The Edge of Mercy

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  Matt looked at me. I couldn’t find words. Words to tell him how I had come to know a God as solid as this rock we stood upon. Unchanging, even after years of rain or snow or storm. Never swayed by even my own wavering heart. How He’d filled up a hole within me—a great need I hadn’t even known existed until all I valued had been stripped bare.

  Matt looked out into the woods, thinning in vibrant colors. “I . . . I wish I’d been more like Caleb. I wish I had shown extraordinary love. I wish I had—” His voice cracked, a thousand unspoken words in the broken sound.

  I tucked my hand in his, assuring him that I understood. I’d also fallen short of showing the type of love Caleb showed Elizabeth, the type of love God showed me.

  He squeezed my hand. “I was thinking it might be nice if we started going to church together.”

  I couldn’t help the doubtful expression that crept on my face. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do. Who cares what denomination . . . if the God Elizabeth believed in is there, then I want to be there.”

  My spirit leapt at his words, and I felt we embarked on a grand adventure. Together.

  He put an arm around me and drew me close. I lay my head in the crook of his neck, enjoying the woodsy scent of his deodorant, the soft smell of Ivory soap that still clung to his skin from his morning shower.

  “I love you.” He buried his face in my hair, and I returned the words.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about how our marriage started,” he said.

  “You mean my father forcing you to marry me? Yeah, me too.”

  “It was the wrong way to start things, but I want you to know I don’t regret it. You know how Elizabeth talks about beauty coming from ashes? Well, I think that’s like our marriage. It was a crazy, rocky start, but good came out of it. Good still comes from it. This summer too. It was a nightmare, but I think I’m trusting something beautiful to come forth.”

  He turned to face me and ran a thumb along my cheek. “Love is an emotion, but I’m learning it’s also a choice. I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you again, but I can promise I’ll never leave you again, never be unfaithful to you again, never stop believing in our marriage. Sarah, I want to share my life with you.”

  He lowered his lips to mine, and I melted into his kiss. As it deepened, I couldn’t think of the past or the wrongs done, or doubt whether or not trusting Matt again was a good choice for my heart.

  Right now, in his arms, it was the only choice. I didn’t want to live without him. I was excited about our relationship, about the newness and beauty that could come from pain and hurt.

  As he ended the kiss, I realized I hadn’t been haunted by dreaded images of his unfaithfulness. Certainly it wouldn’t always be this way, but right now it stood as a firm promise in the waning sunlight.

  “I want to move forward too. To forgive. With you.”

  He kissed me again and a fresh breeze swept over us, almost as if Caleb and Elizabeth and maybe even Abram were blessing the new chapter we were writing for ourselves.

  “Let’s go home,” I said, standing.

  “You mean . . .”

  “If you’re ready.”

  He nodded, vigorously, reminding me of Kyle when he was four, and I asked him if he wanted a piece of candy. A no-brainer.

  “I am.”

  We descended the rock and I marveled at how tomorrow our family would be back together under one roof. A new beginning. I spoke of my plan for the proceeds of Barb’s estate.

  He slung an arm around me. “Yeah, and if you ever want to downsize—you know, when Kyle’s in college or something—maybe we can look for something smaller, something you like.”

  I shrugged. Right now, there was no place I’d rather be than with him and Kyle in my boxy home.

  We reached the foot of the rock. Matt stooped to pick something up from the ground. But he didn’t straighten. He continued digging with his fingers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want a piece of this rock—a pebble even, to help me remember this. Us.”

  He swept aside a few fresh leaves and some wet, old ones. “Hey.”

  Something shiny caught a glimmer of sunlight skipping through the trees. Matt picked it up and held it in the palm of his hand. “This isn’t your—”

  “Yes! Yes, it is. This is where I dropped them!” My engagement ring lay cradled in his palm, dirt crusted to the sides of the diamond rock.

  He knelt down and swept the area clean. I knelt beside him, the knees of my jeans soaking in wet dirt.

  “Here. I found it.” He shimmied over to me on his knees, both my wedding rings now in his hand. I slipped off Lorna’s ring.

  “If you’d rather wear my mom’s, I understand,” he said.

  I shook my head vehemently and pocketed Lorna’s ring.

  Matt caught up my left hand and held the rings at the edge of my finger, gazed at me with sincere purpose. “Sarah Rodrigues, with these rings I promise to love you until the day I die, to always be faithful, to cherish you with every—” he swallowed down a crack in his words—“every last breath God gives me.”

  He slid them on. They felt light and secure on my hand. Somehow stronger despite—maybe even because—of the brokenness we’d been through.

  Matt kissed me beneath the majesty of the boulder above us. The sunlight cast our shadows—now one—on the solid face of Abram’s Rock.

  Author’s Note

  This is a story that caught me up and refused to let go until it was written. It was my first attempt at writing a time-slip novel, and it would be nearly five years before it would see the light of publication.

  These characters and their struggles are dear to my heart. Growing up, I watched my parents go through a lot of marital strife. The details aren’t important, but the very real struggle I witnessed was. Yet, do you want to know what else I witnessed? Perseverance. Work. Love. This summer, my precious parents will celebrate their thirty-ninth wedding anniversary. I saw how hard it was for them to get to this point. But I also saw them fight for one another, work for the vows they promised all those years ago. If you see anything of authenticity in this story, it is likely because of them, and what they taught me by living out their love, even when it wasn’t the easy path.

  At the same time that I am grateful for my parents’ happy ending, I remain cognizant of the fact that not everyone gets such an ending as theirs, or an ending such as Matt and Sarah’s. Sadly, marriages end, and hearts hurt. Dear reader, if this is where you’re sitting today, please know my heart aches with you. Please know I am praying for the God of comfort to minister to you in a special way. Thank you for walking with me in this story despite a raw or vulnerable heart.

  An obstacle I ran into in the writing of this story was creating the genuine point-of-view of a colonial woman. To obtain this, I looked to the writings of Mary Rowlandson, who wrote an account of her kidnapping by Native Americans during King Philip’s War. While the account proved tremendously insightful, in many ways, it left me with a bigger problem.

  I longed to be true to history, and yet I did not want to offend readers with that history—namely with the many prejudices held against the native settlers at that time. It is a fine rope to walk, and I hope that I have conveyed it with authenticity, yet in a manner worthy of God, who has declared that “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

  Now, about that rock… I first discovered Abram’s Rock as I prepared for a local hike for my son’s Tiger Cub den. When I learned of the legend of Abram’s Rock, I knew a story had to be told. While the story of Abram is only a legend, the story of King Philip’s War is all too real. As I read of this tragic war, my heart ached for both sides. While Elizabeth would no doubt have hard feelings toward the Wampanoag tribe, Native Americans were far from the only ones at fault. Many of the narratives I read were from a colonist’s point of view. There are few accounts from the Wampanoag
viewpoint, but ample evidence shows the colonists could be just as cruel and fierce in their fight for land as they perceived the Native Americans to be.

  As with any war or argument, and as Elizabeth and Sarah learned, the blame often lies with both sides. I pray that in history as well as in our own lives we can move forward beneath grace, casting all blame not on one another, but on the Rock who took all the blame upon himself some two thousand years ago.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed this story! If so, I would be extremely grateful if you would consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads (even a sentence or two is helpful!). And if you love to talk about books on social media, I’d be tremendously appreciative for a shout out! Please feel free to tag me so I can engage in the fun.

  Writing stories is nothing without you, dear reader. Please know I count it a privilege to be a part of your story time, and I’d love to keep in touch. To be the first to know about book releases, new covers, or special sales and announcements, please sign up for my newsletter (and receive a free short story!) at heidichiavaroli.com

  ALSO BY HEIDI CHIAVAROLI

  Freedom’s Ring

  The Hidden Side

  The Tea Chest

  Acknowledgments

  This book has had quite a journey, and as always, the final product is not mine alone. I am so very grateful to the many who have helped form and shape this novel.

  Thank you to Susan Brower for being one of the first in the industry to believe in this book. I can still hear your words of encouragement, which buoyed my spirit and made me think, “Hey, maybe I can write after all!”

  Thank you to Jan Stob for your early feedback which served to strengthen this novel immensely. Thank you to my agent, Natasha Kern, for your constant support and encouragement. Thank you to Nicole Miller for designing such a beautiful and perfect cover.

  Caleb Sjogren, it is an honor to work with you. I can’t help but be drawn to some sticky topics and having your careful insight is invaluable along the way. I appreciate the time and thought you put into helping me improve not only my words, but my characters. Thank you.

  Thank you to my critique partner and sanity-keeper, Sandra Ardoin. Thank you to Melissa Jagears for her support and willingness to answer my never-ending questions. Thank you to Susan Meissner for looking at the first few chapters of this book at its beginning stages. Thank you to my sister, Krystal Leffort, for answering some of the medical questions that came up in the writing of this book.

  Thank you to Rebecca Griffith, Associate Curator at Pilgrim Hall Museum for answering my questions regarding the museum and the handling of 17th century materials.

  Thank you to my parents, Scott and Donna Anuszczyk, for not only supporting me but showing me that love—and marriage—is hard work, but worth it. I love you both so much.

  To my boys, James and Noah, it’s beyond fun to release this book after so many walks in the woods and conversations over the local legend that began the seed of this idea so many years ago. Thank you for your excitement and support.

  Thank you to my husband, Daniel, for not only supporting my writing when no contract had yet been made, but for showing me true, unconditional love that serves each and every day. I love you, honey.

  Thank you to my readers for eagerly awaiting another book. Your emails and social media notes warm my heart and remind me why I do what I do.

  Lastly, thank you to my God, the God of Hope. May all glory go to you.

  Legend of Abram’s Rock

  excerpt from The Swansea Stage Coach—A Local History

  Chapter written by Marjorie E. Walkden

  A large boulder north of Swansea Village is known as Abram’s Rock. The tall oak trees at its base whisper of the Indians who once trod the ground beneath them or rested in their shade. King Philip himself might have rested here when hard pressed by his enemies. Farther than the eye can reach were the lands of Massasoit.

  The most familiar legend handed on to us about Abram's Rock is that he was a poor Indian who had deserted his tribe, coming to this settlement where he made his living in peace. But King Philip of the Wamponoag decided to take Abram back, fearing his friendship for the white man. Abram found this towering rock as a hiding place. On the west side is a room formed by boulders. It is still called ‘Abram’s Bedroom’—after 300 years. He is said to have lived there for several months, til tracked down and captured. He was given a chance for his life. The sentence was death or three leaps from the top of the rock to the ground below. Abram took the chance, and tradition says that his first and second leaps from the towering rock were safely made, but the third jump killed him.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Sarah’s parents forced Matt and Sarah into a marriage because of her pregnancy. What do you think of this sort of reasoning?

  2. Matt and Sarah share a troubled marriage. Is one more at fault than the other? What do you think of Matt’s decision to “take a break” from one another as a solution? How is Sarah at fault?

  3. Elizabeth is confused over her feelings for Abram and Caleb. How do you interpret her feelings for each?

  4. Elizabeth’s feelings for her Native American neighbors are complicated. At different times in the story, she feels different emotions. How do you perceive her feelings? Are they due to culture or circumstances?

  5. Matt does not like to talk about his troubled childhood. Why does he hide his pain? How can we heal from past wounds?

  6. Elizabeth writes, “were it not for Abram, I would not have loved Caleb with the intensity I did. Even as love is an object of but two people, it is shaped and formed by others, by the circumstances that surround it. It can grow, or it can shrivel. Had Caleb and I not suffered the times of adversity, we would not have grown together, into the man and wife we are today.” Do you agree with her assessment? If so, how has this played out in your life? If not, why do you disagree?

  7. Sarah acknowledges that marriage requires more than those first heady feelings of love. She says it also seeks out faithfulness, perseverance, and belief in the vow originally taken. What do you think of this?

  8. In the hospital, Sarah clings to 2 Corinthians 12:9. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” There is a lot to unpack in this verse. What does it mean? Have you ever known this grace when going through a difficult time?

  9. What is the significance of the grandfather clock in this story? What small things do you depend on?

  10. What do you think the author meant when she wrote, “Belief didn’t walk well alone”?

  11. If you had to choose a theme for this book, how would you word it?

  12. Both Elizabeth and Sarah feel a connection to God through nature. Where do you see God in your daily life?