The Isaac Project

by Sarah Monzon

  “I, Rebekah Sawyer…” My voice quivered. Luke’s focus stayed on me, and I felt we were having a conversation with just our eyes. I began to lift my hand to wipe away a stray tear, but before my hand was barely raised, Luke’s was already there. The pad of his thumb was rough on my skin, but the gentleness with which he wiped away the moisture moved me.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  His gaze, which until that moment had held mine, shifted to my lips. His eyes narrowed, and his large hands wrapped around my waist and gently tugged me closer to him. I placed my hands on his chest to steady myself and could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. Was it just my imagination, or was it beating rather quickly? My own breath was becoming more rapid and shallow by the second, straining against the formfitting bodice of the dress.

  His lips hovered above mine a second before descending in agonizing slowness. The kiss was chaste and sweet, full of tenderness and promise…but not a hint of passion. I tried not to feel disappointed when his mouth left mine. Luke looked me in the eye once more before pressing his lips to my forehead and pulling me even closer, crushing me in a hug and pinning my arms between us. I could feel his lips once more as he kissed the top of my head.

  Once Luke released me, congratulations were had all around, and the papers were signed to make our union final and binding.

  “And what is a celebration without a cake?” Luke asked as he pulled out a small sheet cake decorated with pink and purple flowers made out of frosting from the serving cart one of the nurses had wheeled in.

  “I do believe,” he said as he cut the cake, “that the tradition is for the bride and groom to feed each other. What do you say, Becky?”

  He handed me a plate. Picking up the piece of cake, I daintily held it up in front of his face. He opened his mouth but didn’t even bother to look at the cake as I brought it closer. I tried to look as sweet and innocent as I could while his teeth sunk into the fluffy cake. Just when he had almost bitten off a piece, I propelled the sweet treat up and smeared it over his face. Giggling, I retreated to the other side of Poppy’s bed before Luke could retaliate.

  Fragments of cake and frosting rained down from Luke’s square jaw. Grabbing a napkin, he swiped at the sugary mess that had painted him like a rodeo clown.

  “Just wait your turn,” he warned.

  “Ah-ah.” I shook my head. “I’ve been feeding myself since infancy, and I’ll continue to do so, thank you very much.”

  “Hmmm…This is not the end, little wife.”

  The title sent shivers down my spine.

  “Rebekah, can you come here a moment?” Poppy asked from his perched position on the bed. His eyes were twinkling once more, and if it weren’t for the surroundings, I would have thought he was back to his old self before the leukemia came back.

  “What is it, Poppy?”

  “Closer, dear.”

  He must have a secret to share with me.

  Boy was I mistaken. For a man who was supposedly weak from a recent heart attack, he was surely quick as he brought his plate of cake that he had been holding up and—splat—shoved it in my face. I couldn’t have been more shocked. The room erupted in laughter, but my mouth hung open in surprise. I turned my face to Poppy and couldn’t help laughing out loud at his look of mock innocence. Giving him a cakey kiss, I accepted the napkin Luke held out and wiped away the mess before it got all over my dress.

  Luke met me by the trash can and took the napkin from my hand.

  He pointed to my right ear. “You missed a spot.”

  “Here?” I asked as I tried to wipe away a spot I couldn’t see.

  “Let me get it for you.”

  I tilted my head to the side, angling it so that Luke had a better view. Instead of using the napkin in his hand to wipe up the mess, his head lowered. I could feel his warm breath against my skin. Before I could react, the lobe of my ear was in his mouth, his teeth taking tiny nibbles.

  My stomach summersaulted, and my knees trembled as the strength went out of them. Every nerve of my body stood at attention. Gooseflesh showed on my arms. When I didn’t think I could stand another second, Luke stood up straight and smirked at me.

  “All clean.”

  18

  Rebekah

  POPPY WAS RECOVERING, at least from the effects of the heart attack, and was in much better spirits as well. He had the nursing staff laughing at all of his corny jokes and had licked his dinner plate clean.

  I chose to think about these things and these things only. I would not feel anxious. I would not worry. I would only celebrate this day and my grandfather.

  No matter how many times I told myself this, I couldn’t help the uneasiness that mounted with every mile we drove closer to home. Even though Luke was now my husband, he was still practically a stranger—albeit a very attractive stranger. I wasn’t sure what he was expecting from me, and I was too embarrassed to ask.

  Luke had given me a real wedding with a dress and flowers and a cake. Things most girls dreamed of. Did he expect a real wedding night? That was the only part of the wedding most men cared about anyway, wasn’t it? I wanted to give him something to show him how much I appreciated everything he had done for me, but could I really do…that? Could I give myself to someone I had just met and who I didn’t even love yet? The Rebekah of the Bible comforted Isaac in that way, but just the thought of it terrified me.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a whole pasture of horses lying down at one time,” Luke said from the passenger’s seat as soon as we turned into the driveway.

  I looked to the pasture, and sure enough, four bulging bellies rose ominously from the ground.

  “Something’s not right.” Throwing the truck into park, I jumped from the cab and raced to the field.

  Dakota was the closest, and I slid to my knees beside her. Resting my head on her stomach, I listened for any sounds in the gut. Not a gurgle or a groan met my ear. Frantically I stumbled to Dakota’s head. Taking her muzzle in my hands, I lifted her upper lip and looked at her gums. A healthy horse’s gums are a nice pink color, but Dakota’s looked quite pale.

  Samson, a few feet away from me, started to roll. Daisy stood up and pawed at the ground.

  No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

  I hadn’t even realized Luke was there until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

  “Go to the barn and get four lead ropes. They’re hanging from a peg in the tack room. We have to get these horses up and on their feet.” Samson had already been rolling, and that was not a good sign. All the symptoms pointed toward colic, and rolling was the last thing I wanted the horses to do. Samson was only trying to alleviate the pain in his abdomen, but rolling could cause him to twist a gut.

  Luke ran back with the ropes in hand.

  “What’s wrong with them?” he asked.

  “Looks like colic. What did you feed them this morning?”

  “Just what you told me to.”

  None of this added up. The horses’ normal feed wouldn’t cause them to colic.

  “I’m not sure why they’re sick, but they are, and we have to do everything we can to save them.”

  His forehead creased as he frowned. “Is it that serious?”

  “It can be deadly.” I clipped the lead rope to Samson’s halter and tugged to get him to start walking.

  Luke placed his hand on my arm as the large horse took one step forward. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “In the barn there is a small organizer hanging from a peg in the tack room.” My words came out clipped as I alternately pulled, pushed, and cajoled Samson to keep moving. “In one of the slots on the organizer, you should see a few white syringes marked Banamine. Grab one for each horse.”

  Luke turned and raced back to the barn. Now that Samson was at least on his feet, I left him to work on Daisy. She was the last horse still lying on the ground. Trying to get a nine-hundred-pound animal to
stand up when she didn’t want to was an impossible task, but I refused to give up. Sweat beaded on my upper lip and dripped from my hairline. No matter how much I tugged and coaxed and pleaded, Daisy barely raised her head.

  Leaving her nearly broke my heart, but the other horses needed to start moving, and they weren’t going to do that without my help.

  Luke returned, his hands full with large plastic syringes. I grabbed the medical supplies and uncapped the first dose. Dakota was the closest. Her head skimmed the ground, and it looked like she was about to lie down again. I pulled up on her halter, straining against the dead weight. Luke went around to the other side and helped lift. The white paste left the syringe and made it into the corner of Dakota’s mouth, the mare’s tongue thrusting in and out. I wasn’t sure if the Banamine tasted good or not, but I didn’t care. It would hopefully save the horses’ lives.

  “Should we call a vet?” Luke asked. His eyes reflected concern as he braced the weight of Dakota’s head on his shoulder.

  “I’d love to, but there’s no way I’d be able to afford that kind of bill.” I patted Dakota’s neck before moving on to the next horse.

  We dosed all the horses. Luke and I began to pace the pasture with a lead rope in each hand, a horse on either side. As dust clung to my Wranglers and sweat stained my pink camo top, I felt anything but the beautiful princess Luke’s dress had transformed me into. My fairytale clock had struck midnight, the magic fading and the real world coming back in to focus.

  The sky turned more dark than light as our wedding day came to a close. The barn had lights, but unfortunately the pasture did not. Our vigil would have to continue by the light of God’s creation on the fourth day.

  As I made my way farther down the field, I began to notice bits of leftover bright-green hay strewn about the ground.

  What’s this doing here? I feed the horses grass hay, not alfalfa.

  Bending down, I grabbed a bit of the mysterious stalks and leaves and brought it up to my nose. Sniffing, I nearly choked from the strong musty scent permeating the dried alfalfa. How did moldy alfalfa hay end up in my pasture?

  Samson stopped walking on my right, and I turned to give him a pat of encouragement. I nearly jumped for joy when I spotted his tail held high and at an angle. The smell coming from his rear, which would normally wrinkle my nose, smelled better than a perfume shop in Paris.

  “Praise God,” I breathed.

  Luke walked up beside me from the other direction, one brow quirked as he pointed to Samson’s backside. “This is a good thing?” Luke asked.

  “Yes.” I grinned. “It means the horse’s intestines are no longer blocked and he’s out of immediate danger. The release of gas is a good sign as well.”

  It took a few more hours and who knew how many miles before I was convinced all the horses were out of danger. By that time, I was tired and dirty and wanted nothing more than a shower and my bed.

  ***

  Luke

  I wasn’t sure if it was the optimist in me, believing that every gray cloud had a silver lining, but I couldn’t help feeling just a little satisfied with how the night had gone. Granted, I wasn’t glad Becky’s horses had been sick. She was still worried about them, and rightly so. But I took pleasure in the fact that Becky and I were able to work together so well, even under the stress of a small crisis.

  I could tell something had been bothering her the closer we got to home. I was about to broach the subject, when I noticed the horses. I had my suspicions as to what was on her mind, but I wanted to ask her about it. A marriage needs to be based on trust and communication. I didn’t want her to be afraid to talk to me if something was bothering her. I knew it was all going to take some time and adjustments on both of our parts, but I was confident it was going to work out in the end.

  Yawning, I stretched out on the couch. I would only close my eyes a moment. I didn’t want to go to sleep without talking to Becky first. If my guess was right, she was worried about the physical side of married life. I wanted to reassure her that I wouldn’t force myself on her in any way. When we came together, I wanted it to be what it was meant to be—an expression of our love.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to woo my wife, however. I smiled to myself as I remembered the shocked look she gave me when I “helped” her get the cake off her ear. She needed to know that even though our relationship was new, it was in no way going to have a platonic foundation. I found her desirable, and I wanted her to know it. James had shaken something deep within her, and it was going to take some time and care to heal those wounds.

  “Luke?” The sound barely reached my ears. Had I only imagined it?

  I strained to listen.

  “Luke?” A little louder this time. Becky was definitely calling me, although her voice sounded timid and unsure.

  Becky had been in the bathroom taking a shower, but I couldn’t hear the water running anymore.

  I moved through her bedroom to the bath and stood in front of the door. “Becky?”

  “I, uh, I forgot a towel.”

  Her voice dripped with embarrassment. I could just imagine her there, water sliding down her creamy skin, biting her lip trying to decide what to do. Hmmm…better not dwell on that picture for too long.

  I shook my head to dislodge the image. “Where are they? I’ll get you one.”

  “The bottom half of the pantry in the kitchen serves as a linen closet.”

  This house really was tiny. The one bedroom would make sleeping arrangements a little uncomfortable, but I was willing to sleep on the couch—even if my legs hung over the edge by at least a foot. Grabbing one of the two towels from the shelf, I went once more through Becky’s room to stand in front of the bathroom door. The layout of the house was a bit awkward.

  I tapped on the door before opening it. A wet arm reached out from behind the shower curtain. That was it. Just an arm with an open palm ready to receive the towel. I was tempted to stand there until her head popped around the curtain too, but decided to have mercy on her in her embarrassment instead of indulging my own mischievousness. I settled for allowing our hands to graze in the transfer of the towel. Her arm trembled slightly, whether from the chilly air on her wet body or from my touch, I wasn’t sure.

  I’d noticed an extra set of sheets and a blanket in the pantry/linen closet. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words. If I went ahead and made up a bed on the couch, then maybe Becky would see that I respected her and would never ask her for something she wasn’t ready to give.

  I was just shaking the blanket out over the couch when Becky came out. She wore baggy sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt. Her hair was still damp and her skin glowed from a good scrubbing. She looked absolutely adorable.

  Becky stilled when she saw the couch and my obvious plans to use it as a bed. One emotion crossed her face followed immediately by a second before it took on a look of neutrality. As if she hadn’t a care in the world, her emotions were hidden behind a lovely mask.

  “I thought I’d sleep out on the couch.”

  Becky nodded, though her eyes refused to meet mine.

  The weight of frustration pushed down on me. I’d hoped Becky would trust me enough to share what was on her mind, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  Sitting down on the couch, I patted the spot next to me. The stiffness of her spine and the way she held herself rigid when she sat belied the look of nonchalance she was trying so hard to plaster on her face. Taking her hand in mine, I interlocked our fingers and began tracing small circles on the back her hand with my thumb. We sat like that for some time. The small motion of my thumb was the only movement in the room. Lady’s intermittent snoring from where she slept in the corner the only sound. I let the silence stretch until I felt Becky start to slowly relax next to me.

  “Becky,” I said quietly, gently. “What do you want out of this marriage?”

  She jerked a little, stunned, I thought, but she still allowed me to hold her hand. She
glanced at me for a split second and then cast her eyes around the room with a weak laugh. She fidgeted, cleared her throat, and then shrugged. “To be honest, I didn’t really give it much thought. I was too consumed with trying to find someone who would just marry me for Poppy’s sake that I didn’t really think of anything else.”

  I nodded. “Can I tell you what I want out of this marriage?”

  Becky looked at me, her bottom lip held prisoner between her teeth.

  “I want a real marriage and everything that goes with it.” The hand in mine twitched, but I continued. “I want to be able to work beside you on a common goal. I want to be able to encourage you on the road to fulfilling your dreams, and I want you to encourage me with mine.” I gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Of course, we’ll need to know what each other’s dreams are for that to happen.”

  Standing, I began to pace in front of the couch where Becky sat. I pulled a hand along the back of my neck. “I want to be able to come home from a stressful shift at work and hold you in my arms and know that everything is going to be okay. If you are hurting or having a hard time, I want to know that you trust me enough to come to me and let me comfort you. I even want us to argue, and then I want us to make up so I can show you that, even if we disagree, I will always love you.”

  Shifting on the couch once again, I faced Becky more fully. I took both of her hands in mine.

  “Now let me tell you what I don’t want.” I waited for her eyes to meet mine before I continued. “I don’t want to have to guess about what is going through that pretty little head of yours. I don’t want walls put up between us because of misunderstandings due to lack of communication. I don’t want you to think of me as a stranger anymore—I’m your husband.”

  Becky looked away. I crooked a finger under her chin, raising her face until she once more looked me in the eye. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me in any way, or think that I mean to take advantage of you. That’s what this is about.” I gestured to the blankets on the couch.

  Becky didn’t say anything but fidgeted with her hands. I wanted to have mercy on her. She was obviously uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassed. But the subject was too important.