He shook his head.
She rested her fingers on parted lips. “You stirred hope of reconciliation with your pronouncements of love. Then you ask me to wait for you without any explanation?” Frustration simmered below the surface as she balled her fists. She swerved abruptly to face him. “Tell me why. I’m entitled to know what’s troubling you.”
“You’re right, but I can’t say. Trust me. It’s better left unspoken.” He grasped her by the arms. “Wait for me to get my heart right with God—for me to be the husband you deserve.”
Ruth Ann searched his eyes. Husband? “We’ve never spoken of marriage.”
“I’ve wanted to marry you for a long time, but—”
She’d heard enough. Wiggling free of his hold, she jabbed her finger in his chest. “You don’t love me, Benjamin. If you loved me, you’d want to be with me—now. Nothing would keep us apart.” She pointed toward the swinging doors. “You need to leave.”
“Blast it all, Ruthie.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “All right, you want to know what’s keeping us apart?”
“I have a right to know.”
“You’re not gonna like it.”
She folded her arms tight to her chest, her foot tapping briskly beneath her skirts. “Maybe not, but I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”
He shook his head. “Ruthie, you’ve done nothing wrong. The fault—the problem is entirely my own.” He forced a breath and continued, “This is hard for me to say, so please bear with me.” He motioned toward the table. “Let’s sit.”
Anxious to uncover the problem, she nodded and eased into the chair beside him.
Taking her hands in his, he stroked them with his thumbs. He took a deep breath, pausing as the air slowly escaped his lungs. “I love you, Ruthie. I love your inquisitive nature and the way you tap your pencil against your cheek when you’re thinking. I love your stubborn streak and that you stand up for what you believe. I love that we can talk about anything or nothing and it’s equally wonderful.” His eyes lingered on her face. “I love your curly hair, your dark brown eyes, and the smell of your lavender dusting powder.”
She squeezed his hand. “Just say it, Ben.”
“My issue is with your form.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My form?”
The words tumbled from his lips. “You are broad through the shoulders and hips, and your waist is thicker than I prefer.” Pressing his eyes closed, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Ruthie.”
Her breath hitched. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after all the time they’d spent together. An eerie groan wrenched from her lungs. She swayed to the left. Benjamin reached out a hand to steady her. He continued talking, but she couldn’t make sense of his words. Eyes pinched closed, she shook her head. Pressing one hand against her stomach, she covered her mouth with the palm of the other. Suddenly her corset was two sizes too small.
“Did you hear me, Ruthie? I said I’m sorry. I’ve been praying for the Lord to heal whatever is broken in me that such a trivial thing would keep me from marrying the woman I love.”
Ire quickly replaced all reason as the meaning of his words settled in her heart. She lunged at Benjamin, sending him and his chair careening to the floor. Leaning over him, her fists pummeled his chest as liberated tendrils bounced and swayed with a fury of their own.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I believed you when you professed your love for me.”
Boots thundered in the dining room, rattling the china in the corner hutch.
Eyes wide as saucers, Benjamin grabbed her wrists, fending off her angry attack.
She struggled to free herself from his grip and injure him like he’d wounded her, if only he’d let go. “I gave you my heart, and you threw it away.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you this way. I’m going to become the man you deserve—a man we both can respect, and then I’ll be back for you.”
Her body went limp in his grasp. Exhausted from the maelstrom of emotions Benjamin’s confession evoked, she reclined on her heels. “Don’t bother coming back, Benjamin. You don’t know how to love.”
The swinging doors whooshed open, banging against the icebox. “What the Sam Hill is goin’ on in here?” Captain Reynolds grasped Ruth Ann’s elbow and tugged her to her feet. “You all right?”
Despite her quivering shoulders, she nodded. “Mr. Coulter was just leaving.”
19
Too ashamed to look at Captain Reynolds, Ruth Ann lifted her skirts and brushed past him. She scurried through the swinging doors and disappeared upstairs.
His voice trailed after her. “Are you all right, Miss Sutton?”
Ruth Ann flung open her bedroom door then slammed it quickly behind her. She tugged on the apron strings before yanking it over her head. Catching on her hair, it loosened another pin, freeing more curls from her bun. She flopped in the window seat and buried her face in her hands. Benjamin loves me but doesn’t want me, and James wants me, only if he can change me. The only man who had ever truly loved her in the unconditional way she hungered for was no longer around to fill the deep void inside her. Oh, Papa.
Stomach churning, she dove for the washstand and wretched in the basin. She wiped her mouth on a cloth and looked at her red, swollen face in the mirror. Fighting the urge to wretch again, she crumpled to the floor and sobbed, her arms cradling her head. Her mother’s words pressed in all around her. No man will ever want to marry you... Mama had repeated them frequently enough. Just fill in the blank with one of Ruth Ann’s obvious flaws—her stubborn streak, her opinionated nature, or her robust figure. Sarah had tried to put a favorable twist on Mama’s words, saying she meant that Ruth Ann was healthy and vigorous. But deep down she knew her mother meant she was built strong and sturdy like a ship—the S.S. Ruth Ann.
She had gone to Doc Rawlings once, without Mama knowing about it. With gentle eyes and a hand to her shoulder, he’d told her she had a larger frame than most women. She could lose ten to fifteen pounds if she wanted to but no more. Doc had indicated that her broad hips would be a blessing when it came to childbearing. She’d turned five shades of red at his pronouncement. He’d assured her she was healthy but would never be petite like her mother and sister. She was big-boned—a workhorse, not a filly.
A knock on the door briefly interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Sutton, I brought your soup.”
She pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. Had Captain Reynolds overheard her conversation with Ben? Mortified, she brought her knees closer to her chest and covered her mouth, hoping he wouldn’t hear her muffled cries.
He knocked louder this time. “Miss Sutton, are you all right? I’ll leave the tray in the hallway. If you need anything, I’ll be in the parlor.”
His footsteps faded on the stairs, and she allowed pent up sobs to escape her lungs. Her shoulders quaked. Would any man ever love her unconditionally? She wanted a home and family of her own—a man to love her as Joseph loved Sarah. She placed her hands on her ears but nothing seemed to drown out the sound of her mother’s words. Young gentlemen do not court and marry women who are plump and opinionated. A gentleman wants to step out with a woman other men will envy. No one would envy her. She was undesirable and unlovable.
Ruth Ann sat up and leaned against her bed. The word unlovable resounded in her mind. It wasn’t exactly the word her mother had used, but that is what she’d meant. The sum total of her entire being wrapped up in two words—plump and opinionated, neither of them good.
Although it was the middle of the day, darkness engulfed her, pressing against her chest like a lead weight. The slightest breath difficult. A chill bristled her. Her skin prickled. She glanced to the window. Closed. She rubbed her arms and rested on her heels. A cold, raspy voice hissed in her ears.
Unworthy of love…unworthy of love...
The toxic phrase echoed in her thoughts, taunting her.
What was the point of her life if everything else came down to tha
t? She was unlovable. Ruth Ann moved to her knees and rummaged through her vanity drawer. Then she found it, way in the back. Shoving her hairbrush aside, she retrieved the bottle of laudanum Sarah had given her to alleviate her headache.
The container was more than three-quarters full.
She twisted the cap and brought the brown bottle to her lips. Thoughts of tasting the bitter liquid made her stomach heave.
Drink it. You will fall asleep and never wake up. It will be so easy.
Heart hammering in her chest, she stared at the bottle. Shaky fingers stroked the smooth brown glass. It would be easy.
No man will ever love an ugly, round, stubborn, opinionated woman such as yourself.
There it was. The truth she’d spent her entire life avoiding. She couldn’t deny it any longer. Not after Benjamin. Tired of never being good enough, she tilted the container and took a swig. Shuddering, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
Good. Now, do it again. Nobody loves you. Nobody will ever love you. You’re undesirable and unworthy of love…unworthy of love… unworthy of love…
The reproachful words became an unholy refrain, speaking death to her weary soul. She eyed the bottle. Could she do it?
The voice grew more desperate. Just drink it.
Reclining on her heels, she clutched the bottle to her chest. Head tipped back, a mournful plea extricated itself. “Oh, God, why can’t anyone love me the way I am?”
I love you.
She paused, the bottle halfway to her mouth.
I made you in My image, and I do not make mistakes. You are worthy of love.
But which voice to trust? As much as she wanted to believe she was worthy of love, there wasn’t much proof of that. Ben’s words assailed her. You are broad through the shoulders and hips, and your waist is thicker than I prefer. How could she have been so foolish? Only appearances mattered. On that score, she failed miserably.
You’re undesirable and unworthy of love…unworthy of love…
Still grasping the laudanum, she swayed back and forth as thoughts of gulping the bitter liquid returned. “God where are you?”
I am here child. With you, always. I love you unconditionally, in a way no man ever could.
His voice draped her in love and affirmation, like her grandmother’s afghan on a cold winter’s night.
I sent My son to die for you so that you would have abundant life on earth and eternal life with Me after death. Do you remember?
“Yes. I remember.” The preacher expounded many times on the unconditional love of God. He’d told the congregation that God had chosen us before we ever chose Him by sending His Son to die on the cross for us and that God loved us in spite of our sin. She gasped. He loved her, Ruth Ann Sutton, fully—even the stubborn, selfish, opinionated inner parts of her. Even with her less than attractive figure. Maintaining her white-knuckled grasp, she lowered the laudanum to her lap.
“If He loves me unconditionally and He made me in His image, then He must love me in spite of my form.”
I do not regret making you. I do not look upon you as man does. I look upon your heart and what I see is beautiful. You are worthy. You are worthy of My love.
How could she have forgotten? How had Mama or Ben’s opinion of her appearance become more important than the Lord’s? She was one of His works, and He found her marvelous. What had she almost done? She returned the cap to the bottle and shoved it away. Covering her eyes, she wept.
She remained silent before God, relieved the cold, raspy voice had left her. All the tension drained from her muscles as her pulse flowed serenely through her veins. Light and carefree, she imagined herself as a cattail blowing in the breeze along the creek bank.
Exhausted, she crawled into bed, cradling her Bible. How had she become so deceived? She reflected on her mother’s words—words she had chewed on repeatedly over the years. Although her mother could be harsh at times, she had never said that Ruth Ann was unlovable or undesirable—those phrases she’d chosen for herself. She’d twisted her mother’s words into something completely different in her mind. Dwelling on the unholy phrases until they became her excuse for everything that didn’t work out in her life the way she wanted. Phrases that had reshaped the image she saw in the mirror until her reflection no longer held value in her own eyes.
“Oh, God, please forgive my stubborn and rebellious heart. Please forgive me for denying the truth of scripture that says I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and that You find me marvelous!”
Her thoughts flashed to Benjamin and his declaration that her figure was unpleasing. Poor Ben. Bound by opinions and perceptions of the world, he was unable to see the heart of the woman who loved him desperately because the wrapping on the gift was not to his liking.
Ruth Ann swiped at one remaining tear before rolling over, her Bible snuggled close to her heart. She’d nearly made an irreversible decision tonight, but the voice of truth had spoken and silenced that of the Great Deceiver.
~*~
Benjamin sat in the Petersons’ kitchen, his Bible open. It had been nearly a week since his careless words had devastated Ruth Ann. How could he have been so reckless?
Elbows spread wide across the table, his head rested in his upright arms. He’d read the verse Neil jotted down for him several times, but like many things in life, it seemed easier said than done. Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ. If he knew how to take his thoughts captive, he wouldn’t be in such a mess. Why had he let jealousy and desperation trick him into telling Ruth Ann he had an issue with her figure?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn’t any better than Marcy. He’d been so angry when she’d rejected him for a man who made more money than he did. His character or temperament didn’t matter to her. It all came down to something shallow and superficial. Wasn’t that what he’d done to Ruth Ann? She loved him despite the differences in their social standings, but he’d reduced their relationship down to her appearance—something shallow and superficial.
“A-hem.” Neil cleared his throat as he leaned against the entryway to the kitchen. “How’s the study coming?”
Benjamin glanced at Neil before returning his gaze to the open Bible in front of him. “Not good.”
“You look glum.”
“Thanks.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Benjamin pushed a chair away from the table with his foot. “Perhaps you can help me make sense of these verses I’m reading.”
Neil moved to the stove and refreshed his coffee. He took a mug from the shelf and poured one for Benjamin before joining him at the table. Hooking his wire spectacles over his ears, Neil leaned forward and glanced at Benjamin’s Bible. “Which verse are you having trouble with?”
Benjamin lowered the coffee mug from his mouth and sighed. “This one in 2 Corinthians. I don’t understand what it means to take thoughts captive to Christ. I’ve tried not to dwell on the negative comments of others about Ruth Ann’s figure. When I’ve had disparaging thoughts, I’ve chastised myself, but they keep coming back.” He set his mug on the table and placed his head in his hands again, his fingers kneading his hair. “I miss her so much, Neil, it hurts. I start thinking about everything I love about her, about myself when I’m with her and then, out of nowhere, some unfavorable remark by one of the men lunges to the surface, and I feel defeated all over again.” Benjamin’s voice cracked as he fought to keep his emotions under control. “I’m not worthy of her, Neil, yet I don’t know how I can live without her.”
Neil reached forward and put his hand on Benjamin’s arm. “Taking thoughts captive doesn’t mean we never have that thought again. It means when controlling thoughts enter our mind, we denounce it and replace it with truth from Scripture...every time.”
Benjamin shook his head in his hands. “I hear what you’re saying, Neil, but it’s like I’ve built this stron
g fortress around myself, and I can’t break free.”
Neil placed his mug on the table and scooted his chair closer to Benjamin. “You couldn’t be more correct. The vow you’ve made to yourself about marrying a woman who other men would envy has formed that strong fortress you mentioned. But replacing those negative thoughts about her fuller curves and what other men will think of you for being with a woman who is less than perfect, with the truth from His word and prayer is how you break free.” He arched a bushy brow for added emphasis. “Lots of prayer.”
Drumming his fingers on the table, he eyed Neil cautiously. The path his friend suggested wouldn’t be easy.
“First, you change the way you think and that, son, will change the way you feel. Do you still have that list of verses I gave you?”
He flipped his Bible to the front and pulled the sheet of paper from inside its leather cover.
Neil unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases. Coffee stains dotted the list and the bottom right corner had ripped off. He dipped his chin and peered at Benjamin over the rim of his spectacles. “I’m glad to see you’ve been studying these verses. Now, which one of these do you feel most applies to your situation with Ruth Ann?”
Glancing at the list of verses, Benjamin pointed to Proverbs 31:30 before strumming his fingers idly on the table again. “Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.”
Neil briefly covered Benjamin’s restless hand. “Excellent choice. As soon as the disparaging thought comes to mind, denounce it. Then pray and recite this verse, repeatedly reminding yourself that this is how God sees Ruth Ann. Ask Him to give you His eyes where she is concerned.” Neil peered over his spectacles. “What about pride and envy? Which verses speak to your heart about those issues?”
Benjamin pressed his lips into a thin line, choking back the emotion the verse brought forth in his heart. “The one from Proverbs fourteen, “A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones.” Benjamin’s shoulders slumped as he shook his head. “That’s me—rotten inside, full of pride and more desirous of man’s blessing than that of the God I profess to love.”
A Love Restored Page 21