“Yes.”
“You do?” She straightened. “But when?”
“When I was seventeen.”
“Seventeen?”
“Yes.”
“You accepted Jesus at seventeen?”
“Yes.”
Her head moved back. The brows furrowed. “But…”
“It was real.”
“But…I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice climbed. “Why hide it?”
“I didn’t hide it. I…” He stumbled, trying to find the right words.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“Let me explain.”
She leaned away from him. “You pretended not to be a Christian?”
“I didn’t pretend.”
“Then you’re not a Christian.”
“No. I mean, yes, I am.”
“So, you let me believe, everyone believe for two years…” She stepped back. A line appeared between her brows. “What are you playing at?”
His mind raced over the last few weeks, and he had a sudden, blinding awareness of how it might seem to her. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“That you lied to me, to everyone?”
He flinched at her words. He’d always prided himself on telling the truth, and maybe that had caused the problem. His pride. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know, hadn’t wanted the questions or the judgment. And he hadn’t seen omission the same as lying.
“You were so angry with me the other day. You didn’t mention being a Christian then. And if you wanted to be together, you could have.”
“No, I…”
She whirled and headed across the parking lot.
He caught her before she got to the other side and pulled her around. “Please. Listen to me. I told Alan that I wouldn’t lie to you. That I wouldn’t tell you I had a relationship with God when I wasn’t talking to Him, when I didn’t want to hear from Him.”
“So you’re talking to Him now?”
“No, that’s not it, that’s—”
“I didn’t think so.” She twisted away and headed in the direction of her car.
He followed. When she grabbed the door handle, he stabbed his hand against the door, holding it closed.
“Let go!”
“Sharee, listen.”
“Get away from me.”
“I accepted Christ after Alexis was raped.”
She stilled. His arm dropped.
“I’ve never denied Christ,” he spoke to her back. “I haven’t lived for Him over the last few years, but I’ve never denied Him. Never denied what He did.” Her back still faced him. “Let me explain. Please.”
She made a slow circle and faced him. “All right. Go ahead.” Her arms crossed over her chest.
He drew a long breath, glanced toward the field where a number of people had stopped work and were watching them. “Not now. Not here.”
Hurt shone in her eyes. He reached for her, but she sidestepped his hand and straightened her shoulders.
“When you’re ready to tell me.” She moved past him, away from her car, away from him, back into the field.
How could he tell her? About Alexis? About Janice? Unexpected pain caught in his chest. Would he ever get past it? She accused him of hiding his faith. What would she think if he told her everything? Could he stand the accusation in her eyes then? His own was enough.
~.~.~
She’d never known how people could ruin a work of art until now. How they could slash a painting or topple a statue on purpose. Until now. Looking at the detailed scene John had drawn, all she wanted to do was toss the can of paint on it and walk away.
He had lied to her. And not just to her, but everyone. If what he said now was true, and how could she trust that?
She lifted the paint brush and made a deliberate stroke in the right place. She stood back and stared at the drawing. A few red splashes would just add color…
No.
She stuck the brush back into the paint, lifted it and drew it carefully across the line John had drawn. She filled in the areas according to the picture he’d taped in the corner. He told everyone to use their own creativity. The pictures were for inspiration only. His perfectionism did not mask a need to control.
Not like Dean’s. Her dad had tried to warn her, but Dean’s constant attention, constant smile and constant explanations had concealed a need to manipulate, to have power. She hadn’t seen it until he hit her. Instead of scaring her back into submission, it woke her to his need to control.
No, John’s actions were different. But deception was deception. What could he say that would change that? Her chest hurt.
Glancing around, she noticed that John had returned to work. Her painting stopped, and she studied him from a distance. What was in his life, Lord, to deny you? To pretend he didn’t know you? And where will we go from here? Her hand closed over another small can of paint. She dipped the brush again.
When a car horn honked later, she put the paint can down and massaged her shoulders. The tightness through them and her neck imitated the stitching on a football. Marci waved to her from the parking lot. Sharee put down the brush and the can, glad for a reprieve. Some other workers waved as they headed in, and she glanced at her watch. Four o’clock already. Quitting time.
Joshua gurgled in the back seat. His bright eyes focused on her, and a toothless grin appeared. The tension lifted. She leaned through the car’s window and ran a finger over his bare feet. He kicked and grinned more.
“His skin is so soft, Marci.”
“Baby soft with baby smells.”
“When do I get to babysit?”
“You really want to?”
“You know I do. Some night when you and Stephen can get out. As long as I can get him away from the girls.”
Marci laughed. “That might be a problem.”
Roseanne waved as she passed them and headed for her van.
Sharee nodded in Roseanne’s direction. “She’s been out here each Saturday, and now she wants to act in part of the drama.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s here.” Marci reached into the back seat and gave Joshua a teether toy. “She moved here after a nasty divorce and knows no one. I think she’s lonely.”
Sharee watched Roseanne climb into her van and head out the back drive. “Hmm. Well, it’s good she’s joined in. We need the help. But changing the subject, how are you doing?”
“Better. I panicked the other day, but I’m not going to let this throw me. If someone is resentful of the number of children I have, I can’t help that.”
“Good for you. I’m glad to hear it. Are you here to pick up Matt?”
“Yes. And Ryann.”
“I think they went to clean up, which is what I need to do, too.” She waved and strolled back to the field.
Her board stood alone. The others, along with the volunteers, were gone. Sharee pounded the lids on her paint cans and headed in. Boy, they’d exited the scene like locusts cleaning the countryside. Ryann, Matthew, and Abbey came out as she went in. Ryann gave her a wink.
When she returned to the parking lot, Marci waved and drove past her, Matthew and Ryann sat in the back with Joshua. Abbey pulled away in her own car, and a couple of cars followed hers. George, Sam, and Pedro left in George’s truck.
John’s truck bucked to a stop near her board. He climbed down and lifted it into the truck bed. The muscles across her shoulders bunched once more. The reprieve hadn’t lasted long. Suddenly, the explanation she wanted sent fingers of dread shooting through her.
She skirted the drive and headed for her CR-V.
The truck motor gunned and a moment later, he stopped the truck beside her. “Don’t run off.”
She turned. Her heart hit an erratic beat. “Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“We’ve done that.”
“All right. I need to talk.”
“I…I�
��ve been thinking. Whatever your reason for this charade, I can’t think it will…that it will make any difference. I…” How could she say it?
His eyes darkened. “You said you would listen.”
She bit her lip. Her whole chest cavity ached. “John, I…”
He leaned across the cab and threw open the door. “Please.”
Which was a word Dean had never used. She swallowed hard and nodded and climbed into the truck.
Chapter 21
They drove in silence to Howard Park. John parked on the causeway, climbed down and went to put money in a box. Sharee remembered the time when parking cost nothing. Now you had to pay for sunshine and sand. John put the ticket on the truck’s windshield and slid back into the truck. Neither spoke.
She stared out her window. The sun’s descent into the Gulf waters sent rays of pale blue throughout the apricot sky. And closer to the water’s edge, shore birds fled the incoming waves only to turn and chase them back as they receded. The tide’s give and take echoed her own life. Would there ever be a time of stability? A place where she could say, “Yes, this is where the Lord wants me, and this is the one the Lord wants me with?”
John cleared his throat and rested a hand on the steering wheel. “Are you feeling okay? Any repercussions from your fall?”
“No.” She stared out the window still. Repercussions? The words he used sometimes threw her. Like his reference to literature at the deli. Not that she didn’t think he was intelligent. Something just didn’t fit. Her stomach tightened. Obviously, things didn’t.
“I’m fine. A little sore and stiff, but okay.”
“Amazing.”
She turned his way, met his look. “Yes.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. Dark stubble covered his chin, the deep set eyes were shuttered. She said a silent prayer before turning to watch a pair of kite surfers not far from shore. The wind filled the sails and flung the surfers across the gray waters.
He shifted his position. “Sharee, when you fell today…”
“And Pedro caught me.”
“Yes, and Pedro caught you.” The irony in his voice let her know he understood the significance. “God stepped out of heaven and did a miracle.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He studied her and nodded. “Then you’ll understand. It’s why I said I’d give Him a second chance.”
She stared. “You’re giving God a second chance?” She tried to keep her voice level. How do you tell the God that made you, the God of all creation that you’ll give Him a second chance?
“Yes.” He let the quiet hover again. “And I would like a second chance, too. After I explain.”
She hesitated. She couldn’t promise that. No matter what her heart wanted. “We’ll see.”
He locked eyes with her but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and stared out the front windshield. “Alexis got her driver’s license on her sixteenth birthday like so many other teens, only Mom and Dad had a banquet that night, so she wasn’t supposed to use the car. She decided to take it for a spin, anyway. She wanted me to go, but I wouldn’t. I’m a year older, and I didn’t want to jeopardize my ability to use the car. So, she went…alone.” He paused, and his mouth tightened. “I told her that when I drove it earlier, I had trouble starting it; but it started fine for her. Dad said later that it needed a new battery. He planned to get one the next day.”
His head came back her way. Understanding went through her. A new battery. Like her own. His insistence about the battery, his frustration about it had something to do with his sister. Something had happened to his sister. Her stomach felt cold. Knowing what it was made his anger all the more understandable.
“Go on.”
“When she didn’t come back, I called her friends. Those I knew. No one had seen her. I went out looking and found the car. She’d gone to a hangout near school. Talked with some friends who had to leave, and when she finished her food and went to leave herself, the car wouldn’t start. The place had emptied out while she’d played on her phone, but a man there offered to help. After they had the hood up, he grabbed her, covered her mouth and dragged her off into the woods.” John’s voice became harsh. His eyes met hers. “He stuffed something into her mouth and raped her. Not thirty yards away.”
Sharee made an involuntary sound. His eyes shifted past her, and he stared out the window again.
“The man threatened to kill her. He had a knife. When he finished, though, she managed to pull the cloth out of her mouth and scream. She began to fight him. Dad had always told her that if someone was going to kill her anyway, she might as well fight and try to save herself.” A glint of amusement came through the heaviness of his voice. “She’s a mean fighter. I know. Anyway, the man panicked and ran.”
“Thank God.”
His eyes slid her way. “Yes. I felt that way later.”
“You thought it was your fault.” Her words whispered along with the wind.
A line appeared between his brows. His jaw tightened. “If I had been with her, it would not have happened.”
“You can’t blame yourself. The man…the man that did this, he’s to blame. Did they ever catch him?”
“No.” Above them, the cries of the gulls sounded again.
“How did you find her?”
“She found me. At least, when I got there and saw the car, she’d managed to get her clothes on—torn and dirty. The ice cream place had closed, and so she waited.” The regret in his voice hurt her. “She said she knew I’d come.”
Sharee touched him. Her fingers resting on his arm. “I’m sorry, John. I don’t know what to say, except what a horrible thing…to have that happen to your sister.”
“I was so angry. I needed answers. Someone managed to get me and Alexis to church. I found what I needed there. I found Christ.”
“And Alexis?”
“Alexis has never quite recovered. The police investigation made it worse.”
“Oh, no.”
“It was invasive and embarrassing.” His eyes narrowed. “And all detectives aren’t compassionate or trained in how to interrogate a traumatized young woman. It’s why she became a lawyer. To be an advocate for those who’ve been abused or assaulted. For all general purposes, Alexis hates men. And Jesus is a man.”
Sharee groaned. “She’s so beautiful and full of fire. I know it must hurt you to see that.”
He said nothing, and she considered what he’d said. “But there’s more, isn’t there? If Alexis’s rape drove you to God, then something else drove you away.”
“Yes.”
She waited.
“My wife died three years ago.”
Sharee’s mouth opened; nothing came out. Wife? He’d been married? And his wife died. Oh, Lord.
He made a motion with his hand that stopped her from saying anything. “We met right after college. She’d just become a Christian. Her excitement about Jesus made everything new again. I’d been saved for five years by then and felt close to God, but her enthusiasm re-ignited the passion.” His words sounded strained. He paused and crossed his arms across his chest. “You asked once what I did before I came here. Well, Janice and I had slipped back into the world. We were enjoying ourselves, not really doing anything wrong, per se, and still going to church, but just not on the right course. Know what I mean?”
Sharee nodded.
“That had just hit home, and we began praying together again, asking God to bring us back to Him when she died. We had five years together.”
Her heart dropped. Oh, Lord. “How…”
His eyes slipped away, focused on something past her. “We were flying in a small, single-engine plane along the coast, and the engine quit. Just quit. I couldn’t do a thing. Janice died in the plane crash. In less than thirty feet of water.”
“Oh, John…I…I’m sorry.”
“I was the pilot.”
Her head jerked. “You?”
A long pause. His gaze didn’t shift. “Someone had given us the plane, an older one, and we were both excited about it and decided to take it up.” He drew a breath. “They said later it was engine failure, not pilot error; but the truth is, I never should have flown it without a thorough preflight checkup. I did a cursory one.”
His pain came in waves across the cab like a physical object that she could touch. “I’m so sorry, John.”
“Nothing made sense then. Not God. Not my Christianity.” His voice hardened. “If God is all knowing and all powerful, where was He?”
Oh, Lord, no wonder he’s such a loner. He’s hurt, Lord. Still guilty and hurt and angry. What can I say?
“Don’t say anything.”
Had he read her mind?
“Everyone said everything they could think of at the time. They thought they could help. They couldn’t. People said it was a miracle I survived. Did they even know what they were saying? What about Janice? Didn’t she deserve a miracle? I should have died, not her.”
A moment later, he threw open his door. “Let’s walk for a few minutes.”
She climbed down on her side. He offered his hand. Startled, she put hers out, and they walked down to the water’s edge, hand-in-hand. The waves rushed forward, washing the sand, lapping at their feet. The sun’s glow had faded, and the water’s rush and pull had slowed. Most of the birds were gone. The dark comma of a kite caught the wind and pulled the board and its passenger past them.
“I didn’t tell anyone here.” His words mixed with the wind, and she had to strain to hear them. “I asked Alan not to. I wanted to find someplace where I didn’t have to talk about it, where I didn’t have to look into the eyes of those who knew, and where I didn’t have to hear the platitudes.”
Another kite surfer went past, the sail’s bold colors accenting the darkening sky. She shivered and scooted closer to him. He glanced down, hesitated, and put his arm around her.
“Sharee, I should have told you sooner. You had every right to know.” He moved to catch her look. “When I kissed you that first time, I felt guilty.”
“Guilty? Why?”
“Unfaithful.”
“Unfaithful?” She didn’t understand then clarity hit. “To your wife, you mean?” After three years.
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 17
