by Irene Hannon
He stroked her leg through the quilt as he spoke, but his attention was on a wall hanging Gram had made, which had occupied the place of honor on the far wall for more than two decades. The sunburst motif featured the three words that had guided Bess Anderson’s life: “Live. Love. Rejoice.”
“Things didn’t work out quite the way I’d hoped, though. First, I discovered I didn’t have a private beach. Then Hannah needed a place to stay. The youth center project also took off—thanks to your publicity efforts—and I didn’t have a spare minute in the day. Finally, most unsettling of all, I found myself worrying about my new neighbor.”
He turned his head toward her, and at his tender expression, her heart melted.
“I didn’t want to worry about you, Kelsey. I fought it every step of the way. Yet the more we worked together, the more you intrigued—and attracted—me. Sparks began to fly. I wanted to know more about you, but you kept me at arm’s length. I’ve learned to recognize fear over these past ten years, and I saw it in you from the beginning. I don’t know why you’re afraid, but I do understand fear. And I know firsthand how it can paralyze a person—in a lot of different ways.”
He clasped his hands together, the muscles in his throat working as he focused on his fingers.
“Five years ago, I was steps away from the danger zone when a roadside bomb exploded. There was carnage everywhere. Three of the guys injured were my friends. I remember frantically moving from one to the other. They were all critical, and I was desperate to help. But I had limited supplies and only two hands. I knew backup wouldn’t get there in time to save any of them. So instead of helping someone else who did have a chance of making it, I fell to my knees next to one of the guys who had a young wife and baby at home, held his hand and cried while he died.”
Luke’s voice choked and he looked away.
Heart aching, Kelsey leaned forward and covered his clenched hands with one of hers. His fingers were ice-cold.
When Luke turned to her, his eyes were haunted. “That was the worst day of my life. I was depressed for weeks, and barely made it through the days. The only way I could survive was to shut down. Stop feeling. I learned to barricade my heart from everyone—including God. To do the job without thinking about personalities. To avoid making friends who could be killed.
“And it worked. It allowed me to cope. I also became the first choice for triage duty. My superiors knew I could make the tough calls, with complete emotional detachment, about who had the best chance of survival. Behind my back, my colleagues called me Doctor Deep Freeze. I was cold and detached and brutally objective in matters of life and death. And I didn’t socialize with my peers. I never again wanted to care about anyone enough to feel the way I did when my buddies died from that roadside bomb.”
As Luke’s mouth settled into a taut line, Kelsey squeezed his clasped hands and spoke in a soft voice. “The cold, clinical man you’re describing isn’t the man I know.”
He looked down at her hand resting on his. Pulling one of his free, he twined his fingers with hers. “Carlos can take the credit for that. Everyone else steered a wide berth around me, but he sought me out. He’d show up with his tray at mealtimes and try to start a conversation. I’d brush him off, but he’d keep talking. Telling me about his childhood here and his grandmother and his ideas for the youth center. His passion and zest for life eventually won me over. And his zeal for the Lord helped me reconnect with my faith and restore my compassion. But unlocking my heart is still a struggle, Kelsey. I’m afraid if I care too much, I could be hurt again. And the next time I might not make it out of the dark tunnel.”
His words roughened, and he cleared his throat as his gaze locked on hers. “I want you to know I’ve never shared any of this with anyone.”
Taken aback, she searched his eyes. “But…why me? We’re not much more than acquaintances.”
“Because I’d like us to be more than that. And because I trust you. Absolutely.”
Overwhelmed, she stared at him, trying to take in the significance of what had just happened.
“I do have one other confession.” A tiny smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Before she left, Hannah gave me a stern lecture on romance. One of her key points was that if I wanted you to share with me, I had to reciprocate. It’s taken me a while to admit my kid sister is right, and longer still to get up the courage to follow her advice. But you know what? I’m glad I did.”
Some of the warmth in Kelsey’s heart cooled. “You mean…this was all a ploy? A set up? Done with an ulterior motive?”
“If going way outside my comfort zone and letting you in on my biggest fears and secrets—just so you’d know I care—qualifies as an ulterior motive, then I guess I’m guilty as charged.”
She picked at a loose thread on the quilt. “And what if I don’t want to share mine with you?”
“I still trust you with my secret. And I’ll be happy with any positive outcomes.” He lifted their entwined hands. “I consider this progress. And for the record, I didn’t come over tonight planning to spill my guts like this. But after your phone call, I couldn’t walk away. I had to let you know in some meaningful way that I cared. And try to convince you that you can trust me with whatever worries are wrinkling your brow.” He reached over and smoothed her forehead with his fingertips, his touch gentle and caring. “Can you at least tell me why the phone call was so upsetting?”
Could she?
Kelsey closed her eyes as she debated that question and fought her own fear. A fear that had morphed from apprehension about her physical safety at their first meeting to one just as frightening in its own right—the fear that, once he knew her story, once she confided her ambivalence on the key question she faced, he might very well walk away. Leaving her feeling lonelier than before.
He would do it compassionately, of course. He’d already made it clear he cared for her. But caring might not cut it. She wasn’t even sure loving would, and they weren’t anywhere close to that deeper emotion yet.
At the same time, if she didn’t tell him, if she shut him out and let him walk away, she’d always wonder what his response might have been.
Besides, in light of his honesty and openness with her, didn’t she owe him the same?
Lord, please help me here. Luke’s waiting for an answer. Show me what to do.
Chapter Twelve
Luke watched the muscles in Kelsey’s face flex, as if she was in pain. He was tempted to tell her to let it go, to forget he’d asked about the call. Whatever her problems, he had a feeling she’d done more than her share of suffering already, and he didn’t want to add to her distress.
But if she couldn’t trust him after he’d laid his heart bare to her, what future did they have?
So he waited.
At last, the tautness in her features eased and she opened her eyes.
“The call was from a police detective in St. Louis.” A tremor ran through her words, and she swallowed. “Beyond that, it’s a long story.”
Was she telling him that was all she intended to reveal? Or waiting for encouragement to continue?
He chose to assume the latter. Reaching over, he gently touched her collarbone. “Is this scar part of that story?”
“Yes.” She drew in a shaky breath. “And so is the baby.”
Their fingers were still entwined, and he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. As long as she was willing to answer his questions, he intended to keep probing. “I’ve wondered if you might have been involved in an abusive relationship. Or if job stress triggered other problems—like drugs or alcohol—that led you to…do something you later regretted.”
“Neither.”
His relief at her whispered response was short-lived. Because all at once the pieces fell into place. A traumatized woman easily spooked by a powerful, strong man. A recent scar. A pregnancy that produced ambivalent feelings. A call from the police.
He felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.
“You were raped.” It wasn’t a question.
She gave a jerky nod.
“And the baby…” he glanced at her rounded stomach “…is the result of the attack.”
“Yes.”
“You decided to carry it to term rather than abort it.” He said the words not for confirmation of the obvious, but to try to wrap his mind around her courageous decision.
A tear spilled onto her cheek. “How could I kill an innocent child, Luke?”
“My God.” His whispered words were both praise and awe. “That’s the most unselfish thing I’ve ever heard.”
She shook her head. “Don’t paint me as a saint, Luke. I did think about taking the easier way out. And there are plenty of days when I wish I’d wake up and all of it would be nothing more than a bad dream.”
“But you did the right thing anyway. Even though it was hard.” The advice he’d passed on to Hannah years ago replayed in Luke’s mind. Kelsey had lived it. Just as she’d lived the values of her faith, not simply paid lip service to them.
She was even more amazing than he’d thought.
Lifting her legs, he slid out from under them, moved beside the couch and dropped to one knee beside her.
At close range, he could see the remembered trauma pooled in the depths of her green eyes. Hear the catch in her irregular breathing. Feel the tremors coursing through her.
All at once, his shock gave way to anger. As he caught and held her fragile fingers, that anger swelled like a tsunami and crashed over him with a power that swept aside every ounce of charity in his soul. “Did they catch the guy?” The hard edge in his question didn’t come close to capturing the depth of his outrage and fury.
“That’s what tonight’s call was about. They have a s-suspect in custody. He was a serial rapist. His latest v-victim inflicted some damage on his face that led to his ID and arrest.”
She was shaking now. Badly. Luke stroked her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear, lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her fingers. All the while fighting the rage surging through him. Kelsey didn’t need to see that. What she needed was compassion and support and…love.
“I’m so sorry, Kelsey.” His voice hoarsened. “I never imagined anything like this. Have you had counseling?”
“Yes. I still see someone on occasion. It t-took me a long time to get past the shame. And the guilt.”
Luke frowned. “There’s no shame in being a victim. And why would you feel guilty?”
She blinked the moisture off her lashes. “Because I should have been more careful. I’d heard the news stories about the previous attacks. But I was very disciplined about my exercise routine. So I went jogging as usual that December night after I got home from work, about nine-thirty. It was the route I always used. A public sidewalk that passed a small park. That’s where it happened. He always attacked in areas where people were close by. The police said it was a p-power trip for him. That pulling it off in locations where he c-could be detected gave him a thrill.”
Squeezing his hand, she closed her eyes. When she continued, her voice was broken, her face shattered. “It all happened s-so fast. He grabbed me from behind as I passed a clump of bushes. Before I could react, he covered my mouth with his hand, pulled a ski headband over my eyes and stuck a k-knife against my throat. He threatened to kill me if I resisted, but I struggled anyway. That’s how I got this.” She gestured toward her collarbone. “While I was trying to recover from the shock of the cut, he stuffed some rags in my mouth and put plastic restraints around my wrists. It was all over in less than f-five minutes.”
She choked on the last word, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Luke brushed it away, his own fingers none too steady. Then he wrapped her in his arms, in a hug that offered comfort and caring and shelter. Much like the one Hannah had given him not long ago.
Pressing her head against his chest, he stroked her back and brushed his lips against her hair as silent tears coursed down her cheeks, dampening his shirt. And she clung to him with a fierceness that revealed the depth of her trauma and her desperate need for a shoulder to cry on.
He would have been happy to hold her that way all night. Absorbing her pain as much as he could. But sooner than he expected, she eased back and looked up at him. Her tear-ravaged face twisted his gut, and he held firm when she tried to disengage, keeping her within the circle of his arms as he scrutinized her. There was some nuance in her expression he didn’t understand. Or like.
A red alert went off in his mind, and his stomach clenched. “What is it, Kelsey?”
Her breath came in short gasps and her hands clutched at his back. He was picking up trepidation—and fear—now.
“There’s more, Luke.”
More? What more could there be? He searched her face, looking for answers, but couldn’t get past the fear that was contorting her features. Or the frantic pulse beating in the hollow of her neck.
His arms firmly around her, he braced himself. “Tell me.”
She swallowed. Moistened her lips. Tightened her grip on his back. “I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with the baby.”
Her words echoed in the quiet room, and he squinted at her. Had he missed some important piece of information here? “I don’t understand. You already made that decision.”
“No.” She shook her head and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with the baby after he or she is born.”
Some of his tension eased and he stroked her cheek. “There are plenty of people who can help you with that, Kelsey. Thousands of childless couples are waiting for babies. I’m sure Reverend Howard has connections with adoption agencies. Have you talked with him?”
Another flash of pain ricocheted through her eyes. “Yes. But that’s not what I mean.”
Confused, he studied her. “Okay. Tell me what you do mean.”
She locked gazes with him. “I mean I’m not certain I want to give up the baby.”
In the silence that followed Kelsey’s bombshell, Luke stared at her. He’d heard her words. But they wouldn’t compute. Surely she couldn’t mean what he thought she meant.
“Okay.” He kept his hands on her arms, absorbing the tremors rippling through her as he tried without much success to slow his own racing pulse. “Are you telling me you’re thinking about keeping this baby?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a mere whisper.
Luke tried not to panic. Tried not to let go too quickly of the future he was beginning to envision. But that single word changed everything.
A ready-made family was one thing.
Raising as his own a child conceived in violence was another.
How could Kelsey even consider this?
Although he’d done his best to mask his instinctive negative reaction, some of it must have slipped through. Kelsey’s irises began to shimmer like deep, green pools, and some fragile quality in their depths died. Hope perhaps. Her features underwent a subtle change, too, and she withdrew a bit, as if pulling in on herself. The change made her look more alone and vulnerable than ever.
He loosened his grip but didn’t let her go. He didn’t want their relationship to end like this, almost before it had begun. Maybe there was still hope. She hadn’t said she’d made a definite decision, just that she was considering keeping the baby. Once she thought through all the ramifications, she might choose adoption after all.
“Kelsey…I’m trying to understand why you’d make that choice. Help me do that.”
Her slender shoulders drooped, as if the weight of all that had happened had suddenly become too much to bear. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t been holding her arms, keeping her upright, she’d have collapsed back against the pillows.
“I don’t know if I can.” Her tone was dispirited. Resigned. “Maybe you’d have to be inside my skin to understand.” She dipped her head, and he had to lean close to hear her soft response.
“Would you try? Please?”
&
nbsp; When she looked up at him, the raw anguish in her eyes tore at his heart.
“In the beginning, I wanted nothing to do with this baby. I wanted to get rid of him or her as fast as I could, once I delivered. But over the months, as I felt this new life stirring inside me, I realized this baby is as much a part of me as it is of him. And I’m not sure I can give up part of myself.”
“But won’t this child always be a source of bad memories?” He spoke slowly, even as his mind raced, trying to be empathetic while pointing out the problems he saw. “Won’t you relive the violence that gave him or her life every time you look into the child’s eyes? Can you offer the kind of love a mother is supposed to give, under the circumstances?”
“I don’t know.” Her expression grew bleak. “Reverend Howard asked me the same questions. I’ve been praying for guidance, but so far it hasn’t come. All I know is that for a lot of years my priorities were messed up. Nothing mattered to me except my job. My attitude was that if marriage and a family had to be sacrificed on the altar of corporate success, so be it.”
She looked over at the wall hanging he’d noticed earlier. “Live. Love. Rejoice.”
“The attack changed everything. As horrible as it was, it helped me understand what was important. So I stopped clawing my way up the corporate ladder. I opened a quilt shop, which had always been my secret dream. I hoped that maybe—after a lot of healing—I might meet a man who would want to share my life. But I’m thirty-five, Luke. The biological clock is ticking. The dream of a family seemed remote. After the initial shock of my pregnancy passed, I wondered if God was giving me the gift of family after all. I still wonder that.”
That was a stretch, as far as he was concerned. But how could he censure her for taking a horrible trauma and finding good in it?