“I’m glad to hear that.”
A few moments of silence filled the void between them. In the corner, a large grandfather clock chimed four o’clock.
“I actually came by to return Amanda’s journal.” Megan pulled it from her purse. She stared at the picture of the Eiffel Tower on the front of the journal and quickly flipped it over, then held it out.
“Thank you.” Charlene reached for it and breathed a sigh when it was back in her hands. “It’s such a poignant piece of Amanda’s soul.”
“It was beautiful. And I couldn’t believe how many things we had in common.” Megan folded her hands in her lap. “I only wish things had ended happier for Amanda. She had all these hopes and dreams. And her awful past. I just . . .”
“You need to read the last entry.”
“I did. I read all the way to the end multiple times.”
Charlene shook her head. “She filled this journal to the brim, but started another. She only got to write one entry in it, but it was the most precious thing she could have written. In fact, we had it framed. I’ll be right back.” She stood and left the room. A few minutes later she returned holding a floating frame that encased a piece of paper. “Read it, if you like. I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Thank you. For sharing her with me.”
Charlene placed her hand over her heart. “It has been our immense pleasure.” Then she left through the swinging kitchen door.
Megan turned back to the frame she held in her hands. There were two pages in Amanda’s recognizable writing. It was dated just three weeks before Amanda passed away.
Uncle Joe died last week.
I was in math class when I got the note that Mom was picking me up early. I gathered my things and headed to the front office, and when I saw her, I knew something was wrong. Her hair was a tangled mess, her mascara smudged under eyes, and—the kicker—she was wearing yoga pants. Mom never wears yoga pants outside the house.
She opened her arms, I went into them, and she held me while she sobbed. “It’s over,” she whispered into my hair.
Mom is broken to pieces, but I also sense that she’s relieved. Relieved she doesn’t have to worry about how he might react when he gets out of prison. Relieved she doesn’t have to face him again. Relieved I can move on.
But it’s not over for me.
I always thought I’d have this big confrontation with him. Yes, I had to testify at his trial, but I don’t count that. I wanted a face-to-face, just-the-two-of-us, adult-me-and-remorseful-him confrontation where I told him how he’d made me feel. How he’d set me back. How his actions had changed the course of my life forever.
I guess I thought that would bring me peace. That I’d finally be rid of the demons that visit me in my dreams—if I could only stand up to him and declare my freedom from him, to his face. I figured it doesn’t count if it’s done in a counselor’s office in the light of day, with others helping me.
Except, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it does count.
What if life isn’t about that big moment, but a lot of little moments that add up along the way? Could the total of those moments equal peace?
Or maybe peace is found somewhere else.
Amy once shared with me that her own peace comes from Jesus. Such a weird thought. How can peace come from some dude who lived two thousand years ago?
When I said that to Amy, she showed me something in the Bible. It was a verse in Isaiah that she said applied to Jesus. It meant a lot to her so I wrote it down: “God’s Spirit is on me; he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor, sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the burdened and battered free, to announce, ‘This is God’s year to act!’”
Amy pointed at that part toward the end: “to set the burdened and battered free” She said, “Amanda, don’t you get it? That’s you. That’s me. That’s all of us. Jesus came to set us free”
I find myself unable to step through the door to freedom. But why? Do I like my prison cell or something? Maybe I’m just comfortable there. I know what to expect there. There, I’ve found my identity.
There, I’ve let fear chain me, but I can see the key. It’s hanging on the far wall. I lunge and strain and groan, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to reach it.
I told Amy that. And she said, “That’s the beautiful thing. You don’t have to reach it yourself. Your chains have already been unlocked. You just have to choose whether to remove them.”
Finally, I have a choice. I guess I’ve had one all along.
So I’m ready to take that first small step, to taste my freedom, to leave this dank prison of the past behind. To run and not grow weary, to walk and not faint . . .
And oh, how the sunshine kisses my skin, in a way I never thought it could. It’s better, deeper, and more brilliant than all my dreams combined.
Megan stared at Amanda’s cursive scrawled across the final page. Like Amanda, she’d been reaching so hard for the key—and failed to notice how loose the chains shackling her really were.
And she could either embrace the freedom in front of her or shrink away into nothingness inside the prison she’d created for herself.
“I choose life, Amanda. Like you, I choose life.”
Chapter 37
I can’t remember the last time I was out here in the summertime.” Crystal looked deep in thought as she gazed out across the Minnesota lakeshore, surrounded by an assortment of tall pines and other plant life.
She’d lost about ten pounds since their trip, and her color appeared paler than Megan remembered. It wasn’t surprising, since it’d been nearly five weeks since Brian had left. Megan asked occasionally about how things were going, but didn’t want to keep bringing up a sore subject.
Megan watched as the sun lowered on the horizon. She opened the doors to the Jeffreys’ boathouse, the hinges protesting with a groan. Their friends had been letting Megan and Dad borrow their rowboat for years. “And you barely made it for this one.” Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer in Minnesota, was just two days away, and Crystal had come out for the long weekend.
“I had to put the final touches on the Lerner project.” Her sister helped Megan drag the rowboat to the lake’s edge. “The community is going to be even more than I had originally dreamed. I wish I could move there myself.”
Megan grunted as the wood dug into her palms. “Why don’t you?”
“It’s intended to be a family community.” Crystal straightened and dusted her hands on her jeans. “The homes are too big for just me.” Pain glinted in her eyes, and she busied herself with grabbing the oars from their rack on the wall.
“Oh.” Poor Crystal. “Have you spoken to Brian lately?”
“No.” Her sister stepped into the boat, rocking and then getting her footing before she sat. “I’m trying to respect his wishes and give him space.”
Megan handed her the oars and then pushed off, jumping into the boat in one fluid motion. “That’s got to be rough.”
“You have no idea.” Crystal pumped the oars, bringing them out into the middle of the town’s small lake. “I feel in limbo all the time. Work is the only thing keeping me sane right now. This project has been a godsend. But the managerial stuff that comes with being senior architect isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“You don’t like it?”
Crystal sighed. “It’s just a lot to keep up with, and I don’t get to spend as much time on regular projects. I’m hoping it’ll slow down soon. On the other hand, it keeps me from thinking too much about Brian.”
“Have you called him at all? Told him you want a second chance?”
“I’ve considered texting or calling a few times, but I always talk myself out of it. I keep thinking he will talk to me when he is ready.”
“I don’t know. Don’t you think you should do something to fight for him?” Megan bit her lip. “Not that I’m the love expert or anything like that.” Not even close. She�
�d let the perfect man slip through her fingers. But she was done with regrets. Life was about moving on now, doing all she could to embrace the freedom she’d been given.
Crystal stopped rowing, her breathing a bit labored. The water lapped against the edge of the boat and a bird cawed. The smell of grilled hamburgers wafted from one of the lake houses nearby. “When he left, he reminded me that I don’t control everything. I’m afraid he will take any move on my part as an attempt to control the situation.”
“But how will he know you’ve changed if you don’t show him?”
“I don’t know.” Her sister’s brow scrunched, and she began rowing again. “Tell me about you. Have you decided to apply for that editorial assistant job in Minneapolis?”
“Actually, yes.” Since reading Amanda’s journal last week, she’d been waiting for God to show her what her “first small step” should be. When Crystal’s friend had sent her the job description and Crystal had forwarded it to Megan a few days ago, she’d taken it as a sign. No, the job wasn’t a travel writing position, but it would put her on a path to do what she really wanted—much more so than the library job, which so far hadn’t challenged her or interested her.
Still . . . “But after applying yesterday, I feel restless.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I keep thinking back to our trip. At the end of it, I expected to feel some great triumph. I completed the list, and yet I feel . . .”
“Like you didn’t?” Crystal tilted her head in contemplation.
“Yes.” Megan grabbed the oars to take her turn. She yelped at the sudden pain in her hand.
Releasing the oars, she peered closely at her palm in the fading sunlight. A splinter had embedded itself just under her skin. She tried to dig it out with her nail but had no luck removing it.
“Megan.”
Her head popped up to look at her sister, whose voice had taken on a curious tone. “What?”
“You feel like you didn’t complete the list because you didn’t.”
“What are you talking about? Yes, I did.” Megan studied the splinter again. How could she get this sucker out?
“Wasn’t there an item on there that you said had already been completed by Amanda?”
“‘Give my heart away.’ She did that when her heart was donated to me.” Megan curled her injured hand and pulled it to her chest, felt the thump, thump beneath.
“But you said you wanted to complete the bucket list in its entirety.” Crystal’s hands waved in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra. “You have to do it all yourself. Megan, you have to give your heart away. In fact, I think you already have—you just haven’t admitted it.”
Megan’s heart picked up speed, a cadence of truth pounding beneath her fingers. “Caleb . . .” Just his name on her lips made her flinch. She hadn’t heard from him since Paris—but she hadn’t reached out either. “He’s probably moved on.”
Isn’t that what he’d basically said? That he couldn’t keep hoping, which probably meant he’d stopped entertaining any ideas about the two of them being together.
The idea hurt her insides. She opened her palm again and desperately pushed against the splinter. It remained stuck, and the skin around it grew puffy and red.
“Here.” Crystal took Megan’s hand in hers and used her long nails to slide the tiny piece of wood from her skin. The relief was instant. “Something I’m learning lately is that you don’t give love just because you know you’ll get it back. You have to give your heart away. That’s what the list calls for. It doesn’t call for you to be in a relationship or get married or have babies together. You have to take the first small step. That’s the only part you can control.”
A chill ran down Megan’s spine. “What did you say?”
“You have to give your heart—”
“No, not that part. You said I have to take the first small step.”
“Yeah?”
Megan laughed, smoothing a finger over her now splinter-free flesh. “Okay, God.” The whispered words flew across the lake. “I’m listening.”
Crickets and cicadas played them a symphony as the sisters walked back to the house under the glow of a full moon. The house came into view—such a familiar sight, but one that hadn’t been part of Crystal’s world for a long time. Its simple white paint with blue trim was peeling, in need of a fresh coat, but the flower garden surrounding the porch blossomed with Asiatic lilies, Shasta daisies, and asters.
No matter what had happened in their lives, Mom had never let that garden go.
Megan hadn’t said much since they’d left the boat behind. Crystal hoped it meant she was finally going to get back in touch with Caleb. Her sister deserved happiness more than anyone she knew.
As they got closer to the house, Crystal spied a figure on the swinging bench. Mom sat wrapped in a blanket, a mug nestled in her hands. The bench rocked with a gentle sway as she stared off into the distance.
Crystal had eaten dinner with Mom and Dad after arriving this afternoon, but hadn’t spent time alone with either one of them. Mom in particular had seemed surprised at the changes in Crystal—both physically and emotionally. Thankfully, she hadn’t even questioned the fact Brian hadn’t come with her. Perhaps Megan had filled her in on the current state of things.
The women climbed the steps of the porch, and Mom’s gaze moved to them. She smiled, and for the first time in a while, the worry lines around her eyes seemed dimmer. “How was the boat?”
“Good, Mom. Really good.” Megan bent and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “What are you doing out here alone?”
“Just thinking.” She brought the mug to her lips and sipped. “I have hot chocolate. Would either of you care to join me for some?”
“Actually, I’m going in. I have something important to do that can’t wait.” Megan sneaked a glance at Crystal, a tentative smile possessing her lips. Then she headed inside.
“How about you?” Mom looked at Crystal too, her features open and inviting. Other than giving her updates several times a week via e-mail and sometimes by phone while out of the country, Crystal hadn’t talked with Mom much lately. In fact, today was the first time they’d even seen each other since Megan’s surgery.
One conversation couldn’t change everything between them. But it was a start.
“I don’t need any hot chocolate. But I’d love to join you.”
The look of pure delight on Mom’s face nearly made Crystal weep. Because . . . she’d missed her. Maybe a girl never stopped wanting her mom, however much they fought or disagreed. Crystal settled herself on the swing next to Mom, who threw part of the blanket over her lap and squeezed her knee. For a few moments, they simply rocked, watching the stars twinkle over them and listening to the near silence.
“It does my heart good to see you two finally reconnecting. That’s been one of my constant prayers.”
“You certainly did what you could to encourage a reconciliation over the years.” Crystal chuckled, thinking back to all their mom’s attempts to get her and Megan to talk. One had finally worked, though Mom couldn’t have known how asking Crystal to talk Megan out of going on her trip would change things.
“I guess God had his own timing on that one.” Mom set her mug on the ground. “I never said thank you.”
Crystal maneuvered her eyes to face her. “Thank you for what?”
“For going with Megan. I worried less, knowing you were there.” Mom blew out a breath. “After all this time, you’d think I’d have stopped my fretting. But worrying about Megan is like breathing. It comes natural.”
What could Crystal say? She’d always known Mom’s life revolved around Megan. To expect it to stop just because Megan was well would be ridiculous.
“I’ve always worried for you too, but not in the same way.” Mom lifted her hand and brushed Crystal’s hair behind her ear. The touch was so soft, so tender.
Crystal bit the inside of her cheek.
“You
were the one who made things happen. So capable. So practical. But that comes with a cost sometimes.”
Maybe Mom knew her more than she’d thought. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.” Which was ironic, considering her situation at home. But even though she missed Brian with a fierceness that scared her and it nearly drove her batty wondering what was going to happen, there was peace too, knowing she wasn’t in charge of fixing it.
Mom kept stroking her hair, and Crystal couldn’t stop herself from lowering her head and leaning it on Mom’s shoulder. When was the last time they’d sat like this? The scent of Mom’s Chloe perfume lingered in the folds of her sweater.
“A mother can’t help worrying for her kids.” Mom’s voice faded back into Crystal’s reality. “Although God’s been teaching me a lot over the last few months about the difference between worry and concern.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I worry, I am telling God I don’t trust him. I fret about things I can’t control. I used to think worry was just part of my emotional DNA, something I couldn’t change. But the Bible tells us not to worry. It’s an actual command. Your father reminded me of that. Gently, of course.” A soft laugh. “If we’re told not to worry, then there’s got to be a way to make it happen.”
Crystal frowned. “But how can you simply turn it off?”
“I used to wonder that too. That’s where concern comes in.” Mom’s lips tipped into a smile. “We can tell God our concerns. It’s like worry, but we are telling him we trust whatever outcome he has planned. And trust that he will provide peace and comfort whatever happens.”
“But . . .” The question got stuck in Crystal’s throat, fighting for release. “How do you trust him with certain things? Like your children’s lives? How did you not go crazy all those years Megan was sick?” And how would I not go crazy with worry if I ever had kids?
The Heart Between Us Page 26
