Live Without You

by Sarah Grace Grzy

  “Ah,” was Miss Cecile’s only reply. Piper wasn’t even going to try to interpret that. “You know what I think, Piper?”

  “Hm?” She didn’t know and wasn’t sure she wanted to. But she’d quickly learned that Cecile Tompkins spoke her mind whether asked or not.

  “I think the Lord brought Ezra to save your life for a reason. And I don’t think either of them would appreciate you wasting it away after the trouble they went through.”

  Leave it to Miss Cecile to put it that way.

  Piper just made a noncommittal sound and silence reigned for the rest of the drive home. She stared out the window at the passing snow-covered pine trees, lost in her thoughts. Miss Cecile’s words circled through her mind. Was she wasting her life? If she thought about it, she didn’t see much purpose in the empty, lonely way she was living now. Maybe God did save her life for a reason. Maybe He wanted to get her attention. He sure had a funny way of doing so if that was the case.

  She bit her lip. She was tired of the pain and shame weighing down her heart. If what Miss Cecile said was true about nothing she could do ever changing God’s love, then that meant . . . God loved her right now. God had loved her even when she hadn’t been very complimentary towards him. It meant He had been loving her all along and was right now doing so.

  All at once, a wave of something washed over her. She felt like she was drowning in it. But the good kind of drowning, like you never wanted to leave it, would never have enough of it. And then it hit her what the something was. It was love. And she realized it had been there all along, she was just too embittered against it to feel it. But now she did, and it was so strong, so warm. She felt as if it would uphold her forever. She could never drown in this sea of love; rather, she felt buoyed by it. It washed gently over her and propped her up. A single tear meandered down her face. Miss Cecile pulled into Piper’s drive and as soon as she’d put the gear into park, Piper turned towards her.

  “Miss Cecile, would . . . would you pray with me?”

  A slow, gentle smile slid over the kind-hearted woman’s face. “Honeygirl, I thought you’d never ask.” She clasped Piper’s hands over the gear shift, took a deep breath, and, bowing her head, offered a simple, fervent prayer. When she finished, Piper added her own words.

  “Dear Lord . . . Father, thank You for loving me—for always loving me. Thank You for making that clear through Miss Cecile and Ezra. I’m sorry for hardening my heart and not listening. I’m sorry for ignoring You and blaming You. Just, thank You . . .”

  Miss Cecile added a fervent amen and they both looked up at each other. Tears had streaked through Cecile’s mascara and left dark tracks, and Piper was sure she looked the same.

  “Girl, I’ve been waiting for that moment. God told me to take you shopping today. I didn't know why, but I guess we both do now.” She grinned and Piper grinned back. “How do you feel?”

  Piper thought for a moment and examined her heart, finding it empty of the deep pain and guilt, and full of God’s love and peace and forgiveness. She now knew without a doubt God didn’t hold Paul’s death against her, and she knew Paul didn’t either. I love you, Paul. “I feel . . . happy.” She grinned. “Free. Light. Like I could squeal and dance.” She giggled. “And I’m not the squealing and dancing type.”

  Miss Cecile hooted and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Hon, you have my permission to do all the squealin’ and dancin’ you want. The Lord says to dance before Him in joy.”

  Piper smiled at her. “Maybe I will.” She was still for a moment, searching the kind brown eyes. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the round, dark cheek. “Thank you, Miss Cecile.”

  She tsked. “La, I didn’t do nothin’. Thank the Lord. Now let’s get your things inside.”

  Once they’d unloaded the car and Miss Cecile had left, Piper stood in the dining room. She felt so full she could burst. Thank You, Jesus. Thank You! She felt like shouting from the rooftops. Then a thought hit her.

  She needed to call Ezra.

  E zra groaned and pried his eyes open, rolling over. What he first thought was his alarm turned out to be the incessant ringing of his phone. It was just after 4:00 p.m. Who would be calling who didn’t know he slept afternoons and worked nights? Unless it was an emergency. Dad. His heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled for the phone, knocking it off the nightstand in his rush. On his knees, he dug it out from under his bed and pressed it to his ear.

  “Hello?” His voice was both breathless and groggy sounding.

  There was a pause, then a tentative voice asked, “Ezra?”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the caller ID. “Oh! Piper, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong! I’m fine. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry! I forgot you slept afternoons. I’m sorry!” Her voice sounded different . . . lighter. And apologetic.

  His heart slowly settled back into its proper place. “No, no, you’re fine. Just took a couple years off my life, but I’ll be fine. What’s up?”

  “Well . . . I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “Know what?” Spit it out, woman. He normally wasn’t so impatient, but when his sleep was interrupted . . . Ezra reined himself in.

  “I . . . Miss Cecile prayed with me today . . .” Her voice was shy, quiet, but held a note of joy.

  He stilled, heartbeat slowing as the full realization of what she’d said washed over him. “Piper . . . I don't know what to say. That’s great!” He found himself grinning like a fool over her news. “Welcome to the family, sister!”

  She giggled. “Thanks, Ez. It feels . . . good. I just wish I . . . hadn’t wasted so much time, you know?”

  Ezra nodded before realizing she couldn’t see him. “I know. But word to the wise—don’t waste your time thinking about the time you wasted. You’ll never get anywhere doing that. Just focus on the now. Believe me, I’ve been there too.” He had to cough to clear the huskiness from his throat.

  “I’ll remember that.” She seemed to be thinking for a moment then continued. “When did you know, Ez? That He loved you.”

  He didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. He thought about her question for a moment, thinking back to those days that were a testament of God’s saving grace, if nothing else. He thought about how his dad had been there for him, loving him, encouraging him. And that was when he knew. He had to clear his throat again. “My dad. On my darkest days, he demonstrated to me what true love is. It doesn’t leave when the going gets tough, it doesn’t judge, it’s patient. That was my dad. And I realized if a fallible human being could love me that way, how much more could a perfect God?”

  There was a beat of silence, then, “I miss your dad.” He could hear the smile in her voice and knew she was sincere.

  “Hey, how about you come to church with us on Sunday? Then we can do dinner at my dad’s house afterwards. Maybe Ty will join us.”

  Piper’s hesitant chuckle came over the line. “Did you just invite a party to your dad’s house without his knowledge?”

  Ezra laughed. “Only because he has the bigger kitchen. But I’ll be sure to ask him. What’d’ya say?”

  “I don’t know, Ez . . .” It still made him smile when she called him Ez. Most people did, but it seemed different coming from her.

  “It’s just a small church, Piper. Maybe thirty people. It actually meets in one of the houses. It’s very low-key, no pressure. I wouldn’t just drop you in the middle of a giant corporate worship service, I promise.”

  Another chuckle, and he could tell he was winning her over.

  “Thanks for that,” she said.

  “So what do you say?”

  A sigh. Then muted, “What do you say, Finley?”

  He bit his cheek in amusement.

  “All right, fine, but you better be serving Italian for dinner.”

  Ezra couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Piper. You’ve got a deal. I’ll pick you up?”

  “Sure. I get the stitches
out tomorrow, but I still don’t want to drive yet.”

  “Alrighty, see ya then.”

  Ezra hung up and set the phone on his nightstand, sitting on the edge of his bed and running his fingers through his already-tousled hair. And he knew he had to admit it to himself. He kinda sorta did like Piper Redding. And not in the previous “as Paul Redding’s little sister” kind of way.

  Ezra pulled into the church drive—which happened to be a dirt road leading up to a large white farmhouse.

  “So this is church, eh?” Piper asked.

  He pulled the keys out of the ignition and flicked her an amused glance. “No one ever said church had to be in a building with a steeple and a full choir. It’s really just a gathering of believers. Doesn’t matter where they gather.”

  “Huh. Who knew?” Piper digested that somewhat surprising information.

  Ezra chuckled. “I’ll admit, it’s not a common thought process in corporate America.”

  Piper started to open her door, but Ezra stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait for me. The ground’s often slippery and we don’t need you falling . . . again.”

  Piper glanced at him and considered sticking her tongue out, but decided against it. “It was one time, Ez. One time.”

  He just grinned over his shoulder at her as he climbed out and walked around to her side. He pulled the door open and helped her out, tucking her hand in his arm to escort her up the drive. He was right—it was slick. The melt from the previous day had frozen overnight, layering ice on top of snow and creating a treacherously gorgeous landscape. Fifteen or so cars already lined the driveway, leading up to the stately looking house with sparkling Christmas lights still lining the eaves and columns.

  Halfway to the door, Ezra slipped, nearly falling, but righted himself in time. Piper tried to smother a laugh but didn’t succeed fully. “Ah, so—”

  “Don’t say it,” he warned, and she just chuckled and shook her head.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “So they say.” But he grinned as if she’d just complimented him . . . had she just complimented him?

  They made it into the house and he introduced her to their host and hostess. Ezra was guiding her to a row of chairs when she spotted a tall man, black hair sprinkled with just enough gray to make him look distinguished and the same chiseled face as Ezra coming towards them. He and Ezra exchanged a brief man-hug, then Ezra turned to her.

  “Dad, you remember Piper Redding?”

  “Of course! It’s good to see you again, Piper.” His voice was rich and deep, just how she remembered it.

  She smiled and offered her hand, which he shook before pulling her into a gentle hug, surprising her. When the Bryants moved away, she’d missed this sweet man and his kind fatherliness towards her. Despite not having a huge amount of contact with him, Tom Bryant had been more of a father to her than her own dad.

  They exchanged how-are-yous before Mr. Bryant led them to a group of chairs and she took a seat between the two men just as the music started playing. The first song was one that talked about the “overwhelming, never ending, reckless love of God.” Piper wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony. Since it was church, she decided not to laugh, but considering she was in a public place, she decided not to cry either. As the song continued in a similar manner, she swallowed repeatedly against the emotion rising in her throat and burning in her eyes.

  That God could love her so much . . . it didn’t make sense, but perhaps that was the beauty of it. That He loved her so much that He’d send His Son to die in her place . . . that His Son would be willing to die in her place . . . She’d never experienced such a sacrificial love before. As the song said, it was overwhelming. It again washed over her in new waves today, reaching ever further into the darkest corners of her heart, showing her she didn’t have to be afraid of losing that love, or losing those she loved.

  Ezra’s hand reached over and grabbed hers, giving it a light squeeze. She glanced up at him and he sent her a quick smile, understanding in his sage-colored eyes. He must have noticed her emotion, though she’d tried to hide it. His grip on her hand steadied her, reassured her. She gave it a squeeze back and turned her attention to the service.

  Afterwards, the three of them made their way to Mr. Bryant’s house, where Tyler met them. Ezra and Tyler insisted on making dinner, doing so with much clanging of dishes and loud peals of laughter. Mr. Bryant made coffee and engaged Piper in a conversation about her work, taking genuine interest in her job.

  They were interrupted by a shout from Tyler, and both went running to the kitchen. Piper reached it first and was arrested by the sight of blood dripping from Tyler’s and Ezra’s hands held over the sink. Her heart pounded and her mouth felt like someone had shoved cotton balls into it. She thought she might throw up, but couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the flow of blood. Her mind flashed to that Chicago alley and all she could see was the pool of blood on the pavement. Ezra glanced over his shoulder and finally caught her gaze, remorse in his face. At first she couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart, but finally registered his words.

  “Piper, go with Dad. Tyler’s all right—it’s just a cut.” She broke from her daze and recognized Mr. Bryant’s hands on her arms, gently leading her away. As they left the kitchen, she heard Tyler say something that oddly sounded like “fudgesicle” in the tone of an expletive.

  Mr. Bryant led her back to her chair in the living room and handed her her cup of tea. He reclaimed his seat across from her and gave her a grin. “Never could stand the sight of blood myself.” He then changed the subject so effectively that she nearly forgot the incident.

  Nearly.

  “Just stitch it,” Tyler said through clenched teeth.

  Ezra sluiced water over the good-sized cut on Tyler’s hand again and examined it closer. “I’ll do it, but are you sure you don’t want an ER and an anesthetic?”

  Tyler snorted, then flinched when Ezra wrapped a paper towel tightly around the wound. “Yeah, right. I’m not spending my Sunday in an ER. Just do it.”

  “Fine. I’ll grab my kit from my car.” Ezra quickly jogged out to his car. He felt terrible that Piper had seen the blood. He should have known she’d be sensitive to it. She’d gone white as a sheet and froze up. He almost thought she was going to pass out. Ezra hoped the look he’d sent his dad communicated sufficiently the need to distract her. She had been making such progress, then Tyler had to go and . . . He bit the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault the knife had slipped. Ezra sent up a quick prayer that the event wouldn’t bring up too many traumatic memories for Piper as he hurried back to the house and set up the items he needed to stitch the gash closed.

  “Flaming jack-o’-lanterns, why does such a tiny cut hurt so bad?”

  Ezra bit back a chuckle. Leave it to Tyler to come up with such a . . . colorful expression. “Aw, buck up, baby. Like you said, it’s tiny.” Tyler just glared and gnawed on his lip as Ezra pulled the needle through his skin. After being accused of being a wimp, nothing would stop Tyler from proving otherwise. He was anything but wimpy, but it did shut him up.

  Six stitches and a gauze wrap later, he was good to go, although grumbling. Ezra quickly poked his head in the living room and found Piper listening intently to a story his father was telling. The color had come back in her face and she looked at ease, despite the few lines around her mouth indicating a stress headache, he guessed. He hurried back into the kitchen and finished preparing the meal, Ty helping as best as possible one-handedly.

  After his dad said the blessing, they dug into the cream sauce and chicken pasta, salad, and garlic bread. He noticed Piper sending worried glances Tyler’s way for the first few minutes before asking, “Is your hand okay, Tyler?”

  Tyler held up his hand and examined it. “What, this? Pssh. It was nothing—didn’t even hurt,” he said nonchalantly.

  Ezra snorted into his water glass, but didn’t bother calling him out on his bluff for P
iper’s sake. She looked relieved to hear it was nothing.

  T he sky was inky and the street lamps reflected yellow light off the thick layer of snow that covered everything. Ezra pulled into Piper’s driveway and, as he put the vehicle in park, she turned towards him, the streetlight softly illuminating the lines of his face.

  She fiddled with her hands for a moment before looking up at him. “Ez, I’m sorry for . . . for earlier.” She squirmed and felt her cheeks redden at the memory. “I don’t know . . . I saw the blood, and I couldn’t . . .” Fumbling awkwardly to a stop, she glanced down at her lap.

  Ezra placed his hand over her fidgeting ones. “It’s okay, Piper. I get it.” His smile gently crinkled the corners of his eyes and she found herself smiling back.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He turned to climb out of the car, but then stopped. “Oh! Wait.” Reaching back behind their seats, he rummaged in the back before facing her again and placing a small box wrapped in pretty blue tissue paper in her lap. “I have something for you.”

  “Ez . . .” She gave him a look and he just grinned.

  “Open it.”

  She gently tore the wrapping away and lifted the lid on the small shoebox. Inside was a worn, masculine-looking leather Bible that looked slightly familiar. She lifted it out and ran her fingers over the smooth, soft leather before sending Ezra another questioning glance.

  “Look inside,” was he all he said.

  She thumbed through the pages, finding many of them marked with pencil underlinings and notes in the margin in a handwriting that also looked familiar . . . almost like . . . She inhaled and met Ezra’s eyes. He nodded, a soft look on his face. Piper turned to the flyleaf and read the inscription.

  “Paul Aaron Redding.”

  Tears cascaded down her face but she barely noticed them. Paul’s Bible. She was holding Paul’s Bible. She never knew a single object could mean so much. She read the words printed beneath the first line in the careful, precise manner so characteristic of her brother.