As Long As You Both Shall Live: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 2)

by Linda K. Rodante

  The figures parted. One made its way to her. “Sharee, I…”

  “What’s going on?” Sharee asked before recognizing the other person. “Ted?” Alarm sent needles of shock through her. She started to back towards the door.

  “Sharee.” Ted Hogan’s voice was thick. “Don’t go anywhere.” She stopped. He turned to the other woman. “Marci, go on. Go to church. Joseph will be here soon.”

  Marci Thornton slipped out the door, not looking at Sharee. Ted moved over to her. “You didn’t see anything here. It’s not what you think. It’s innocent. It…” He stopped, his voice fading away, then in an abrupt, hard tone, “Don’t say anything to anyone.”

  Sharee’s heart raced, but shock gave way to anger. She found her voice. “I thought you were going to stay away from Marci. What’s been going on since Christmas?”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “That’s not what it looked like.”

  “She just wanted to talk. I told you it’s not what you think. Joseph doesn’t listen to her. He doesn’t know how to communicate.”

  “And you do?”

  “Yes, I do. She’s in a bad way lately and—”

  “She doesn’t need your help. She can talk with me or Pastor Alan or someone who wants her marriage to work. Leave her alone. If she and Joseph are having problems, then they need to talk about it together.” She looked at him in the gray light. “Ted, if you’re talking with her, consoling her or whatever, you’re creating a stumbling block for her. You’re…you’re stealing her affections.”

  “Affections?” He stepped towards her. “I’m not stealing anything. We were just talking.”

  “Oh? Can you do that? You told me about your feelings for Marci, remember?” Sharee kept her voice level. “Think about what you’re doing. Think of Marci and Joseph, think of the children and all the hurt you could cause.”

  “I am thinking of Marci.”

  “Think of God. What would he have you do?”

  “God forgives.”

  “Listen to yourself! If your motives are so pure, what would He have to forgive? You think you can do whatever you want with no consequences? That’s a lie from the pit.”

  Ted’s eyes narrowed. “And you always do it right, don’t you, Little Miss Self-Righteous? You don’t ever—”

  Someone opened the door. They both jumped. Matthew Thornton stepped across the threshold. He stopped when he saw them.

  “Oh, uh, hi. I was looking for mom. Dad sent me to find her.” He eyed Ted, looking as if he’d just eaten a raw egg.

  Sharee fought to keep her voice neutral. Marci’s sixteen year-old-son didn’t need to know what she’d seen. “Marci’s in the sanctuary, I think.”

  “Naw, we already looked there. Maybe I’ll look in the office.” The door closed after him.

  Sharee rounded on Ted. “That boy could have walked in on you and Marci instead of me.” She started to move away.

  Ted grabbed her arm. “Just don’t go telling anyone about this.”

  She yanked her arm free. “I’m not promising anything. You can’t do this, Ted. Why don’t you take a vacation or something? Think things through.” Her voice softened. “You know you don’t want this. This is not right.”

  “You don’t know what I want.”

  “Hopefully, you want God.”

  He said something under his breath, and pushed past her, letting the door slam as he exited.

  She gave him a minute then followed him out and walked towards the front of the church.

  John leaned on the shovel now. He’d propped his crutches against the nearby tree. Dirt mounded next to a hole near his feet. His head came up as she made her way to the sanctuary. Sharee felt his eyes follow her as she ducked inside the church.

  Her heart did an erratic tap dance inside her chest. Praying that no one would approach her, she moved down the aisle to their regular place. She folded her hands in her lap and thought of Marci and Ted. What had happened back there? Just innocent, Ted said. So why insist she say nothing?

  Sharee lifted her head and looked around. She wanted things like they were before John left. No proposal. No pressure. She tried to push the thoughts of her last engagement out of her mind. John was not Dean. She closed her eyes. Stupid, irrational fear!

  A few minutes later, John stopped beside her. He took a moment to set the crutches in a way that kept them out of the aisle. He’d changed his shirt, combed his hair. She tried a smile, but his glance held a hard reserve. The wall that she’d put between them remained.

  After a moment, his hand moved, touching hers, the briefest of touches. She wanted to tell him what she’d felt this morning when he shared about his trip, and about Ted and Marci, and the phone calls; but the music began, and they rose to sing.

  Sharee swallowed. How can we do this? Stand here and praise God and act like nothing’s wrong? She took a deep breath and put her concentration on the words of the song and off the man beside her.

  When Pastor Alan rose to share it was as if he he’d heard the cries of her heart. “Moses needed courage to face Pharaoh, to take six million people into the wilderness. When Moses died, God told Joshua, ‘Be strong and very courageous.’ David needed courage to face Goliath and later to face Saul, and especially when his own army wanted to kill him after their wives and children were taken hostage. Paul and Silas were beaten and thrown in prison. We’ve known missionaries today who have been killed or jailed because of their faith. Courage is something we need today, too. Courage to do what is right, and courage to do what God wants. We can’t run from situations in our lives. We have to stand and allow God to work.”

  Sharee bowed her head. I need this, Lord. I need courage. I can’t let my life fall apart because I’m scared of another relationship or scared of some pesky phone calls. Please help me.

  As Pastor Alan ended and the worship began again, she touched John’s arm and slipped past him out the doors of the church. She didn’t want to put on a front for others after the service, and she needed time alone. Sitting next to him, feeling the barriers between them, had left her stomach knotted and empty.

  She walked into the evening light, past a large pine, past the bleachers, to the field and the pond beyond. The fragrance from the cypress trees filled her nostrils. They had begun to fill out with new spring growth, and their black silhouettes rose against the sky.

  Lord, what are you saying? Something’s wrong. What did Miss Eleanor mean? You have her praying for us—for John and me. Why? She stared at the half moon, drew in its stillness. The crickets’ chirping and the smell of the damp earth pushed their way into her consciousness. Lifting her head, she turned and walked back towards the lights of church.

  John waited near the top of the bleachers. She spotted his dark silhouette as she drew near. How did he get up there and where had he put his crutches? She climbed over five rows of seats to get to him. Lowering herself onto the cool seats, she stared back towards the pond.

  The night air vibrated with tension. She had asked him to give her a week or two for an answer. And she had no answer. Yet.

  “John.” His name caught in her throat. She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  He said nothing. The quiet stretched.

  Her chest tightened. “I want you to understand. After you left, I began to feel anxious. I’m not at peace.”

  She didn’t move; neither did he.

  His question when it came sounded abrupt and rough. “Is that what you want me to understand? That you don’t have peace?”

  “No, I mean, yes; but…” Her heart squeezed.

  He shifted on the bleachers. “Alan told me I should have waited before I asked you, that I jumped in too quick. But you knew before I went what I felt about you…about us. What happened after I left?”

  The pit in her stomach opened, and she reached out only to have him draw away. “I don’t know, I…”

  “Whatever it is, you need to tell me. Is there someone else?” />
  “No.” She closed her eyes. How could she tell him what she didn’t understand herself?

  “Okay. If you need more time, you have it. If you don’t feel God wants us together…” His voice faltered. When it came again, the anger had disappeared leaving just the raw emotion. “As much as I care, I… Neither of us wants this if it’s not right.”

  His pain hurt her. Lord, I love him. You know that. I thought you wanted me to marry him. I don’t understand the fear, the uncertainty.

  John stood to his feet, but she caught his hand. Don’t go. But the words didn’t leave her mouth. He looked down, his face shadowed in moonlight. She drew a long, shuddering breath, fighting the waves of pain spilling through her. He reached and cupped her cheek in his palm. A light breeze caught her hair stroking it across his fingers, and his mouth twisted. His hand slid over her cheekbone and into her hair. She stood up even as he pulled her forward, meeting her need with his. The kiss was hard and long and mutually desperate.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t. “ His voice tensed. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. I don’t want that.”

  The ache in her chest increased. “I wish I could make you understand, but I don’t myself. I’m not sure what God wants. I—”

  His arms dropped. “That’s what I mean.” The words cut across hers. “You want a week or two. Fine. But don’t say something you don’t mean.”

  “But I …”

  He swung away from her and off the edge of the bleachers, landing on his good foot. “Sharee, make sure before you give me your answer. We don’t want to go through this again.” He leaned down on one foot and picked up his crutches.

  Her heart slammed hard into her chest. She loved him. She knew that. And God had brought them together. She’d known that before. Something went strong and deep into her chest. Relief washed over her. She stepped to the edge of the bleachers.

  “John…”

  He swung away from her. “A week. I’ll see you in a week.”

  Her hand went out, but he didn’t see it. He went around the big pine tree and was lost to sight.

  “John!”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. God had answered her prayer. She knew. She started down the bleachers but slowed, stopped. His last words had held anger again.

  Maybe I should wait. Give it time, so he knows I know what I’m saying. I can wait a week. Yeah, a week. That’s not too long.

  Chapter 3

  Yes, it was. She’d wait three days. Max. She’d tell him before church on Wednesday.

  She arrived fifteen minutes before the evening service, heart thumping in her chest. She’d fling herself into John’s arms as soon as she saw him.

  Once more, he hadn’t called and neither had she. She didn’t want to say it over the phone. She wanted to see his face when she told him, wanted his arms around her, wanted his kiss.

  As the minutes passed, though, her stomach began to churn. Surely he would come. He always came. They always came. Once the service started, her heart stopped its excited pounding and plummeted in her chest. He wasn’t coming. He had said a week, and that was what he’d meant.

  The first song ended, and she dropped into her seat. Miss Eleanor gave her a speculative look before smiling in welcome. Sharee made herself smile in reply, let her eyes slide past her and caught Lynn’s gaze. Her friend lifted an eyebrow, and she quickly shook her head. She didn’t need any questions. Pastor Alan had put a hand on her arm earlier and said her name in greeting, but with a question in it before he continued up the aisle and onto the platform. John always sat with her. They all knew that. His absence was noticeable.

  Sharee stood to her feet and closed her eyes as the second song began. “Oh, how He loves us,” the choir sang. Sharee inhaled the words and music like a fragrance. She lifted her hands and worshipped.

  I give it to you, Lord. I give the worry, John, and our situation to you. As she sang, the heaviness lifted. John’s pain and anger were understandable. If he had said the same thing to her, she would have been devastated. She needed to call him as soon as possible. Why had she waited?

  On the drive home, peace and humming filled her heart. God felt close, His love, His comfort surrounded her. Everything would be okay.

  “Thank you, Lord. I trust you.”

  She picked up her phone, pushed in John’s number then hit end. No, she didn’t want any distractions. She’d call when she got home.

  The parking lot in her apartment complex had only a few open spaces. She parked, climbed from her car, and headed across the dark lot. Her heart sang.

  Behind her, over her right shoulder, an engine started. Lights flashed on, shooting across the cars and spotlighting her.

  Watch out.

  The words whipped across her mind. She glanced around, but didn’t stop. Instead, she picked up her pace. A shiver went through her. At the car’s sudden acceleration, she shot a second look over her shoulder. Tires squealed, and the bright eyes of the car rushed at her.

  With sudden comprehension, she whirled, leaping for the sidewalk. The car hit the walk, too, and hurdled forward. Its front edge caught her hip and slung her back against the passenger door. She flew off the back fender, legs twisting under her. Her head slammed the sidewalk, and pain exploded throughout her .

  ***

  The siren’s scream woke her. Lights strobed against her eyes. She winced. It took a minute before she recognized the strange instruments and sterile insides of the ambulance. She fought the pain in her head and struggled against the straps that held her. Beneath her, a flat, hard board added to her discomfort.

  “You’re awake?” Someone asked. A girl’s unfamiliar face filled her vision. “Don’t try to move. You’re secured to a spinal board. We don’t know all your injuries yet, but you’re vital signs are okay. You were in a car accident. Do you know your name?”

  “Yes.” Sharee struggled for words.

  “What is it?”

  “Sharee Jones.” The siren wailed in her ears.

  “Your address?”

  Sharee told her.

  “Okay, good. We have your purse with us.” The girl’s voice was professional and crisp. She held up Sharee’s purse. “Your phone’s inside. Can I call anyone?”

  “Yes. Call John.” The girl took out the phone, and Sharee forced her voice. “Tap the face. Then…push the green button…twice.”

  The girl made the call. Sharee listened to be sure the girl had reached him. She heard his voice, sounding startled, as the girl relayed the information. Just the sound of his voice sent reassurance through her. She swallowed and tried to reposition her head. Pain shot like an electric current through it.

  The girl slipped the phone back into Sharee’s purse. “He’s on his way. What hurts?”

  “My head. My back. The board.”

  “Okay. Try not to move. We’re coming to the hospital now. They’ll take care of you.”

  Sharee gritted her teeth, closing her eyes, issuing a plea for help. Jesus.

  The ambulance’s doors opened, and Sharee felt the rush of air. Hands pulled the board out to the stretcher. The girl stepped down beside her, and as they wheeled her inside, she tucked Sharee’s purse in beside her on the board.

  “They’re full tonight. They’ll leave you in the hall until they have a room. I’ll help check you in.”

  A couple minutes later, a masculine face appeared above hers. “You stepped in front of a car? Not something you’ll want to repeat, I bet.” A brief smile. “I’m Dr. Lawson. I went over your chart with the ambulance personnel. I think the best thing we can do is get you to x-ray. Here’s the plan. We’re got some help to move you from the board to another gurney. Then we’ll wheel you down there. Don’t try to help. Let them do the moving.”

  “Sharee?” A familiar voice reached her, and Pastor Alan looked down at her.

  Relief swept through her once more. She tried to smile.

  “You’re family?” the doctor asked. />
  “I’m her pastor.”

  “Oh…Okay…” He hesitated a moment. “Well, we’re about to take her to x-ray. You’ll have to move aside.”

  “Okay,” he glanced down. “John called. I was here already—visiting someone. He’s on his way. He wasn’t at home, so it will take him awhile. Did he say you stepped in front of a car? Like John?” A smile formed. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

  “Okay, Pastor…” another voice intervened, moving up next to the stretcher.

  As he moved back, Sharee caught his hand. “Alan, please. Tell John it wasn’t an accident.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  ***

  The truck ate up the dark road, the yellow lines in the middle whizzing by, the dashes creating one continuous line; but it wasn’t fast enough for him. He glanced at the speedometer and struggled with what he knew was right and what he wanted to do.

  A car had hit her. Alan said she was coherent, but they were doing X-rays, and the accident was no accident. Exactly like what had happened to him. What did that mean?

  The thought of a future without her drove a swirl of blackness to his gut. He’d fought it all week. What happened between the time he left for Indonesia and his return?

  And how was he supposed to act? She’d had the paramedic call him, not her parents, not Alan and Daneen, but him. Car lights raced his way, tore past and sailed into oblivion. What did that mean?

  He should call her parents. He’d met them at Christmas and seen the closeness. They’d want to know. He braked at the light and swerved onto US 19, and began to pray.

  ***

  The chill in the X-ray room enveloped her more the second time than the first. The doctor had ordered retakes of the X-rays. Sharee shivered even with the X-ray jacket covering her. The cold room and the gurney’s hardness added to the pain in her head. She shut her eyes, and the hospital’s antiseptic odor filled her nostrils.

  “You’re going to have to lie still,” the technician said. “We don’t want to do these a third time.”

  Sharee froze and heard the woman walk away from her. A door opened and closed. The first time they’d wheeled her into the room, the woman’s abrupt tone had surprised her. Now, a jolt of irritation sent adrenalin rushing through her. I didn’t move the first time. It’s not my fault you’re having to re-do these.