Winnie stand by her son, just as Charlie was committed to finally being the father Katri could depend on?
Then Julia would win.
No. It wasn’t all about his ex. He couldn’t let her destroy everything that was good in his life.
And, yet, how could he fight her? What a mess. All he could do was trust God.
His conscience jabbed. All he could do? That sounded so defeatist. Like faith was a last resort that might fix the problem when nothing else could... but it probably couldn’t, either.
That wasn’t true. Charlie wouldn’t claim a pie-in-the-sky daydream. No, faith was a front-line weapon. It was the feet of Moses as he publicly stepped into the Red Sea and watched it part in front of him. It was the bugle cry ahead of the children of Israel marching around the city of Jericho in anticipation of tumbling walls. It was Noah’s hammer building an ark because of a coming deluge though he’d never seen a raindrop.
Trusting God’s outcome, regardless of how things looked to the human eye.
Charlie was no hero of the faith. No Moses, Joshua, or Noah. He was just a guy who’d been lucky in life and worked hard until he’d achieved success by the world’s standards. All except for the wrecked marriage and estranged daughters, that is. But God was in the restoration business. He’d restored a link with Katri. Maybe Evie would be next.
How about Julia?
God wouldn’t ask that of him, would he? Charlie had no desire to rekindle anything with his ex-wife. Any love he’d felt had fizzled out decades ago. She didn’t want him back. She’d had more men than he cared to think about in the interim. She wanted to keep him off-kilter. Hurting.
She might have power to meddle and make things difficult for a time, but if God let Julia win, then there had to be a reason for it. Maybe Katri would be happier without Dominic.
Maybe Charlie would be happier without Winnie.
His heart shoved that thought away forcefully. Winnie was everything he needed.
Except he needed Jesus more.
He still had an hour before he hit the outskirts of Seattle. Another hour beyond that before Katri’s shift ended at the hospital.
Enough time to fix his eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of his faith.
Chapter Seventeen
Winnie glanced at her phone for the dozenth time today. Still nothing from Charlie since the text at midmorning.
Headed to Seattle to see Katri. Sorry to miss Christmas Day with you. XO
Yeah, she was sorry, too, but what good did it do them? Dominic needed his mom just as much as Katri needed her dad. Why did she and Charlie have to become derailed because of their kids’ cold feet? It wasn’t fair. A lot of things in life weren’t fair, and that had been true even before Al’s death. It was life.
Her five had settled around the television with controllers, playing a new game Dominic had introduced. Michael sat next to his oldest brother, chortling as he shot down space aliens. This was the most normal she’d seen him in a long time, and she wasn’t going to interfere. But she was restless and needed out of the house.
“Guys, I’m going over to Nonna’s house for a bit.”
“Got him!” yelled Brittany before glancing up. “Kay, Mom.”
Landon tossed her a quick grin. No one else paid any attention. All right, then.
A few minutes later, she tapped on Marietta’s door, let herself in, and stopped cold in the doorway. Kenji Ito? What was their elderly neighbor doing with Marietta? He sat in a chair close to hers, their knees all but touching. Both looked guilty as a couple of pups who’d raided the trash.
Winnie reached behind her for the doorknob. “Hi. I... can come back later.”
“No, come in.” Marietta beckoned imperiously. “You have interrupted nothing.”
Right. That’s not what Winnie’s eyes told her, but whatever. The disruption had already been made. Alive with curiosity, she smiled at the visitor. “Good to see you again, Kenji. I see Marietta got you some coffee and biscotti.”
“He made the coffee.”
Winnie might need to tape her eyebrows in a lowered position. No one made Marietta’s coffee the way she liked it without a lot of coaching. It had taken Kenna weeks to fix a palatable cup.
Kenji offered a modest smile. “It is good biscotti. Marietta says you made it?”
Winnie perched on the edge of a chair nearest the coat closet. “Ah, yes. Cranberry pistachio, one of our favorite flavors. I grew up on a cranberry farm. Maybe Marietta