Redemption Read Online Free Page B

smoking in the ashtray. Traffic had been heavy due to the snow, and the parking lot was crammed full of cars. Several other vehicles stacked up behind her Mustang in search of parking spots. Jane was about to give up when she eyed a sliver of cement next to a far curb. Banking her wheels so that half of her car was on the curb and the other half on the cement, Jane managed to squeeze her Mustang into the space. As she crossed to the back door of the church, she sensed prying eyes focused upon her. She quickly turned around. The only action she noted was three AA members sucking on the dying embers of their cigarettes before heading down the back steps of the church. But as she followed the others down the steps, Jane could still sense the intense gaze of someone out in the snowy darkness.
    As Jane expected, the church basement was packed with well over sixty people. The 1,000-square-foot room felt hot and dank as she maneuvered around the crowd, all tightly stuffed onto the couches and chairs with only the cushion of their down jackets between them. She located a metal folding chair and wedged it between two couches in the back, just behind the table that held the coffee and a bowl of packaged crackers and cheap candy. The meeting had started on time, and the customary recital of the Twelve Traditions was completed. Another female member read the Twelve Steps.

    “One: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable,” the woman said with a shaky voice. “Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity....”
    Jane peered around the crush of bodies, noting a lot of new faces. Their hollow eyes gave them away. It was the look of every alcoholic new to the program—a lifeless, blank stare that gradually filled with hope as the weeks progressed. In Jane’s peripheral vision, she caught an old man staring at her. When she looked over at the gentleman, she realized he was drawn to her beaten face. He gently patted his own cheek as if to say, “What happened to you?” Jane shrugged her shoulders and mouthed, “It’s okay” in an offhand manner, trying to minimize her awkward appearance.
    “Three,” the woman continued reading, “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him . Four: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves....”
    That’s where Jane tuned out the woman’s voice. It was appropriate. For whatever reason, Jane was stuck on Step Four. She wasn’t sure if she just didn’t want to work the program or if the words simply weren’t connecting with her. Somewhere deep down, Jane could appreciate the significance of the Twelve Steps, but the words weren’t integrating into her psyche. At times, she likened it to crossing a rickety bridge over a roaring river and wondering how in the hell that compromised bridge was going to safely lead her to the other side. The straightforward declarations within each of the Twelve Steps resonated with millions and made the difference between pursuing a chaotic life or a serene existence. Yet for Jane, the words felt flat and meaningless. She had no idea how to begin a “searching and fearless moral inventory.” Jane could fearlessly defend herself or someone she loved against any number of oppressors. But to boldly delve into the deep, dark regions where the demons play...well, she didn’t know how to begin such a daunting task.

    “Would anyone like a twenty-four-hour chip?” the evening’s appointed leader asked the group. A petite, red-haired woman in her thirties raised her hand. “Great! Come on up and get it! How about thirty days?” An angular, crusty old cowboy in his seventies got up from the couch and collected the chip. “Ninety days?” Three people dislodged themselves from their seats and pocketed their three-month chip. “Six months?” Jane was two days shy of snagging that chip, but figured it would be bad luck to