Chapters (62)
- Cover
- A PENNY
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
- About the Author
- Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
- About the Publisher
“So why were you so convinced it was her doing all of this crazy stuff, Derek? What’s the big secret in her past that made you and your mother convict her without even a trial?”
“There’s no big secret,” he said, shaking his head. “Sidra’s manic depressive. When she was pregnant with Carlos, she quit taking her medications and ended up having a nervous breakdown. I brought her up here to Pennsylvania to have her treated.”
“Is that when you moved back to the states?”
“No,” he said. “We took a year’s sabbatical and stayed here until Carlos was born. After that, she was able to go back on her medications, and it wasn’t long before she was fine again. When our year was up, we returned to Honduras. We stayed another six years after that.”
“Has she had any other episodes like that?”
“No. As long as she stays on her medication, Sidra is fine.”
“So what made you finally give up missionary life, Derek?”
He wiped at his eyes and looked off in the distance.
“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “Restlessness. Frustration. To be honest, I think I began to question whether it was God who had led me to be a missionary or just my own adventurous leanings. By then, Carlos was of an age where I found myself wishing for him the things I had had as a child. Soccer teams and American movies and horseback riding. I realized I didn’t want the life of a missionary any more. I wanted the life I had grown up with. I wanted the life of privilege.”
“So you moved here and bought the Jaguar and the fur coats and all the things you’d been missing out on.”
“Hey,” he said, frowning, “it’s not like I sold out. I’m head of Feed the Need. We’re doing wonderful things all over the world.”
“I know.”
“And coming here permanently gave Sidra the chance to go back to school and get her nursing degree.”
“That’s good.”
“With my father in such poor health, I knew I would be needed here anyway,” he continued, sounding even more defensive. “Just because I happen to prefer indoor plumbing to a hole in the ground doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“No,” I said, “it doesn’t.”
The quiet settled between us as Derek angrily ate his breakfast. After a few minutes, Carlos stuck his head out of the door and called to us.
“Hey, Dad!” he said enthusiastically. “I got the high score on Death Match!”
Derek gave him a thumbs up, and Carlos went back to his video game.
“He’s thriving here,” Derek said, looking after his son.