She would never understand what he’d been through. Truth be told, he’d lived through it himself and still didn’t understand it. Moments of quiet camaraderie with his fellow soldiers juxtaposed with times of drawn guns and fear. Civilians selling their wares on streets that only hours before had been popping with gunfire. It made no sense. How could anyone understand such a way of life?
On the one hand, he found himself growing impatient with the television news reporters whose biggest story lately seemed to be a Peeping Tom who so far had caused no harm. And on the other, he found himself wanting to wrap his loved ones in Bubble Wrap and keep them all safe from even the mere threat of harm.
Was the chasm between them too wide to bridge?
He pulled away and leaned back against the headrest. Tried not to focus on the hope in her hazel eyes and the possibility that he might break her heart yet again. If they were going to try this again—and he even questioned his sanity in considering it—she needed to understand that she wasn’t going to change him. He had been broken during that miserable day in Afghanistan when he’d lost his faith, and he couldn’t let her go into this believing she could slap a bandage on him and fix him. He had come home with all his limbs intact, but a big piece of him was missing, never to be regained. He wished he could believe with the naive faith he used to have, but whatever faith had once been there was now so bruised, tarnished and battered it was unsalvageable.
He sighed, the sound so heavy that the restrained eagerness behind her smile wilted just a little.
“There need to be conditions,” he said cautiously. Then he rushed forward before she got any wrong ideas. “Primarily that you will not attempt to steer me back to church.”
Ruthie jutted her jaw forward while she rolled the idea around in her mind. He knew her well enough and trusted her enough to know that she wouldn’t make a promise unless she was certain she could fulfill it.
“What about saying grace before meals?” she asked. “I usually say it out loud, as do Sobo and Pop. And if I break out into spontaneous prayer, I’m going to make an emu hand.”
“I’m not asking you to change yourself.” He appreciated her sincerity. Appreciated everything about her and wouldn’t want to change a thing. “I’m just asking you not to try to change me.”
Ruthie grinned. “Is it okay if I ask you to remove your elbows from the table?”
“Hey, somebody’s gotta clean me up and make me look nice in public.”
“All right, then. It’s a deal.”
She looked so happy that he wanted to throw caution to the wind and rejoice with her. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“It’s not enough that you agree,” he said, and her smile abruptly went south. “You need to understand why I sent you that letter. To understand what made me the way I am today.”
“Of course. I want to hear all about it,” she said. “I want to understand.”
A movement over his shoulder caught his attention. Amaya Kagawa had stepped out onto her porch and leaned around the pillar in an effort to see what they were doing in the car so long.
“We’re making her nervous.” He pulled away from Ruthie and turned the key in the ignition.
And this conversation with Ruthie was making him nervous.
* * *
At first Ruthie had thought he was going to take her back to Gleanings and that his explanation would be delayed yet again. Instead, he drove to Maymont Park and pulled under the shade of the tree in the parking lot. Then he led her to the Japanese Garden, where they walked the gravel path in silence.
Her heart soared at the prospect of renovating their tattered relationship. There would be hurdles to overcome, but the major one—Gray’s resistance—had been conquered. By comparison, the rest of the hurdles should be easy.
While she and Gray strolled, the pruned trees and shrubs, raked sand pools, bridges and stone lanterns in the garden brought to mind her visits here with Sobo. She and her honorary grandmother had walked this path together, usually silent but sometimes sharing whatever was on their minds and hearts. At the time, it had seemed as if Sobo was searching for something. Something unspoken and maybe even unrecognized.
Was Gray also searching? Or might that be wishful thinking on her part?
She would agree to his terms, mainly because nagging a person to faith never worked. But she also believed that as they worked through reconnecting, Gray would soon remember the joys they’d experienced in their previous relationship with each other. Perhaps their being together might prompt him to want to reconnect with God, as well.
Patience, she reminded herself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t get ahead of God. She’d done a lot of praying about her relationship with Gray, and she truly believed God wanted them to be together. Now she just had to practice patience as they worked their way back together.
The sparseness of the Japanese Garden’s landscaping reflected her current pared-down relationship with Gray. Simple. Bare. The empty spaces seemed to point to possibilities. The discreet use of flowers and the garden’s subtlety in the numerous shades of green, brown and gray reminded her of the need for a light touch when interacting with him. She would still be herself, of course, and her faith would naturally show through, but she’d leave all else to God.
Gray cleared his throat. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you,” he began at last. “What I can say is that we were in the desert, in unfriendly territory.”
They continued walking, and he touched her hand as if to hold it, then pulled away. She wanted to reach for him, draw him back to her, but resisted. Gave him the space he seemed to need.
Carefully and cautiously, he opened up and described what had happened on that infamous day.
“Jake Rayner was the only person with me on that assignment,” he continued. “We called him Jakey because he was the baby of the group.” He paused to give a heartless laugh. “He hated that name. But he was just a kid, and he seemed like a little brother, so I felt responsible for him. After a while we became very close.”
She listened while he went on to describe how they’d been driving through a village when they came under fire.
“It was so hot that day it was like looking through rippling waves of air as we drove our jeep near a remote town. I remember looking over at Jakey. The sun glinted down on him and sort of cut him in half with shadow and light. It was kind of a bizarre thing to notice, but for some reason it stood out to me.”
He brushed a couple of fallen leaves off a stone bench and waited for her to sit before joining her.
“The air was still, with no dust flying, and the sky was incredibly clear and sharp. You could see for miles.” He gazed off as if measuring that remembered vision against what he saw now. “In Virginia, even on the most sunny days, it’s not that sharp. Probably because of all the humidity here.”
She murmured agreement, letting him talk through the small things to get to the point of what he wanted to tell her.
“Our jeep got hit by hostile fire. Next thing you know, we were running to take cover behind a mud-brick house that was missing an outer wall from all the shelling that had taken place before. Jakey and I crouched down near a pile of rotten potato peels and scraps of eggplant and tomato. That’s when we realized someone still lived in that bombed-out building. As long as I live, I’ll never forget that smell of rotting potato.” He paused a moment, apparently considering how to continue. “We returned fire. Hit the mark. As far as we could tell, there was only one shooter. That’s when I heard a kid from inside the house. In case there were other snipers hiding nearby, we decided to make a run for it...get away from there so we didn’t put civilians at risk. And Jakey was going crazy with fear, so I had to get him to safety before he lost his cool and put us in even more danger.”
Ruthie realized she was holding her breath, then let it out slowly. Even
in the midst of being shot at, his concern had been for the residents of the house and his buddy. She imagined that if she were in that situation, she would be in full panic, unable to think clearly. Yet he had focused on others rather than on his own safety.
“While we were running for our lives,” he said, “we could hear the sounds of the outdoor marketplace going on a quarter mile away. For them the gunfire was just another everyday happening.” He shook his head. “People shouldn’t have to live like that.”
Now he grew silent. His fingers opened and closed on his lap as if even today his hands wanted to do something about what had happened back then. Something more. Maybe something different. She didn’t know which. All she knew was that it still pained him to think about what had happened.
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. She wanted to say something to comfort him. Something that let him know how much she sympathized with what he went through. How much she ached for the families—mothers, fathers, children—who lived under such stressful conditions every day. But all the words that came to her sounded lame in her head, so she didn’t speak them. Instead, she suggested, “We can finish this another time. There’s no need to—”
“No.” Gray turned and met her gaze. He pulled her hand up to his lips and gently kissed the backs of her fingers. “This has stood between us long enough. I want to finish.”
Then, in opposition to his words, he sat for a long moment saying nothing. He watched the koi fish in the pond, so she watched, too. Their slow, steady movements provided a sense of calm purposefulness. After a few moments, he spoke again.
“When it looked like the area was clear, I grabbed Jakey by the sleeve and we ran for a wall. The whole time, I was operating on adrenaline, thinking only about getting to the next safe place and the one after that. Wondering if we’d be able to make it back to our camp on foot before nightfall, when we’d be the most vulnerable.”
Gray let go of her hand to rub the back of his neck.
“While I was relying on the training I’d received and on my own wits, Jakey kept saying over and over, ‘Lord, help us. Lord, save us.’ Like it was a chant or something. And while we were running for the immediate shelter of the fence, he started in on the Lord’s Prayer. We had just thrown ourselves over the fence when he got to ‘deliver us from evil.’ That’s when a grenade went off to the left of us, near Jakey, and he fell to the ground.”
Gray looked sick to his stomach. She wanted to stop him from saying more. Spare him from the images that surely haunted him. But he pushed on.
“After I took out the assailant, I dragged Jakey behind that broken wall, where I could take a look at his injuries.”
“He was alive?” she asked hopefully.
He clenched his teeth, and his expression hardened. “Just barely. Remember how I said the glint of sun in the jeep had seemed to cut him in half? That’s where the shrapnel tore into his chest.”
She gasped and drew a hand to her mouth. “No.”
He went on to tell of his struggles getting Jakey back to the camp, an hours-long ordeal on foot over several miles of harsh desert. Losing their way, coming upon yet another small village and skirting around it, away from the potential of more enemy fire. Running low on water. And finally encountering a stray dog with its hackles raised, ready to attack.
“I bandaged Jakey up the best I could and somehow managed to get him back to camp.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. “Alive.”
The tension in her gut eased at the revelation that young Jakey had survived the horrendous ordeal.
“He died less than an hour later.”
The news slammed into her, the unfairness of it hitting her like a rock to the temple. “Oh, Gray. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t know what else to say. In a situation like this, anything she said would be merely empty words. A hollow echo of a sentiment that was too little, too late. Instead, she touched his arm, wanting to convey her feelings to him without inadequate words.
Gray closed his fingers around hers. “He was barely old enough to shave.”
At Jakey’s age, Gray had been making eyes at Ruthie, working on homework for his college courses and thinking about a future that he anticipated would span another fifty years or more.
“The kid had never had a chance,” he continued. Shortly afterward he’d received another upbeat letter from Ruthie, saying all the things he could no longer believe. And he’d felt guilty that he would eventually be going home to her. “I felt guilty for not—”
No. He refused to go there. Playing “what if” would only mess with his mind and rip further at his gut.
Ruthie watched him, her watery eyes full of compassion. She cared. There was no doubt about that. But she didn’t get it. For her to truly understand, she would’ve had to be there. And he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But maybe he could help her understand why the God thing had hit him so hard.
“Maybe I could have dealt with it better,” he ventured, “if the kid hadn’t been calling out to God for help. Even after he’d been hit, he was still praying. Mumbling incoherently most of the time, but he was definitely talking to God.”
If this had been five years ago—before Jakey died—and he had poured his heart out like this, Ruthie would have offered some comforting Bible verses. He would have accepted them back then, and they would have eased his spirit. But not now. He was grateful she didn’t attempt to go there.
She slid her arm around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Gray,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “It wasn’t fair.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t fair.” He put his arm around her shoulders and experienced a moment of guilt at finding comfort in her warmth and caring. “It should have been me.”
* * *
It was late by the time they returned to Abundance, arriving just in time for Sunset Blessings.
Gray carried a couple of roasted chickens he had picked up from Ellwood Thompson’s grocery on their way back. Although Paisley would donate leftover sandwiches and pastries from Milk & Honey, Gray had suggested complementing it with something more substantial for their homeless friends. And when she had commended his thoughtfulness, he had brushed away her praise and mumbled something about buying the chicken to satisfy his own hunger. But she knew better.
Gray hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the shop. “Are you sure you’re ready to let people know?” he asked. “They might have some doubts about us, especially after...”
After the way he’d dumped her. “They won’t have any doubts,” she assured him. “My friends have never said anything against you, and they won’t start now.”
As for her, she wanted people to know. Now that Gray was back in her life—now that they were back in each other’s hearts again—she wanted the whole world to know. Wanted the whole enchilada. Every part of him. Even the part that used to love God but now wavered with doubt.
“Do you have doubts?” she asked in response to his question about announcing that they were back together.
He adjusted the grocery bag in his arm. “Not about you.”
Meaning he had doubts about the faith thing. Being honest with herself, she had to admit she was uncertain whether he’d ever come back to God. The possibility saddened her. But there was no doubt he loved her, even if he had trouble saying it at times.
“If you’re uncomfortable mentioning we’re back together again,” she said, “we can just let it slide for now.”
Save the announcement until after they’d had a chance to test their newly revived relationship. See if it would last.
He shook his head and set the bag at his feet. Then he pulled her to him and played with a tendril of hair that fell to her shoulder. “They’re going to know, whether we tell them or not.”
Ruthie glan
ced over his shoulder at a movement in the store window and thought that if he continued to hold her this close in public—a situation that certainly appealed to her—friends wouldn’t need a Sherlock Holmes hat to figure out that something was going on between them.
He seemed to be tiptoeing through land mines, not telling her exactly what he wanted. She supposed he was feeling vulnerable, but she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. And she wanted to know he was certain about what they were reigniting. If he was certain enough to tell her friends, then she would have every confidence there was no doubt in his mind about their picking up where they left off.
“Would you rather people not know?” she persisted. She held her breath. On the one hand, she could understand any reluctance he might have, but on the other, she’d be hurt and maybe a little angry if he wanted to keep their relationship hidden.
Gray dropped his hand from her shoulder and captured her hand. “It’s a big step to take, and I want us to be aware that it’s a step. Not just trip over it.” He paused a moment and looked down at his feet. After a moment, he met her gaze again. “I understand how much I hurt you with that letter. I don’t want to hurt you again. If it would be better keeping this quiet rather than have people watch us under a microscope, then I should not attend today’s Sunset Blessings with you.”
For a second it seemed as though he was backing away again, but the earnestness in his eyes told her his concern was only for her. She squeezed his hand. “I really want you with me, but only if you’re ready. I won’t push you.”
Although she didn’t say it aloud, the implication was clear that she wouldn’t push religion on him, either.
He smiled and stepped away to open the door. Inside, he looped his arm around her shoulder and walked with her back to the Sunset Blessings gathering.
* * *
The next day, Cali met Gray at the door of his grandparents’ home. Her tail wagged in greeting, and she opened her mouth in a goofy smile.
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