Chapter 19

That night, when I came out of the shower, Alison was making up my bed on the sofa as she'd been doing for the past several weeks. I went on into the kitchen for a drink, and then it hit me – things weren't as they had been. I left the glass on the counter and went back into the living room.

"You don't need to do that, Alison," I said gently.

"I don't?"

"No. I'll sleep in the bedroom tonight."

She stood there for a moment, the pillow in her hands. "You don't know how much that means to me."

"Probably I don't. I know it meant a lot to me when you were ready for me to sleep in our bed the first time. But I don't think that was the same. Then you were recovering from years of degradation. I've been ... recovering ... from a burden of ... I don't know what to call it, but it's messed me up rather badly. And I'm afraid that it's affected you too."

"You don't have to understand it, Alan. It's enough to know that your forgiveness is like your love – it's not just words."

"If I didn't love you, I would be unable to forgive you."

She shook her head. "You've read Jane Eyre, haven't you?" Whatever she'd been since leaving home, until that day she'd been an intelligent and well-read girl, and nothing she named surprised me.

"Yes."

"Then you remember when Jane unintentionally hurt St. John Rivers and she asked for his forgiveness, and he gave it easily. And it was like the forgiveness of a marble statue – it meant nothing."

"As far as I'm concerned, he ought to have asked for forgiveness too."

"I know, Alan – I agree with you. But that's not the point. St. John forgave without any cost. When you forgave me, it cost you everything, didn't it?"

I hadn't thought of it that way, but now that I did I had to agree. "It wasn't easy. My pride is gone, Al. I don't say that it'll never rear up again, but right now I'm not an offended male, I'm just your husband."

"Exactly. We women have our pride too, but it's different. Maybe it's not entirely different – if I knew you were consorting with other women it would offend my pride. You know: 'What does she have that I don't?'"

I took a couple of steps and held her face in my hands. "I spent months thinking of other men in bed with you. And it's still a painful thought. But since this afternoon, the point for me has been today, and the future. The past may have been shameful and it may be something that nauseates me, but it's over and done with."

"That's forgiveness too, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She dropped the pillow – I could feel it softly landing on my feet. Her hands came up and pressed my palms into her cheeks. "And it's love..."

"There can't be any genuine forgiveness where there is no love."

She smiled suddenly. "You're preaching your Gospel, aren't you?"

"As it happens, Al, I've been preaching the Gospel to you for four years now."

"You have?"

"Yes. Someone, I don't know who, once said, 'Preach the Gospel. If necessary, use words.' That's a clever saying and so it's got its holes, but the fact is that if I live my beliefs, what I say has more authority. Would you mind if I quoted the Bible to you?"

"You've never done that before."

"No – the no pressure bit, remember?"

Her hands were still on mine, but now she removed them and ran them through my hair. She had to reach up just a bit to do it, being slightly shorter than I was. "Perhaps you should apply a little pressure now, Alan. I'm not where I was back then."

"All right, then, here goes. Jesus said, 'Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.' I've been doing my best to let my light shine before you. Whether you're glorifying the Father is another question – which we can talk about whenever you're ready."

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet ... but I think I will be someday."

Now I smiled at her. "Did you ever think you'd say that?"

She laughed, tossing her dark hair. "Alan, I never thought I'd be ready to have you quote the Bible to me, much less consider listening to you preach. But even when you might have thought I wasn't paying attention, I've seen how you act. And that has been a pretty powerful sermon."

I didn't know what to say that that. Thank you, as mild as it was, seemed prideful – and anything more emphatic would be more so. Being therefore speechless, I once again communicated without words. I wrapped my arms around her – the first real fervent hug I'd given her since I'd brought her back – and kissed her for a long time.

I truly did forgive Alison that day ... and the next day ... and the next day ... and the next ... I began to learn what Jesus meant when He told His followers to forgive, if necessary, 490 times – seventy times seven. My forgiveness there on the trail had been absolutely sincere, but it didn't do away with the hurt and the anger completely. I'm human, I suppose, and my emotions aren't under my full control. I couldn't forget what Al had done – it kept coming into my mind, and sometimes I thought that now that I'd forgiven her the images were more vivid and more persistent. I didn't want to picture her doing what she'd done, but I did – in much more detail than I could ever have desired.