While she and Scott were dancing, someone had filled their crystal glasses with a bubbly beverage. The bottle remained on the table, and since she never drank, Alissa was glad to see it was merely sparkling cider. She raised her flute, and Scott clinked the rim of his against it. His uncharacteristically serious expression gave her pause, but she plowed ahead.
“To catching up. Your turn, old friend.” She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “You’re such a great guy, Scott—handsome, funny, successful. How is that you’re not married and caught up in the whole American dream thing?”
Instead of the comical comeback she expected, Scott looked away. When his gaze returned to her, not a trace of humor remained. Her stomach clenched. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that he didn’t need to share if he’d rather not…but she found herself unable to speak.
Scott’s voice worked just fine, and his words destroyed the tiny seed of hope that had begun to spring forth in her heart.
“Well, I do live a warped version of the American dream, I suppose. I’m blessed to have a good job—in publishing, actually, although my company leans more toward fiction than crossword puzzles.” He shot her a quick, almost sickly smile before swinging the two-ton crane that demolished her budding dreams. “I drive a much-too-expensive car, have a sizeable mortgage, a dog named Homer, and…” He drew a deep breath and let it out nice and slow, holding her gaze all the while. “A wife.”
The beautiful, peachy-pink color drained from Lissy’s face—a sudden and complete loss of life. Her beautiful dark eyes, bright and vibrant only seconds before he opened his big mouth, revealed a quick, devastating hurt…and then went cold, as if a shutter of ice had been jerked over them by tiny, invisible hands.
“You—you’re—” She lifted her champagne flute and downed a good portion in one long sip. “You’re married?”
God, what have I done? Please don’t let me lose her again. I had to tell her the truth, didn’t I?
“Yes, but it’s not a real marriage, Lissy. It’s…complicated.”
Her harsh laughter scraped his nerves. “It’s complicated? That’s the best you can do?” She shook her head. “Why would you not tell me that first thing?” Her gaze darted away and then landed on his left hand. “You don’t wear a ring, and you’ve been flirting all evening. Why? Why, Scott? Are you trying to hurt me again?”
“Lissy, please…let me explain.”
She picked up her tiny clutch. “No need for that. I’m a word pro, remember? ‘Married’ is an easy one. I know what it means, and I don’t flirt, dance or form relationships with married men.” She stood, tall and utterly gorgeous, and shot him a disbelieving, disdain-filled glance. “Have a good life, Scott. You should go home to your wife.”
Then she was gone. His Lissy—the woman he’d dreamed about since they shared that one-and-only kiss on an Oregon beach as teenagers—strode out of his life without a single glance back.
Scott pushed away his plate, downed the flute of sparkly liquid—too bad it wasn’t champagne—and strode from the dining room, up the stairs and to his room. He’d find no pleasure in people watching tonight, and had no wish to make small talk with folks he barely knew. They’d all be in a holiday mood, happy and bright, as they should be. He didn’t begrudge them that joy…but neither could he share it.
Not now. Maybe never again.
In his room, without conscious decision, he fell to his knees beside the bed.
“What now, Lord? Your word says ‘the truth shall make you free,’ but I didn’t want it to free me of the one thing I want most in this world. I was taught not to question You, that Your will is always best, and some part of me knows that’s right. But I can’t help wondering why You would bring us back together after all these years, only to tear us apart?”
He pulled in a ragged breath and hushed, resting his head on top of the comforter—which didn’t comfort. Another undelivered promise.
You have a wife, Scott.
Scott raised his head, confused. “I know that, Lord…and You know why. You know it’s not a real marriage.”
You made vows before Me and before witnesses. The marriage is real, even if the relationship is not.
So true. Legally, morally and biblically, the marriage bound him to Bell, whether or not they ever consummated it, whether they lived together or apart, whether or not they loved each other.
He hated this trap. He could call Bell and ask for a divorce, even though it kind of felt like asking for a divorce from their friendship. Still, something had to be done, and whatever course of action he took would touch Alissa as well.
Scott sighed and lifted himself onto the bed, where he lay back, hands under his head, to think. That little conversation with God—or his own conscience…who knew, at this point?—had opened his eyes. He should have known the marriage vows he’d made for the wrong reasons still held weight to the Father. A vow remained a vow, no matter the circumstances.
What then? He couldn’t disrupt his ‘wife’s’ life and insist on being a husband at this stage of the game—even if he wanted to, which he did not. She’d think he’d lost his mind.
‘For we have the mind of Christ…’
Scott groaned. “Thanks, Lord, I’m sure Bell will be glad to know that.”
Chapter 6
ALISSA WORKED INTO THE WEE hours of the morning. She brought her mind into crystal clear focus, refused entry to any thought except those related to words.
When at last her body refused to cooperate, she crawled into bed—exhausted, drained...and somewhat pleased. She had completed another puzzle, one she’d titled The Human Condition. While she knew it was good work, and felt sure it would be well-received by her publisher, she couldn’t deny that her list of answers read like something from a horror novel.
Machiavellian. Devious. Mendacious. Inconsiderate. Unfaithful. Ambiguous. Insincere. Perfidious. Ungodly. Hurtful. Wounding. Insensitive. Scheming. Immoral. Arrogant. Sneaky.
Yes, it was dark. Depressing. Gloomy. So was the world.
Such were her thoughts as she fell into a troubled sleep from which she repeatedly struggled to surface—mostly without success.
She awakened after nine—a late hour for a teacher who normally rose at four a.m. Most often, she’d relax on the porch with a big mug of coffee, maybe fit a few words into a puzzle, and then get ready and be in her classroom thirty minutes before the students arrived.
Even on weekends she didn’t sleep so late, but she refused to harass herself about having done so. Wasn’t that one of the perks of being on vacation? Besides, she hadn’t called it a night until about the time she usually arose, and she’d slept fitfully. No wonder she had to force herself to enter the new day. Even after a hot shower, followed by a bracingly cool rinse, she found herself barely functional.
Forget eating, for now. She wouldn’t risk running into Scott at the breakfast bar. But she did need to get some energy flowing, or she’d be mentally asleep all day, and unable to get through a single puzzle.
Before she did anything at all, though, she needed to get something out of the way. She pulled a chair to the window, picked up her cell phone and hit two—the speed dial number for Doug, who was two years older than her. He picked up after the second ring.
“Hey, sis! I can’t believe you’re even giving a thought to your big brother while you’re on vacation.” He chuckled. “Having fun? I hope you’re taking time from work to play a little.”
His voice…so familiar, so comfortable. Alissa closed her eyes, allowing her hurt and anger to overrule her love for this man. Now that she knew what he’d done, how could his voice still touch a chord in her heart?
“Alissa? You there?” A note of concern crept into his voice.
She drew a deep breath. “Why’d you do it, Doug? How could you do that to me?”
Silence.
After a static-charged moment, he spoke again. His broken, pained voice no longer brought comfort, but a sense of loss.
“How…” He cleared his throat. “How did you find out?”
“How do you know what I’m talking about?”
He drew a long, rugged sigh that made itself felt even over the phone. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever done to you that was bad enough to put that kind of pain in your voice.”
“Doug.” Her voice broke, and it angered her. Why should she be the one in tears? Her big brother, the one she’d always considered her protector, the one she could turn to with any need…that brother had stolen years of—of what, she couldn’t be sure. But what he’d done was wrong on so many levels.
She closed her eyes, determined not to fall apart. Breathe. Just breathe. She drew in a quiet, calming breath. Let it out. Better.
“He’s here. After all these years, Scott and I are once again in the same place at the same time. And guess what, big brother?” Alissa winced at the venom in her own voice. “He told me the strangest story. It seems all those years ago, while I was crying my heart out and grieving the loss of first love, you were turning away the calls that would have made everything better. You were telling Scott that I didn’t want to talk to him.” Her voice rose and cracked. “Doug!”
“Sis, I—” Genuine, heartrending emotion roughened his voice. As a rule, knowing something brought her brother to tears would have pinged every emotion she possessed. She’d move heaven and earth to fix whatever was wrong in his world. But in this moment, she felt nothing but bitterness.
It’s your turn to cry.
“Alissa, please forgive me. I was so, so wrong to do that to you. It started out as a prank. I had every intention of letting Scott speak to you after a few calls. But the situation got out of hand. You started falling apart and by the time I figured out why you’d locked yourself in your room for days that became weeks…why you looked ill when you did come out, with those huge circles under your eyes and that horrible sadness hanging over you like a cloud—”
He groaned. “Try to remember that I was only fifteen, Sis, and nowhere close to understanding things of the heart. I didn’t grasp the enormity of what I’d done to you until I understood why you’d become so withdrawn, and I didn’t know how to fix it without getting myself in trouble with Mom and Dad.” Doug paused to draw another deep breath. “Worst of all, I was afraid that you would hate me if I told the truth then, after Scott stopped calling.”
She made no response. What could she say?
“Look, Alissa, I know I made your life miserable sometimes, picking on you, teasing you. But you have to know that I loved you with all my heart. I couldn’t take the thought of losing you because of some stupid prank I’d meant to be funny. At first, I admit I did get a laugh or two out of watching you sit by the phone, waiting for a call that I knew wasn’t coming—or, at least, not to that phone.” He made a pitiful, strangled sound and Alissa steeled herself against the need to make him feel better. “By the time I figured out that what I’d done was mean and cruel—that there was nothing funny about it—I thought I couldn’t fix it. Alissa…Sis, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
He blew his nose. Alissa closed her eyes and visualized him sitting behind his big oak desk. Jerking a handkerchief from his pocket, where he always kept one—always white, always crisp and clean and neatly folded. His elbow would be on the desk, his hand fisted, his head resting on that fist.
Still she said nothing.
“Sis? Please say you forgive me.”
She hung up without a word and walked to the window.
At a distance, the woods brooded behind the inn. Dark and cold, like her heart in that moment.
Closer in, the pool room was in sight, as well as a portable skating rink being put to good use by an impressive number of children and adults. As she watched, a father struggled to stand upright while a child clung to his legs. A woman held a small boy’s hand, urging him over the frozen surface. Even from up here, it was obvious she was helping the little one find his feet on the ice. More children zoomed around the rink, some holding hands, others on their own.
Well, they were certainly getting their exercise out there. Alissa needed to do the same, but not on the ice…not with so many people around.
She bundled up and slipped downstairs, peering over the banister all the way, on high alert for black hair and purple-blue eyes. Not seeing them, she hurried through the back entrance, across the patio and onto the walking trail that meandered through and around the property.
What a stunning view! Not far from the inn, she found herself moving alongside a creek, on the other side of which was the dark woods she’d noted from her window. The cold had not yet frozen the water, but the flow seemed a mite sluggish. Tomorrow it might be a stream of ice.
The crisp air served as a definite “wake-me-up”—not such a great idea, in retrospect. Why would she want to clear her head? That meant thinking, and right now, thinking would lead her right straight to the bombshell Scott had dropped at dinner last night. Or to her big brother’s horrible deception, his undermining of her relationship with Scott all those years ago.
Too late now. She was already there.
Why would Doug do such a thing? He’d always been such a wonderful brother. Yeah, he’d teased her unmercifully, picked on her, made her so angry sometimes that she’d feared a blood vessel might burst in her head. But that was typical big-brother-type behavior, wasn’t it? Withholding Scott’s calls, never telling her about them…that was a whole different story.
Maybe by the time she returned to the inn, she’d be able to forgive her brother. Right now, she simply could not. In this moment, thinking about all the tears she’d cried, how heartbroken she’d been, she just wanted to scratch his eyes out—probably not typical little-sister-type behavior.
Signposts painted in red and white stripes kept her anchored along the way. One of them identified the little body of water as Jingle Bell Creek. A half mile or so further down the meandering path, she came upon a little bridge that crossed over the water. Another candy-striped sign read “North Pole Bridge.” On the same post, a wooden arm labeled “Christmas Inn Chapel” pointed its sharp end across the creek.
Chapel. Maybe that’s what she needed—time with the God she’d neglected for too long.
She crossed the quaint wooden bridge and followed the path up a gradual incline to her destination…then stood, awed by the charming view.
A small white chapel nestled into the landscape as if it had grown there—just another white spot amongst the remaining patches of mushy snow that lingered beneath the trees. The snowfall had happened prior to her arrival at the inn and was already mostly melted, except in shady areas. She’d heard nothing in the weather forecast about expectations of more snow. Too bad… a white Christmas could be magical in a place like this.
A tall bell steeple topped with a gleaming white cross stood tall and majestic over the little church. On her side of the building, three stained-glass windows marched along its length.
Alissa crossed the pristine snow, eager to see inside, and to spend time with Someone whose company she hadn’t enjoyed in far too long…the One who still loved her despite years of being ignored and neglected.
She slipped through the back door into an interior kept from darkness only by low-wattage floor lights tucked tightly against the pews on either side of the aisle. The colorful windows—three on each long wall—allowed little light inside, thanks to the overcast sky. Still, a sense of peace washed over her spirit as she made her way to the front of the room.
Did they always keep the place heated? While it wasn’t toasty warm, the sanctuary was far less frosty than the air outside. If she didn’t remove her parka, she’d be quite comfortable here for as long as she wanted to stay.
Alissa loved the little sanctuary. She walked past all the pews and up two steps onto a small platform. A Bible lay on a shelf built into the back of the podium. She ran a hand gently over the worn leather cover, then carried it back down the steps and took a seat on the first row.
&n
bsp; As had once been her daily habit, she allowed the book to fall open on her lap, taking her where it would. It opened in Psalms, chapter one hundred nineteen. Her disbelieving gaze fell on verse one-oh-five.
Your word is a lamp for my feet,
a light on my path.
Surely not coincidence. This was the very verse that had come to mind last night when she realized how far she’d strayed from the strong faith and devotion to Christ she’d once possessed. She’d been stronger and more confident then. Because she’d allowed her Father to guide her decisions and oversee her steps, she’d been happy, her heart joyful, her mind at peace.
How shamefully she’d neglected the relationship with Him that she once treasured!
Alissa hugged the Bible to her heart. “Thank you, Father, for loving me through my weaknesses.” Her whispered words echoed a little in the empty chapel.
I have loved you with an everlasting love.
The familiar, comforting words wrapped themselves around her heart. Why had she locked God out of her life for so long?
Why indeed.
She didn’t want to return to that dark time, but her mind seemed to have a mind of its own. Alissa found herself unable to push back the memories, and suddenly she was thirteen again…
She’d cried all day. Again. Eaten nothing. Again. Sick at heart, weak in body, and empty in spirit, she lay on her bed hoping for blessed sleep. That’s when she could hide away from the constant pain her world had become—except sometimes she dreamed of Scott. Those times, waking up hurt, forced her to face the truth. He was gone, and she would never see him again, never hear his voice or his laughter. She’d never kiss him, nor find out where that first sweet kiss might have led in their lives.
Tears streaked her face and through sheer force of habit, she rolled off the bed onto her knees…and then just sat there, unable to say a word. She’d already prayed, over and again, for Scott to call. What more was there to say, after all? For so long, she’d truly believed God really cared. Yet in her darkest hour, He was silent. No answer from Him. No call from Scott.
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