Come to the Lake

by Macarthur, Autumn

  Tears streamed down her face. Different tears from the angry ones she’d cried since the accident. This time, her tears would bring healing. Begin to wash away her grief and pain.

  Instead of holding them back, she let them fall.

  Then there were more Christmases to remember. The ones since the accident. Angry and alone. Refusing to find what joy and comfort she could with friends and family because she couldn’t have the Christmas she really wanted, with Karl and Rose and the other babies she might have had.

  It didn’t take much of a jump to imagine what her ghost of Christmases Future might be. Isolated, bitter, and making an idol of not needing anyone. Refusing to accept God’s gifts.

  Did she really want to keep living like that?

  Time to let go of her rage over losing the life she’d wanted and start living the life she had. To trust that He kept her alive for a purpose. To take her anger and resentment, a misshapen, basketball-sized lump, and offer it to Him, too.

  This must be what that verse about making our lives a living sacrifice really meant. Not just giving Him the prettied-up parts of us for a few hours a week at church or a few minutes a day of Bible reading, but giving Him all of ourselves. The ugly parts that came with being human, too. The anger, doubt, fear, envy, and all the rest.

  Take my sacrifice, Lord. I place it into Your hands.

  She sat, still and quiet, as the beginnings of peace seeped into her soul.

  And now, one more thing to do. She needed to decide the best way to change her Christmas Present from what it was, into what God wanted it to be.

  Chapter 13

  After washing up the dinner dishes, Ryan sat in the living room with his mom, only half-watching the Christmas Eve movie. A Christmas Carol, one of his favorites. One of Dad’s favorites, too.

  As always, when he thought of Dad, the loss ached, as real as the ache of a pulled muscle. Last Christmas, no one could have guessed the man who’d always seemed as strong and solid as the mountains he loved wouldn’t be here this year.

  Thankfully, Mom seemed to be managing okay so far, even laughing in places, though he knew she’d be missing Dad as much as he did.

  Help Mom to get through tomorrow, Lord. And please, help Claire to know You’re with her, too. I’m so sorry I upset her, earlier. I don’t know what I can do to make it right. Maybe I can’t fix whatever’s made her feel she needs to fight everything and everyone, and maybe it’s not up to me to try. But You can.

  Knowing he’d messed up gnawed at his conscience, ever since Claire marched away from him on Main Street. He’d stood, praying for her, watching till she disappeared into her house. He hated causing her distress. But he couldn’t ignore that quiet voice of the Spirit, prompting him to say what he had.

  All he could do now was let go of wanting to fix things and leave that to the Lord. But even when he had handed that worry over to God, thinking of her and hoping she was okay made concentrating on the movie difficult.

  When the doorbell rang, he jumped up and waved for Mom to relax in her seat. “I’ll get it.”

  Claire stood at the front door, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Jaw tightening, he winced. Had his words caused this?

  “Can I talk to you?” She peered up at him, hesitancy replacing her usual feisty tone.

  His heart clenched as he swung the door wide to invite her in. He’d never heard her sound or look so troubled and quiet. “Of course. Come on in. Mom’s watching a movie in the living room, but we can sit in the kitchen.”

  As she took off her coat, hat, and gloves, he prayed.

  Help me do whatever’s best to help her, Lord. Help me listen. And when it’s time for me to talk, give me the right words to say.

  Leading her down the hallway, he stuck his head into the living room to let Mom know. “It’s Claire. We’ll just be out in the kitchen.”

  “Sure, son.” She nodded, though a concerned frown creased her forehead. Claire’s only visit to the house, in the year she’d lived nearby. And Mom probably heard the un-Clairelike note in her voice, too. She’d have figured this wasn’t a good time to come out and be neighborly.

  He smiled reassurance he didn’t fully feel.

  In the kitchen, he pulled two chairs away from the table. “Can I get you a coffee? Mom’s got a cinnamon latte blend you might like.”

  Claire waved a hand in refusal. “It’s okay.”

  As soon as she sat, she bowed her head, shut her eyes, and steepled her hands in front of her mouth. So clearly praying, he quickly swallowed the “What’s wrong?” he’d been about to ask.

  After a minute, she raised her head with a watery smile. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here. I came to tell you you were right. I have been fighting God.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wanted to see Claire happy and at peace with God far more than he wanted to be right. “And…uh…are you still fighting Him?”

  Her smile widening, she shook her head. “Not anymore. Thanks to you. I’m grateful now you said what you did. You made me stop fighting long enough to recognize the ways He cares for me and blesses me. He gave me a loving family to grow up in. He brought me here, a supportive community filled with good people. He gave me a home of my own, children who need a teacher, and good friends like Maddie and Brad and Sam.” She stopped for a moment, something he didn’t dare to hope was love gleaming in her steady gaze. “And a friend like you.”

  Though he longed to tell her again how much he wanted to be more than a friend to her, the wisdom Dad taught him said to hold back.

  One blessing at a time. One step at a time. This less defensive, more open Claire was a huge step in the right direction. And if she only ever wanted to be friends, he loved her enough to be okay with that.

  He hoped.

  “I’m glad you see me as a friend.” He was glad, truly glad.

  “I do.” Again, a brief flash in her eyes, suggesting she also wished they could be more, mingled with unmistakable sorrow. She glanced away, her face stilled, her beautiful lips drooped. “God gave me other blessings too, though they aren’t part of my life anymore. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  Shifting forward in his chair, so their knees almost but not quite touched, he reached out both his hands and left them open on his knees. It had to be her choice to take them or ignore them.

  Though she kept her gaze averted, she rested her chilled fingers in his. Despite his concern for her, joy burst like Fourth of July fireworks in his chest. He clasped her hands in a warm hold. Firm enough to make sure she’d feel how much he cared for her and wanted to be there for her, loose enough she could pull away whenever she wanted.

  “I’m listening.”

  She released a long breath, almost a sigh. “When we walked home from the store tonight, you were honest about how you felt for me. God made me realize you deserved the same honesty from me. I came here to tell you the reason we can only ever be friends, nothing more.”

  Her serious tone and the grief shadowing her eyes when she lifted her gaze to meet his clutched at his heart. Fireworks to heartache in the space of a few seconds. That’s the way it was with Claire. Maybe the way it would always be.

  And his job was to forget his own heartache and be here for her.

  Whatever she planned to tell him would almost certainly be big and almost certainly be bad. The “bad thing” he’d guessed might have happened to her and challenged her about on their way home.

  Probably, she’d never spoken of this to anyone else here. Listening and supporting her in whatever way she needed was a responsibility he had to be man enough to handle right. Even if it meant giving up his hopes of someday marrying her.

  He’d told her he’d be there for her, and he would. With God’s help.

  Staying silent, he waited for her to speak.

  “You were right not just about me fighting God but about the reason why, too. There was something bad that happened to start it. I married my high-school sweetheart as soon as we finished college.”<
br />
  Claire was married? He’d never considered that. If she was still married, he needed to adjust the way he felt for her — and fast. His hands tightened on hers, but he said nothing, knowing she had more she needed to say.

  “We found jobs, bought a starter home together, and after a couple of years, we started trying for a family. I was in labor with our first child when we were in a car crash on the way to the hospital.”

  Her voice stayed matter-of-fact, but tears began streaming from her eyes. Dreading what might come next, he released one of her hands just long enough to reach for the roll of paper towels and place it where she could reach it.

  “My husband died. My baby girl died. And I lost the ability to have more children.” Her hands quivered in his clasp, and her tears kept falling.

  His heart contracted painfully. All those losses. No wonder she’d been so angry.

  And no wonder she’d watched Maddie and Baby Nathaniel with such a hungry, longing expression. Maddie had something Claire would never have. A huge thing for a woman like Claire, who was so great with kids and clearly loved them.

  A huge thing for a man like him, too. But this was about her, not him.

  “Oh, Claire. I’m so sorry.” Inadequate words for all she’d suffered. Take what he’d felt over losing Dad and multiply by three. Maybe more. The salt of his own tears stung his eyes as pain for her twisted through him.

  Lord, help me to help her. I don’t know what to say.

  Letting his hands go, she tore off a paper towel, mopped her face, blew her nose, and then met his gaze with swollen, tear-bright eyes. “That’s why I secretly raged against God. And that’s why I’m totally the wrong girl for you to fall in love with. You’ve made no secret of how much you want a family.”

  He hadn’t. He did want a family. And he wanted Claire, too. But choosing her, no matter how much he loved her, would mean letting his hopes of a big family go. Maybe letting his hopes of any family go. Could he do that?

  The decision he needed to make weighed heavy on him.

  Impossible to give her false reassurance by saying he didn’t want children. Foolish to hope some miraculous healing or a medical breakthrough might cure the reason she couldn’t have more babies.

  She raised her hands, stopping words he hadn’t said. “Please don’t tell me we could adopt. I can’t tell you how many people back in Texas said that — like it was a quick and easy solution that fixed everything. Like they were saying I had no right to grieve over never having children of my own. Getting away from that was what made me decide to move somewhere no one knew me and no one knew what happened. I was ready to scream ‘And you could get some sensitivity’ at the next person who said ‘But you could adopt’ to me.”

  The sharp edge in her voice sounded far more like the Claire he was used to. Good thing he’d held back from asking if adopting would be an option.

  Slowly, he nodded, taking time to find the right words. “I can see how tough that would have been. The way I’d feel if anyone told me not to mind Dad dying and not to miss him because Mom could remarry and give me a new dad.”

  “Exactly. No matter how good the man was, or how happy he made your mom, the loss of your father would still be there.” Her smile held gratitude, not happiness. “Thank you for understanding what I meant. I know I won’t be able to be a good mother to another woman’s baby until I’ve stopped feeling so sad and angry about not being able to have babies of my own. And I don’t know when that will happen. I don’t know if it will ever happen.”

  Her total honesty demanded honesty in return. And he knew what he needed to tell her.

  The truth.

  Reaching for her hands again, he took them in a firm and hopefully reassuring grip. She didn’t try to pull away. “Nothing you’ve told me makes you the wrong girl for me. I still love you, Claire. Even more than I did earlier since I know how brave you’ve been dealing with all this.”

  Her gaze shot up to meet his, and her mouth sagged open. She stared at him for a long moment, hope and disbelief battling in her eyes. “You do?”

  His nod this time was a lot more decisive. “I do. I still want to marry you. I know choosing you, if you’ll have me, means letting go of my hopes to have children of my own.” He shrugged. “I’ll need some time to grieve that, too. But life never comes with guarantees we get what we want. God might have something far better planned for us. We just need to trust Him.”

  He stood, then drew her to her feet. “Will you have me, Claire, and help me discover what that something better might be?”

  Her response was instant. She let his hands go, but only so she could grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Hoping this meant what he wanted it to mean, he wrapped his arms around her, gently and tenderly, demanding nothing. His heart thumped uncomfortably as he gazed at her, waiting. The next move was up to Claire.

  He’d made his choice. Now she needed to make hers.

  Green eyes glowing with emotion, she clasped his face in both hands. Even tear-wet and puffy-eyed, she stayed as beautiful as ever. Her face tilted toward his, her eyelids fluttered shut, and her lips parted, inviting his kiss.

  Slowly, carefully, giving her time to pull away if she wanted, he lowered his lips to brush hers, and his arms tightened around her. His mouth moved to her forehead, her cheeks, her poor swollen eyes, kissing away the salt of her tears. As inevitably as a compass needle pointing north, his lips drifted to hers again.

  And Claire kissed him back. The soft eagerness of her lips suggested she’d been longing for this moment as much as he had. The kiss deepened, setting the blood pounding through his veins, leaving him breathless and wanting more.

  Finally, he ended the kiss and drew back. Letting things get this intense wasn’t wise. Especially when she hadn’t spoken yet.

  Even if the wonder of her kiss was her reply, he still needed to hear her say it.

  As they gazed at each other, and tears filled her eyes again, awareness shimmered between them. This didn’t feel one-sided. He asked the question he’d implied but hadn’t voiced outright. “Claire, will you marry me?”

  Her forehead furrowed, and her lips tensed. Surely, she wouldn’t say no after kissing him like that. “I love you, too.” She chuckled. “I guess you might have already figured that out.”

  The words he’d been waiting to hear. Gratitude flooded him, warm and sweet.

  Thank You, Lord!

  “I hoped, but I couldn’t be sure.” And he still couldn’t. Something told him her next word would be a “but”. Better not get excited too soon. His contrary Claire could still say no.

  Despite her tears, threatening to overflow again, she grinned and nodded. “You can be sure. But I’ve only taken the first step today. There’s still a long way to go before I’m truly healed. I’m not ready for us to get engaged yet. Could we try what you suggested earlier? Dating seriously, with a view to getting engaged?”

  A pulse throbbed in her pale throat, and her eyes asked the question, too. A hint of fear still lurked there. The fear he’d pressure her for all or nothing.

  “I love you enough to wait for you.” That he knew, as sure as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow, as sure as God’s grace.

  Grateful joy drove the fear from her eyes. Now, they shone with relief. “Good. I’m calling Pastor Roberts after Christmas to ask if he can recommend a good Christian grief therapist. I’m warning you now, it won’t be an easy process. I’ll cry. I’ll rage. I’ll snipe and snark at you when it’s not you I’m really angry with. And I can’t give you children. Are you sure you still want to marry me?”

  Her adorably quirked eyebrow showed she knew the answer. No uncertainty remained.

  “I’m sure.”

  Mischief gleamed in Claire’s eyes and her smile. “I’m starting to believe you. But before we go tell your mom I’ll be here for Christmas lunch tomorrow, I think I need you to prove it.”

  Drawing her back into his arms, he held her in a warm embrace. “Onl
y one way to do that.” His lips lowered to hers again, in a sweet pledge of love he intended to last the rest of his life.

  As they kissed, his heart sang a Christmas carol of joy and thanksgiving.

  For God’s amazing love. And for Claire’s.

  Epilogue

  Five years later…

  As she watched Ryan and Claire laugh while their adopted son opened his Christmas gifts, gratitude warmed Jeannie. A grandchild at last, and a loving wife for her son. Their wide smiles suggested Claire’s parents, here for the holidays, felt the same joy she did.

  Crumpling the brightly printed wrapping paper in his chubby fists, eight-month-old Caleb grinned and chuckled with glee. Like most babies, he’d been far more interested in playing with the packaging than the actual toy inside it. She adored sitting with him while Claire taught school and Ryan worked. And she cherished seeing how much Claire loved her son.

  Thank You, Lord, for this answer to prayer.

  When I asked You to bring Ryan a wife he could start a family with and suggested Claire, I had no idea of the heartbreak she needed to overcome. But they’ve come so far since that first Christmas Day she joined us for lunch.

  I can see their love growing deeper all the time, just as it did for me and Hank. I’m so glad you blessed Ryan with a love as strong as ours was.

  You really do work in amazing ways. And always for our good.

  Ryan stood and picked up his son. Claire snuggled her arms around them both, kissing the top of Caleb’s head, then smiling at Ryan. The love in her eyes glowed brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree or the star that led the wise men to Bethlehem to worship the newborn King. And Ryan’s love shone just as bright.

  A love to last a lifetime. Exactly as it should.

  THE END

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