Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  “I know. I’m sorry. But ask God to give you the strength to do what’s best for her, not you.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re my friend. I pray for God to give you the desires of your heart.” His face reddened, and Matt studied the frayed ends of his denim shorts. “Enough mushy stuff. How ’bout them Broncos?”

  The first notes of “Play It Again” blared from Tim’s phone.

  “Speaking of the lovely wayward lady.” Matt wheeled around and headed for the back of the trailer. “I’m gonna take a shower. Talk to Juliette. Then take a nap. You look like regurgitated dog food.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Tim mumbled as he picked up the phone and eyed the photo of Juliette sitting on the back of his truck in shorts and a swimming suit top, eating a slice of watermelon and grinning at him. “Lord, give me strength.”

  He answered.

  “Ignoring my calls is so juvenile.” Juliette on the attack was a daunting noise in his ear. “So you don’t want to go to Billings with me. It’s not that far. Couples have successful long-distance relationships all the time.”

  “We’re not in a relationship.” Tim managed to say the words with gentle caring. An enormous feat of self-restraint. “We can’t be and you know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  “What do you call showing up at my house two or three times a week? What do you call taking me fishing and swimming at the lake? Or watching movies with my family? Like you’re part of my family.”

  “I call it being a friend. Granted, a friend who would like more, but who knows he might not get what he wants.”

  “You are so bullheaded I could scream.”

  Tim didn’t point out she was screaming—at least the pain in his ear thought so. “This isn’t about just the differences in our beliefs, although that is the bottom line. It’s also about who you are and how you denigrate yourself by flirting with every man who comes within striking distance. How do you think that makes me feel? What does it say about how you feel about yourself?”

  “I do not.” Genuine disbelief soaked her outraged screech. “I don’t flirt with other men.”

  A long pause filled the line. He waited.

  “Much.”

  “The next time you run into a hot guy of any age, listen to yourself. Better yet, use your phone and record the conversation. Play it back later. Then we’ll have this conversation.”

  “You’re jealous, that’s all.”

  “You got that right. I am jealous. And I’m ashamed of being jealous. I have no right to be.” He leaned his head back and rubbed his throbbing temple. “But I also fear for you. I’m afraid you’ll sell yourself short because underneath all that bravado is a little girl who wants to be loved and is afraid she’s not worth it. You are worth it, and God loves you the way no one else can. Turn to Him and you won’t need all that attention from men you hardly know.”

  “I don’t need attention from anyone. I can stand on my own just fine.”

  “Just once, Juliette, just once, can’t you drop the act and be who you really are with me? I’d like to meet the real you, just once.”

  She hung up.

  “That went well.”

  Matt’s solution of getting a dog might be a good one.

  Jesus, I know You love me unconditionally. Is it wrong to want more? I’m so selfish. I keep thinking about me instead of her. Keep her safe while she figures this out. Touch her heart. I know You will leave the ninety-nine to search for that one sheep. She is that one sheep: lost, lonely, scared. It breaks my heart. Find her, Lord, so she can find You. Give me the strength to stand back and let You do Your work. To trust You. To walk away if that is Your will for me and for her.

  “Please God, don’t let it come to that.”

  He was human, after all.

  21

  Eureka, Montana

  A cheap date. Guys liked that, didn’t they? One beer and woozy. Juliette squinted at the second glass on the picnic table in front of her. Half empty. Or half full, depending on a person’s point of view. She swallowed another gulp. This microbrewery stuff was nothing like the keg swill she’d sworn off in high school. It tasted like pee. With this Pioneer Ale, brewed right here at Ballcap Brewery, she tasted wheat and citrus. Her stomach lurched. No matter the beer, a person shouldn’t imbibe on an empty stomach.

  “Or at all.” Tim’s snarkiness filled her head. “Shut up.”

  “When you start talking to yourself, it’s probably time to stop drinking.” Spencer McDonald reached in front of her and slid the glass to the opposite end of the table. “Haven’t you heard? Drinking alone is considered a sign of alcoholism.”

  “Considering that this is the second beer I’ve drunk since my freshman year in college, I’m not too worried.” Considering slurred more than freshman, but it was a four-syllable word. Juliette tossed her hair over her shoulder and straightened to her cheerleader posture. “Besides, I wasn’t talking to myself.”

  Spencer laid his crutches against the table and slid onto the bench across from her without waiting for an invitation. The waitress magically appeared and took his order for a club soda with extra lime.

  “You don’t drink or you don’t drink beer?”

  “Have you met my mom?”

  “No, but I’ve heard about her. Sorry, stupid question.” S-words were hard for an amateur drinker. Juliette slid her beer back front and center. “So why are you here then, if not to get trashed?”

  “Feeling at loose ends.” He shrugged. “Not ready to go back to the house. In need of company.”

  “So you come to a bar, ’cuse me, a brewery, to hook up with a chick?” Juliette took a long swallow of beer. She hiccupped. Or maybe it was a burp. “’Cuse me. Have you looked around? There’s like four people here and they’re all men. For a Saturday night, it’s not exactly a happening place.”

  “I’m not interested in hooking up.” He squeezed lime juice into his club soda and stirred it. “Conversation. Sparring. Banter. A little music.” He jerked his head toward the three-piece band playing soft rock cover songs on the other side of the patio. “I don’t do well with silence these days. And I’m used to running ten miles a day and working out for at least an hour. Without my PT I have trouble sleeping.”

  Juliette could relate. She’d taken up running in college and even run a few marathons. Anything to sleep. But she couldn’t outrun the demons. Getting a job would help. Even if it meant spending her days sucking up to clients who wanted the world to love their antiperspirant or their latest cure for obesity. Sixty hours a week helping clients sell people on the idea that soda could be refreshing even if it wasn’t good for them? She knew about insomnia. “Why is that?”

  “I duked it out with a ponderosa pine and the tree won.” His gaze rested on her beer. “It got me to thinking about things. You know, things. My future. Why do I jump out of planes to fight fires for a living? Why do I go home alone every night? Is that all there is? I sound like a stupid eighties song. Stupid stuff like that. Why are you here?”

  “To drink my beer and not be interrogated by anyone.”

  Interrogated was the wrong choice of words. It came out an unintelligible mess. Juliette downed the rest of the beer and raised her glass in the universal sign of “bring me another.”

  Spencer pushed the glass back down with a gentle touch. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  “I’m not a lightweight.”

  “I’m pretty sure you are.” He shook his head at the waitress, who nodded and headed for the guys arguing over the state of college football in the coming season. “Should I get us some pizza from the food truck?”

  Pain twisted like a drill bit in her stomach. Gorge rose in her throat. “Do not talk to me about food.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  More pain, this time sharper. It ran like an electric current from her stomach to her throat. “Who could think about food at a time like this?”

  “What time is that?�
��

  “The time when the guy you like gets on his high horse and rides in the opposite direction. He’s too high and mighty to compromise on some little difference. He’d rather be alone than be together. He’s an idiot.”

  To her horror, tears threatened.

  “What people define as little can differ greatly.”

  “Let me ask you something. Do I flirt with you?”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Come on, at least take a minute to think about it.”

  “I’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice it.” Spencer managed to infuse kindness into the words. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”

  “We don’t have a home anymore.” A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed Juliette. She laid her head on the table and closed her eyes. “The fire took it all.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. It must really hurt.”

  His words hovered in the air above her, warm and comforting. Her throat ached. “So that’s why you sat down with me—you figured I was a flirt so I might be into hooking up?”

  “No. In fact, I debated whether to sit with you at all.” His voice floated around her, softer, with a hint of wondering in it. “I thought you might get the wrong idea. But you seemed so lost and sad, something pushed me over here.”

  Like decency. Who knew?

  A scrabbling sound forced her eyes open. Spencer had his hand on her clutch bag. “Are you robbing me? I only have six dollars and change. My credit cards are maxed out. It’s been a while since I worked.”

  “Of course I’m robbing you.” He chuckled. “I’m thinking about giving up smoke jumping to start a second career as a thief. I thought I’d start small with ripping off drunk women.”

  “I’m not drunk.” Juliette closed her eyes again. “It’s early. Buy me another round. I’ve got a job offer. I can pay you back in a few weeks.”

  “Shawn stops serving at eight, you know that.”

  “Stupid state law. Why would anybody in his right mind think microbreweries should shut down at eight? It’s not even dark yet.”

  “A question for the Montana legislature. I’m getting your keys. I’ll give them to someone at your house. They can come pick up your truck tomorrow.”

  “No way. My dad will have a cow. He thinks I’m six. I’m fine. I’m resting my eyes. I’ll get myself home in a minute.”

  “I don’t think so.” Spencer’s hand grasped her arm. “Let’s go, chiquita bonita.”

  “Now you speak Spanish?” She didn’t move. “Just give me a minute. I don’t need help.”

  “A guy I work with is teaching me Spanish. Here we go.” Spencer tugged harder. “You’ll like my Tundra. It has a good stereo system. I have Thomas Rhett’s new CD.”

  “No one buys CDs anymore.” She scrambled to her feet, swayed, and plopped back on the bench. “I’m fine.”

  Five minutes later she was enveloped in the warm leather seats of Spencer’s silver Tundra. The cab smelled of pine air freshener. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. At least she’d stopped drinking before the head spins and vomiting started. Thanks to Spencer McDonald, former bad boy turned helper of lightweight drinkers. “I could’ve driven myself.”

  “Maybe, but it’s ten miles to town and I don’t think you want to add DUI to the list of offenses your boyfriend is keeping.”

  “How did you know Tim gave me tickets the day we met for the second time?”

  “I didn’t. But no guy likes for his lady to put herself in danger.”

  Juliette opened her eyes. They were pulling from the parking lot onto Grave Creek Road. “According to him I’m not a lady. Are you a Christian?”

  Laughing, Spencer turned down the radio. “I never pegged you as someone who likes to get right to the heavy stuff.”

  “Tim says we can’t be more than friends because he’s a Christian and I’m not.” She wiggled so she could face Spencer despite the seat belt. “He’s serious about it. He won’t even mess around. He uses stuffy words like unevenly yoked. Not even Mercy talks like that, and she’s Amish.”

  “So Mercy’s a friend of yours. How well do you know her?”

  “We’ve played together since we were little, but that has nothing to do with this.”

  “My last girlfriend was a Christian.”

  “Did she mess around?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell, but in this case, there’s nothing to tell.” The click, click of his turn signal filled the silence for a few seconds. “What’s Mercy like?”

  “You want to talk about Mercy?” Despite the alcoholic haze, Juliette grasped this clue and hung on to it for a few seconds. Maybe it was safer to talk about Spencer’s problems instead of hers. “I knew it, I knew it.”

  “I’m just curious about Amish folks.”

  “You grew up around Amish folks, same as me. What’s the deal? You like her, don’t you?”

  “She seems nice.”

  “You met her a couple of times, and now you have feelings for her. Love at first sight?” She hiccupped. “Sorry. Why would God give us all these feelings if He didn’t expect us to act on them?”

  “What would Tim say?”

  Of course Spencer refused to take the bait. “Men. They always stick together.”

  “I know what Patty, my ex, said. God gave us those feelings as a gift and we’re supposed to treat them like a gift we only share with someone special—our spouse. I respected her for her convictions, but I didn’t make it easy for her. I regret that.”

  “Hmmm.” Sleep inundated Juliette. She wanted to tell him something. The thought flitted around inside her head. Something important. “You’re not like I thought you were.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  If he said anything else, she didn’t hear it.

  “Juliette. Juliette!”

  She bolted upright. Her eyes burned and her head hurt. “Where am I?”

  “In my truck.” Spencer unbuckled her seat belt and held out his hand. “Let me help you out.”

  “I’m good.” She brushed him off. “Out of my way . . . please.”

  Of course he did the opposite. He took her arm and helped her onto the sidewalk. He guided her through the gate and up the steps to her aunt’s front door. White-hot embarrassment rolled over her in a tsunami. With any luck she would never run into him again in this one-horse, one-stoplight town. “Give me my keys.”

  He handed them over. One, two, three tries. No dice. The key simply refused to enter the keyhole.

  “Let me try.” He had the door open in two seconds.

  “Show-off.”

  “What’s going on here?” A book in one hand, her dad stood at the door in a T-shirt and shorts with reading glasses perched on the end of his aquiline nose. “Who are you?”

  “This is my friend Spence.” Juliette’s efforts to speak without a slur met with no success. Her father’s expression darkened. He had her all figured out, as usual. He was already writing the sermon he would deliver when Spencer drove away. She rushed to fill the space and fend off his familiar righteous indignation. “He gave me a ride.”

  “Good to meet you, sir.” Spencer offered his hand and her dad shook it, but his expression didn’t change. “Here’s her keys and her purse. The truck is at Ballcap’s. Shawn said not to worry, he won’t have it towed.”

  “Thanks for bringing her home.” Dad took the keys and stuck them in his pocket. “I thought we had outgrown this stuff. Apparently I was wrong.”

  “She’s had a hard day, from what I could gather.”

  “We’ve all had a hard day. Some of us act like adults about it.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Juliette’s head pounded. Her mouth tasted like rotten lettuce. Sleep would fix what ailed her, not a lecture. “I’m going to bed.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Years of training smacked Juliette in the back of the head. Spencer did you a favor. You owe him. He was kind. He doesn’t expect anything in return. Gritting her tee
th, Juliette stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned. “Thanks, Spence.”

  “Anytime.”

  No, it wouldn’t happen again. Ever. If her behavior got back to Tim, she’d never convince him they could make it work.

  And he might be right.

  22

  Eureka, Montana

  The garage still smelled of little-boy sweat and dirty feet. Mercy raised the door and let the cooler evening air rush in. Nothing could loosen the feeling of bitter despair that gripped her. She grabbed a lawn chair and set it on the cement driveway, away from her makeshift classroom that reminded her of how life could change on a dime.

  Lifting her face to the breeze, she closed her eyes. Just breathe. Let it go. The cicadas’ monotonous chorus brought with it a calm born of familiarity. It sounded like home. A dog howled that familiar basset hound baying sound. Bullfrogs croaked. Flies buzzed.

  Even the sweet, familiar sounds could not erase her sense of guilt. How Caleb must’ve felt when Mercy said no. Without so much as giving the proposal the thought it deserved. “No” had barreled from her mouth like a bulldozer demolishing a concrete wall. With no thought for Caleb’s feelings.

  She wasn’t the one who had misgivings. He did. Of that, she was certain.

  Why did he ask her if his feelings were so lukewarm he couldn’t bring himself to show them through a hug or a kiss?

  The trees had no answers. Nor did the puny clouds that scampered across the sky clothed in pinks and purples as the sun dove toward the horizon.

  Dusk closed in around her. To sleep would be best, but the fluffy bed with its scented sheets and feather pillows only reminded her that she was not home and would never sleep in her childhood bed again.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, quit feeling sorry for yourself.” She stood so suddenly she knocked the folding chair back. “No one likes a whiny girl.”

  “I should call the CDC. An epidemic seems to have hit Eureka.” The low voice came from the shadows cast by massive branches swaying in the streetlights. Spencer McDonald rolled into the driveway on a contraption that allowed him to keep his broken leg bent on a padded seat. “You’re the second woman tonight I’ve heard talking to herself. Is that a thing these days?”