CHAPTER 2
It took half an hour for Lacy to clear the dishes off the table. If she were younger, she would have been surprised she wasn’t crying. But she had learned four years ago tears were a luxury that rarely came in the midst of a crisis. They tarried, refusing to let you lose yourself in the bittersweet rush of grief, forcing you to walk through fire with your dry eyes wide open.
Her foster parents would tell her to forgive. She could almost hear Sandy’s voice in her mind. You can hold on to anger, or you can let it go and let God make the best of your situation. It was a simple premise, really, and it probably worked for good Christian folks like the Lindgrens, folks who took in foster kids and raised them up and helped them graduate high school and saw them through community colle
