by Nicole Deese
I fought to break the tangled web of thoughts before they could take me somewhere I couldn’t afford to go. Somewhere too raw and untouchable. Because if my calling was even a shadow of Mary’s, then why hadn’t God offered me the same strength to endure my trial? Where was the faith I’d been promised? The unshakable peace?
How had I gotten it so, so wrong?
I twisted my body away from the holy family just in time to catch Joshua’s father circling his arms around his wife, nuzzling her neck until she gave in to his efforts. She rewarded him with a tender kiss on the mouth. And in that one affectionate act, shared between an adoring husband and wife, the contrast between my childhood and Joshua’s was made perfectly clear. If my parents had ever kissed that way, it hadn’t happened for many, many years. And wasn’t that what a child deserved? Two loving parents who were in love with each other? Had I really been so blinded by my own selfish desires, my own intention to erase the past and start again on my own, that I’d neglected to account for the role of a father? And the role of a devoted husband? Had my yearning to adopt stemmed from my own brokenness or from God’s heart?
Joshua’s voice warmed the wool headband covering my ears and redirected my focus. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.”
His words stoked an internal fire that had no business burning, especially with the promise of snow in the air. Yet defying the odds proved to be what Joshua did best.
I tipped my chin to face him. “Me too.”
Without another word, he reached for my hand and tucked it inside his own, squeezing it as his full baritone sang out the end of a chorus I would never listen to the same way again.
“O night divine, O night, O night divine.”
chapter
twenty-four
The snowstorm the newscasters had been predicting for Christmas week hit sometime between midnight and eight in the morning. I couldn’t be sure of the exact time, of course, since I cared more about sleep accumulation than snow accumulation, but apparently not everybody felt the same way. My missed texts from Joshua—time stamp starting around 5:00 a.m.—were proof enough.
Are you awake yet? Have you looked outside? Six inches and counting.
Also, you should check your power. Nearly half the city is out. You doing okay? Need rescuing? I might know a guy.
If you’ve been carried off by an overweight snowman smoking a corncob pipe, please reply with #1. Stuck inside a snow berm #2. Frozen into an ice sculpture for the viewing pleasure of many #3.
Or none of the above because you’re STILL ASLEEP . . . #4.
I squinted at the too-bright screen and tapped out a reply, one eye refusing to stay open.
#4. Ignorance is bliss.
Until your nose catches frostbite.
I can live without a nose.
Check your lights.
But that requires getting out of bed . . .
So does everything else we have planned for today.
I huffed as I exited the sanctuary of my warm cocoon and darted to the light switch—yep. Dead.
I scrambled back in bed, a tiny rush of adrenaline shooting up my spine.
No power.
