Trusting Him to Lead

by T. K. Chapin

Lilly ran off back toward the house. West stood upright and peered into Rachel’s eyes. “It’s important that she learns the value of money.”

  “I trust you.”

  He smiled and pulled Rachel in close for another kiss. Stopping a fraction from her lips, he smiled. “I sure do love you. You know that?”

  Nodding, her lips curled into a grin. “And I love you!”

  Wrapping her arms around West, Rachel kissed his cheek.

  Elizabeth rode with Aunt Brittany down to the river, while Jeremy and Lilly rode with West and Rachel. As they pulled into the parking lot at the river, Lilly let out a scream.

  “That’s mine!”

  Rachel turned to see Lilly reach over and grab three dollars out of Jeremy’s hands.

  “Jeremy had Lilly’s money.”

  Parking the car, West looked in the rearview mirror. “Is that true, Jeremy?”

  Their son’s voice was soft. “Yes.”

  Shutting the car off, West stayed back at the car with Jeremy as Rachel took Lilly and headed toward the bridge to catch up with her sister and Elizabeth. Coming to the bridge and her sister, Rachel lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sunshine.

  “Hey.”

  “Where’s Jeremy and West?”

  “Talking at the car. They’ll catch up in a moment.”

  The sound of the Spokane river caught Rachel’s attention, and they all four walked over the bridge to glance over the cement wall down at the water. It was only eleven o’clock, but the heat was already starting to warm the back of Rachel’s neck, and the mist thrown up by the raging water on the rocks below brought a comfortable feeling over her.

  Soon, West and Jeremy caught up to them at the bridge, then they all walked over to the covered shelter where DigiTech was hosting the picnic. They found a place to sit at a picnic table and settled in. West sat next to Rachel, one arm around her back as people came by and said hello to them.

  Spotting West’s co-worker Melissa arrive on scene, her heart tumbled. Sensing her change in demeanor, West leaned over to Rachel.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just . . .” She looked again at Melissa, who was now laughing and touching some dude’s arm.

  West peered over at Melissa, then back at Rachel. “Forget about her.”

  Rachel did her best to keep her focus on the children and everyone but Melissa. By one o’clock that afternoon, though, Melissa found her way over to the picnic table.

  “Hey, all.” Melissa leaned into side-hug West, but he moved.

  Raising an eyebrow, Rachel looked at him.

  “Jeez. I’m just being friendly.”

  “I just don’t think that’s appropriate behavior. You might want to think about what you’re telling other people by being so friendly with men.”

  “Okay.” Melissa’s cheeks went crimson. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

  As Melissa walked away, Rachel leaned into his ear. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

  West looked over at her. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for God, for our marriage. It’s inappropriate for her to get that close to me.”

  Rachel’s heart melted at his words. West truly cared for her heart now, and it was evident in the way he had behaved with Melissa. She leaned over and kissed him.

  “Thank you.”

  Steve found his way over to their picnic table.

  “Have a seat, man!” West pointed to the empty spot that Brittany had left an hour earlier to head home. “I was wondering if you guys were coming out today.”

  “We had a birthday for a nephew of ours. We’re here now!” Steve smiled and glanced over at his wife. “It’s a lovely day.”

  “It really is nice. I’m glad the rain they had in the forecast never happened.” West saw his water bottle was empty and stood up to go grab a new one. “I’m out of water.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Steve joined West on his walk over to the ice chest.

  “It’s nice to see you two doing so well.”

  Stopping, West smiled back toward Rachel, capturing a smile from her. “It is great, man. We still have little issues here and there, but with God at the center of it all . . .”

  “You can’t go wrong.” Steve patted his shoulder. “See? That’s what I’m talking about, brother! It’s not perfect, but it’s always joy-filled because we are sustained by God.”

  “Exactly.”

  A few hours later, West saw his mother arrive. Seeing his mother walking up the sidewalk, West slipped out from his spot on the picnic bench and turned to his wife.

  “Hey, Rachel, my mother is here!” Holding out a hand, he led his wife down the grassy hill away from the shelter and over to the sidewalk where his mother had stopped short.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, Westley.”

  They embraced.

  “So nice to see you again, Rachel.” His mother came closer to her with open arms. Rachel willingly embraced her.

  “Nice to see you again!”

  West called toward the playground for their three kids.

  As the kids darted through the grass toward the three of them, West went in for another hug from his mom. “I’m so glad you came today. We love having you in our lives.”

  “I’m glad to be here.”

  The children arrived, unable to contain their excitement as they ran into their grandmother’s arms, giving her hugs.

  It wasn’t long after when DigiTech’s owner, Kyle Esco, took to the microphone in the shelter. “I’m glad to see so many happy families here today. It’s a beautiful day to be alive, and I want to thank each of you for coming out. Without your family member who works for DigiTech, we wouldn’t have a company. This is a special thanks to each one of you. I hope you have a blessed time here today and enjoy God’s creation.”

  Everyone cheered and then music started to boom from the speakers. The third song in was slow, and West took Rachel by the hand and led her out to a grassy flat area outside the shelter.

  He placed his hands on her hips, and they began to sway to the music.

  “Thank you, West.”

  “You’re welcome.” Unsure of what she meant, he looked at her. “But, for what?”

  “For being you.” Relaxing her head on his chest, they continued to move to the music as she spoke more. “Seven months ago, I thought our life was over. I thought everything was ruined . . . but really, it wasn’t. It was only derailed.”

  “We’re not done yet.”

  “I know that.” Rachel pulled her head away from his chest and peered into his eyes. “I know we’re not done, but I do know we’re going to be okay. Did you know my grandparents were divorced for a short time in the seventies?”

  West stopped and raised his eyebrows. “What? Really?”

  “Yep.”

  West continued to lead their dance. “Wow. I always thought they had the perfect love.”

  “Me too, but they didn’t. They had struggles. They had hardships.”

  “You just don’t know people’s stories sometimes.”

  The song ended.

  Tilting her head, she looked at him lovingly. “The only story I know is ours, and I love our story.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “So do I.”

  Book Previews

  A Reason To Live Preview

  Chapter 1

  POUNDING COMING FROM THE FRONT door of his house on the South Hill woke Jonathan Dunken from sleep at three o’clock in the morning. Then the doorbell chimed, pulling him further away from his slumber and fully awake. He had only been asleep for an hour, as he had been up late the night before sketching building concepts for a client. He was the co-founder and sole architect of his and his brother Tyler’s company, Willow Design. A company the two of them started just a few years ago, after Marie passed and Jonathan needed more work to throw himself into.

  Pushing his eyelids open, he sat up in his bed, smoothing a hand over his face. Who on earth is that? He
wondered. The doorbell chimed again, and he begrudgingly emerged from his bed and left his bedroom.

  He traveled out from his room, through the long hallway, and down the glass stairs. As he entered the foyer, more pounding on the door sounded, edging his already growing irritation. He was ready to rip into whoever was on the other side of that door. But when he finally opened it, his heart plunged and the wind fanning his anger fell quiet. It was his sister-in-law, Shawna Gillshock, a woman he hadn’t seen since the funeral four years ago.

  Shawna looked just like he remembered her—a mess, her brunette hair disheveled, eyeliner mingled with rainwater ran down each of her cheeks. She was wearing a stained pair of ragged sweats three times too big and a ragged oversized hooded sweatshirt. He immediately noticed the sight of fresh blood on a cut near her left eyebrow.

  “I need your help, Jonathan. I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice was strained, filled with desperation. She jerked her head toward the car in the driveway. Sheets of rain and wind whipped back and forth in the night’s air, dancing across the headlights of the car. “My dad wouldn’t let me come to his house. I need a place for me and my daughter, Rose, to stay tonight. My boyfriend beat me again, and I’m leaving him for good this time. You’re the only person I know that he doesn’t know. Please?”

  Jonathan was moved with compassion, though a part of him wanted to say ‘no’ to her. Deep down, somewhere beneath the pain and grief that followed losing his wife, he heard a whisper and felt a nudge. Let her stay.

  “Okay. You can stay.” He helped her inside with her luggage and daughter. The luggage she had brought didn’t consist of much. A backpack and one suitcase. Once the two of them had everything inside the house in the foyer, he led the way to the guest room on the main floor of the two-story house. The room was tucked away at the end of the hallway. Opening the door, he flipped on the light switch. Two lamps, one on each nightstand on either side of the bed, turned on. Each of the nightstands, along with the dresser and crown molding, was stark white. The walls were a warm brown, not dark, but not light either. On the far side of the bedroom, near the dresser, was another doorway leading into an en-suite bathroom.

  “Thank you so much for this.” Her words were filled with genuine gratitude as she set her backpack on the bed. She turned and glanced at the TV on top of the dresser.

  “How long do you think you’ll be here, Shawna?” Jonathan was gently reminding her it wasn’t a long-term solution but more of a friendly gesture in a time of need.

  “Just a few days. I’m going to call my dad again tomorrow and see if I can convince him to let us stay there with him and Betty until I can figure something out.”

  The mention of her parents jogged painful memories that Jonathan had tried to forget. His parents had died his senior year of high school, so he only really had Marie’s parents in his life. “Okay, and if he doesn’t budge?”

  Shawna turned to face him. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me, just thanks again for tonight.”

  Her daughter became fussy a moment later, a whimper escaping. “What’s wrong, Rose?”

  She touched her tummy. “I’m hungry.”

  “How old is she?”

  Smiling, Shawna turned to him. “She’s two. Talking away already. Do you have anything she can eat?”

  Scrambling through the fridge in his mind, he shrugged. “Does she like tuna?”

  “Um, not really. Do you have hot dogs, macaroni, or something more kid-friendly like that?”

  “No, but there are eggs in the fridge. Sorry. I wasn’t really prepared for you.” He tipped a smile, trying to loosen the awkwardness and embrace the disturbance of the entire situation.

  She laughed lightly. “It’s totally fine. Eggs work great. She loves scrambled eggs. Thank you again, Jonathan. It means the world that you took us in tonight.”

  “Don’t mention it. Do you need help cooking, or can you manage it?”

  “It’s pretty basic. I think I got it handled. You look like you need some sleep, so go ahead.”

  “I do need sleep. Going back to bed now. ‘Night.”

  Leaving Shawna and Rose in the guest room, he shut the door quietly and thought of his late wife, Marie, as he made his way back to his bedroom upstairs. Shawna was his only sister-in-law, and she had made frequent appearances in his and Marie’s life, but that had been years ago. Even back in the day, Shawna was always in need. Her life reminded him of a slow-moving train wreck in progress. Though her life was a wreck, Marie was always ready and willing to love on her and care for her when she was in need of her big sister. That was Marie’s nature with not only family, but anyone who was in need.

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  One Thursday Morning Preview

  Prologue

  To love and be loved—it was all I ever wanted. Nobody could ever convince me John was a bad man. He made me feel loved when I did not know what love was. I was his and he was mine. It was perfect . . . or at least, I thought it was.

  I cannot pinpoint why everything changed in our lives, but it did—and for the worst. My protector, my savior, and my whole world came crashing down like a heavy spring downpour. The first time he struck me, I remember thinking it was just an accident. He had been drinking earlier in the day with his friends and came stumbling home late that night. The lights were low throughout the house because I had already gone to bed. I remember hearing the car pull up outside in the driveway. Leaping to my feet, I came rushing downstairs and through the kitchen to greet him. He swung, which I thought at the time was because I startled him, and the back side of his hand caught my cheek.

  I should have known it wasn’t an accident.

  The second time was no accident at all, and I knew it. After a heavy night of drinking the night his father died, he came to the study where I was reading. Like a hunter looking for his prey, he came up behind me to the couch. Grabbing the back of my head and digging his fingers into my hair, he kinked my neck over the couch and asked me why I hadn’t been faithful to him. I had no idea what he was talking about, so out of sheer fear, I began to cry. John took that as a sign of guilt and backhanded me across the face. It was hard enough to leave a bruise the following day. I stayed with him anyway. I’d put a little extra makeup on around my eyes or anywhere else when marks were left. I didn’t stay because I was stupid, but because I loved him. I kept telling myself that our love could get us through this. The night of his father’s death, I blamed his outburst on the loss of his father. It was too much for him to handle, and he was just letting out steam. I swore to love him through the good times and the bad. This was just one of the bad times.

  Each time he’d hit me, I’d come up with a reason or excuse for the behavior. There was always a reason, at least in my mind, as to why John hit me. Then one time, after a really bad injury, I sought help from my mother before she passed away. The closest thing to a saint on earth, she dealt with my father’s abuse for decades before he died. She was a devout Christian, but a warped idea of love plagued my mother her entire life. She told me, ‘What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’ That one piece of advice she gave me months before passing made me suffer through a marriage with John for another five trying years.

  Each day with John as a husband was a day full of prayer. I would pray for him not to drink, and sometimes, he didn’t—those were the days I felt God had listened to my pleas. On the days he came home drunk and swinging, I felt alone, like God had left me to die by my husband’s hands. Fear was a cornerstone of our relationship, in my eyes, and I hated it. As the years piled onto one another, I began to deal with two entirely different people when it came to John. There was the John who would give me everything I need in life and bring flowers home on the days he was sober, and then there was John, the drunk, who would bring insults and injury instead of flowers.

  I knew something needed to desperately change in my life, but I didn’t ha
ve the courage. Then one day, it all changed when two little pink lines told me to run and never look back.

  Chapter 1

  Fingers glided against the skin of my arm as I lay on my side looking into John’s big, gorgeous brown eyes. It was morning, so I knew he was sober, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe I could tell him about the baby growing inside me. Flashes of a shared excitement between us blinked through my mind. He’d love having a baby around the house. He really would. Behind those eyes, I saw the man I fell in love with years ago down in Town Square in New York City. Those eyes were the same ones that brought me into a world of love and security I had never known before. Moments like that made it hard to hate him. Peering over at his hand that was tracing the side of my body, I saw the cut on his knuckles from where he had smashed the coffee table a few nights ago. My heart retracted the notion of telling him about the baby. I knew John would be dangerous for a child.

  Chills shivered up my spine as his fingers traced from my arm to the curve of my back. Could I be strong enough to live without him? I wondered as the fears sank back down into me. Even if he was a bit mean, he had a way of charming me like no other man I had ever met in my life. He knew how to touch gently, look deeply and make love passionately. It was only when he drank that his demons came out.

  “Want me to make you some breakfast?” I asked, slipping out of his touch and from the bed to my feet. His touches were enjoyable, but I wanted to get used to not having them. My mind often jumped back and forth between leaving, not leaving, and something vaguely in between. It was hard.

  John smiled up at me from the bed with what made me feel like love in his eyes. I suddenly began to feel bad about the plan to leave, but I knew he couldn’t be trusted with a child. Keep it together.

  “Sure, babe. That’d be great.” He brought his muscular arms from out of the covers and put them behind his head. My eyes traced his biceps and face. Wavy brown hair and a jawline that was defined made him breathtakingly gorgeous. Flashes of last night’s passion bombarded my mind. He didn’t drink, and that meant one thing—we made love. It started in the main living room just off the foyer. I was enjoying my evening cup of tea while the fireplace was lit when suddenly, John came home early. I was worried at first, but when he leaned over the couch and pulled back my blonde hair, he planted a tender kiss on my neck. I knew right in that moment that it was going to be a good night. Hoisting me up from the couch with those arms and pressing me against the wall near the fireplace, John’s passion fell from his lips and onto the skin of my neck as I wrapped my arms around him.