“What he said was true. All of it,” said Chris quietly. He was still perspiring and ashen-faced from the brutal ordeal.
As they climbed into the car, some unspoken understanding clearly passed between The Mister and The Missus. The Mister turned off the engine, and The Missus turned to face Chris in the backseat. “It wasn’t true, Christopher. It was merely factual. It’s what he left out that matters.”
“What did it possibly leave out?” asked Chris.
The verbal gauntlet of accusation he had just run had been devastating in its thoroughness. He couldn’t begin to imagine anything was unstated.
“That you are Loved. Forgiven. Exonerated. Cleansed. Restored. Graced. Favored. Enthroned.” Something changed in the Missus’ voice as she uttered these words. Chris heard a magisterial tone, an authority, a gravity in the delivery that made him feel the words physically as much as hear them. As stunning as the Voice’s accusations had been, the Missus’ statements were even more so. Chris’s head fell back on the top of the seat, his mind reeling.
The Mister started the engine again and eased the station wagon back onto the road.
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