“Same for me, with Chase. I couldn’t ask for his forgiveness, either. My therapist had me write letters to him. He was dead, but it still helped to tell him about my mistakes and express how sorry I was. Have you written about what you went through?”

“No.”

“Over time, I developed greater compassion for myself. I started talking to myself about my failings the way I’d talk to someone I loved about theirs. Would you hate Blair if she’d told Hailey to go to the back of the line right before an earthquake struck?”

“Is that a trick question? I don’t like Blair to begin with.”

“Yes you do. You love Blair. And the answer is no, you wouldn’t hate her. You’d have compassion for her. She’s older now than you were back then, so why not give the kid you were the same compassion you’d give Blair?”

He sighed impatiently.

He was not responding with gratitude to the phenomenal insights she was providing.

“Instead of beating myself up,” she pushed on, undaunted, “I’d acknowledge that I messed up and reassure myself that I’ll do better next time. That I am doing a lot of good in the world currently.”

“I didn’t buy this type of psychological jargon then. I don’t now.”

She shifted her weight onto her hip as she turned toward him. “Did you know that people who are more prone to guilt are also more trustworthy? Guilt is a marker of empathy. It shows that you feel a responsibility about how your actions affect others.”

“Right. I was really trustworthy and empathetic when I was stealing cars from people. I don’t like it when you sugarcoat who I am.”

“You’re imperfect.” She was growing more impassioned, her volume rising. “We’re all imperfect. We’ve all made mistakes. Yet Jesus paid for every single one of them.”

“Ah. So now you’re moving into a sermon?”

“I’m just getting started.” For a little longer, Luke was shut inside a car with her, a captive audience. It seemed the Holy Spirit had been storing up a tide of words within her. “Your salvation is certain. Your future is certain. His love for you is certain.”

He didn’t speak.

“His economy isn’t about works. It’s about grace, which is the best news ever in your case. Yet you refuse to accept it.”

God’s grace. It never, never lost its power for her. Her thankfulness over the magnitude of it was a waterfall inside, a pressure against the backs of her eyes.