Dan came around the pulpit. “If you’re standing in a place today where you know you need more—healing, hope, a glimpse that there is a happy ending—it’s time to become a rebel. To do something daring and wild and reach out for grace, even though it doesn’t make sense. But I warn you, once you embrace Christ, you too become a rule breaker. Because a life committed to God requires us to live uncomfortably. Inconveniently. Accountably. Bravely. Transparently. Vulnerably. It requires us to love without rules. Welcome to grace.”
Owen closed his eyes. Welcome to grace.
As the congregation stood to pray, Owen felt movement beside him and looked up just in time to see Scotty slip out of the pew and head for the vestibule.
He debated a moment, then followed her out. “Scotty?” he whispered.
She’d already grabbed her jacket off the hanger, was pushing through the double doors outside.
He scrambled after her. “Scotty?” Wait—“Are you crying?”
He touched her shoulder, and she rounded on him. “No, I’m not crying. But your pastor doesn’t know anything, okay?”
She stalked away toward the Evergreen truck. Leaving him standing there.
Huh?
Owen followed. “Scotty—”
“I’ve spent long enough in this stupid town.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t leave.” Even as he said it, a moan broke open inside. Maybe that’s exactly what she should do.
Because if he’d read Casper’s expression correctly . . .
But Owen couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He caught Scotty by her arms. “What’s going on?”
She looked at him, fierce. “That’s easy for him to say. For all of you to say. You don’t know what it’s like to feel abandoned by God. To know that you did something awful . . .” She closed her eyes, turned from him.
He settled his hands on her shoulders, wanted to pull her against him, but she shook him away.
“I killed a man, Owen.” Her voice had cut low, a bare whisper. “I killed a man I knew, and I still see it every day. I see the choices I made, and I know that I wouldn’t want me, so why should God?”
Oh, Scotty. He reached out for her again, but she stepped away from him, her voice pitched low, almost talking to herself. “The whole thing is stupid. I was over this. I was fine—”
“You weren’t fine, Scotty—”
She rounded on him. “I am fine. It was a part of the job. And I don’t need forgiveness or healing or someone to tell me it’s going to be all better. I don’t need help!” She gritted her teeth as if folding her feelings back into herself. “I’m not weak, and the last thing I need is to depend on a God who is just going to betray me when I need Him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Being a Christian makes you weak. Makes you . . . emotional. It makes you think there will be some happy ending waiting out there when really it’s just . . .” She wiped her cheeks. “More ocean. More dark, freezing ocean.”
Oh, Scotty. No wonder she couldn’t have faith—she’d never had anyone but herself to believe in, and he knew from experience how that worked out, no matter who you were. He reached out to pull her into his arms, but she pushed against his chest.
“No.” Then her voice softened. “You’re such a good man, Owen. You don’t even know it, but you are. And I can see God in your life. I saw that on the boat. God does see you, does save you. That’s why it’s so easy for you to have faith—because you’ve seen Him show up. And why not? You deserve it.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s not easy for me to have faith. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to come back here, revisit my mistakes. I don’t deserve it—”
“Yeah, actually, you do. You might have gotten a bad draw out of life, but you’re a kind, good person, Owen. You’re brave, and the way you love your family . . .” She sighed. “You’re the kind of person I could have loved. Even . . . married.”
Could have?
A darkness formed in his chest, swirled through him. “Scotty . . .” He swallowed hard. “I love you. I’m so completely in love with you. You’re smart and beautiful, and the way you argue with me—I’m not wounded in your eyes.” He took a breath. “You may not want you, but I do.”
Her expression grew so sad, he wanted to cry.
“What’s the matter?”
“The thing is, I believe you,” she said. “And . . . I want you too. But it’s time for me to go home. We both know this will end badly. Let me leave before I can’t. Before it gets really messy.”
Messy? He searched her face. How could she—? No, she couldn’t know about Casper. Or read his mind, right?
For a beat, he felt her words, let them settle. But he refused to believe it was over. That God had given him a fresh start only to let it walk out of his life. He took her hands. “Scotty, I know this is scary for you—all my family and the stuff with Casper. But please give us a chance to work this out. Have—”
“Faith?”
“Yeah. Have faith. Have faith in me and in us . . . and most of all, have faith in the fact that God brought us together.”
“Is that what you believe, Owen? That God brought us together?”
Her words brought him up short. He did believe it, and the breadth of that swept through him, filled him. He believed exactly that.
“Scotty, I think God saved you for me. And me for you. That He was with us on that raft and every moment after. I think God is not just giving me a second chance but has something amazing out there for me—better than hockey or the millions I would have made. I don’t know what it is—and right now, I can admit everything looks like it’s going to fall apart. But I believe—” His throat tightened. “I believe God is on my side. And your side. And Casper’s side. I believe that He stepped into my life to remind me that He didn’t let me go. And that He’s wildly in love with you too. We just have to hold on, wait, and yeah, have faith.”
She had big eyes now, and he hadn’t realized his voice had risen with emotion.
Or that his family had come out of the church, that Casper stood just a few feet away, his expression hollow.
Owen met his gaze for a long moment. “Right?”
Casper drew in a breath. Nodded.
“Good,” Owen said softly. He turned back to Scotty, touched his forehead to hers. “So. Break some rules? Have a little faith?”
She gave him the smallest of smiles, her hands now on his. “I’ll try.”
Scotty sat in the den, on the end of the sofa next to Owen, his arm curled around her. Holding on.
She wished his embrace could stop the wild careening of despair in her heart. Oh, how she wanted to believe in Owen, in his words and in the way he’d looked at her when she suggested leaving. You may not want you, but I do.
So much in his words, his expression. As if he wasn’t planning to help Casper run, wasn’t going to marry Raina, the mother of his child.
Maybe she’d misunderstood, misheard, even let her emotions tangle her brains and make her overreact.
“Touchdown!” Next to her, Owen leaped to his feet, high-fiving his father as they watched the Bears and the Vikings tussle on the field. The Vikings had scored, to the whoops of the Christiansen men. She gave Owen a wan smile when he turned to her with a high five offering.
She smacked his hand, then shrugged. So much emotion for one silly game.
“We need this win, babe,” Owen said, sitting down beside her again. “We Vikings fans have waited way too long for a decent quarterback. This might be our year to get into the play-offs!”
“There’s still four minutes left in the game,” Max said. “Time for the Vikings to blow a perfectly good lead.”
“That’s enough of that,” John said, getting up during the commercial break to return the popcorn bowl to the kitchen. Jace sat in the recliner, Eden having gone to bed. Scotty could hear Grace and her mother chatting in the living room.
This was how it was supposed to be with a family. W
atching football. Playing board games. Showing up in each other’s lives. Loyalty—the Christiansens had it in spades.
Owen put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close. As if it were all settled. But Owen didn’t know God like she did.
The God she knew couldn’t be trusted.
And life felt too fragile to believe in a God Scotty couldn’t control.
She’d wanted to scream with every word the pastor uttered. We want a God we can use, who shows up when we need Him—and not when we don’t. Most of all, we want a God who follows the rules—our rules.
Yeah, well, what was worse—trying to control God, having a few expectations of the Almighty, or just letting Him have His way with the world? It seemed He left all the hard stuff to people like her.
God would be so much easier to let into her life if He . . . if Scotty didn’t have such high expectations. But the truth was, she knew the second she needed God, she’d only end up alone, her life in pieces in her hands.
I believe God is on my side. And your side. And Casper’s side. I believe that He stepped into my life to remind me that He didn’t let me go. And that He’s wildly in love with you too.
Wildly in love with her? Hardly.
We just have to hold on, wait, and yeah, have faith.
Hold on. Wait. For what—Owen to break her heart?
And that’s when she noticed it. “Where’s Casper?”
She thought she felt Owen stiffen, but Jace looked over. “He went to take Raina home.”
Right. She was jumping to conclusions . . . wasn’t she?
Have faith.
Scotty got up, gave Owen a smile. “I’ll root from the kitchen.”
He offered a smile back. Was there a hint of guile? She didn’t want to test it and instead wandered out into the living room.
Ingrid sat on the sofa, her glasses low on her nose, her sewing kit out, working on what looked like a felt stocking. Grace tinkered in the kitchen, the smell of something tangy brewing in the soup pot on the stove.
Scotty sat next to Ingrid and picked up a cutout of a boot.
“You can bead that if you want,” Ingrid said, looking up from the pair of mittens she was stitching onto the stocking. “Use this little needle and sew the beads on where the dots are on the fabric.” She indicated the beads, clear white, then a long, skinny needle already threaded with white floss.
“Who’s the stocking for?”
“This one is for Jace. I figure, with a baby coming, it’s probably time to make him an official member of the family.” Ingrid winked and gestured to the pile of stockings in a nearby bag. Scotty went over to the bag and pulled them out one by one. A giant snowman for Darek, a reindeer for Ivy, an elf for Tiger. A teddy bear for Eden, a penguin for Grace, and a Santa for Casper. Owen got a puffy bear holding a sled. And finally, Amelia had a fuzzy kitty.
Laid out, the beading and sequins sparkled under the high lights of the cathedral ceiling. Scotty could imagine them hanging from the fireplace, limp, expectant.
See, this was why Owen so easily found his faith. Because she’d bet that he’d never, not once, woken to find his stocking empty by the hearth.
She put the stockings down, heard the cheering from the next room. “Sounds like the Vikings won.”
“Miracles do happen,” Grace said, tasting the soup.
Owen came out of the den. He could take her breath away by just appearing. His hair pulled back in a ponytail, his beard trimmed, he wore a flannel shirt folded past his elbows over a white T-shirt that stretched against his solid hockey frame. She saw it so easily—the man he would have become, the star athlete. Only she preferred this version—less arrogant, maybe, and sweet to the core, despite his pirate eye patch.
“Now that was a football game,” he said, grinning.
With that grin he could win her all over again.
Yeah, maybe . . . Have faith. Wait. Perhaps God was on her side.
Owen stood for a moment, watching his mother sew.
Suddenly Ingrid looked up. Frowned. “Isn’t Casper home yet?”
Grace answered her. “No, he’s probably still at Raina’s. They need some family time.”
But Scotty’s gaze fell on Owen and she noted his strange look. He spun around and headed up the stairs.
Scotty found herself on her feet and on his tail. She didn’t exactly mean to, but her suspicions roared to life.
She followed Owen up the stairs, right into the room he shared with Casper.
Where Owen stood looking at the empty closet. “He took his clothes,” he said quietly.
His stripped expression made Scotty step into the room and close the door behind her. “Owen, did Casper . . . ?” She blew out a breath. “I heard you guys talking on Thursday behind the garage—”
“He didn’t mean it, Scotty.” Owen advanced on her, put his strong hands on her shoulders. “Listen. He didn’t mean it. He was upset and scared—who wouldn’t be?—and he was talking crazy. And I told him that—”
She pushed his hands off her shoulders. “You also agreed to marry Raina.”
He stiffened, his mouth opening as if searching for words.
Silence fell between them. She didn’t blink, didn’t move away.
Then his Adam’s apple dipped. “I don’t have to marry her, but . . . yeah, I have a responsibility—”
Scotty held up her hand. “Don’t—”
“Raina would be alone with a baby—my baby. That means I have to stay. Be a father.”
“Stop, please.” She fought her voice, managed something calm. “I get it, okay?” But she was blinking hard as she backed away, heading for the door. “I should have gotten it long ago.”
Shoot—why hadn’t she left this morning? Or better, the day she arrived? Oh, she was a glutton for punishment.
This was why she had rules.
But Owen’s hand landed on the door, holding it shut. “No you don’t, Scotty! The last thing I want to do is let you go. And I’m not going to because Casper is . . . He’s not going to do it.”
“Do what, Owen?” She lifted her chin.
He met her with a grim look. “Run. He’s not going to run. He knows it’s stupid and—”
“Selfish? Because if he jumps bail, he’ll also forfeit his bond and everything he has left will be used to pay for his defense. And you can bet he won’t go to jail for ten years in a plea, but for every minute of those fifteen years!”
“Shh!”
But she was so beyond shh. She stalked away from Owen, across the room, half-talking to herself. “I cannot believe I stayed. I should have left that first day. Then I wouldn’t be here, knowing something I should not know, watching your family—a family I’ve come to care about—fall apart because of your and Casper’s idiotic decisions.”
“Hey—”
“Well, Owen, if Casper is guilty, he should pay for his crime.”
Owen’s expression darkened. “He’s not guilty.”
“Then instead of running, he should let us prove it. I told you I wanted to retrace his steps, figure out who might have done it. That’s what we should have been doing this weekend instead of dancing and playing board games with your family! I should have figured out that you were going to go along with Casper’s stupidity!”
A fire lit in Owen’s expression. “He’s not being stupid.”
“You all are!”
“He’s afraid of losing everything! And I get that better than anyone! So yeah, if he has to run, then I’ve got his back.”
He stared at her, a muscle pulling in his jaw. Finally, “So what are you going to do about it?”
She tore her gaze from Owen’s, unable to face it. “I don’t know. But I do know that if your brother isn’t back by morning—”
“What, you’re going to call the police? Report him?” He wore such an indignant look, so much disbelief, that it ignited something inside her.
“Yeah. Maybe I am. Because someone has to do their job.” She tried to march past
him.
But Owen grabbed her arm. “And that’s what you’re about, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter if you know in here—” he pointed to her chest—“that Casper’s innocent. That he could never kill anyone. It’s all about following the law, the rules, with you, isn’t it?”
She yanked out of his grip. “Yeah, actually. Because guess what? Following the rules is the only way you don’t get hurt. The only way you don’t end up falling in love with someone and walking away completely eviscerated.”
He swallowed hard, and a beat fell between them. Then he said quietly, “Yeah, I guess it is. You’re right, honey. You can’t trust anything I say, anything I do. Because I’m trouble. And you can’t trust trouble.”
She stood watching him breathe. He stared her down, looking so very desperate, very angry.
Very much like the criminal she thought he might have been, not so long ago.
“He’d better be home by morning,” she said on a whisper of breath. Then she turned and walked out, heading toward her room.
No, toward Owen’s sisters’ room. Scotty’s room was back on a ship sitting in dry dock in Dutch Harbor.
Casper stood staring at Layla, her tiny body huddled in the fetal position in her crib, her lips askew, her curly hair wispy against the dim lamplight, and called himself a coward.
Outside, a storm lashed the glass, splattering on the leaf-strewn sidewalk, wetting the pumpkins he’d carved with Raina.
He’d wanted that much—some memory to give them together, before . . .
Raina came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, her head resting against his back. Her tiny bedroom seemed so crowded with the crib—he hadn’t remembered it being that big when he’d assembled it five months ago. Or maybe he’d simply spent too much time dreaming of the house he’d build them on a bluff overlooking Deep Haven, the lake. Dreaming of the life he wanted for his family.
He ran his hands along Raina’s arms, feeling her mold her body to his. “I can’t miss watching her grow up. She’s not even walking yet and I’m supposed to leave? Walk out of her life?” He turned, pulled Raina into his arms. “Out of your life?”
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