by Leah Atwood
“It’s been a road of self-discovery, but I’m better for it.” They’d ventured off her path to God, but she didn’t want to drop the subject and not tell him. It was too important. “I couldn’t have done it without accepting Christ. I’d heard all the Bible stories growing up, but it never clicked with me that God is Love, and I realized I’d never be able to love myself or anyone else until I knew His love.”
“I’m happy for you, Megs.”
Why was there a wistfulness to his tone?
“Thanks. I wish I wouldn’t have wasted so many years making poor decisions, but I have to let them go.”
They approached Schumacher’s, whose parking lot had nary an empty space, and the line overflowed to the sidewalk. The deep conversation faded away, replaced by a debate about which flavor to try.
She nudged him with an elbow. “They still make their homemade peanut butter.”
He made a gagging noise. “No, thank you. Peanut butter belongs on bread with jelly or layered in chocolate, not in ice cream.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’ll stick with peach if they have it.” He craned his neck to see the outside menu. “They’ve added a bunch. It used to be a single column.”
“They had peach last week.” A wave of grief crashed over her. “Mama wanted some. It was always her favorite, and one of the last things she ate.”
Wyatt reached over the console and squeezed her hand. “I’ll have a double scoop in a waffle cone in her memory. That’s how she liked it, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she collected her emotions before they overflowed into tears.
His gesture was sweet—especially for someone who preferred regular cones. Nothing could bring Mama back, but his small overture touched a chord in her grieving heart. Mama was gone, but she wouldn’t be forgotten.
Her gaze traveled to where his hand still covered hers.
His followed.
She raised her stare at the exact moment he looked up, and their eyes collided.
He jerked his hand away as though he’d touched a blue flame. “Looks like the line is about gone.”
Stunned by what had happened, she lost the ability to speak. She replied by getting out of the SUV and waiting for him in front.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No.” She’d meant to say yes, but her mouth had a mind of its own.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
They walked to the building, and she didn’t miss the safe distance he kept from her. Despite the small touches they’d shared in the last two days—all innocent and meant for comfort—something changed moments ago. An acknowledgment of a torch never doused.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
By his response, neither did he.
Desperate for a break of levity, she pointed to the menu. “You’re in luck. They still have peach.”
“Good.”
When she reached the front of the line, she ordered her triple dip of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. She ate from the top layer while Wyatt waited for a double scoop of peach in a waffle cone. If ever a girl deserved to gorge on ice cream, this was it. If only chocolate could solve all the problems in the world.
He paid for both of theirs and suggested eating outside by the pond. A family left and opened a free table which they claimed.
“This is good,” he said after working through the first scoop. “It was in the thirties last time I came home, and ice cream held little appeal in those temps.”
“I could eat it year-round—hot, cold, sick, healthy.” She devoured a bite of vanilla to prove her affinity for the sweet dessert. “I get that from my mom.”
“You take after your mom in a lot of ways.”
“That’s a compliment.”
“Good, that’s how I meant it.” He broke off a piece of the cone and popped it in his mouth.
“Do they really have ice cream in MREs?”
“If you can call it that.” His taste buds revolted at the memory.
“What did it taste like?” She finished off the last of her vanilla, leaving only the strawberry.
“Not ice cream.”
He said it in a matter-of-fact manner that made her laugh. “That bad, huh?”
“I would rather eat cardboard.”
“Are MRE’s all you had to eat when deployed?” In asking questions, she revealed her ignorance of the lifestyle he’d had, but she wanted to know everything about the years since they’d divorced.
“No. We actually had a nice chow hall at the base we were deployed to and only had MREs while in the field.” He broke off another piece. “To tell the truth, I ate more MRE’s during stateside training than I ever did overseas.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t have thought that.” After two licks of her strawberry, she realized her eyes were bigger than her stomach. “I can’t finish mine.”
“I made a bet with myself whether you would. Three scoops here is equivalent of six anywhere else.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow. “What were the stakes?”
His shoulders rose in a guilty shrug. “You don’t want to know.”
“Au contraire, yes, I do.” Curiosity bloomed, and she leaned forward.
“Nothing.” A roguish grin spread broad. “I was teasing you.”
“You’re still a pain, you know that?” She gave his arm a playful swat.
“So I’ve been told.”
They continued chatting, maintaining light conversation until a bell rang on the back door. “We’re closing in ten minutes,” one of the Schumacher’s told the tarrying customers.
Wyatt leaned in closer to her. “Kicked out twice in a night. Just like old times.”
“We had some good ones.”
He tossed an arm around her shoulder as they walked back to the SUV. Apparently, he’d moved on from their encounter from before they had gone inside.
She turned her neck to face him once he was in his seat. “Don’t forget to drop me off at my house instead of Dad’s.”
“Got it. Do you need a ride to your car in the morning?”
“It’s close enough to walk.”
His eyes bore into her.
Uncomfortable under the weight of his stare, she shifted in her seat. “What?”
“For someone who couldn’t wait to move on from Lilston, you didn’t make it very far.”
The comment rankled her nerves. “I’ve done well for myself.”
The intensity of his gaze faltered. “I meant no offense, and nothing personal. I think it’s great you live so near your parents.”
Don’t I feel ridiculous? “I’m sorry. I’m my own worst enemy and critic, which makes me oversensitive.”
“I told you once tonight that I’m proud of you, and I mean it.” Once again, undeniable wistfulness reflected from him. “You’ve matured into a confident, beautiful woman who knows what she wants.”
She fought the urge to counter his compliment. “You always did believe in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“When you love someone, you believe in them.”
Another dig, though she was positive he hadn’t meant it as one. She’d loved him, but hadn’t trusted him to make her happy. Her faith had been misplaced, and she had only herself to blame for the final unhappy months of their marriage—a choice with consequences she hadn’t anticipated.
“I’m sorry.” The apology had slipped off her tongue before she realized what she’d said.
“For what?” Wyatt tossed a confused look her way after pulling out of the parking lot.
“Not believing in you. In Us.”
He paused at the stop sign for a beat longer than necessary. “That’s water under the bridge. We’ve both acknowledged we were too young to know what we were doing. There are no hard feelings on my part. Promise.”
“Nonetheless, you deserve an apology.”
“I wasn’t without fault, Meg.” He s
ighed. “I refused to hear you when you said you wanted more from life. I wasn’t ready to grow up and accept more responsibility.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Goodness, she needed to curb her tongue. It was bad enough that she’d asked, but could she have been more random?
“No.” His clipped tone indicated displeasure with her question. “If so, I’d have an awfully hard time explaining this trip home.”
His comment confused her. This newly found friendship between them came with complications. Hadn’t their meeting of eyes earlier revealed as much?
“Is it true women chase after men in uniform?” Learn to shut your mouth!
She caught his amused smirk.
“Sounds like someone’s fishing—jealous?”
Heat infused her face, and there was no hiding it. “I’m only curious. The movies and books make military heroes out to be so romantic, but it seems anything but.”
“To answer your question, yes, some women will want a man for the sole reason he wears a uniform, but I learned early on how to pick them out.” His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “And you’re right. There’s nothing romantic about the military life. It can be a good life, but it’s a hard one. I saw friends dumped while they were overseas because they left behind a significant other who couldn’t handle the loneliness. I saw friends cheated on and betrayed. Male, female—didn’t make a difference. Not to mention helping your best friend’s wife plan his funeral.” A hard edge took over his voice. “If that’s romantic, I don’t want anything to do with romance.”
They came to a stop in front of her house.
She laid a land over his which still gripped the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”
“Forget I said anything, okay?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Please.” His darkened eyes pleaded with her.
“For now.” Wisdom told her she teetered on pushing too far.
The heated seats were comfortable, and she didn’t move to leave hers. How could she go inside and go to bed, knowing what tomorrow would bring?
Yet, what were her other options?
She’d imposed on Wyatt long enough. He’d clammed up in the minute since his outburst, and they sat in awkward silence.
“Are you going to be okay tonight?” he asked, breaking the quiet.
“I can’t go in there. If I don’t go to sleep, tomorrow won’t come.”
Who cared if it was a logical fallacy? She didn’t.
Tonight’s mission had been accomplished. For a few, short hours she’d been able to push her mother’s death to the back burner and not think about her funeral tomorrow. Now that it had come to an end, she couldn’t face the dark.
Wyatt breathed evenly, his face solemn. “The sun will rise, regardless if you’re there to see it. I know it won’t be easy, but you’ll get through the funeral.”
“Will you stay with me? I can’t go in there alone.”
Chapter Nine
“I…I…” He stuttered on his shock. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I didn’t mean…” A blush covered her face again. “I just don’t want to be alone.”
Being alone in a house was a terrible idea. He knew it. He knew she knew it. They both were hurting—considering their past, the temptation to comfort each other in other ways could easily become too strong. Best not to put themselves in that situation.
“Can you call Kelly?”
She sniffled. “I could.”
Tears were his kryptonite, and he offered a compromise. “We can drive around for a while longer.”
“I’d like that.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
“Anywhere in particular?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if we swing by my parents?” He’d texted Corie earlier but hadn’t heard back. “I want to check on Oscar and make sure my parents don’t mind keeping an eye on him. Corie was watching him for the evening, but she has school tomorrow.”
Wrinkles creased her forehead. “Who’s Oscar?”
“I didn’t tell you about him?” He scratched his head, replaying their conversations.
“I definitely would have remembered.”
Even in the moonlight, he could see the question in her eyes. Did she think he had a son?
“Oscar’s a dog I adopted on the way here. He was alone at a rest stop, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there.” He grabbed his phone and found a picture of him. “Here he is.”
Her mouth formed an O. “He’s precious.”
“I haven’t had him long enough to know how he’ll react alone for long periods of time, so I try to make sure someone will be home with him while I’m out.”
She shook her head, a smile in place. “I can’t believe you have a dog.”
“Why not?”
“It seems so adult.”
He chuckled. “We are adults.”
“I know, but my memories of you stopped when you were only twenty-one.” She combed a hand through her hair. “It’s weird. You’re here now, older and more mature, and I have to reconcile that with the you I knew seven years ago.”
“You’re not the only one.” He maneuvered a three-point turn on the street and drove in the direction of his parents. “You’ve changed too, you know.”
“For the better, I hope.” Her nervous laugh bounced off the dash.
“Yes.”
When he came to his parents’ house, he parked the car but left the engine running. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’ll stay here if you don’t mind.”
“I won’t be long.” With one leg out the door, he paused to look at her. “Put whatever you want on the radio.”
He jogged inside and saw Mom and Dad sitting on the sofa. Oscar sat between them on the middle cushion. His eyes must be deceiving him. He blinked to clear his vision, and sure enough, Oscar was on the furniture. Had he entered the twilight zone?
He cleared his throat. “Some watchdog he is.”
Dad startled and tapped Oscar. “Get down, dog. We told you already you’re not allowed on the furniture.”
“Too late. I know your secret now.” Wyatt laughed and petted Oscar who’d come running to him.
“He’s a sweet dog. I didn’t have the heart to put him down.” Mom patted the sofa, inviting Oscar to return. He didn’t think twice. “Did you have a nice evening?”
“I did.” He scanned the room. “Where’s Corie?”
“She’s in bed. It’s almost eleven, and she has an exam tomorrow.” Oscar preened as Mom stroked his head.
He hadn’t realized the late hour—more time had passed in Meg’s driveway than he knew. “Meg’s outside now. We’re going to drive around for a while. Do you mind if Oscar’s here without me?”
“I’ll make him a blanket bed beside ours.” Mom looked at Dad who nodded that was fine.
“Who are you two, and what did you do with my parents?” Confusion had to be written on his face. The only pets they’d been allowed to have as kids were hermit crabs and a temperamental old tomcat who was only allowed inside during inclement weather.
Evading his question, Dad stood. “Make sure you lock up when you get in.”
“I will. Good night.”
When he returned outside, Meg’s voice greeted him, singing along with a song he vaguely recognized that borrowed lines from the classic hymn, “It Is Well With My Soul.”
He approached slowly, savoring the beauty of her worship. She possessed a naturally smooth singing voice, but when she put her soul into it, there was a magic to the words. He stepped close enough to see her face, and a new peace was etched into her features.
Beautiful. The word didn’t do her justice.
After the song ended, he got in the vehicle. “You sounded great.”
“Thanks.” The smile she offered transcended all the pain he’d seen in her before running in the house.
He flicked off the radio so they could talk without background noise. “Those lyrics are powerful.
”
“I was scanning the stations when I heard that song on the Christian satellite station, and it caught my ear. God knew I needed to hear those words tonight.”
Something she said stood out. “Did you say the Christian satellite station?”
“Yes, why?”
“I cancelled my subscription to satellite radio in March.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a free preview week.”
“No, because I still have the presets programmed, and it gives me dead air when I scan them.”
“I don’t know, but it was definitely on that channel.”
He could have left it alone, but he had a sense there was a phenomenon at work. “Look, I’ll show you.”
He switched the radio on again, and the dash clearly read it was on the channel Meg said. Only there was silence, with a message “To Activate Subscription Call 1-800-555-5555.”
“So strange.” Meg stared at the screen in disbelief.
“That song was played just for you.” Goosebumps formed on his arms.
“There has to be an explanation.”
“Not for a miracle.” Here he was, the one struggling with his faith, yet he recognized it for what it was.
“Wow.” A plethora of emotions dashed across her face. “That explains the calm that enveloped me. While I was singing, it was like I could feel Jesus’ arms wrapped around me, whispering ‘I have you, My child.’ Does that sound crazy?”
He shook his head, emitting a low whoosh. “It sounds wonderful.”
First Corie, then Meg.
How many more incidents would it take before he let go and chose to believe—to release the guilt and anguish he’d made a part of his life?
“Do you still want to drive around, or go home?”
At first, she didn’t answer, and her lips moved silently.
Was she praying?
“I’d like to drive around if that’s fine with you. Not because I can’t face tomorrow, but because I’d like to spend more time with you.”
He hadn’t realized he’d waited for her answer with bated breath. When she’d wanted to stay with him, he released a relieved exhale. “I’d like that, too.”
“We can drive out to Misty Meadows and watch the stars.”
