Steve Walton was in no mood for a visit from Pastor Morris. He’d just flown back from Singapore, and after the long hours on the plane, he was exhausted. His butler announced the pastor’s arrival, and Steve sighed impatiently. He was tired of people asking him for money and support, especially Pastor Morris.
“Get on with it, man!” Steve snapped as the pastor entered. “What do you want this time?”
Pastor Morris didn’t seem fazed. He spoke quietly, “Mr. Walton, I saw Susan.”
Steve’s heart skipped a beat. His daughter, Susan, had left his home fifteen years ago, and he hadn’t heard from her since. “Susan?” he gasped, panic rising in his chest. “Where? How is she? What’s happened?”
“I was in Los Angeles, helping a friend who works with homeless people,” the pastor explained. “That’s where I saw her.”
Steve frowned, not understanding. “She was a volunteer? Did you tell her I’ve been looking for her?” he asked, his voice shaking.
“No,” Pastor Morris said gently. “She wasn’t a volunteer. She’s homeless, Mr. Walton. She’s living in a car with her children.”
Steve felt dizzy. He had to sit down. “Homeless? My daughter? And with children?” he gasped in disbelief.
“I’m afraid so,” the pastor said. “I tried to tell her to come home, but she refused.”
“But why?” Steve asked, his anger bubbling up. “She’s not with that man anymore, is she?”
“Her husband died three years ago, Mr. Walton,” Pastor Morris said softly. “She told me she wouldn’t come back to a house where her husband was despised.”
Steve’s blood boiled with rage. Even now, fifteen years later, Susan was still defying him. He remembered the day she had told him she was pregnant at sixteen. “Pregnant at sixteen, by the GARDENER!” he had yelled. “That’s it! We’re going to take care of that, and HE’S fired! You will never see him again!”
Susan had stood her ground. “That’s my baby, daddy. And HE is the man I love. I’m going to marry him,” she had said.
Steve had exploded, “You marry that man, and you’re on your own, Susan! No more money, nothing! You marry him, and you get out of my house!”
Susan had looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I love you, daddy,” she had said before walking away, never to return.
“Four children,” Pastor Morris said, bringing Steve back to the present. “Three girls and a boy. Beautiful children.”
Steve’s heart ached. He picked up his phone and quickly ordered his plane to be ready. “Pastor, would you come with me to Los Angeles? Take me to my little girl?” he asked quietly.
The pastor nodded. Two hours later, the two men were flying south on Steve’s private jet.
When they arrived in Los Angeles, they were driven to a mall parking lot. At the far end of the lot, they saw an old pickup truck with a tent set up in the back. Pastor Morris had told Steve how Susan’s husband had died in a work accident, and the insurance company refused to pay. The bank had foreclosed on their house.
Susan had moved into the truck with her children and worked as a cleaner at the mall. She had kept her kids fed, clean, and in school, even though they lived in the truck.
As they approached, they heard laughter. Two children tumbled out of the back. The oldest girl, about fourteen, was laughing as she tickled a boy of about seven.
“Mom!” the girl shouted. “That old preacher of yours is here!”
A familiar voice came from inside the tent, “Preacher Morris?”
Then Susan climbed out. When she saw Steve standing next to the pastor, her eyes filled with shock and tears. “Daddy?” she whispered.
Steve was stunned. His daughter looked so much older than her thirty-one years. Her face was worn, her hands rough from hard work. He could barely recognize her. “Susan,” Steve cried. “Look at you! Look what HE did to my princess! I wanted so much for you! And you married that loser! What could he give you? Poverty?”
Susan shook her head, her voice steady but full of pain. “He loved me, daddy, and he gave me four beautiful children. He died, and I had nowhere to go. But I’ve done my best for my children. I will always love the father of my children, just like I’ve always loved you.”
Steve was overwhelmed with emotion. He pulled Susan into his arms, tears streaming down his face. “Forgive me, Susan,” he sobbed. “Please forgive me. Come home. I want you and the kids to come home with me. Let me help you.”
Susan introduced Steve to her three granddaughters, then placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And this,” she smiled, “is little Stevie!”
Steve gasped. “You named him after me?”
Susan smiled softly. “After everything, I still love you, daddy. Don’t you know that?”
That afternoon, they all flew back to Texas together. It was the start of a new chapter—a better life for all of them.
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