The Preacher's Son - Juliette Duncan Page 0,7

practical, both financially and for the children. The revelation that he was waiting for them to grow up so he could ‘explore his calling’ had shocked me and I didn’t quite know why.

Except I did know. As my own fears hit me with the force of something long suppressed, I pulled the car over and did what I should have done the night before. I prayed, asking God to show me the way forward, and to help me move through my own fears so I could see the situation more clearly. This wasn’t about not wanting to give up my holiday. I was again reminded of the time when Hayden left me to pursue what he then thought was his ‘calling’ and the heartbreak I had felt. That memory filled me with such bitterness every time his father brought up that Hayden had cast aside his vocation in the church. Logically I knew Hayden would never leave us, but there was a part of me that worried that if we went on this trip, he would become conflicted, and perhaps this time, the church and his calling would come first, and not me.

I didn’t want to be a preacher’s wife, not just because I was nothing like Sheila or his mother, but because of what I worried it would do to my marriage.

But Hayden never complained about being a lawyer's husband, my conscience whispered. After ten years, didn’t I owe him at least three weeks? I pressed my hands to my temples. If only I could think straight. Lord, guide my thoughts and help me do what You would have me do. If Sheila were here, she’d tell me to relax and trust that whatever God wanted for us would ultimately be the best for our family. Even though I believed that, I found it hard to put into practice.

Sighing heavily, I started the car again. I couldn’t be late for work since I was due in court, defending an eighteen-year-old boy who’d committed a burglary. He wasn’t a bad kid, and in the weeks I’d been working with him, I’d become fond of him. He was troubled, yes, and it had taken time for him to drop his attitude and to trust me, but now I knew he’d only committed the offence to settle his friend’s drug debt because he’d been worried about the consequences for his friend if it remained unpaid. However, he wouldn’t admit that in court. I was hoping that today he would finally plead guilty so I could get a reduced sentence and maybe save him from prison. The boy, Kane, had agreed, but he was likely to change his mind. He seemed to think that allowing me to cut any kind of deal was ‘bowing to the system’, but if he insisted on pleading not guilty against all the evidence, he’d be sent to prison for sure.

Part of me always enjoyed working with the young offenders, although they were often difficult and the cases sometimes were heartbreaking. When I was able to make a difference, the years I’d spent at law school and the long work hours I now worked all became worthwhile. My thoughts turned to the video I’d seen at church the day before, to the kids on the streets of Brazil who didn’t have the advantage of our legal system but were disadvantaged right from the start. My skills could certainly make a difference, even if for only three weeks.

Reaching the courthouse, I put those thoughts aside as I parked my car.

Kane stood outside dressed in his best jeans and a white button-down shirt like I’d suggested, but his gaze darted here, there, and everywhere. He looked ready to bolt. I prayed that he’d play ball and not allow his youthful belligerence and pride get him locked up.

He didn’t. A few hours later I shook his hand and tried not to cry as his grateful mother pulled me into an embrace.

“You have to abide by the rules of your probation,” I warned him, “and show up to community service. Otherwise it’s a year in prison.” A suspended sentence was harsher than the conditional discharge I’d been hoping for, but it was certainly preferable to jail.

He looked at me shyly, appearing a lot younger than his eighteen years. “Thank you,” he said quietly. The relief in his voice was palpable.

“You’re more than welcome,” I said softly before leaving him and his mother to get on with their lives. I had to get