The Isaac Project
Page 24
It was scary, and it was hard, but Luke deserved to know what I was feeling. I swallowed against the lump that had formed in my throat.
“I…I’m scared.” I forced the admission past my lips.
Luke’s thumb stroked my cheek. His eyes never wavered from my own. “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”
It was hard to open myself up, to become vulnerable, especially when I was caught in the directness of his gaze.
I knew it was cowardly, but I looked down, severing the unspoken connection. I bit my lip before answering. “I’m afraid of what you’re going to say.”
“And what do you think I am going to say?”
I couldn’t take much more. The pressure of the unknown had been building inside me, and I felt as if I were about to explode. I flung my arms around Luke’s waist and buried my head in his neck. Pretending to be strong hadn’t served me well in the past. I might as well confess my needs and desires, the desperation I felt at the thought of his leaving.
“Please don’t leave me,” I cried, my voice muffled. My body shuddered as he held me close. “I…I don’t want a divorce.”
His strong arms felt good about me. It felt right. Like it was where I belonged. When they fell away, I felt myself sinking. I tightened my own hold about him, frantic to regain what I was losing. His hands grasped my upper arms and tugged. He was pushing me away.
Our bodies separated and I hung my head. I had opened up. I had let him in. And now I was being thrust aside.
Served me right. I deserved it.
Luke’s finger nudged my chin up. A small smile played across his lips.
“Becky, I wasn’t going to tell you I was leaving,” he said.
“You weren’t?” Was there still hope? Did my black cloud have a silver lining after all?
“No.” He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. His smile widened until it consumed his entire face. “I was going to say I love you.”
“You…you love me?” I might have sounded like a blabbering idiot, but it was a complete paradigm shift and my mind was scrambling to catch up, to understand the implications, to take it all in.
His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. He held my face with both of his hands. His gaze locked with mine, and his eyes…well…let’s just say I knew what romance novels meant when they said the hero gave the heroine a smoldering look.
“Becky,” he said. “I”—his lips descended upon mine in a featherlight kiss—“love”—his warm breath fanned my mouth before our lips touched softly once more—“you.” This time his kiss lingered. The stubble on his chin scratched my cheek, and the smell of lingering smoke burned my nose. And I loved it. Loved it all. Because I loved him.
I had uncorked my feelings and given them a voice, and the result couldn’t have been more glorious. The walls I erected to protect myself from hurt had only served to imprison me. I could see now that Luke had been trying to tell me all along that he loved me through all the little things he had been doing. Could I do the same thing?
Luke began to lift his head, ending a kiss he had kept sweet. I was eager to show him that I returned his feelings, that I loved him too. That I could put love into words and actions just as he had done.
Flinging my arms around his neck, I brought his head back down toward mine. My exuberance, however, should have been tempered. His mouth smashed into mine in a crushing blow, our teeth clanking, causing my jaw to rattle.
I released my hold on the nape of his neck and opened my eyes. Luke pulled back only slightly and offered a wink before closing his eyes and angling his head. He took the lead, his mouth giving and receiving. His sturdy hands came around, one to my lower back, the other into my hair. He gathered me closer until our bodies were pressed together. A passion burned inside me ten times hotter than the fire Mr. Bronson had set in the barn.
When my lungs screamed for air and I felt like all my insides had been melted, Luke unlocked our lips. He must have had better lung capacity than I, because he continued to rain down little kisses. My eyes, my nose, my cheek, my chin—nothing was neglected.
I didn’t know if it was only a memory or if God put it there, but unbidden, Genesis 24:67, a verse in the Bible at the tail end of the Isaac and Rebekah story, popped into my head. I was the only person I knew who would think of a Bible verse right after such a display of passion.
“You’re grinning as if you have a secret. Care to share?” Luke asked.
“Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death,” I quoted.
Luke quirked a brow, which caused me to giggle.
“Isn’t it amazing how much alike our story is to theirs? Well, except I’m Isaac and you’re Rebekah. But you came halfway across the country and became my husband. I fell in love with you, and even though Poppy has passed, you have been a comfort to me.” I stopped talking long enough to taste his supple lips once more. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
***
Later that night I snuggled deep into Luke’s side. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, his breathing heavy in slumber. I sighed. I didn’t know it was possible to feel such utter contentment.
The Bible was full of stories where God had used bad or unusual circumstances to work out something beautiful and good. Me and my insane plan to grant Poppy’s last wish were proof that God still had his hand in people’s everyday lives.
Rolling slightly on my back but keeping my body pressed against my husband’s, I stretched my arm out as far as possible, grasping for my phone on the bedside table. My fingers grazed the device, and I extended my reach even further. Painstakingly, I managed to maneuver the phone into my hand.
Nuzzling myself more securely into my husband’s side, I hid the phone under the blanket. I didn’t want the brightness from the screen to wake Luke up.
My thumbs flew over the small keyboard illuminated on the display.
The Isaac Project was a success! Thank you, my Eliezer.
I smiled as I punched Send.
Luke’s arm curled around my shoulder as he slumbered on. Pushing with my toes against the mattress, I stretched up and kissed him lightly against his stubbly cheek. His eyes fluttered open, and he regarded me with a drowsy expression.
“Hey, beautiful.” Sleep had given his voice a husky tone.
“Hey.” I gave him a shy smile.
The tiredness of his gaze melted away, replaced with desire that came from a man in love. My own affection and yearning rose within me. Our lips and bodies met, each giving fully of ourselves to the other.
Some might have thought this was the end of our love story, but I knew better. It was only the beginning.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Rebekah
THE STADIUM WAS filling with fans of all kinds. There were the more “normal” people who showed support of their team by wearing jerseys or team colors. And then there were the more extreme. Those who painted their faces or even stripped off their shirts and painted their bodies to show team spirit and synchronicity. These were the loud, boisterous fans. The ones the Jumbotron loved to display on its gigantic screen above the field.
The players filed onto the field, the clock ticking down the remaining seconds before kickoff.
I swiveled my head from left to right, peering behind me in both directions to try and get a glimpse of my husband. Where was he? The line at the concession stand must have been longer than we thought. If he didn’t hurry, he would miss the first play of the game.
“Excuse me.”
I smiled as the deep timbre of his voice reached my ears. Leaning forward, I watched as he shuffled sideways, sidestepping legs that were squished to make room for his passage down the narrow row to his assigned seat beside mine.
“Did you get it?” I asked as I licked my lips.
“One soft pretzel, as my lady requested.�
� He extended the food and bowed over it in a dramatic show of courtly gesture.
I grabbed the hot, doughy treat, eyeing the spheres of salt dotting its surface. “Mustard?”
He extended his other hand, revealing five yellow packs of the tangy condiment.
My mouth watered. Leaning over, I gave him a kiss. “Thanks.”
“I don’t know how you can eat that with mustard.” His mouth twisted in disgust as he settled into the hard red stadium seat.
I grinned around a mouthful of pretzel. “We’ll just blame it on weird pregnancy cravings, shall we?” I placed a hand on what used to be a flat stomach only a few months before, now curved in the gentle roundness of expectant motherhood.
The game started and consumed the attention of thousands of fans, although the arena was anything but quiet. Then again, since when was a football game quiet? Shouts and jeers erupted around us as the ball switched possession between the teams. I might or might not have made a few loud comments myself when the referee missed an obvious call.
The game stopped for a commercial break, and the cameras positioned around the field scanned the crowd for interesting characters. It was always fun to watch people on the big screen.
The camera swept slowly along a row. As people realized they were on the screen, they waved or jumped up or did something silly. It was very entertaining. The camera stopped on a young couple holding hands, he in a Rams jersey and she in a 49ers. Heat rose to my cheeks as I realized it was Luke and I displayed on the screen for all to see.
I knew what they wanted. It was what they always wanted when they stopped on a couple. They wanted to see a kiss. Well, I was more than happy to oblige.
Luke and I rose to our feet at the same time. We smiled into each other’s eyes as his head came down and his lips claimed mine. The response around us was varied. A few booed, obviously displeased that a Rams fan and a 49ers fan could toss aside team rivalry and fall in love. Others cheered, celebrating true love’s victory over any obstacle. Luke bent down and kissed my protruding belly. Even the naysayers couldn’t deny the sweetness of the act.
The commercial break ended, and the game resumed.
Luke leaned over and spoke in my ear. “I got something else at the concession stand while I was there.”
I turned to him, my curiosity piqued. I hadn’t seen anything else in his hands when he had come back.
He held out two small bags, one in each hand. “Pick a hand.”
I tapped his left.
He opened the bag and pulled out the cutest little onesie I had yet to see. It was red with gold letters saying “Football first: Nap Later!” and had the Niners logo of San Francisco’s initials inside an oval.
“Luke, it’s perfect!”
He beamed with pleasure. My gaze snagged on the other bag.
“What’s in that one?” I asked as I tried to peek inside.
He withdrew another equally adorable onesie. This one was gray with the St. Louis butting ram on front and said “Tiny Fan.”
I loved this man so much. He was already proving how great a father he was going to be.
Luke shrugged, looking a little sheepish at his purchase. “I thought the baby could decide which team to cheer for.”
Leaning over, I took the two articles of baby clothing and draped them both over my growing tummy. “They’re perfect.”
The crowd erupted around us as people launched to their feet, arms raised in victory. Others slumped in defeat in their chairs.
We had missed a vital play in the game, the Niners scoring a much-needed touchdown. The only disadvantage to being at the field and experiencing the game live was no instant replay with commentator walk-through.
And yet I didn’t feel any sense of loss or disappointment. I loved the game and I loved my team, but in the grand scheme of things, it was still only a game.
The flutter of life danced across my belly, ending in a hard kick to the ribs. I splayed my hand over my stomach, caressing the little one yet to be born.
I had experienced much loss in the last year. Both Poppy and Lady had died, leaving me a complete orphan, devoid of any blood relations or family. But God was true to His word. Not only did He never leave me, but he sent Luke into my life as a comfort in a time of great grief. Luke became my husband, my companion and partner, and ultimately my new family. And now that new little family was growing.
***
Luke
I marveled at the woman beside me. Her indelible spirit was inspiring. When I looked back on our short time together, I had to shake my head. I would never have known how true my uncle’s words were going to be. Everyone knows there will be hard times in every relationship, but it’s when we decide that saying “I do” means forever, no matter what, that true love shines.
“Go, go, go, go!” Becky was on her feet, pumping her arm in the air to punctuate each word she shouted to the player sprinting down the field toward the end zone.
Becky and I were now a team, much like the players on the field below us. We had to work together for our relationship to succeed. And we needed to follow our coach, God, and his playbook, the Bible. That didn’t mean we wouldn’t be tackled by life’s hardships. Even the best players, the best team, had plays that were thwarted. But through it all they stuck together.
I grinned at the victorious smile my wife flashed me as the ‘Niners added even more points to the scoreboard. She wore red and gold, and I wore blue and gold, but where it counted we were on the same team—team Masterson. Now and forever.
A Note From the Author
I hope you had as much fun reading Luke and Becky’s story as I had writing it. If you have a minute, would you please leave a review at http://amzn.to/1US248O
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God Bless You!
Sarah Monzon
Table of Contents
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Epilogue