Sanction: Covenant of Trust, #4

By Paula Wiseman

How can God forgive what you can't?

Just months after Shannon's homecoming, she finds readjusting to life at home is not as easy as she anticipated. A new wave of guilt crashes over her as her family learns that her encounter with Dylan Snider was anything but consensual. Complicating matters is Matt Bolling. The former missionary kid turned preacher is more than interested in her, but she is certain after her months as a prodigal, Matt is out of her league.

With her cancer gone and retired from teaching, Bobbi struggles to find a purpose beyond caring for her family. When she proposes taking over Brad's mission, that touches off an unforeseen conflict with her husband.

Chuck's quest for justice unexpectedly forces him to reexamine his definitions of forgiveness and grace when events demand that he seek it from and offer it to the unlikeliest people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Wiseman
• Release date: Oct 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386123064

Paula Wiseman

Author, blogger, and speaker Paula Wiseman is a left-handed Southerner transplanted to Illinois. When not grading homeschool assignments or checking up on college life, she is proofreading her husband’s seminary papers. Keeping a bowl of M&Ms or Rolos close by helps her write award-winning Christian fiction bestsellers, like the Covenant of Trust, Foundations, and Encounters series as well as several devotional books. Find out more at www.paulawiseman.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

ACCUSATION

Tuesday, March 10

All rise.

It was no less intimidating the second time the judge swept into the courtroom, his black robe swirling behind him. Please, be seated, he said, and Shannon Molinsky, her parents and everyone else did just that.

She fixed her eyes on the back of Dylan Snider’s head, sitting several rows ahead of them at the defense table. His black hair was longer than she remembered, and it lay in neat layers. His earring was gone, and in his tailored navy suit, he could have passed for a banker or one of the new attorneys at her father’s law firm.

Anything but a rapist.

Her brother, Joel, testified this morning. One of the four girls bringing the charges was a patient of his. Her injuries were consistent with a sexual assault, Joel said. Her parents both stiffened with those words. They knew she’d been with Dylan, but they didn’t know the whole story.

They both protested when she announced she wanted to come to the trial. I don’t want you anywhere near that punk, her father said. He’s bad news. She didn’t disagree.

Do you still have feelings for him? her mother asked.

Feelings? Yes. Mostly revulsion and disgust.

She didn’t blame either one of them for their misgivings, though. Not after last summer. Not long after Brad’s murder, she went to a party at Dylan’s house and was arrested for drinking. Her dad flipped. He wouldn’t let her explain she’d taken one sip of punch after eating a hot pepper. No, his mind was made up. Case closed.

She went out with Dylan, and her dad came positively unglued. So she snuck out one Saturday morning with Dylan’s help. Her brilliant plan had been to punish her father for his overbearing hypocrisy. After all, his affair led to Jack, which brought Jack’s grandfather to Brad’s mission downtown, which led to Brad and Jack rushing out onto the streets and into the middle of a drive-by shooting. In her mind, he was ultimately responsible for Brad’s death, yet he didn’t hesitate to condemn her minor offenses.

Dylan Snider preyed on her vulnerability. He toyed with her emotions and used her need for validation against her. That Saturday night, Dylan held her down and stole her virginity from her. Because of the shame over what she’d done, and the humiliation at the role she played in Dylan’s actions, she couldn’t bear to face her parents. It was New Year’s Day when her dad found her and brought her home. Six months later.

The defense calls Dylan Aaron Snider to the stand.

Her mother reached out, but Shannon quickly withdrew her hand. Otherwise, her mother would discover how cold and suddenly clammy her hands were. She caught a glimpse of her father’s scowl. Just wait ’til he starts talking, Dad.

Shannon watched Dylan’s lawyer’s demeanor change from the bulldog who cross-examined the victims, to a parent or grandparent concerned over her little boy’s troubles. She was the perfect lawyer for him.

Dylan performed flawlessly. With puppy dog eyes, he spun a sad tale about pawing, desperate girls pushing themselves on him, threatening to tell everyone he’d raped them if he didn’t give in.

Unconsciously, Shannon tightened her hands into fists. Lies. All of it. Lies. Every word relayed in that same soft, mellow voice he’d used on her.

Oh, no, ma’am, he said to his lawyer. I never gave her any reason to think that I was interested in a sexual relationship.

That was the only thing he was interested in. Shannon crossed her legs tightly. He was going to talk his way out of this. The jurors, all paying rapt attention, were buying his version. He would walk out of here scot-free after raping those four girls. None of them would get the justice they deserved. Neither would she.

Finally, Dylan looked across the courtroom directly at her. I never hurt anyone. I never took advantage of anyone. I never violated anyone’s boundaries. I never asked anyone to do anything they weren’t completely comfortable with. Never.

White rage exploded in Shannon’s head, and with total disregard for the courtroom, for the jury, for her parents, she leaped to her feet and pointed a finger at Dylan Snider’s heart. He’s lying! He’s a rapist! HE RAPED ME!

*******

Chuck Molinsky jerked his car from one lane to another with one thought in mind—get her away. Get Shannon away from the courthouse, from the courtroom, from that . . .

He tried to process and make some sense of the blurry mess of details tumbling through his mind. The leering grin on that boy’s face. Bobbi’s soul-shattering gasp. The bailiff’s hand on his daughter’s shoulder. Raped. His daughter. His baby girl. She never told them. Why? Why would she keep that a secret? In a tearful confession, she led them to believe it was consensual. Why? Why would she protect that boy? Red light.

He glanced in the rearview at Bobbi in the backseat, silently cradling Shannon, stroking her hair, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. His daughter’s eyes were clamped shut, with only the faintest whimpering sniffle.

I’ll kill him. I should have last summer when I had the chance. He squeezed the steering wheel, trying to will the rational part of his brain back into control. He told me. He admitted he had been with Shannon. And the pictures, he had pictures. Those are evidence. She’s got a case. Green light.

But this case, this trial, was over. With that outburst, Shannon probably destroyed any chance for a conviction. Arguably, she got that impulsiveness from him. If she’d told him the truth, though, he could have prepared her. The prosecutor would’ve eaten that kid alive. The kid who raped his daughter. Raped her. Planned it. Psychopath.

He caught Bobbi’s eyes in the rearview. Anguished powerlessness. That’s what he saw. It’s what he felt. They were on the same page, but she could suspend her emotion for Shannon’s sake. He wasn’t sure he could. A few more minutes and they’d be home, and then the details would come. If he didn’t vomit or destroy something, it would be a miracle.

He pulled his car into the driveway and quickly got out to open Bobbi’s door. Let’s get you inside, baby, she said.

Mom, I—

Shh, we don’t have to talk about this right now.

Chuck wanted to shout, Yes we do! But he didn’t say anything. He stood there as Shannon passed by without raising her head. Shame. That . . . punk raped her, and she was shamed. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t wait until they got inside until the moment was right until she was ready to talk or whatever. He put a hand on her, and with the gentle pressure, she paused and raised her head.

He wanted to tell her something—something wise and profound and comforting, but he saw her tears. He managed to shake his head before she fell against him. He felt the heave in her chest, her fingers desperately clinging to him, and his emotion broke loose. He sobbed with her, with Bobbi, for grief, for anger and injustice, and for failure. And for a God who turned His face away yet again.

*******

An hour later, Bobbi found Chuck in the kitchen. What are we going to do? She folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. Is there anything we can do?

I don’t know. Chuck slumped into the nearest chair and pushed his glasses out of the way to rub his eyes. Bobbi, I . . . when she . . .

She raised her hand. I can’t go there, Chuck. I can’t let myself feel anything right now.

She stared out across the room and shook her head. How could she have missed something like this? How could Shannon keep it from her? They’d been inseparable for the last three months. Shannon had driven her to every doctor’s appointment, sat through every treatment with her. She thought the wounds were healing. The truth was Shannon hadn’t healed enough to deal with the real wounds yet.

But Bobbi had been in that very place. Not . . . raped . . . but too hurt to heal. Too bitter to trust anyone to walk with her on that road. Yearning for vindication, but questioning whether it would ever come. Wondering how a good God could let incomprehensible things happen. Yes, Bobbi had far more experience with those issues than she cared to. Shannon was only eighteen. Carrying that burden, alone, for so long, it was no wonder it came out when it did.

When Shannon slipped away from them last summer, for that first day, Chuck was paralyzed by guilt, unable to act, leaving it to Joel and Gavin, her sister’s husband, to formulate some plan to find her. Once again, he was in that same place—paralyzed. Gavin and Rita were out of the country, in Israel on a trip their children had given them for Christmas. That left Joel. Should we call Joel? she asked.

You think we should ask Shannon first?

She’s asleep.

Asleep? How?

I had something the doctor gave me after Brad. I never took any, but I hung on to them.

He gave her a half nod. He held her down, Bobbi. Pinned her arms down.

I know, she whispered and blinked away a tear. Sitting on the sofa while Shannon choked through the details was the most wrenching thing Bobbi had ever been through, worse than reading that e-mail from Tracy Ravenna exposing Chuck’s affair twenty years ago. She slid into the seat next to her husband and tried to take his hand, but he wouldn’t let her.

She stayed away for all those months because of what he did, he murmured.

I know. He wasn’t listening, though.

Why was she so ashamed? He violated her. I don’t understand why she’s ashamed.

We probably never will.

His eyes were focused on the kitchen window, or maybe some spot in the sky. She would’ve come home the next week if he hadn’t done that. She would’ve called. His voice rose, and the words came one on top of the next one. She would’ve told us where she was. We wouldn’t have gone for months not knowing, grieving.

Chuck.

What he did to her was just the beginning . . . Everything you went through . . . I nearly lost you—

It wasn’t that dramatic. Her words weren’t registering.

I blamed myself. I thought we were cursed. Maybe we are. How can God stand by while she was being—

Chuck. This time she grasped his arm.

What?

Call Joel.

Joel?

Call his cell phone.

He . . . he’s with patients. He won’t answer.

Call him. If he doesn’t pick up, call the office and have the girls get him on the line.

He blinked and seemed to bring himself back to the present, then he picked up the receiver and dialed what she hoped was Joel’s number.

Joel, he said, but then he just stopped, and handed her the phone.

She cleared her throat, and held the phone close, keeping an eye on Chuck. Honey, we went back for the afternoon session, and . . . Shannon . . . she was also a victim.

Oh no . . . Mom . . . what . . . you just found out?

Actually, she spoke out in court. It was . . . We got escorted from the courtroom.

Good grief, Joel said softly. Is she okay?

No.

And neither is Dad, is he?

Bobbi glanced at Chuck. No.

I’ve got a half-dozen patients left, and then I’ll be over. How are you?

She needs me, I’ll get through.

Superman’s got nothing on you.

I’m not so sure. We’ll see you soon. Love you.

Love you, too, Mom. She returned the phone to its cradle and turned to Chuck. I’m gonna make some coffee. You want some?

He shook his head. I need some air. He loosened the knot on his tie and shuffled toward the back door.

How’s your chest?

My what?

Your chest, your heart. Any pain? Tightness?

No, just broken.

Chapter 2

GRASPING

Tired of staring out across the backyard, Chuck closed his eyes. In that instant, he was transported back to the courtroom. He could hear Shannon’s pained voice. Then he could see the quiver in her lip as she sat on the sofa. We talked, she said. And he said I was beautiful and amazing . . . and he kissed me . . .

He opened his eyes again trying to get rid of that image, but it rolled into another, more sickening one. Last summer, he stood on Dylan Snider’s front porch, desperate to wring information from him on Shannon’s whereabouts. Instead of helping, he snarled, She begged me. That time he wasn’t lying. Chuck was so frantic to find Shannon that it didn’t click. Now he understood why she begged.

Chuck gripped the arms of the deck chair as that same vivid anger washed back over him. He lost his temper that morning and pinned the boy against the house, wrenching his arm behind him. Chuck had a good four inches and forty pounds or so on him. Now he could envision Shannon being manhandled that way, and it caused his hands to tremble, his stomach to roll. He blew his chance that morning.

Joel’s here, Bobbi said. Chuck hadn’t heard the back door open.

Be right there. He pulled himself to his feet and wiped off the perspiration beading across his lip. For whatever good it would do, for Bobbi’s sake, he headed inside to talk to Joel.

Joel met him just inside the door and hugged him tightly. I’m so sorry, Dad, he said quietly. I can’t imagine what this was like for you and Mom.

Yeah . . . I thought . . . we were past . . . once Mom finished her treatments . . .

Joel nodded, and Bobbi dropped her eyes. You’re not having chest pains are you?

Mom already asked me. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

Then it should be easy to answer, Joel said firmly.

I’m not having chest pains, all right? I’m fine. He tightened his jaw. Now, tell us what to do. I can’t think straight.

Take her to a doctor. Simple. Clear. Direct. Chuck appreciated that.

But it was months ago, Bobbi said.

Mom, there are other concerns besides injuries from the assault. Now Joel was beginning to hedge, and Chuck felt a flicker of uneasiness.

Pregnancy? She can’t be.

Joel shook his head. Not pregnancy. Disease.

The flicker hit Chuck full force in his gut.

I can’t give you details, Joel said, but we ordered a full workup on Brandi. If Shannon was with him, then she’s at risk.

For what? The color drained from Bobbi’s face.

I can’t tell you that, but take Shannon to a doctor, a good doctor, and make sure they do a complete check. I can recommend somebody, even.

She couldn’t have anything like that, Chuck said. I went through all that, and everything came back negative. She couldn’t.

Dad, Joel met his eyes with serious intensity. Trust me on this. Shannon . . . it’s a question of how many and which ones.

Bobbi slumped into a chair. It never ends.

Joel took the seat next to hers. Some of them are bacterial. You take antibiotics, and it’s over.

But some of them aren’t, she said.

No, some are viral. You have them for life.

After one time?

Joel nodded. I can tell her.

No, I should do that.

Of course, Joel glanced back at Chuck. The other thing—and you’ve probably already thought of this—is get her in counseling and get her out doing something. Part-time job, volunteering, whatever. She needs a focus outside of herself. Then he grinned broadly. She’s a lot like her mother.

Bobbi rolled her eyes at him, and Chuck wondered how she could appreciate the lighthearted teasing.

In all seriousness, Mom, you have this deep sense of purpose that comes from taking care of your family. Shannon needs to find that somewhere so this doesn’t tear her apart.

Chuck found that same renewed purpose after he and Bobbi reconciled. It was a clear-cut mandate to rebuild his marriage and his family. Things didn’t seem so clear now. How was he supposed to navigate—and help Shannon navigate—the aftermath of rape? She thinks she’s somehow to blame for this, he said.

Then Dad, you’re in a better place than any of us to help her out there. You blamed yourself for everything that happened last year. Teach her how to grab on to grace every single day, and leave the past behind.

He made it up as he went last year. That wouldn’t help her.

She’ll be okay, Dad. I know her parents. I know what she’s made of.

But this—

There’s no question she’s been changed forever, but this is redeemable. You know better than I do how God redeems—

I’m gonna go get an aspirin. He felt Bobbi’s and Joel’s eyes on him as he walked out. Right now, the last thing he wanted to hear was that there was good in his daughter’s rape.

*******

Shannon groaned and rolled over in her bed. She pried one eye open and caught a glimpse of the fading daylight. At least she hoped it was daylight and not the sunrise. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and pushed herself upright. Thank goodness her mother only gave her a half of one of those pills.

Today was a nightmare. Kicked out the courtroom. And Dylan just smiled. The judge up there banging the gavel while the bailiff shoved her out the door. Her poor parents were too shell-shocked to do anything but stumble out behind her.

She should’ve warned them. But then she didn’t know what he would trigger. He made that same claim in a fast food restaurant last November. Or was it December? Whenever. ‘I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to,’ he said. She didn’t freak out then. Why today?

Because in December, she was in denial. Plain and simple. There were plenty of times she questioned whether it really happened at all. Even at that moment, she could remember thinking, I can’t believe this is happening. He’s actually forcing himself. This is rape. He’s raping me. Maybe that’s why she didn’t fight back more. She was too shocked, too stunned. Now, after a few months back at home where she was safe and secure, reality reared its ugly head, complete with a leering grin.

Steadying herself with a hand on the desk, she stood up slowly, ensuring she wasn’t too dizzy before she tried a step or two. Not dizzy, just a headache. Taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs. She halfway expected her mother to inform her that her father had been arrested for trying to destroy Dylan Snider. When she didn’t see him in the kitchen with her mother, worry spiked in the pit of her stomach. Where’s Dad?

Out on the deck. Her mother stood and crossed the kitchen then hugged her close. How are you?

A little headache, but okay.

Her mother shook her head. I shouldn’t have given you that pill. They make me sick. I should have known you’d—

Mom, it’s okay. I probably needed it.

She smiled and smoothed Shannon’s hair. That was a very brave thing you did today.

Getting kicked out of court?

You faced him. You spoke the truth.

Inappropriately.

Maybe.

He’s gonna get off because of me, isn’t he?

I don’t know. Dad could tell you. Don’t ask him just yet, though.

Shannon eased into one of the kitchen chairs. I’ve never seen that kind of look on his face.

Me either. He’s . . . She looked toward the back door. It’s gonna take some time. Her mother walked toward the cabinets. Are you hungry?

Actually I am.

Grilled cheese?

Perfect.

Her mother smiled and got the skillet, then pulled a loaf of bread from the breadbox. Joel stopped by.

He wants me to see a doctor.

Yes, he does. And consider counseling and maybe getting a job.

Boy, he’s bossy all of a sudden.

I think he’s right.

I don’t want counseling.

I know you don’t, but the damage is deeper than any of us realize.

Mom, it was all I could do to tell you and Dad. There’s no way I’m discussing it with a complete stranger.

There was a quiet sizzle as her mother slid the sandwich into the skillet. I know. It’s humiliating to discuss the intimate details of your life sitting in someone’s office. Believe me, I know.

Okay, her mother won that point. Counseling with the pastor after the affair, not cool. She reached over and straightened the fringe on the nearest placemat. Mom, why did I flip out? I knew what he was going to say, and it happened months ago. I don’t understand why it upset me today.

Her mother’s eyes twinkled with her smile. That’s something a counselor could tell you.

Mom.

Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it was hearing it in public. Maybe it was the injustice of it all. Maybe you finally felt safe enough to feel . . . if that makes any sense. She took the spatula and lifted the sandwich out and onto a plate. Do you want chips?

No, this is good.

To drink?

Milk. I’ll get it.

Her mother set the plate at her spot and waited until she returned with a glass of milk. You couldn’t have known what that boy was like.

I let him . . . I let him in my apartment. I let him kiss me. I let him put his hands on me. Her voice began to quiver with emotion now, and she fought to push the words out. I shouldn’t have done any of those things. I knew better.

Oh, baby. Her mother held her close again, and the tears spilled out. I am so sorry this happened to you, every last bit of it, but what he did was a crime against you. No woman asks to be violated. No woman is responsible for being raped.

She wiped her eyes and pushed away. But I never told him no.

Sweetheart, if you had wanted him to . . . Her mother’s eyes darted away.

To have sex. Mom, just say it. It’s a lot easier.

Her mother smiled again. He wouldn’t have had to . . . do it the way he did. Her mother could say ‘rape,’ but couldn’t bring herself to say it in a personal context. It was still too raw.

But . . . what if . . . Shannon took a step away from the safe embrace. What if there was an instant . . . just a moment . . . when . . . I did.

It doesn’t matter.

Shannon dropped her eyes.

You don’t believe me, do you? her mother asked.

Yeah . . . kind of . . . I don’t know.

Her mother took both hands in her own. I’ve not been through what you have, but I have talked a lot about sex in counseling of one sort or another. It’s unlike any other kind of connection. It touches your very soul. There was gentle sadness in her mother’s deep brown eyes. And when that connection is made in the context of violence . . . it would have to damage your soul as well.

You think that’s why I feel so . . . whatever?

I’m sure it is.

Shannon eased into her chair again. You should be a counselor.

Her mother laughed. I’m not qualified.

I don’t know what else you need.

Some silly thing like a degree, and oh maybe, accreditation.

Whatever. Shannon closed her eyes for a quick blessing over her food, and then took a large bite from the sandwich. You know, even after the mess that today turned into, I feel a hundred pounds lighter.

Secrets are a heavy load.

It was kinda dumb not to tell you.

I wish you had, but I understand why you didn’t.

I think I want to tell Jack myself, though.

Tell Jack what? Jack Molinsky stood in the kitchen doorway, and Shannon dropped her sandwich, jumped up and hugged him tightly. What are you doing here, you bum!

I only have two classes on Wednesday. Both were canceled, so I snuck out. Then he added softly, And I knew court was today.

Jack was a nineteen-year-old version of their dad, but he had the most tender heart of anyone Shannon knew. She chalked that up to her mother. Jack’s mother was many things, but tenderhearted was not one of them.

So how’d it go?

Ummm . . . it’s complicated, Shannon said. Long story.

Have you eaten, Jack? her mother asked. Want me to fix you something?

"I’m good.