The Scarlet Thread

by Francine Rivers

  Rather than make her feel better, his words left her wondering if things might have turned out differently had Elizabeth been a little wiser or loved Alex a little more.

  “Don’t go quiet on me, Sierra. I’m trying to tell you I saw what she was. It took Connecticut for me to understand what she was doing. She didn’t love me, and I didn’t love her. We were using each other. She used me against her father. I used her against you.”

  “If you knew all that, why didn’t you leave her sooner?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Pride.”

  “Be honest, Alex.” She was tired of crucifying herself between two thieves: regret for yesterday and fear about tomorrow. She needed the truth from him, no matter how much it hurt. They couldn’t build on anything less. “I promise I won’t hang up on you, no matter what you say.”

  “All right,” he said heavily, clearly not eager to impart what was coming. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back to you.”

  Well, at least she knew he wasn’t holding back anymore. Swallowing her hurt, she asked, “What changed your mind?”

  “When you said you’d never take the children away from me, it stopped me cold. I’d expected you to fight dirty.”

  And why wouldn’t he? She had been vindictive, carping and complaining over the move. After three years of that behavior, why should he have expected her to be fair when faced with divorce?

  “Finally I realized I was the one playing dirty,” he said. “And then there was the day I watched you play baseball.” He gave a low laugh. “By the time the game was over, I was wondering why I’d ever left you in the first place.”

  “Because I hit a home run?” she said, smiling sadly as she made doodles on the notepad.

  “No, because I hadn’t seen you laugh in months. You looked young and happy again, the way you were when we first started out. You took my breath away. I sat there watching you and remembering the good times. I felt sick, wondering what happened to us.”

  And so it went. Alex called, she listened—and learned. As the days passed, she left the stool and sat on the sofa, feet propped up on the old hatch-cover table. “If we do get back together, what are you going to do with all that stereo and game equipment you have in your living room? And that horrible black couch,” she said.

  “What makes you think we’ll be living in your condo?”

  It got her to wondering. Where would they live? How would they meld their lifestyles? Sierra was beginning to realize how little they had in common.

  Lord, how are we going to make this work?

  She spent as much time as possible reading the Bible and thinking things over. Again, she learned: Be anxious about nothing. Be thankful. Work out the tangles of your life one by one before the Lord. She had to fix her eyes on Jesus constantly in order to live above it all with Christ, in Him, rather than get caught up in the old resentments, hurts, and fears.

  Her feelings changed as Alex talked. The anger got lost somewhere and compassion slipped in, not just for Alex, but for Elizabeth Longford as well. She knew from Audra that Elizabeth had moved back to Connecticut. When Alex left, her life fell apart. Her bid for independence from her father had blown up in her face.

  “She called to tell us she’s getting married,” Audra said.

  Sierra told Alex, testing his reaction she supposed, but better to know now rather than later if he wanted to change his mind about the direction they were going.

  “I heard.” His response was quiet, neutral.

  “From Audra?”

  “No. Elizabeth called while I was in the office last week. She told me.”

  Sierra’s heart dropped. She hadn’t realized he was still in contact with her.

  “It’s the only time we’ve talked since she left,” Alex said, seeming to read her mind. “I met the man she’s marrying when I was in Connecticut,” he went on. “She was engaged to him once before and backed out. He’s a Harvard grad, a lawyer. Rich. Family connections back to the founding fathers. Her father’s choice.” He gave a soft self-deprecating laugh. “I liked him. When I put all that other stuff aside, he was a pretty decent guy.”

  Sierra gathered her courage. “Maybe Elizabeth called to tell you hoping you’d change her mind.”

  “That occurred to me,” he said gently. “That’s why I told her I’m doing everything in my power to reconcile with my wife.”

  Sierra closed her eyes, imagining how much it would have hurt her if she were in Elizabeth’s position. “What did she say to that, Alex?”

  “She said she was sorry.”

  Sierra pitied Elizabeth. She had taken Dennis’s advice and spent a few minutes each day praying for Elizabeth Longford. Doing so had erased her animosity. She prayed now, during the lull in conversation with her estranged husband.

  “Sierra? Talk to me. Scream at me. Say something.”

  “We never realize how many people we hurt with our actions, do we, Alex? It’s like a chain reaction. I was so angry with you when we moved down here. I never listened to what you wanted or needed. I was only interested in what I wanted. I hurt you so much, and out of that I hurt Elizabeth, too.”

  “You had nothing to do with Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, I did. If I’d been the wife I should’ve been, you never would’ve turned to her. So I share the blame with you for her pain, too.”

  He said something in Spanish. “You remind me of your mother.”

  She teared up and swallowed them down. He couldn’t have paid her a dearer compliment. “I still miss her. Sometimes I’ll see something or read about something I know would make her laugh, and I pick up the phone to call. I’ll be in the middle of dialing her number before I remember she isn’t there anymore.”

  “I should’ve been with you,” he said hoarsely.

  He’d been with Elizabeth, instead. Blinking back tears, Sierra didn’t say anything. Her throat ached. Would the hurt ever go away?

  “I was trying to figure a way out . . . ,” Alex said softly.

  “Of our marriage.”

  “No. Out of what was happening between me and Elizabeth. The guilt was eating me alive. I knew you needed me, but I couldn’t deal with it or face you. I couldn’t face your mother. I was sure she’d know the minute she looked at me that something was wrong. Then Papa gave me that lecture on the telephone. I knew he was right, but I didn’t like being told what to do. By the time I got there, I was uptight and ready for a fight. I had all kinds of excuses and reasons. Papa and I had words after the memorial service. He said he was ashamed of me for the way I treated you. Your mother’s letter was the last straw. I had to get out of there.”

  “What did she say in the letter?”

  “She wrote she knew the first time she saw us together that I was the right man for you.” He didn’t say anything for a moment, then added in a choked voice, “She said she loved me and was proud to have me as a son.”

  They talked past midnight, leaving Sierra bleary-eyed for work. After running errands, she came home, fixed dinner for the children, and stretched out on the sofa to read her Bible. The next thing she knew, Clanton and Carolyn woke her up at ten.

  “We’re going to bed, Mom,” Clanton said.

  Trying to focus through her exhaustion, Sierra pushed herself up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”

  “Daddy called earlier,” Carolyn said. “He’s going to call you at ten thirty.” They each kissed her good night and went to their rooms.

  As Sierra waited for the telephone to ring, she sat looking up at Mary Kathryn’s quilt. It occurred to her that not only were her feelings changing, but so was the way she saw things. She thought about her first ecstatic months as a Christian. After having been told about Jesus from childhood, she’d finally understood for herself who Jesus was. Creator, Redeemer, almighty God, King of kings, Lord of lords. Realization had struck like an atomic blast. Hot white light blinded her for a little while. She’d been so caught up in the sudden opening of her mind and heart
to Christ, she hadn’t seen anything else clearly. She hadn’t looked. She had known only one thing: Jesus loved her. Alex didn’t, but the Lord did. After months of turmoil and grief, she’d felt happy. She’d felt hopeful. In the midst of everything, she had felt safe.

  Then Alex pushed back into her life, rocking her foundations again. She’d finally adjusted to being without him; Ron stood by in the wings waiting to walk out onto center stage. She was working, carrying her own weight, being responsible. The children were settled in their new school, involved in the church. Clanton had stopped fighting. Carolyn had stopped obsessing about grades.

  Why now, God? she had cried. Why couldn’t things stay the way they were? Why couldn’t Alex just stay out of her life the way he’d said he wanted?

  But her vision had been adjusting to the light. It seemed each day she could see life—herself—more clearly, through Scripture, prayer, and her daily walk with Jesus. She could see right into the dusty, dirty, secret corners of her life. Christ brought everything to light.

  Painfully, vividly, she saw her part in the passion play.

  Anguish filled her as she recognized past sins and present ones she had fallen into out of habit, hidden ones she loathed to face. Alex wasn’t the only guilty player. She stood stripped before a mirror, seeing herself as she had been: childish, self-centered, filled with self-pity, casting blame, complaining.

  It is better to live in the corner of a roof than in a house shared with a contentious woman.

  She was ashamed and grieved, yet oddly enough, a sense of peace followed her self-examination. She was reminded of her mother in the attic, the window open, the fresh air blowing in as she dusted, swept, and sorted out trash from the treasure.

  Oh, Lord Jesus, do that for me. Please. You know me better than I know myself. Open my doors and windows and let the Holy Spirit move through me. You are welcome in my house. Come into me, into my foyer and my living room. Wander at will through my parlor and kitchen. Be with me in my bedroom and bathroom. Go through every closet and every drawer, from the basement to the attic of my life. I belong to You, Father. Stay with me forever. Jesus, please remove everything in me that doesn’t glorify You. Make me Your vessel.

  Oh, God, You are my God. I seek You. My soul hungers and thirsts for You. My body longs for You as dry land beneath a heavy rain. Your love is better than life.

  “Are you falling in love again?” Alex said softly late that night after they had talked for two hours.

  Eyes closed, her head resting against the back of the sofa, she smiled. “Yes.” But not with Alex—she’d never stopped loving him.

  She was falling in love with Jesus.

  We found our dear Koxoenis shot dead near the banks of our stream today.

  Lord, who would murder such a gentle man who did nothing but show kindness and hospitality to others? Kavanaugh thinks Koxoenis was badly wounded and tried to reach us for help. Thinking of him suffering fills me with anguish. Oh, God, that we had found him sooner. Kavanaugh said the wound was mortal and we could not have saved him, but we could have at least comforted him in his last hours upon this earth. We could have held him close and prayed for him.

  Kavanaugh carried Koxoenis to our home. We washed him and wrapped him in a blanket and buried him beside James.

  Lord, I am so grieved. Please do not hold it against Koxoenis that I failed to explain You to him. I tried so hard each time he has come to visit, but sign language leaves so much unsaid. He did not understand me, and I did not know how to explain. And now he is lost forever.

  Father, please let me speak on his behalf. Koxoenis was kind and generous, and obedient to Your will. He heard Your voice that day we were so hungry. He came to us and gave us meat. He showed us the food You had planted all around us. He taught Joshua how to build us a shelter so that we were warm and dry through the cold winter months. He was our first and dearest friend, and though he did not know You, Lord, I believe in my heart he was Your child in spirit. I have never known a man more humble and loving.

  Please, Lord, be merciful and bring Koxoenis into Your kingdom.

  Beth and I gathered flowers today and took them to the small knoll where James and Koxoenis lie. But when we reached it, we found Koxoenis’s grave empty. The cross we had made for him lay upon the mound of fresh earth and on it was a Pomo gift basket. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen with designs woven with red, yellow, and green feathers and small beads. Around the rim are tiny black topknot quail feathers.

  I have placed the basket upon our mantel and will remember our beloved friend and his people each time I look at it.

  Kavanaugh brought supplies back from the settlement near the river yesterday. Beth and I walked to Koxoenis’s village today to bring apple pies to his wife and children, but when we reached it, everyone was gone. No fires were burning. No children were playing. No smoke came from the sweathouse. No women sat working with stone mortar and pestle crushing acorns. The village was deserted and desolate.

  Kavanaugh said Indians move where the food is. He thinks this village site may be their winter home. Spring and summer must be spent elsewhere. The money beads the people wear are made of clamshells. So I suppose the people must spend time each year near the ocean. Perhaps they are there.

  We learned from Joshua that Koxoenis’s people ate fish, acorns, pepperwood nuts, buckeyes, and a mixture of toasted seeds and grains ground in a stone mortar and sifted in a basket. They called it pinole. Now that spring is here, everything is green and growing. There must be a hundred different things to eat that we have not yet discovered. And come summer, the berries and wild apples will be ripe. They will taste better than the dried ones I soaked to make the pies.

  I hope we will see Koxoenis’s people again come fall, but my heart tells me we will not be so fortunate.

  Lord, please be with them and protect them from harm.

  Chapter 26

  “Red roses, Mom!” Carolyn called from the front door. “Come see!”

  Sierra came into the living room and gasped as she saw the arrangement being brought in. “Living room table, ma’am?” the deliveryman said. He was young, sporting a T-shirt that said “God spoke and BANG it was,” long black hair, and a single hoop earring.

  “Yes, that’d be fine.”

  When he set the arrangement down, he gave her a saucy grin. “Someone’s either smitten or in deeeep trouble.”

  She laughed. Smitten was such an antique word for such a modern young man. “Hang on a minute,” she said and gave him a ten-dollar tip. She found the card tucked in among the baby’s breath and ferns: Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you. Alex. Twenty-four red roses in a crystal vase.

  She called him. “Thank you for the roses.”

  “What do you say we take the children out tonight? Dinner and a movie.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “How about letting them sit in the front row while we sit in a back corner and neck the way we used to?”

  She laughed. “How about we all sit in the middle together?”

  They had a wonderful evening together. As it turned out, Clanton and Carolyn pleaded to sit closer to the front, and she and Alex sat in the middle. At first Alex didn’t touch her. They sat side by side, both staring up at the big screen with the animated Disney characters frolicking, both wound up like a couple of two-dollar clocks. Halfway through the movie, Alex took her hand. When she didn’t try to withdraw, he finally relaxed.

  “Aren’t you going to invite him in?” Carolyn said when they reached the condo.

  “I want to show him my new game,” Clanton said as though on cue.

  Sierra looked between them and knew what her children were hoping. How could she explain she wasn’t ready?

  “Another time,” Alex said, coming to her rescue. He took a step back.

  “Mom,” Carolyn whined, her heart in her eyes.

  “It’s all right, Alex,” she said. “Come on in. I’ll fix us some hot cider while you ta
ke a look at Clanton’s game.”

  She was in the kitchen putting cinnamon sticks in the cups of steaming cider when Alex came back. “Are the children coming?” she said, glancing toward the hallway.

  “They’re playing a video game.”

  “Carolyn?” She had never been interested before.

  He shrugged. “You look nervous.”

  “I am a little,” she said, giving a self-conscious laugh. “Why don’t we sit in the living room?” She gave him a mug of hot cider, took one for herself, and led the way to the couch she’d recovered. She sat at the far end, curling her feet up beneath her.

  Neither knew what to say to break the tension. She remembered other nights on this couch. The silence stretched along with her nerves.

  “It does get in the way, doesn’t it?” Alex said heavily.

  “What?”

  “Wanting you this much. Knowing you want me, too.” He looked at her, hiding nothing.

  Sierra’s heart began to drum hard. Alex set his mug of hot cider on the hatch-cover table and stood. She looked up at him, afraid he’d kiss her and start something she couldn’t let him finish. Or worse, he would leave.

  His expression softened. “As much as I’d like to, I’m not going to rush you.”

  “I’m not trying to be difficult, Alex.”

  “Yo sé. You’ve got to learn to trust me again.”

  She looked down into her cider. “So much has happened to me in the last year. I’ve changed in ways I don’t think you understand.” She looked at him again. “The Lord is the center of my life, now. I can’t go back—”

  “Dennis and I talked about it.”

  She was surprised. “You did?” She knew Dennis wouldn’t hold back; he’d lay out salvation one, two, three.

  “I go to Mass, Sierra. I have every Sunday since I moved here.” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured it was time I confessed and did penance. Dennis talks about grace, but there’s justice, too.”