Live Without You

by Sarah Grace Grzy

  “To my friend and comrade, Ezra Bryant. May you find in this what you are looking for.”

  “No, Ezra, no. I can’t take this!” She tried to shove it back into his hands, tears still streaming. He only wrapped his hands around hers holding the Bible and pressed firmly.

  “You’re not taking it—I’m giving it. And I think . . . I think Paul would have wanted you to have it. I wore it out pretty good,” he smiled ruefully. “And I know you will too. Take good care of it, Piper.” He placed the Bible back in her lap and handed her a tissue.

  She mopped her face. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say.” It felt so insufficient, like an understatement. But it was all she knew to say.

  “Well.” He rubbed his jaw. “Can I at least give you an awkward hug?”

  Piper giggled. “Of course.” She put her arm around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her in what was indeed an awkward hug over the gear shift. But it felt perfect, somehow.

  Later, Piper crawled into bed and pulled up the fuzzy blanket, Finley curling up at her feet. She pulled Paul’s Bible into her lap and flipped it open to the frontispiece, rereading the inscription, running her fingers over her brother’s familiar script. She flipped the page over, and noticed another inscription in a different hand—bold, blocky, steady. “To Piper Redding, a friend and sister in the Lord. If you ever doubt God’s love, read Psalm 18. He loves you and He’s fighting for you. And He won’t stop. —Ezra C. Bryant.”

  Piper pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them, hugging the book to her chest, letting the tears flow. Would they ever stop? At least these ones were born of love instead of pain, peace instead of guilt.

  T hree weeks flew by in a rush. Piper and Ezra had regular phone and text conversations, many of them instigated by Piper asking questions about certain verses in the Bible or other things about her newfound faith. Ezra was slightly surprised that she chose him to answer her questions. And he couldn’t help but feel these types of conversations would lead to a more specific sort of relationship in the future. But he didn’t want to push things for her. He knew she was still adjusting to moving to a new state, new faith, and finally recovering from the emotional trauma of the previous several years. So he bided his time.

  One afternoon he got a text that simply read: “How can He love me if I’ve messed up so much?”

  Ezra sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked this question, although it was worded differently each time. He started to type out a response, but then backspaced. It would be easier to call. He’d always been better with verbal communications than putting words on paper—or in text, in this case. As the call rang, he sent up a quick prayer. “Give me your words, Lord.”

  She answered and it sounded like her voice quavered slightly.

  He cut to the chase. “Have you read First John yet?”

  The sound of pages flipping met his ear. She must have her phone on speaker. “Um . . . I don’t think so.”

  “Well, First John talks a lot about love. It mentions more than once the phrase, ‘God is love.’ Love is in His being, Piper. It’s who He is. There’s no way He cannot love someone. It’s like . . . you’re left-handed, right? You were born that way. You’ll always be left-handed. It’s in your DNA.”

  There was silence for a moment. “I actually tried to teach myself to be right-handed when I was a freshman.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, so maybe not the most flawless comparison, but you get the idea, right? No matter what one does, it can’t change who He is. He is love.”

  There was silence and he wondered if they’d lost the connection. “Piper?”

  Her voice was soft and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear in an attempt to hear her. “Even if I killed someone?”

  Ezra sat back in his chair. Whoa, not expecting that one.

  “What . . . what do you mean, Piper?” What was she talking about?

  “That bullet was meant for me. I should have died.” She was crying now, the weight of grief and shame heavy in her voice.

  His heart hurt for her and he bit his lip. He thought she was past this. Why was it coming back now? “You mean at the skating rink?”

  “No. Chicago, Ez.” Her tone pleaded with him to understand. “I was there. Paul heard the shooting and shoved me out of the way. He died because of me. It’s my fault. I killed him.”

  The information settled on his chest like a two-ton brick. She had been there. She had been with Paul. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his fist. Oh good Lord . . . He couldn’t imagine. That particular bit of information was not in the news article. The sound of Piper’s crying was still coming over the phone. He gentled his voice. “Hey, Piper, shh. It’s not your fault. You know Paul would have protected others before himself anyway, whether it was his sister or someone else. It’s who he was.” The past tense still burned in his throat. “He was a rescuer. That’s why he became a paramedic. If he had to do it over again, do you think he would have done it differently? If you had to do it over again, was there anything you could have done differently?”

  She sniffled.

  “Is there, Piper? Is there anything you could have done differently?” His voice was gentle, but firm, commanding an answer.

  “No,” she hiccupped.

  “No, there’s not. Piper, you can’t take this on. Things happen. And that’s all there is to it. You can’t move on until you let the guilt go. When my mom died . . . You know, Piper. You know. I blamed myself. It ate me up until I wanted to give up. But as soon as I accepted the fact—the truth—that it wasn’t my fault, I was free. God didn't hold it against me. My dad didn’t. And I needed to not hold it against myself. Okay?”

  Ezra could almost see her nodding. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I was past this . . . but I had another dream last night, and just . . . just couldn’t shake it off. I tried reading my Bible, but Leviticus wasn’t helping much,” she said ruefully.

  Ezra chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. Hey, you sound tired. Why don’t you rest for a bit, and I’ll bring over pizza in a couple hours for an early dinner. All right?”

  “I’m scared to sleep,” she admitted softly.

  He tsked sympathetically. “Listen, whenever you have another nightmare, call me. Anytime. I may not answer if I happen to be on a call, but I’ll try.”

  “Ez . . .” she started to protest, but he cut her off.

  “You don't have to be alone anymore, Piper. God’s there, and I’m here. You’re my friend, and I want to help you.” And be more than that, he mentally added.

  “Fine.” She finally agreed, more life coming back into her tone. “But I’m at least paying for the pizza.”

  Yes! There was the sass . . . He laughed. “The gentleman in me protests, but if it helps you sleep at night, you may,” he said, then winced at his unfortunate turn of phrase.

  “I feel like I keep saying this, but thank you, Ezra. I’ve never had a friend quite like you before . . .” She added the last sentence in a soft voice.

  Did that work in his favor? He hoped so . . . “Then just stop thanking me,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “Go sleep now, and I’ll see you later.”

  “All right. Bye, Ez.”

  Ezra ended the call and stared at the phone in his hand. Then he pressed speed dial.

  “Dad, we’ve got a problem. I think I’m falling in love . . .”

  A loud laugh and hearty “About time!” was the response.

  After she hung up, Piper made herself a soothing cup of hot cocoa and curled up on the couch with Paul’s Bible. She turned the pages until she found the book of First John and started reading the first chapter. As she read, she took note of the many underlined verses and notes in the margin written in her brother's oh-so-familiar, precise hand. The first two verses of chapter two were underlined and she read the note next to them. “What a blessing that we have an advocate with God! He cleansed and continues to cleanse us from our sins, so w
e can always have access to the pure and holy Father.”

  Piper smiled as the note jogged a memory of Paul and Ezra discussing this same topic. She’d overheard part of their conversation from the other room and had stepped into the kitchen to hear the rest. Paul was gesticulating with soapsuds-covered hands and his face was alive and alight with a passion that had taken her aback at first. Paul was a laid-back kind of guy, but when he cared deeply about something, his passion was quite clear. He’d only ever been that passionate about his faith, his job as a paramedic—being a rescuer, as Ezra had said—and . . . her. He’d been her advocate, for as long as she could remember. For forever. From scraped knees when she was little to bullies in high school, he’d been there, protecting her, defending her, loving her, encouraging her. A single tear dropped on the page and she quickly blotted it away before it could damage the paper. Now that she wasn’t spending so much time angry at the world, she had time to miss Paul. Years could only dull the ache in her heart.

  She read until she reached the end of the book, then kept reading. Her eyelids started to droop and she rested her head against the couch and quickly dropped into the sleep of the dreamless.

  Piper startled awake a short time later to the shrill ringing of her phone, and bolted upright. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and brushed the hair back from her face as she answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “I’m on your porch.” It was Ezra.

  “Oh! Sorry, one sec.” She dropped the phone onto the couch and crossed the room to open the door. “Sorry again. I was sleeping.”

  He smiled. “I figured.”

  She led the way into the kitchen and pulled paper plates from the cabinet. “How much do I owe you for the pizza? Thanks for bringing it.”

  Ezra didn’t answer, and she scowled. “Ezra, I am paying for the pizza.”

  Ezra sighed, chuckled, and shook his head. “Fine. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  He shrugged and handed over the receipt before sitting down.

  “So I read First John.” Piper said between mouthfuls of cheesy goodness.

  Ezra swallowed his own mouthful. “Go on—admit that I was right.”

  Piper rolled her eyes. “Tyler was right—you are bossy, and arrogant too,” she said playfully.

  He just smirked and took another bite of pizza. “I’ll let you get away with saying that only because I like you—and my mom told me not to fight girls.”

  Piper inwardly froze but tried to keep a nonchalant facade in place. He liked her? What did that mean? She was probably reading more into that than he’d meant. She took another bite of pizza and listened and laughed as Ezra launched into a story about his punishment the time he took a toy from a girl at the playground.

  Piper suddenly gasped and launched out of her chair, causing Ezra to startle and jump up as well. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “What time is it?” As she asked the question, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Almost 4:30. Drat. I promised a client I’d have their project done by five tonight. Do you mind? It won’t take me long.”

  He shrugged and spread his hands. “Hey, you gotta do what ya gotta do. Go ahead. I’ll put these things away.” He gestured to their dishes on the table.

  What a sweetheart. “You’re such a dear, I could—” She suddenly broke off, blushing furiously. Had she really almost said she could kiss him? A peck-on-the-cheek kiss, of course, not a kiss kiss. “—I could feed you ice cream. There’s some in the freezer,” she finished lamely. He chuckled and she blushed again, hurrying to her desk as he grabbed the dishes off the table and carried them into the kitchen.

  What an idiot she was.

  Ezra threw away the pizza box and plates and quickly loaded the dishwasher, then wiped down the table and counter. His mother had taught him well how to manage a house. With her illness, there had been no “men’s work” and “women’s work” in their household. Whoever was available did what needed to be done—and that meant Ezra had washed a lot of dishes in his day. And he didn’t mind it so much. His mother was always more comfortable living in a space that was neat and tidy. She said a messy house stressed her out. So of course Ezra worked to keep things clean on a regular basis. Because anything that could be done to bring Charlotte Bryant peace or joy was done.

  Ezra sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face, wishing he could scrub away the grief as easily. Nine years could never erase the pain of watching one’s mother die, day by day, month by month, year by year. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment against the memories that assailed. He wasn’t going there . . . not today.

  Looking around Piper’s home, it was clear she didn’t feel the same way about her surroundings as his mother had. It amused him. Somehow the mess around him was so uniquely Piper he couldn’t help but find it adorable. Books littered the end tables and floor by the couch, as did a few pillows. Her corner desk looked like a technology store had thrown up over it, and he didn’t know what half the gadgets were. A glance to his left showed a room with an unmade bed and articles of clothing tossed haphazardly across the blue sheets. Certainly not as unkempt as Tyler’s apartment, but chaotic nonetheless. It would take a lot to rival Tyler’s housekeeping skills . . . or lack thereof, rather.

  Ezra wandered over to stand behind where Piper sat at her corner desk, fully engrossed in her work. The computer showed a black screen with a jumble of tiny characters spread across it. Piper was typing rapidly, adding more gibberish to the already incomprehensible mess on the screen. What was she doing? He asked, and at the sound of his voice, she jumped. “Oh! Forgot you were there.”

  Ezra chuckled. Even when she was younger, she’d become so engrossed in her books or schoolwork it would take several attempts to get her attention. He tried to focus on what she was saying.

  “This—” She gestured to the screen, “is a text editor. All these characters are behind every page on the web. It’s a markup language called HTML—HyperText Markup Language. Many people confuse it with programming languages like Java and C++, but it’s really different. See, these are each considered HTML elements and there’s the content you see—” she looked up at his face and must have read the confusion written there, as she then abbreviated her explanation. “Look.” Switching windows, she pulled up a website for an accounting firm. “All you see in the text editor is what is working behind the scenes to create this website. Make sense?”

  He slowly shook his head, bewildered. “No. But I’ll take your word for it.”

  She huffed a laugh and pulled up the foreign-looking document again, hunching towards the screen. “I’ll be done in a just a minute. When do you have to get to work?”

  “I don’t. Got a day off today. I was hoping you’d take a walk with me. It’s cold, but sunny out, and you need some sunshine. You’re pale as a ghost.”

  “Mm . . .” She just absently rubbed her cheek, absorbed in her work once again. He shook his head and pulled his phone out, scrolling through emails until she finished.

  Ten minutes later, she spun in her office chair to face him. “There. I’m done. Sorry about that. What did you want to do?”

  Ezra pocketed his phone. “I thought we’d take a walk.”

  She glanced out the window and grimaced. “It’s freezing.”

  He laughed. “Welcome to Washington, darling. Go get your coat. Doctor’s orders.”

  She grumbled as she went to grab her coat, muttering under her breath. “You are bossy, just like Paul.”

  Ezra had to swallow at the sudden emotion rising in his throat. That was one of the greatest compliments she could give him.

  Four Weeks Later . . .

  T oday was the day. The sun was shining. And Ezra Bryant was freaking out. He smoothed a hand over his hair for the fifth time and exhaled, square jaw and green eyes reflecting back at him in the bathroom mirror. Let’s do this, man, he mentally coached himself.

  He was finally making the leap. He only hoped Piper didn’t run screaming.
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  Piper checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and smoothed a hand across her hair before stepping out of her car into the brisk, early March air. A good portion of the snow had melted already, leaving large brown and green patches. Another heavy load of the white crystallized liquid and more freezing temps were forecasted for the next week, but she’d enjoy the slight warmth while she could. She’d jumped at the opportunity to take a walk in the park with Ezra after church when he’d asked her. His voice had seemed a little odd when he made the request . . . Despite what he teased, she wasn’t a hermit. She just didn’t find the same pleasure in slowly freezing like he did. She smiled and shook her head, then caught sight of Ezra across the street. He looked both ways before crossing to her. Was it just her or did his face light up when he saw her?

  “Hey.”

  “Hey . . . Uh.” He coughed. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Of course. It’s a gorgeous day for a walk.” She tilted her head up towards the sunlight that filtered through the trees as they set off on one of the paths through the park. Ezra was strangely silent.

  “So . . . what did you think of Robert’s sermon this morning?” The message had been based on Acts chapter two. Piper had found those verses strange and far-fetched sounding, but Robert, one of the leaders of the small home church, had expounded upon and explained them in a new way that made more sense. She’d found it very interesting and apparently so did Ezra, as that finally got him talking.

  They discussed it at length as they continued down the pathway. They had moved on to a different topic by the time they reached a small, tucked-away coffee shop. He offered to get them a drink and Piper waited off to the side while he ordered. A sparrow sang from the treetops and two mourning doves flitted on the fence. Her first winter in Washington was turning out to be quite beautiful and so peaceful. Chicago was nothing compared to small-town Washington.