He winced. What did Stan do, hit him with the wrench after he knocked him out? Or Rob landed on it, when he fell. Whatever happened to him, it drew blood. A lot of it.
Rob slowly moved his jaw back and forth. That, wasn’t so bad. A little stiff, but nothing like he was expecting.
The distant shriek of the wind drew his attention back to the storm. It was going just as strong as it was when he fell asleep, but the sound was dampened significantly. Either the wind deposited a drift deep enough to bury the window, or the sky dumped enough new snow to do so without its help. Regardless of the cause, the effect was the same. The window was buried, and so was the path Rob worked so hard to blaze.
When was that? How long did he lie unconscious on the boiler room floor? How long did he lie here in bed, asleep? How long was it since he left Samantha alone in the cabin?
That worried him as much as his missing trail. She could be without food. She could be trapped with Stan. The storm was raging, trapping Rob where he was, and he was in no shape to go to her, even if it wasn’t. Even if he had a trail to take him straight to her.
He reached out to God for the comfort he’d come to accept and appreciate. Nothing was a surprise to God. There was nothing He couldn’t use. God was still in control, even when everything else was out of control.
Rob spent the next several minutes praying, until his peace was restored.
He cautiously sat up, and was encouraged to find that his head no longer spun. He made it to his feet, and proceeded to the bathroom mirror. He grimaced in response to the blood that matted his hair, streaked his face, and stained his clothing. He gave himself a long look, then reached for one of the neatly folded washcloths, and rid himself of as much dried blood as he could manage. His hair was a mess, and his clothes…
Rob left the bathroom, and returned to the pro shop. He checked the sleds he packed earlier in the… week? A glance through the lobby’s glass wall gave no indication as to time of day, or date. The sleds were untampered with, anyway, which was a relief. He made his selections from the wide assortment of clothing items available, then returned to his room.
He felt better after showering, and changing into clean clothing. He felt of his cheeks, and tried to gauge how many days’ worth of growth he accumulated since his previous shave. It could be a day, or two.
He was encouraged that it wasn’t more than that. Samantha wouldn’t be without food just yet. Unless, Stan made it to her.
Rob forced that thought aside, and entrusted her to God again. He could do nothing for her himself, right now. But, when that changed… he would be ready.
He shaved with the complimentary razor, took a few minutes to eat and drink some more, and went back to bed.
SAMANTHA huddled on the couch, shivering at the sound of the wind that tore and beat at the cabin. It lashed, and screamed, and hurled icy pellets at the windows, until she felt as though she’d go mad. Her hands shook as she brushed back her hair, and glanced at the clock. She registered the time, and her heart wrenched.
It was twenty-six hours since she woke and found him gone. All twenty-six of those she spent waiting, praying, and willing him to come back. Even after the storm returned, she clung to the hope he would survive. She had no reason to believe it, but she insisted on doing so, because she couldn’t bear the truth.
Rob was gone. It was too late to tell him she was sorry. It was too late to ask for his forgiveness. It was too late to tell him about their son, too late to tell him how much she loved him, and that she wanted a life with him.
It was too late.
Samantha’s shoulders shook, as deep sobs wracked her. It was too late, and it was all her fault.
Rob became everything she ever wanted, and when he did, she rejected him. She tried harder, when he wasn’t trying at all. She cared more about her right to be upset, than she did him. She demanded justice and withheld true forgiveness, and all because he couldn’t go back and change history. She cared more about those useless, empty things, than she did about being happy and at peace with the man she loved. Why was it so important to her to see that he was punished? Was it pride? Was it a sense that justice must be served? That he needed to pay?
And now she would spend the rest of her life paying for her hardheartedness. She knew he was changed, she knew she’d eventually forgive him. She never intended to leave here without him. And she wouldn’t have to, if she wasn’t proving a point by sleeping on the couch. He never could have snuck out, if she was where she should’ve been.
Samantha was wracked by sobs again.
She didn’t want to pay for what she was guilty of. She wanted forgiveness for breaking Rob’s heart, and letting him go like that. He died believing she didn’t love him. He died without any hope. He died without ever having heard about Jesus.
She failed, not only as a wife, but also as a believer. How could she let a day go by without telling him about the Savior who died and paid the penalty of sin, and that Rob would be forgiven, fully and completely, if only he would believe in the Son of God. He would receive the gift of Christ’s righteousness, he would be restored to a right relationship with God, he would have eternal life with Him, and Samantha would see him again someday.
She failed, and she begged God to forgive her for that. The most important opportunity she might ever have to witness, and she let it pass by. She was afraid he would only pretend to believe, in order to get her back. And so she left him without the opportunity to believe, at all. Even when he gained her trust, she said nothing. How could she say nothing?
She struggled to find the answer, and realized where she went wrong. In the days since arriving at the cabin, her focus strayed. She was without her Bible, and without the connection it provided. Her prayers had been sparse, and brief, and the majority of her attention was focused on her relationship with Rob, instead of on Jesus, and in being led by Him.
She thought she was strong. She thought she was wise, but she went off course. She was the one with all the counseling, yet she was the one who slipped back into the dysfunctional patterns that assisted in tearing them apart, in the first place. She was the one seeking to engage. If anyone was following the leading of the Holy Spirit, it was Rob, for refusing to let her goad him into losing his temper. Why did she do that? Did she believe he was so far beneath her, that she allowed it to dictate her actions? As if he didn’t deserve better from her?
Samantha cried bitterly, grieved by so many choices she made ever since Meredith showed up at the cabin. All she took from that encounter were the poisonous words Meredith spewed. She ignored Rob’s scathing response, and the way he kissed her in front of the window, before going outside. He did that to show Meredith who his heart belonged to, and to vindicate Samantha. To ease the image burned into her mind by the photo she received two years before.
“Please forgive me,” she cried. “I let You down, and I let Rob down. Please don’t let him pay for my failures. Please save him. Please save him, and bring him back.”
Samantha knelt by the couch, praying, until the cold light of dawn slowly touched the frozen world, and the inside of the cabin. She registered the complete silence, and looked up in surprise.
Outside, the air was still once more. The landscape was unfamiliar, its drifts rearranged. She opened the door, and looked out toward the trail Rob made on his way to the lodge. There was no sign of it. Perhaps it was buried by the snow that previously covered the front of the cabin.
Samantha closed the door, and went to the bedroom window. It, too, gave no hint that a trail was once blazed through the frozen expanse.
God could bring him back without it, she reminded herself fiercely. Whether He did, or didn’t, it would spare her no pain to accept Rob’s fate any earlier than she absolutely must. She would hope while she had opportunity to do so, and keep on praying for a miracle.
She turned away from the window, and saw Rob’s fleece pullover lying on the bed. She picked it up and hugged it to her chest. It felt like a link
to him, and she was grateful to have it. His pillow, was another. As she gathered it in her arms, her eyes widened at the sight of the Bible tucked underneath. She seized it in her hands, her heart pounding.
Where did it come from? More importantly, why would it be under Rob’s pillow! She immediately sat, and rifled through the pages.
There were pages, within the pages. Some held Bible verses, in Rob’s neat script. There were notes, and questions, some of them answered. She read all of it eagerly, her heart beating faster, with every word. She flipped through more of the Bible, to the New Testament. She stopped suddenly, and turned back a few pages. Here, too, notes were written in the margins. Verses were underlined, and—
Tears blurred her vision, at the words I believe, written beside Tuesday’s date.
“Thank you,” she cried over and over, hugging the Bible to her chest, to protect Rob’s statement of faith from her tears. “Thank you, for loving him too much to let him pay for my failure.”
She brushed aside her tears of relief and gratitude, and carried the Bible to the couch. She sat once more, and looked through it more carefully. Each underlined verse, each note Rob made, filled her heart with joy, and her eyes with fresh tears.
Where did the Bible come from? How did he happen to have it? He began believing on Tuesday, after arriving at the cabin early that morning. From the moment she woke up, he was different. He told her over and over he was changed, and he truly was. But—why didn’t he tell her what changed him?
Because she wouldn’t believe him if he did, she realized. So he tried to prove the change in him. And he did. Over and over, he did.
Samantha looked inside the cover. Instead of finding a name, or other identifying mark, she discovered several folded sheets of paper. She forgot all about wondering where the Bible on her lap came from, as she stared at Rob’s handwriting, on the pages in her hands.
Dear Samantha,
You asked me to think over the past two years, and tell you if there was anything else you should know. I can only think of one thing, and I pray you won’t disregard it, because it’s coming from me.
I struggled my whole life with two sides warring constantly. What I wanted to do, I didn’t, and what I didn’t want to do, I did. I hated myself, not you. The only way I could live with how I hurt you, was to blame you. If you didn’t deserve to be treated better, then I was justified. But I wasn’t justified. I believed a ton of lies, whatever it was that made me feel better about myself, only that made me act worse, and feel even worse than ever. I wanted to be admired, and I should’ve gone to you for that. But I knew I wasn’t worth much, and because you loved me, I felt like your opinion was worth even less. I was wrong, about that, and about everything.
My brother tried to tell me about Jesus for years, and my grandfather, before that. He warned me that if I didn’t forgive the people who hurt me, I’d turn around and hurt the ones I loved, just the same. It made me mad to hear it, I refused to believe Grampa was right. But he was, and I should’ve listened. I would have lived my whole life differently, if I had. I needed Jesus. I needed God’s forgiveness, so I could forgive. I needed the Holy Spirit to stand up to the sinful nature that had control of me, so that I could do what I wanted, instead of what I didn’t want. I’m getting ahead of myself, and saying it all wrong, but I’m new at this. I’m still learning. What’s important, is that sin separates us from God, and has since the beginning. There was nothing any of us could do to remove the divide between ourselves and God, who is holy and righteous. So God removed that divide Himself, by sending His Son, Jesus, to earth, fully God and fully man, to suffer and die, paying the penalty we deserved, and removing the sin that separates us from God. He didn’t just die, though. He conquered death, and because of that, as long as we believe in Him—and that includes loving Him, and living like we really mean it—then we’ll never truly die. We’ll never be separated from God, again. That’s death, and I know what that feels like, because I was. I’m not anymore, and I hope you’ll believe me, and look into this. There are thousands of years’ worth of prophesy fulfilled in Jesus’ life, death, burial, and resurrection. Look into it, Samantha, please. You’re smart. I know you’ll realize this is real, if you’ll just look into it. I don’t want you to die, Samantha. I know you don’t want me in your life, and I’m going to respect that. But I don’t want you to be separated from God. I don’t want our son to be. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, but your purse fell on the floor, and I saw the pictures. I figured it out. I’m glad you gave him my name, and I hope you don’t decide to go and change that, now. I understand why you didn’t tell me about him. It hurts to say this, but you were right not to. It hurts to know I’ll never be part of his life, but I hope when he’s old enough to ask questions, that you’ll tell him I love him. I hope you’ll tell him that I made mistakes, and sometimes mistakes are so big, it’s impossible to make things right again. Please tell Caleb about Jesus, and what I’ve learned.
The letter was unfinished, and Samantha was undone. She hugged it to her chest, and cried.
Chapter 28
ROB woke to the peculiar sound of silence. Unless his room was now entirely buried beneath a mountain of insulating snow, the absence of wind was the only conclusion he could come to.
A sense of urgency filled him, and he carefully assessed his condition.
He was a little tired, but thanks to all the sleep he had—it could’ve been a couple of days’ worth, for all he knew—he felt much better than before. He was a far cry from a hundred percent, but much of his missing strength was replenished by the packages of trail mix, granola, and protein bars he stuffed himself with every time he woke. As for his injury… which he felt gingerly… either the acetaminophen was taking the edge off the headache, or it was beginning to improve on its own. He didn’t feel dizzy when he slowly sat up, or when he stood and walked to the bathroom. His jaw was a little stiff, but nothing to complain about. All in all, he had much to be thankful for.
Rob picked up his boots, and walked down the hall, past the pro shop, to the lobby.
Through the towering glass wall, the icy white world was lit by the rising sun. There was more blue sky than gray, and no time like the present.
Rob stopped just long enough to hydrate and down several protein and energy bars, then he dragged the line of disc sleds out of the pro shop, and down the hall to the exit. Unlike the front, where the snow was drifted high, the side entrance was navigable. He left the sleds, then returned to the pro shop and put on his weather-appropriate outerwear. He carried the snowshoes to the backdoor, latched them onto his boots, then pulled open the door and managed and maneuvered until all the sleds were outside.
Another glance at the sky was assurance enough. It was the only assurance he had, since his phone was dead, and the radar app inaccessible. He wasn’t likely to have a better chance, and Samantha needed him.
Rob adjusted his collar, fit the sleds’ makeshift harness over his shoulders, and set off toward the cabin.
The trail he worked so hard to blaze was gone, as he knew it would be. The trees on each side of the buried road remained, so he followed their leading, through the drifts that made the landscape irregular and uneven.
After several minutes, he paused for breath, and to adjust his scarf. The going was difficult, by usual standards. In his weakened condition, it was even more so. He was thankful for the snowshoes, which kept him from sinking all the way to his armpits in some of the larger drifts that stood in his path. Sinking a mere six to twelve inches was a vast improvement, but still, it made for tiresome traveling. Lugging the loaded sleds was no picnic, either.
Rob looked around, and was thankful for the ski goggles, courtesy of the lodge’s pro shop. He’d be blinded by the snow-covered, sun-lit landscape, otherwise.
The predominantly clear sky was encouraging, and in spite of the frigid temperature, the sun-warmed air beat traveling by night. Rob adjusted his course a little, and continued.
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sp; ERIK listened as his call went straight to voicemail. Rather than leave yet another message, he tapped end, and set his phone aside.
As he watched the meteorologist motion dramatically from one side of the TV screen to the other, no doubt elaborating on Pine Mountain’s relatively clear skies, he wondered where Rob was.
He was fairly sure his brother wasn’t on his way to the lodge. If he checked the radar app before heading out—which he would—he’d also find the many messages Erik left, warning him to stay where he was.
Uneasiness gnawed at him, in spite of it. Amber and her mother had no luck reaching Samantha, either. Her phone was on, it did ring. Yet there was no answer. Her mom wanted to believe it was the result of a service issue. Maybe she really did believe it. Erik however, lacked that confidence.
Whatever the case was, God knew. He was well aware, so Erik prayed, and let go of the worry that tried to creep in.
Erik glanced at his watch. In a few more minutes, it would be time to pick up Amber. When he did, they would go to her class, then to worship. Afterward, they would go to lunch. Before the day was over, he would tell her he loved her.
His stomach flipped nervously at the thought. He wasn’t accustomed to being afraid, but, he wasn’t accustomed to wanting anything this much, either. Or anyone. When he pictured a future with her in it, everything felt right. When he imagined a future without her… he felt empty. He wanted to jump in his SUV, go to her, tell her he loved her and never wanted to lose her, and that he wanted a permanent commitment between them.
Then he imagined the shock that might cross her face at that, and the awkward silence that would be sure to follow.
It kept him in his chair, and out of his SUV.
She cared about him, he knew that. She must care a lot, considering how mad she was at him, for showing up at Conner’s office while Avenger was still on the loose. As miserable as it was to have her upset with him, it was reassuring, too. But, not reassuring enough to warrant a race to her place, to profess his undying love for her.
Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3) Page 49