A Whisper of Danger by Catherine Palmer Page B

rest of his story. It sounded true and honest—and she was afraid she might start to believe anything he told her.
    “I have a good life, too,” she said. “I have a new home, enough money to get by on, work I love—”
    “And a son. Whose son is Spencer, Jessie?”
    “ Mine . He’s my son.” She swung around on the step to face him. “I’ve let you talk, Rick. I’ve given you what you asked. Now do something for me. Leave my house and my life, and don’t ever come back.”
    He squeezed his hands together, and she could see his biceps jump. His blue eyes locked on hers, and for a moment she was afraid he could read everything in her heart. He let out a sigh.
    “I can’t leave, Jessie,” he said. “I admit that in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve given you nothing and taken everything. But there’s something else I need. Something only you can give.”
    He covered her cold hand with his own. His fingers were warm and strong as he stroked them over her white knuckles. “Jessie,” he said, “I need your forgiveness.”

F IVE
    Forgiveness.
    Like a neon sign on a building in Piccadilly Circus, the word flashed fragments of a hundred Scriptures through Jess’s brain—verses Hannah had quoted when her four toto s had been fussing, squabbling, arguing with each other as children do.
    Forgive.
    “Forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven . . .”
    “If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive . . .”
    “When you are praying, first forgive anyone you are holding a grudge against. . . .”
    “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive these people, because they don’t know what they are doing. . . .’”
    “Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
    Jess could almost see dark-eyed Hannah gathering the Thornton children around herself like little chicks. Two would sit on her lap, another would crouch at her feet, the fourth would drape thin arms around her neck.
    Hannah’s rich voice would whisper, “Once upon a time, the apostle Peter asked Jesus, ‘Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?’”
    In response, all the children would chant the words they had heard so often from her lips: “‘No!’ Jesus replied, ‘seventy times seven!’”
    Seventy times seven? Jess couldn’t imagine forgiving Rick even once. What he had done to her was nothing like dipping a pigtail in red paint, hiding a favorite doll, or pinching an arm in the backseat of the car. What he had done was devastating, life-altering, unchangeable. He had betrayed her. How could she forgive that?
    “You expect me to ignore everything you did to me?” she asked. “You expect me to forget what I’ve been through at your hands?”
    “I didn’t ask you to forget.” His voice was deep. “I asked you to forgive.”
    “Do you think I can just wipe everything out? Do you think I can say it doesn’t matter anymore—that it’s okay what you did to me?”
    “No. It’s not okay what I did. What I did to you was wrong, Jessie. I’m not asking you to deny that. I’m asking you to forgive me.”
    She swallowed against the gritty lump that was forming in her throat. Why did he have to sound so sincere? Why couldn’t he be cocky or matter-of-fact about it all? Of course, Rick had always been a master at playing her emotions. He knew just how to get to her.
    “Maybe when I figure out the proper definition, I’ll forgive you,” she snapped. “In the meantime—”
    “Pardon,” he cut in. “That’s what it’s about. You don’t forget the sin, and you don’t deny that it was wrong. Forgiveness means you stop feeling resentment toward the person who hurt you. You stop being bitter. You stop letting the past affect how you live in the present. When you forgive me , it will change you .”
    “I’m happy just the way I am, thank you.”
    “Are