal. When he smiled, terror slammed her. Sitting straight up, she wrestled her consciousness from the image.

Folding in an act of prayer, Bren found no words of comfort. Feeling helpless, she walked over to the window, opened the blinds, and perused the campus lawn below—empty except for two lone walkers. Taking in a deep breath, she said out loud, “Here I am, Lord. Send me. I’m not sure what lies ahead, but I’m keeping my eyes on You. Give me wisdom. Keep my feet firmly planted.”

Looking around a near empty dorm room, she sighed, watching threads of light push through the louvers and cascade around the room, pulsing in live undulations. Dust motes danced between ribbons of color, dainty fairies announcing a new day, a new beginning.

Taking a last look, Bren picked up her purse and remaining items and left. There was no power in her exit, only resolve.


On purpose, Bren kept the time of her return home a secret from her mother. Bren had something to take care of, a visit she had wrestled with, prayed over, and finally acquiesced to do. In order to make a new beginning, she had to finish something she had started five years ago. An image of her father surfaced, standing over her, hatred etched into his face. She drew her lips together and blew out a long breath to keep panic at bay. Frightening as it was, her grandmother had taught forgiveness was freedom for the one offering it. And Bren had. She longed to seal it by telling her father goodbye. It was a journey she had to do alone. She wanted to enter The Haven free of regret, bitterness, and loss. There were too many things ahead. Starting them with anything less than joy was unacceptable.

Bren stopped at her favorite coffee hangout for a mocha espresso and bagel. The stretch home went quickly. The radio was set to her favorite station, the volume raised, and her windows were open, as she sang loud enough to get two waves and an upturned thumb. She traveled, taking in each sound, sight, and smell offered. Five miles from her destination, she reversed everything, turned off the music and rolled up the windows. She drove deliberately and mindfully. Pulling into Memorial Gardens, she began looking for the tombstone bearing the name of her father: Larry Ji Parrot.

Winding around the strips of pavement that ran between rows of graves, she traveled slowly, reading each name. Many names were familiar. Most held memories. Like Mrs. Gladys Webb, Bren’s first grade teacher. Or John Griffin, a schoolmate’s dad. Then there was Molly Grimes who died at two years old. Etched on her tombstone was: She only knew love. The list grew. Bren kept driving. As she turned the last bend, before entering the graveyard’s new section, she spied her father’s tombstone. Pulling off to the side, she reached behind her seat, pulled out a bouquet of artificial flowers and her journal, got out of the car, and headed toward the variegated gray slab of granite.

Standing in front of her dad’s burial site, she stared at each letter. Bren lowered herself to the grass, her gaze fixed. A gentle breeze rolled across the newly manicured lawn, lifting the ruffled sleeve on her blouse, sending a prickling sensation up and down her arm. It caused her to smile, thinking it was probably GG’s spirit whisking by in gratitude.

Scooting closer, Bren reached her hand out and traced each letter. Dropping her hand, she reached beside her and grabbed the journal. This would be the first entry—a new tradition to herald a new beginning. This, too, had been planned. Taking the pen out of the journal’s binding, she began to write.

June 1992
Dear Dad,
I love you. I forgive you. I said these words five years ago. I still mean them. No, I haven’t forgotten what you said to me or what you did. Forgiveness doesn’t wipe out memory, but it eases the pain and lets you heal within the hurt and brokenness. I can say it doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t have as many nightmares. And, I’m not searching the crowds, thinking you’re coming back for vengeance.

God has blessed me with a new view on life with Him at the center. I cannot hate you where I exist now, circled in God’s love. All I can do is feel sad for you. You must have suffered things we did not understand to have turned to Satan for affection. I wish you could have seen all the love waiting for you . . . Mom, me, GG, Falon, Abigail, and Amy. At any point and time, you could have changed the course of our lives with three little words: I love you.

Since I cannot know the whys, I trust Jesus to stand in your place and guide me into the future. I’m scared. I want to be GG’s granddaughter, to stand tall and bring others to Christ. As a nurse, I want to heal and offer people a glimpse at what real love looks like.

I’ve come to realize all the things that happened to our family had a purpose within God’s will. Today, our family is strong, healthy, and at peace. Right now, I want to confess one of many blessings I’ve received from all that’s happened to me. I’ve been afraid to even voice it, but I wanted you to know. In the darkest hours of my life, in the deepest suffering I’ve ever experienced, God remembered me and gifted me Joseph. Over the last five years, I have grown more in love with this man. I keep wondering how this can be, but I know it’s right.


Bren lifted her head, looked around, and seeing no one, yelled, “I am madly in love with Joseph LeMaire!” Tears spilled down onto her journal. She drove her tongue hard into her upper left molars to squelch the tears and bared down on her uneven breathing. Swiping at her cheeks, she continued writing.

Lord, give me strength. Let me be still and wait patiently for Your will to be done. You know what I have to do. You know how I feel about Joseph. I realize he may not feel the same. He may want to leave once I get home and go back to his family. Oh Father, keep my heart from breaking. I cannot let feelings stand in the way of the work You have for me to do.

Dad, I pray for your soul.

Your loving daughter,
Bren


Bren stood up and wiped her face. Picking up the flowers, she placed them in the urn vase built into the base of her father’s tombstone. Completeness filled her. It is finished.

As soon as Bren got back into the car, she decided to make one more stop. Pulling up in front of Skip Hardy’s house caused her heart to leap for joy. Every step up to the front door was a silent plea that Skip and Marcy would be home. The doorbell rang clear, a dog barked, and she heard a familiar voice shouting, “I’ve got it!”

The door opened, and Skip Hardy yelled again, “It’s Bren! Marcy, it’s Bren!” before pulling her into his arms and twirling her around. Then Marcy came up and joined the merriment. When they released, Marcy and Bren were crying. Skip rubbed his nose and dabbed his eyes.

Marcy grabbed Bren’s hand. “I’ve got someone you’ve got to meet!” Bren looked up at Skip, and he winked. She knew exactly who this special person was. As they rounded the corner into the living room, there was the bassinet.

Bren walked over and peered down at Benjamin Allan Hardy, Jr. He was perfect! Without one minute of trepidation, Bren picked Ben up and pulled him into her chest. His sweet, warm body was a reminder of God’s graciousness.

Marcy and Skip stood close, leaning into one another.

“God is truly amazing,” Bren announced as she ran her fingers lightly over the baby’s peach-fuzz head.

“We were told we couldn’t have children,” Marcy confessed. “Guess the doctors hadn’t consulted with the Great Physician.”

“Strangest thing,” Skip stated, “when Marcy told me she was pregnant, I just stared at her. When I saw her getting upset, I acted like I was happy. But I can admit it now; I really didn’t believe her until we went for the ultrasound. When I saw Ben, moving and sucking his little finger, I cried like a baby. The attending tech looked miserable, not knowing what to do. I don’t know if she thought I was filled with anger or joy. Outside of marrying Marcy, that was the best day of my life.”

Bren kept her eyes on Ben. Watching him studying her made her heart soar. His little eyes grew wider as she moved closer to kiss his forehead. Seeing his hands open and close, clutching nothing but the air, caused her to giggle. When the dog barked, Ben’s eyes fluttered as if the noise was in his face.

“Have you been to The Haven yet?” Skip asked.

Bren hated to break her observations of a sweet miracle, but did, looking up and smiling. “No, I haven’t been home yet. I needed to go to the graveyard. It was my first time to go to Dad’s grave, and I wanted to leave some things there. You know what I mean.”

Marcy picked up on the conversation. “Bren, I’m so sorry about your dad. He was a tormented soul. I thought when he was captured after the attack that he would change for the better. Did Skip tell you he saw him in prison?”

Bren shot Skip a heated look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Skip motioned for everyone to sit down. Marcy took Ben from Bren’s arms, excusing herself to nurse him. Skip waited for Bren to sit down before he drew up a chair, almost touching her, knee to knee.

“I was working on a case that took me up to the prison. I did not go with an intention to see Larry. I’m sorry to say, but I really hadn’t thought much about him since he got captured. I was so glad to see it over and your family finally safe that I sorta forgot about him.”

Seeing Bren’s face, he paused, touching her knee. “I’m going to tell you the truth about that visit. I know this will be painful, but I always believe the truth is easier in the long run.”

When Bren nodded, he continued. “A buddy of mine that works at the correctional facility asked me about Larry. Seemed he remembered we used to be childhood friends. When I acknowledged that, he asked me to come to his office. He retrieved Larry’s fi le and showed me several entries noting your father screaming and demanding help, feeling someone was trying to kill him. Often during the night, inmates would begin clanging their cups against the bars to get the guards to come and shut your father up. He would scream blood-curdling yells that scared a lot of the men on his floor. Th e warden had doctors and psychiatrists involved. At first they thought he was pulling a prank to get out of his cell. As he became more insistent that evil was coming to kill him, the warden took more precautions.

“Extra guards were put on duty, hoping to see if any of the inmates were threatening Larry. When that didn’t pan out they put him in isolation, but Larry kept insisting someone wanted to harm him. One night the doctor went to the area to check on him. Larry was lying on the floor, cut from one end to the other. Blood was everywhere. The doctor rushed inside to see if Larry was dead. He was not. Rushing to the door, the doctor hollered for the guards. Within minutes the guards and warden arrived. They all stood outside the prison cell staring in horror at your father.”

Skip tried to gauge Bren’s reaction, but she just stared at him, not in disbelief, but in acceptance.

“You know this is killing me, but I thought you needed to know the truth,” Skip said.

In the background Bren heard Marcy singing a lullaby. Bren couldn’t make out the words, but the cadence was soothing and somewhat familiar. She concentrated on the ceiling fan for a few seconds, hoping to process the news without becoming terrified. She closed her eyes and silently prayed the Serenity Prayer. Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. She repeated it three times before opening her eyes and facing Skip.

“Go ahead,” she told Skip. “They brought in a gurney, covered your father with a sheet, and took him to the infirmary. The doctor felt ill-equipped to handle the situation, so the warden had your father transported to a psychiatric ward in a nearby hospital under full police protection. I got a call from a buddy at the prison and went to see him.”

Skip hung his head, staring at his lap. “I almost backed out of going. I truly didn’t want to see him, but I felt it was the right thing to do. Anyway, I went up, totally unprepared. The guy at the prison only told me half the story. When I saw Larry, I almost passed out. He looked like a monster. His arms and legs were bandaged, but his ragged, torn face had been left exposed. His mouth was so distorted from the cuts and swelling that he could barely speak. He recognized me and asked me to sit close. He told me they would kill him soon. He wasn’t hysterical or panicked. In fact, he seemed lucid and reconciled. I asked him who wanted to kill him and why. Larry told me he had failed the Evil One and must die. He was unworthy to continue following the master.”

Lifting his head, Skip stared at Bren. “I asked your dad if I could pray for him. He laughed, saying prayer was for idiots. Then he stopped cold and tried to reach for me, but he couldn’t. So he settled back and asked me to please forgive him. I got down on my knees and began praying. As I was ending my prayer, Larry began reciting the twenty-third Psalm. I opened my eyes and watched as he finished with an “Amen.” He opened his eyes, and we sat still for a chilling few minutes before he told me I needed to go home. His voice was kind and gentle. I almost thought I could see the edge of his lip turn up.” Skip put his hands on either side of his face, and anguish cut into his voice. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to see good in him. Maybe he realized what he had done and wanted to be forgiven. I will never know now. I got up and left . Two days later I got an anonymous call that Larry hung himself.”

“What?” Bren gasped. “I thought the autopsy said. . .”

“The autopsy report said he died of natural causes.” “Dad was part of a satanic cult. Do you believe he died of natural causes?”

Skip shook his head.

Bren heard Marcy reenter the room. “Marcy, I want you to hear what I’m about to say to Skip.” As soon as Marcy sat beside Bren, she opened up. “Skip, you asked me to trust you. It took the third request before I did. You were part of the team that defeated the evil that attacked my home. You were a major part of the team that rescued us. My father would’ve destroyed us if he could have. I pray he had remorse. I pray he sought Jesus before the Evil One took his life. That little glimmer of hope is enough to give me joy. But my greatest joy right now is seeing you, Marcy, and Ben together. You realize, more than anyone else, that things could have turned out very different. Don’t second-guess your last visit with my father. You prayed with him. Do you know how thankful I am? I owe you so much. Never think about this again. You’ve been blessed for being a servant. You did what Jesus would have you do.”

Bren reached over and kissed Marcy’s cheek, tasting salty tears rolling down her face. Then Bren reached over and took Skip’s large hands in hers and pulled him forward to kiss him, too. “I love both of you. Now I have Ben to love, too. With all our might, we must stay focused and strong in our faith to make sure Ben never sees what we’ve witnessed. We must fight until the end for Ben, Abigail, Amy, and our community to keep them safe from the evil that exists. We need to educate them so they can be watchful. Satan would like nothing better than for us to be numb and ignorant.”

“You’re right. The Bible says a prudent man foresees evil and hides himself, but the simple man passes on and is punished. That speaks volumes for me.”

“Me, too. Okay . . . I have to go home. But I want you to know I’m available to babysit. I can’t wait to have some quality time with Ben. And please visit The Haven. I have very little possessions to get into place. Come soon, promise me.”

Outside, Marcy pointed to the sky. “Looks like there’s going to be a shower. You’d better get home quick. Your mother will be worried about you.”

Bren did her final hugs, got into the car, and started for her final stop of the day. Home.

The view heading there hadn’t changed much. The same pine thickets, crumbling tobacco barns, and rusted, abandoned cars, which had become greenhouse-refuges for young saplings. As she approached The Haven, she saw the newly constructed wooden fence lining the property edge. When she got to the entry road, she stopped. A large ranch gate built from sturdy railroad ties made a heartwarming entry. It was beautiful, denoting the strength and endurance of her family. An iron gate spanned between the ties, open and inviting. Bren’s excitement grew. Her heart swelled. She was home.

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