A Handful of Hope

by Elizabeth Maddrey

  David tightened his grip. “No. I’m incredibly grateful God saw fit to bring you into my life and give me the chance to deserve you.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, followed quickly by another and then more.

  He scooted closer so their knees touched and drew her to him, slipping his arms around her. He began to gently rub her back, swallowing the words that wanted to come. Ji said so many times that the people who helped the most were the ones who would let her feel whatever emotions needed to come out, without asking her to calm down. He could do that, even when his heart was breaking for the woman in his arms.

  David shifted the take-out bag to his other arm and knocked on Jen’s door. He hadn’t expected her to agree to his idea of dinner and a movie at her place, not when she’d been so mortified after her crying jag. Maybe this was a crack in the icy shell she’d been building to keep him out. He prayed it was.

  “You came. I was expecting a call saying you had other plans, or just didn’t want to come.” She stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way. “Come on in.”

  It was the depression talking. David refused to be hurt by her words. She was trying to see if she could push him away, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she asked him to and he believed it was really her, not her illness, doing the asking. “I brought Thai. Figured that might a nice change from the usual. And there’s one of those rental vending machines in the same shopping center, so I brought a selection to choose from. Oh, and I got Tribble a treat, too.”

  At the word ‘treat’, the dog’s head lifted and her tail began to wag. David grinned and dug into the bag until he found the extra-large cookie bone. It had required an extra trip, but the pet store wasn’t that far out of the way, and Jen’s smile was worth it. As was Tribble’s.

  “Why don’t we eat in here? The couch is comfier, and then we can start the movie right away.”

  He nodded, taking in the faded pajama pants and long sleeve t-shirt she wore. He’d changed after work as well, but into jeans and a light sweater. Should he have tried to convince her to go out? Would being beyond the walls of her apartment help or hinder? Too late now, but something to consider for the future. He set the bag of food down on the coffee table, pushed aside the pile of blankets that were crumpled at one end of the couch, and sat. He pulled out a handful of DVDs in clear plastic cases and offered them to Jen. “Dealer’s choice.”

  Jen plopped on the couch and tucked her feet under her before she started flipping through the movies.

  David pulled two containers of Pad Thai from the bag along with plastic forks and a handful of napkins. “I forgot drinks.”

  “Um. There’s water in the kitchen?”

  He chuckled as he stood. He’d find the glasses. Couldn’t be that hard. He stepped in to the kitchen and took a deep breath. Wow. No wonder she didn’t want to eat in here. Dishes were piled in the sink, half a sandwich sat on a plate on the counter, and there was a pot of dried out macaroni and cheese sitting on the stove. He opened the cabinet where he would store cups and was rewarded with mostly bare shelves. With the exception of two mugs. Frowning, he checked the other cupboards. Nope, that was the right one.

  Shrugging, he took down the mugs, filled them at the tap, and went back into the living room. “Here we are. I wasn’t sure how spicy you liked things, so I went medium and brought some assorted sauces in case you needed to jazz it up. Can’t go backward, unfortunately.”

  “Medium should be fine. You’re really going to watch one of these movies?”

  David nodded. “What’d you choose?”

  After giving him a long look, Jen held out one of the movies, her expression almost defiant. He glanced at the title and covered a chuckle with a cough. What was it about impossible paranormal young adult romances that appealed to depressed women? It had been his sister’s recommendation. She promised him that, at the end of the day, there would be enough vampire fights to keep it semi-interesting.

  He popped open the cover and took out the disc, checking the back to be sure it wasn’t scratched. He eyed her player. The system looked straightforward, which was good. He wasn’t exactly a whiz when it came to troubleshooting audio visual equipment, much to the amusement of his family. Computers? Yes. DVD players? Not so much. He slid the disc in, grabbed the remote from beside the TV, and went back to sit next to Jen.

  David took her hand and offered a short prayer for the food before hitting play. “Ready?”

  She opened the container of food and breathed in the steam before turning to give him a slight smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He patted her leg before reaching for his own food and leaning back. It was nice. Cozy.

  He wanted to get used to it.

  Tribble was licking her face again. Jen pried open one eye. The couch. Why was she on the couch?

  “Okay, okay.” She rubbed her eyes and sat up, the blankets sliding down to the floor, nearly burying Tribble, who yipped in protest. Jen squinted at the clock on the DVD player. Ten a.m.? How was that possible? She hadn’t slept that long, or well, in weeks. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she shuffled to the patio and unlocked the door for Tribble. This late in the morning, there was liable to be a mess somewhere, but she’d get to that when she found it.

  Leaving the door open, she went into the kitchen and stopped, her jaw dropping. The counters gleamed. The sink was empty. The light on her dishwasher indicated a completed cycle, and the few non-dishwasher items were stacked neatly on a towel. He’d done her dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

  When had she fallen asleep? She had a vague memory of stretching out with her feet in his lap maybe thirty minutes into the movie, after she’d finished the Pad Thai. The entire container of it. Had she drifted off that quickly? And instead of waking her, or just going home, he’d cleaned the kitchen?

  Heat burned across her cheeks and she closed her eyes. Why had she let him come over when so much of her house was a disaster? The bathroom. Had he gone into the bathroom? It didn’t bear thinking about. He must think she was a slob of epic proportions. Except...he’d been over before. When things weren’t as bad. He had to know it wasn’t always that bad. And she couldn’t change it now, so...best not to dwell on it.

  Tribble danced in and sat by her bowl, turning a pitiful gaze in her direction. “I know. He cleaned up. Did you help him?”

  Jen scooped dry food into the bowl, then squatted and ran her hand down Tribble’s head and back. How long had it been since she took the time to really interact with the dog? Two weeks. Everything was two weeks. Since she’d found out about David’s online dating thing. It had thrown her more than she wanted to admit even to herself.

  Their first date had been terrible. No one questioned that. And she’d even considered being done right then. So why did it bother her so much that he’d actually done something—or started to? When he’d showed her on Sunday that it never got past the signing up stage, something in her cracked, just a little. She wanted—needed—to believe that she was worth someone’s time. That it was possible for someone to love her.

  And he’d shown her that—both before Sara’s revelation and since.

  Yesterday, in his office, he’d told her he loved her. She hadn’t really heard the words through the soupy fog of depression. Now, looking around her kitchen, those same words rang in her head, the truth of them obvious.

  He loved her.

  And she loved him.

  It was time to admit it. Out loud.

  “Where’s David?” Rebecca turned and surveyed the sanctuary as everyone filed out of the service. “I thought you said you two patched things up?”

  “We’re...on the way to it, at least. I don’t know. I expected him to be here too, to be honest. Maybe he thinks it’d be awkward with you all? Uninviting him from the wedding was kind of a blow.” Jen shrugged.

  Rebecca sighed. “Maybe so. But what were we supposed to do?”

  “I’m not complaining. Just trying to think of why he isn’t here. Speaking of
people who aren’t here, where’s Sara?”

  “She’s been dodging my calls. I don’t know what the deal is. Though she’s pretty torn up about what she did. She told me she’s worried you won’t forgive her.”

  Jen frowned. “I thought we cleared that up.”

  “She doesn’t think so. She says you haven’t answered any of her calls.”

  “I haven’t answered anyone’s calls. Did you tell her that?” Jen rubbed the back of her neck. What a mess. “I’ll give her a call this afternoon.”

  “Are you coming to lunch?”

  Jen shook her head. “Not today.”

  “You okay?” Rebecca’s face was a cloud of concern. “You’ve been off—don’t you think you should just snap out of it? I mean, you and David have figured things out, so...cheer up.”

  Jen forced a smile. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Just get over it and move on. Did no one understand? David did. What a blessing he was. “Right. I’ll work on that.”

  “So what are you going to do if you’re not coming to lunch?”

  “I have some cleaning I need to do—I’ve gotten a little behind.”

  Rebecca nodded. “All right. Lunch this week sometime?”

  “Sure. Text me.” Jen gathered her Bible and purse and headed toward the door. She’d go home and clean, though she’d made good headway on that yesterday after being inspired by her sparkling kitchen. But she had a stop to make first.

  Butterflies danced in her stomach as she rode the elevator to David’s floor. Would he even be home? If he’d gone back to his old church, did he go to his parents for lunch? Or his sister’s? Hadn’t he said they usually spent at least part of Sunday together? She took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her belly. No way to find out without knocking.

  She waited then knocked again.

  After a minute, locks clicked and a rumpled David answered the door, confusion written on his face. “Hey, Jen.”

  “Hi. I...maybe I should go. I thought...”

  “Don’t go. I’m just groggy. Late night. Come in?” David stepped aside.

  She lifted the takeout bag. “I brought lunch. I—we—I missed you at church. I wanted to say thank you for Friday. You didn’t have to clean the kitchen. I’m sorry it was such a mess.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen dirty dishes before.” He smiled, his eyes lighting with humor. “Come sit down, what’d you bring?”

  “Nothing fancy. I picked up some Peruvian chicken and yucca fries.” Jen pulled a chair out at the table and sat. “Can I ask why you didn’t come to church?”

  “Of course. Couple of reasons. First, I had a late night last night. I got an email in the morning with a proposal, due by midnight, that they needed one final check on. Of course it wasn’t quite finished, so it was a mad rush with lots of back and forth. I ended up not making any friends, but the bid is better because of it.” David peered into the bag and pulled out the two containers. “Beyond that, though...I wasn’t sure if everyone would be okay with me being there. From what Ben said before the wedding, I think I’m kind of persona non grata right now.”

  Jen reached out and tentatively laid her hand on his. “They’re just protective. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

  “No. It’s mine. I never should have—”

  She touched his lips with her finger. “It’s done. Behind us. I’d rather focus on the fact that you not only were willing to watch that ridiculous movie with me, but you let me sleep and cleaned my kitchen.”

  “And played with Tribble. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised her yapping didn’t wake you, but you were out cold.”

  Jen chuckled. Poor baby. She needed to make sure she spent more time with her puppy when she got home. It wasn’t Tribble’s fault that Jen had sunk so far under her ability to cope. “Thanks. She, and I, appreciate it.”

  “Any time.”

  David gathered his laptop and checked his cell. Jen was supposed to text him and let him know if she wanted to try the young professionals Wednesday Bible study with him. Nothing. He tapped out a quick text. Maybe she’d still be up for it.

  As he hit the elevator call button, his phone buzzed. Seeing Jen’s picture made him smile. “Hey. You in?”

  “I can’t. I need to go check on Sara. She hasn’t been at work since Monday and even then, Rebecca said she was off. I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to make sure she’s okay. I’m worried about her. This breakup is hitting her harder than usual.”

  “Want me to come along?” Hopefully she’d say no. Offering was the right thing to do, but he didn’t know Sara all that well. And he was a guy.

  “I really do. But I don’t think it’s the right thing. Thank you for offering though. Can you pray? I’m scared of what I’m going to find.”

  David waved off the elevator when it opened and the people inside looked at him expectantly. “What do you mean? Do you think she’s suicidal?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This is just so unlike her. And...I know what it’s like to believe there’s no way through something. That the only good answer is to give up the fight.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s been a while since it’s been that bad. But it doesn’t change the knowing. That ledge is horrible and comforting all at once and you’re torn between the agony of living and the terror of leaping. None of the options are good, and you just want to find the one that makes the pain stop soonest. I don’t know if she’s there—but if she is, I have to at least try to help her see that no matter how dark it is on the cliff, if you look around, and sometimes you have to look pretty hard, I won’t lie, but if you really look, there’s always at least a tiny reason to stay. But if you give up on that handful of hope, no matter how meager it is, the only one who loses is you.”

  David’s eyes filled. He didn’t understand, really, having never walked through that soul-deep level of darkness. Even walking beside someone as they battled their way through wasn’t the same. But the little sliver of knowledge he had from watching his sister, and seeing Jen’s own struggles for the short time they’d known one another, left him in awe of her strength. “You’re amazing. I’ll be praying.”

  “I’m really not. I don’t have it figured out. Some days the only hope I’m holding onto is the promise that Jesus won’t forsake me, despite it feeling like He already has. I’ll call you later.”

  He hit end and leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Jesus, be with Jen. Give her Your words and Your strength. And be near to Sara. With a deep breath, he pushed off the wall and hit the elevator button again. He’d go and give the study a try. And if he couldn’t focus on that, he could always find a quiet place to pray.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be in today after you were with Sara so late last night.”

  Jen looked up with a wan smile. “And yet you brought two coffees?”

  David laughed. “Well, maybe they’re both for me?”

  “Not buying it. Gimme.” She reached for one of the cups.

  Sipping from his own cup, David sat and studied her. Other than looking tired, she seemed okay. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay. It was harder than I thought it’d be to talk to her about depression. You get so used to trying to hide it, because people just tell you to cheer up or get over it and you start to believe that your inability to do that is a personal failing. Because most people can just cheer up and decide to move on. The judgment you feel from people who don’t get it is...crushing. Sara never understood before, when I’d try to talk to her and Rebecca. I think, now, she has a glimmer of an idea. And while she’s not suicidal, thank God, she’s going to call a therapist.”

  “Good. So she’s okay?”

  “Not yet. But I think she will be. I also suggested she talk to the pastor. I think some of her trouble is based on what’s she’s choosing to believe, spiritually. Working through that, finding a way to be consistent in how she views the Bible and how she lives her life, is only g
oing to help.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’m not convinced she’ll take me up on that one. She still thinks I’m being judgmental and naive. And I’m not trying to say depression is purely a spiritual deficiency, but if you leave it untreated, it can cause one. So I suggested both. And...” Jen sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I probably need to get back into counseling, too. The medication is helping, lots, but maybe not as much as I’d like.”

  David nodded. “You know that’s not failure, right? Needing help?”

  She jerked her head up, eyes wide before they filled with tears. “No. I mean, sure, I know it in my head, but my heart? It feels like failure on an epic level. Am I so broken, so useless, that I need medication and a therapist? Aren’t we supposed to be able to do this without so much external help?”

  “No. I really don’t think we are. God designed us to need community. That’s why He gave us family, and why we have an inherent craving for friends. At a minimum, we need Him. Getting help doesn’t mean you’re broken and useless, it means you’re strong enough to understand you can’t do it on your own. How many people are willing to admit that?” David shook his head. There weren’t many.

  Jen let out a breath. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No. I’m not. I’m proud of you.”

  She smiled.

  David opened his mouth to speak and his phone chimed. “And with that, I need to run before I’m late for a meeting. Are you free Saturday? During the day?”

  “Think so, why?”

  The idea was just forming, so David smiled. “I’ll pick you up around one. Does Tribble do okay in the car?”

  Jen looked startled. “Usually. Why?”

  “Bring her leash, she can come too.”

  “You’re sure they aren’t going to mind if I come?” David brushed his hand down the side of his pant leg.

  Was he nervous? It was kind of cute. Jen smiled and kissed his cheek before she took his hand in hers. “I promise it’s fine. They were upset because I was hurting. That’s what friends do. Trust me, okay?”