Robin Lee Hatcher | The Forgiving Hour

The Forgiving Hour

Then Peter came and said to Him, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" Jesus said to him, "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven. (Matt 18:21-22)

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After years of bitterness and anger over her ex-husband's betrayal, Claire Conway's life finally seems to be on track. But when her son, Dakota, brings home his fiancee, Sara Jennings, everything falls apart. For Sara turns out to be the same woman Claire's husband had an affair with twelve years earlier. And though Claire has moved on with her life, there are some things it would take a miracle to forgive.

Readers won't be able to put down this novel. Its theme is adultery -- not just the betrayal but the lasting effects and the need for restoration. Hatcher's entertaining story uses biblical principles to show how 'real' people can survive, and truly recover from, the devastation of adultery. The book contains wisdom and enough heart to make it worthwhile reading for every woman, including those who've experienced or caused adultery's pain. — CBA Marketplace

Hatcher uses her well-honed skills to craft a compelling story of betrayal and forgiveness that will leave readers both emotionally drained and spiritually satisfied. — Library Journal

When I first heard the premise of this book, it sounded like a bad soap opera rip off, but then I read it. It's a shame they don't make television dramas with this quality. Very real characters in a heartbreakingly painful situation make FORGIVING HOUR come alive and fly. Everyone has experienced bitterness and betrayal akin to what is portrayed herein, and hopefully can be helped along the road to finding the peace each of these characters seek. Both Ms. Hatcher's first contemporary and first inspirational, this is a brilliant, moving book that shows there is hope and joy on the other side of the storm. — The Romance Reader's Connection

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PROLOGUE
Boise, Idaho

The sky that Saturday in May was a brilliant, cloudless blue, sunshine kissing the earth with a promise of the summer to come. There was the scent of green on the afternoon breeze, and windows throughout the subdivision had been thrown open to let it in. Flowering trees were in full bloom; tulips and daffodils bobbed colorful heads at passers-by, as if in welcome. Sprinklers kept time on neighborhood lawns with a steady chick-chick-chick-swoosh . . . chick-chick-chick-swoosh . . . while the laughter of playing children filled the air.

It was the perfect sort of day to meet one's future daughter-in-law.

Claire Conway checked the grandfather clock in the entry. Dakota and Sara should be arriving at any moment.

I love her, Mom, and you're gonna love her just as much as I do.

She smiled as the two-month-old memory filled her thoughts. She'd been living and working in Seattle on a short-term assignment for her employer, and Dakota had arrived for a visit. They'd just finished supper, her six foot, four inch son polishing off two helpings of his favorite casserole and a large slice of cherry cheesecake for dessert. And then he'd told her he'd met someone special and was engaged to be married.

It was difficult for her to accept that her son was old enough to be engaged, let alone planning a wedding for July. It shouldn't be this hard to accept, but it was.

At twenty-four, Dakota was six years older than Claire had been when she wed his father.

And he's twice as mature as his father ever was, she thought with a twinge of the old bitterness.

But mature or not, Dakota remained her little boy, all six-plus feet of him. In her mind, she knew he was a grown man. In her heart, he was the towheaded kid with skinned knees, mussed hair, and a smile that made her melt on the inside.

I love her, Mom, and you're gonna love her just as much as I do.

Claire didn't doubt for a second that she would love Sara Jennings. She trusted Dakota's judgment. Besides a maturity beyond his age, he was intelligent, kind and generous, a man of integrity and deep moral convictions. If he thought Sara was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life, then Claire believed it, too. Sight unseen.

Sara's a little older than I am. Seven years to be exact. She thought it should matter to me and to others but I convinced her it didn't. She's made me the happiest guy in the world by accepting my proposal.

The rumble of the Jeep engine pulled her thoughts to the present. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking to the door and opening it. Stepping into the afternoon sunshine, she watched as Dakota hopped out of the Jeep, then strode around to the passenger side of the vehicle. Once there, he offered his hand to help the young woman disembark.

Claire put on a welcoming smile. She knew Sara had to be even more nervous than she was, and she wanted to do all in her power to make this first meeting a pleasant one. It could set the tone for the rest of their lives. She wanted to prove that all mother- and daughter-in-law relationships didn't have to be strained or antagonistic.

A glance at her son's face confirmed the depth of his feelings for the woman on his arm. A warm glow spread out from Claire's heart. To see him like this made all the difficult times of the past fade into obscurity.

Dakota shifted his gaze from Sara to his mother. He grinned. "Hi, Mom."

" Hi, yourself."

" Mom, this is Sara. Sara, my mother, Claire Conway."

Claire offered her hand to the young woman, for the first time taking a good look at her. She was tall at least five ten and striking. She had cat-green eyes, long and curly burgundy-colored hair, a flawless complexion, and a perfect figure.

For just a moment, Claire wondered if they'd met before. There was something familiar about her.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Conway."

She gave her head a slight shake. "Please, call me Claire." That was much easier than trying to explain it was "Ms." rather than "Mrs."

The younger woman revealed a hesitant smile. "I'd like that . . . Claire. Thank you."

" Come inside. I've got decaf ready, and I made a coffeecake for the occasion."

" You baked?" Dakota's voice was filled with mock surprise.

She shot him a censuring glance but couldn't maintain it for long. When he laughed, so did she.

" Like I told you, Sara, Mom darn near forgot how to find the kitchen after I moved out. Now she only cooks at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and rare special occasions . . . Like this one. Right, Mom?"

" Right."

Claire led the way into the house, then left Dakota and Sara in the living room while she proceeded into the kitchen. She heard the young lovers conversing softly as she poured coffee into three china cups and placed them on a polished silver tray beside the creamer and sugar bowl. Even from the other room, she could discern the happiness in her son's voice. Again, she was warmed by it. What mother wouldn't be?

Dakota's early teen years had been hard ones. He'd gotten into more than his fair share of scrapes, taking out his anger and bitterness with rebellious and sometimes reckless behavior. Of course, his anger and bitterness had been no worse than her own, betrayed as they'd been by his father.

Remembering her ex-husband brought a frown to Claire's brow. Foreboding followed on its heels, a sense that something was about to go wrong.

But that was ridiculous. Nothing was going wrong. There was no room for anything but joy in this house today. The past was the past. Today they were celebrating the future.

Coffee tray in hand, Claire stepped through the kitchen doorway, then paused, unnoticed, to observe the two young people. Sara was looking at a display of photos on the mantel. Dakota stood with his arm around her shoulders, smiling contentedly.

" Who is this?" Sara asked him, pointing to a framed snapshot.

Dakota glanced at it. "That's me and my mom when I was . . . oh, about five, I think."

" Where was it taken?" Sara sounded odd.

" That's our old house on Garden Street. It's where I grew up. Mom sold it after she got a divorce, right after I finished grade school."

" Dakota . . . what was your father's name?"

Lowering his voice, he answered, "I've told you why I never talk about him. I promised Mom I wouldn't."

Still, after all these years, he was keeping his promise to Claire, a promise she never should have asked him to make. It had been wrong of her to ask it, no matter what the reason. At the very least, she should have released him from it this spring.

She almost spoke up, almost told him so, but something kept her silent . . .

Something about Sara.

The younger woman looked up into Dakota's eyes with an unwavering gaze. "What was his name?" she repeated in a hoarse whisper. "I need to know. I have to know."

" Does it matter that much to you?"

" Yes. Yes, it does."

Claire was struck again by that sense of impending doom. Something was pressing on her lungs, an enormous, unyielding weight. Each breath came hard.

At long last, Dakota answered Sara's question, "Porter. His name was David Porter." There was no bitterness in his reply. He'd forgiven the man long ago. "Why?"

As if sensing Claire's presence, Sara turned. Her eyes were wide and filled with horror. "Claire . . . Porter? Dave was your husband? He's Dakota's father?"

Claire remembered now. She remembered where she'd seen Sara before. The coffee tray slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.

It had been twelve years, and the young college student had become a woman. Sara had changed. Her hair was long, full, and curly instead of cropped short. Her figure had blossomed, no longer the stick-thin girl she'd been. She'd grown only more beautiful with the passage of time.

But it was her.

" What's going on?" Dakota asked, glancing back and forth between his mother and his fiancee in confusion.

Sara looked at him. Her voice quavered as she asked, "Did your dad call you Mikey?"

" Where did you hear that?"

Sara took a faltering step backward, out of his reach. "It can't be. It can't. God wouldn't do this. He wouldn't do this to us." She shook her head, almost keening the words. "He wouldn't do this."

" Would someone please tell me what's going on?" Dakota looked from his fiancee to Claire. "Mom?"

Sara turned toward her, too. "Say it isn't true. Please say it isn't true."

But Claire couldn't comply.

Because it was true.

Her thoughts were hurtled back twelve years, back to the first and only other time she'd seen Sara.

Sara Jennings . . .

The other woman . . .

The girl who'd destroyed Claire's marriage, her home, her life.

Hell was real. Claire knew it . . . because she was in it now.