so hard…so hard. But we know that you can make even this into something good. Please do that now, Father. We’ve both confessed our mistakes. We are sorry, God, for what’s happened, for our part in it. But we know that you are a God of grace. We ask for your grace to us now. Direct us and guide us in the days to come. Help us to make wise decisions. Above all, Father, let us seek your direction as we sort this out. God—” He struggled again for control. “God, please don’t let the tragic things that have happened over the last few weeks leave scars on Natalie or on little Nicole. Heal those wounds by your blood, Father. Let these children grow up strong and whole. Let their hearts always be soft toward you.” He squeezed Daria’s hands, feeling stronger for having prayed.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and whispered two words, but for him those two words held a lifetime of meaning—“Thank you.”
Thirty-Five
Nate couldn’t help but compare the entourage that left the courtroom to a funeral cortege—the mood was somber, the people were gathered in silent little groupings as they made their way down the hallway that led outside. The judge had ordered that security keep the media outside, so the hallway was quiet. But when the doors that led to the wide courthouse steps opened, a maelstrom of microphones, the nagging shouts of reporters, and the blinding flash of a dozen cameras assaulted the small group.
“Dr. Camfield! Dr. Hunter!” they shouted. “Daria!”
The media overtook them when they were halfway down the wide stairs. Daria leaned heavily on her father; Cole Hunter walked on the other side of her, beside Dennis Chastain. Nate’s own father strode beside him with the confidence of a seasoned lawyer.
Nate ducked his head and, in an irony of solidarity, he and Colson Hunter and Daria, with their loved ones, trudged through the gauntlet together.
“Dr. Camfield!” one reporter shouted above the din. “Is it true that you have decided to give up your rights to your daughter?”
Nate winced at the ugliness of the question. It made him sound uncaring, irresponsible even. Anger rose in him, but he pushed it down, praying desperately that God would give him wisdom in handling this mob, that he would not forget the absolute certainty he had felt about his decision only a few hours earlier.
Suddenly the words he had read again that morning seemed to be printed in the air before him like a divine teleprompter. Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
Nate turned and stopped in his tracks. He held up his hand, indicating that he wished to make a statement. “Please,” he said simply.
The clamor of the crowd died to a hushed murmur. Cole and Daria turned as one to the sound of his voice, and Nate saw the cautious expectancy on their faces.
His father put a hand on his arm, whether to warn him or bolster him, he wasn’t sure, but he went on. He looked full into the camera in front of him. O Lord, let my words be a witness for you.
He cleared his throat. “As you can imagine, this has been a nightmare for all of us.”
He paused and let his gaze encompass Cole and Daria. It still hurt to look at her. But now—by a strength he knew was far beyond his own—he was being lifted above the hurt, above the sorrow.
In spite of the slight rasp the fire had left in his vocal chords, his voice was strong, and even he could hear that it held more confidence than he felt. “This is not a decision any of us ever dreamed of being faced with,” he told the crowd, “but it was one we were forced to confront nevertheless. Through it all, as we have tried to sort out the questions, as we have sought answers to our dilemma, we have—all three of us—been guided by our deep, shared faith in God and, most of all, by our desire to do what is right, what is best, especially for the children involved.”
The crowd was utterly silent now, entranced by his words. He prayed he wasn’t overstepping the bounds of privacy for the