Let It Be Me

by Becky Wade

  “The most meaningful thing about you is that you are loved by God,” the pastor continued. “You’re a child of God. That’s the only identity that can bring satisfaction.”

  At the close of the sermon, he prayed along with the pastor, asking God to forgive him, to help him find his identity as a child of God.

  It didn’t help. His spirit remained distracted and frayed.

  When Leah’s phone rang the next night, her heart wedged into her throat, just like it had every time her phone had rung for the past seven days. On each occasion, one name had sprung into her head.

  Sebastian?

  She wanted it to be him.

  She didn’t want it to be him.

  But mostly, as in ninety percent mostly, she did want it to be him, despite her belief that going their separate ways was for the best.

  She moved her attention from the paper she was grading to her phone, and for the first time since she’d argued with him in Atlanta, the caller ID displayed the name Sebastian Grant.

  She covered her mouth with her hand and listened to it ring again. What should she do?

  Her body decided for her. Without permission, her fingers shot out and answered. “Hello?”

  “I miss you.”

  “Who did you say was calling?”

  “Are you still angry?”

  She gathered her thoughts. “No, I’m not still angry. However, I do stand behind the concerns I verbalized.”

  He made a sound of frustration. “You know what? Talking on the phone with you isn’t going to work.” She heard rustling. “We need to talk in person.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to drive there.”

  “What? It’s eight o’clock. On a school night.”

  “I’m locking my apartment now. I’m already on the way to my car.”

  She spluttered. “You have work in the morning, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Round trip, the drive will take you more than three hours.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I’m not sure if it makes sense—”

  “I’ll see you in less than an hour and forty minutes,” he informed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Concentration proved impossible after Sebastian’s phone call. So impossible that she couldn’t finish grading. She ended up funneling her nervous energy and conflicting thoughts into cleaning.

  “What’re you doing?” Dylan asked during one of his kitchen snack breaks.

  “Straightening up.”

  “When you clean, you make me help. And you never clean at this time of night. Plus, you’re moving at, like, twice your usual speed.”

  “Sebastian is going to stop by.”

  “Even though he lives in Atlanta?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And isn’t your boyfriend?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  He chuckled all the way back to his room.

  She was Swiffering the hardwood floor when Sebastian’s headlights bounced onto her driveway. She set the broom aside and pushed her arms into a fitted blue sweatshirt. Wearing the yoga pants and tennis shoes she’d donned for her after-work hike earlier, she stepped onto the front porch.

  He shut his car door and crossed to her. The serious lines of his features emphasized glowing gray eyes. He’d clothed his tall body in worn jeans and a casual black pullover with a short, open zipper at the neck.

  He stopped a yard away and scrutinized her. She scrutinized him right back. She’d had time to prepare for him. Even so, she was not prepared for him. Had she really believed just a few short months ago that she was incapable of experiencing physical attraction? Now she was suffused with it to the point that it threatened to decimate clear thought and good intentions.

  He’d said on the phone that he missed her. She’d missed him, too. His assurance, humor, self-reliance. And beneath all of that, a very real storehouse of goodness. Her world had been small and dull without him in it.

  “Come in.” She led him to the now-spotless kitchen, the room farthest from Dylan’s room. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” He leaned against the countertop, facing her, his hands curled around its edge on either side of his hips.

  She leaned against the opposing counter and crossed her arms. It really was exceptional, the combustion that thickened the air when they were together. Like the Force in Star Wars—invisible and powerful.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you first before calling the dean about Dylan,” he said. “And I’m also sorry that I didn’t say anything about it when you mentioned the dean’s email. My motives were good, but my execution sucked. If my execution sucked, then it doesn’t matter what my motives were.”

  “Your motives do matter to me, actually. I know you wanted to help. It’s just the—the way you helped happened to poke right at my worst fear, which is my own helplessness. Or, in this case, my concern that you perceived me as helpless.”

  “I view you as the least helpless woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  The admission unwound something tight within her. “I’m sorry, too. I wish I’d reacted with more patience.”

  Hip-hop music pulsed softly from Dylan’s room.

  “I can’t help but want to do things for you,” he said, “to show you how I feel. But there’s very little I can do, so when I saw my chance, I took it.”

  “I don’t tend to receive acts of service well, which is a flaw of mine. If you want to express how you feel about me, I recommend that you tell me.”

  “I care about you.” His eyes held hers. “A lot. I’m worried you don’t feel the same about me because I haven’t heard from you for a week.”

  “I . . .” She selected her words the way she’d carefully choose shells on a beach. “I care about you, too. I didn’t call you because it seems to me that parting ways at this point is the wisest step.”

  His mouth thinned. “Why?”

  “Because our . . . connection was supposed to be carefree and fun.”

  “It is carefree and fun.” He spoke in a voice so much the opposite of carefree and fun that she laughed.

  “No,” she insisted, “it’s not.”

  “Your time with me in Atlanta wasn’t fun?”

  “It was fun—up until we argued. It hasn’t been fun since then. Potentially worse, though . . . my feelings for you are no longer as lighthearted as I’d have them be.”

  “Explain to me why it’s important to you that your feelings for me stay lighthearted.”

  “So many reasons.”

  “I’d like to hear them all.”

  “Well, before I’d feel comfortable allowing my feelings for you to become more . . . entrenched, I’d want to have some assurance that you’ll be able to let me in. Otherwise, what are we doing here? We’re wasting our time because we’re destined for failure.”

  He seemed to weigh her point of view. “I’ve been letting you in. As much as I can. This is me, letting you in.”

  “And what about trust? Do you think you’ll be able to bring yourself to trust me?” She hastened to add, “I won’t blame you if the answer’s no. If the answer’s no, I’ll understand why.”

  “Look, I can’t stand here with a straight face and tell you that I’m skilled at relationships. I’m not. But I can tell you that I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I think about you all day. In any given moment, I’m more worried about your happiness than my own. Food tastes terrible to me. I can’t concentrate. Markie has accused me of waking up on the wrong side of the bed every day this week.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re worried about taking this to the next level, and I get it—because so am I. I’m worried enough about where this is going that I’ve been losing sleep over it. But here’s what it comes down to for me: I’m willing to lose sleep over it. The thing I am not willing to lose right now . . . is you.”

  Oh dear. Her inhibitions were s
wooning like Victorian women.

  “I can’t guarantee that I can be what you want me to be or anything else about the future,” he continued. “We won’t know what’s going to happen with us until we let it happen.”

  She appreciated that he’d refrained from spouting lies about his ability to trust. At the same time, uneasiness curved around her lungs, because she truly did see his issues as landmines.

  “The timing of our relationship is terrible,” she stated.

  “How so?”

  “At the moment, I’m focused on shepherding Dylan through his senior year.”

  “Your focus on that shouldn’t and doesn’t have to change.”

  “Then next school year, when Dylan goes to college, I’ll finally have the opportunity to begin my PhD coursework online. It won’t be easy. I’ll still be working full time at the high school. Classes, studying, projects, and papers will take almost all the free time I have. It doesn’t make sense to sabotage my focus by adding a man to my life who has a very demanding career of his own.”

  “Leah.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you told me you wanted Saturn on a string, I would do my best to get it for you. I’m a determined person, and I’m determined that you’ll get your PhD. If you’ll let me, I’ll fight beside you to protect your dream.”

  His words knocked the wind out of her. “I—I don’t expect you to protect my dream.”

  “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me.”

  Nothing he could have said would have endeared him to her more.

  “What other concerns do you have?” he asked.

  “We don’t live in the same town. That’s a concern.”

  “I don’t like living an hour and forty minutes away from you, but I’m willing to come here for the weekend whenever I’m not on call. I won’t pressure you to come to Atlanta.”

  “You pressured me to go to Atlanta just a few days ago!”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll do my best not to pressure you in the future. At least—” he looked sheepish—“not often. If there comes a time when someone needs to move, I will.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  He looked her right in the eye. “Try me.”

  “There are no pediatric heart clinics in Misty River.”

  “If sacrifices or compromises need to be made for our relationship, Leah, I’ll be the one to make them.”

  She’d been to his hospital twice. She’d seen a few of his patients. Extensively, she’d studied his specialty. She’d never condone his leaving Beckett Memorial unless he left to accept a more senior position at an even more influential hospital. So, see? Her vehement reaction to the mere idea of his moving proved her concern valid. Despite his incredibly noble words, if one of them had to make a compromise for their relationship, it would not be the pediatric heart surgeon.

  She’d watched her mom subjugate her dream of living overseas for her marriage, and look how well that had turned out. Ultimately, Mom’s resentment toward her husband had boiled over.

  “You’re smart,” he said. “You rely on your brain to make informed decisions. I respect that. But your decision to take over custody of Dylan wasn’t made by your brain because, on paper, it didn’t add up.” He tipped his head slightly. “Was taking over custody of Dylan the best decision you ever made?”

  Confound it! He was good at this. “You know that it was.”

  “When it comes to me, I’m asking you to draw on whatever part of you made that decision. Not all good things make sense or can be quantified.”

  Her years with Dylan had taught her the absolute truth of that.

  Sebastian closed the space between them and took her face in his hands. “You’ve shown how brave you are. Be brave with me.”

  She might be opening herself up to deep heartache if she let this continue. “Ah . . .” Lord! What should I do? Show me. Tell me.

  No clear answer came.

  Sebastian’s talk of protecting her dreams had gone to her head, because it was so astonishingly, shockingly wonderful to have someone on her side, supporting what she valued. “The thing is,” she whispered, “I don’t need a man in my life. I have math.” One of her fingertips disobeyed orders and traced the shape of his lower lip.

  “I don’t want you to need me. I want you to choose me.”

  “I abhor romance.” She slid her fingers into the thick, silky strands of his hair.

  “I know.”

  He took her mouth in a kiss—thorough, urgent, filled with pent-up feelings—and her resistance fell like a building leveled by dynamite.

  Drugging minutes passed. He lifted his head a few inches. “Am I your boyfriend now?”

  “No.”

  “Yes I am.” He regarded her challengingly. “I am now, Leah.”

  “We’re not together.”

  “Yes we are. We’ve had a fight, and I’ve driven across Georgia to make up with you, and now we’re together. Agreed?”

  She hesitated. “I’m undecided and in need of convincing.” A smile stole across her mouth.

  More kisses filled her kitchen with golden heat and wonder.

  “Are we together?” His voice had turned raspy.

  She answered with “Undecided” the next four times he asked that question, until she was gasping and he was watching her with eyes that made a million promises.

  “Yes,” she finally said. She defied any woman, given the temptation of Sebastian Grant, to answer differently.

  Her misgivings remained.

  It’s just that, at this awe-laced moment, the joy he offered was greater.

  Leah lay wide-awake in bed until well after one that morning. Marveling. Melting. Worrying.

  Sebastian had stayed for two hours, which was far longer than was wise, considering the length of his drive home and how early the two of them had to be at work. But a wide strain of rebelliousness ran through Sebastian. He wasn’t one to make the sensible choice if the sensible choice wasn’t what he wanted.

  The text she’d asked him to send when he reached home finally arrived.

  I’m at my apartment.

  Sweet dreams.

  Good night, girlfriend.

  I wholeheartedly dislike girlfriend as an endearment.

  Fine. Good night, princess.

  Princess is worse than girlfriend. I advise you to stick with professor. Professor, I like.

  In that case, good night, Professor.

  She set her phone to silent, placed it on its dock, and relaxed against her pillows. “What are you up to?” she asked God.

  Since Sebastian had asked her out on their first date, she’d been praying for and about him daily.

  It comforted her when God provided her with clarity, like He’d done so many times before, regarding the path He wanted her to take.

  In this case, He hadn’t provided clarity, which left her with circling doubts.

  She couldn’t fathom why God had brought Sebastian into her life or His objective for the two of them.

  “Are you paying attention?” Her words vanished into the darkness. If I’m veering off track by dating him, please, please let me know and steer me back on course.

  Sebastian’s world was right again.

  He couldn’t have cared less about the sleep he’d sacrificed last night driving to Misty River and back. He didn’t even feel tired. He’d succeeded at fixing things with Leah, and today, that was all that mattered.

  He’d been granted a week of vacation that would start in two and a half weeks. Soon he’d have uninterrupted days in Misty River with her.

  While waiting in line for lunch, a text arrived from Natasha to Genevieve, him, and Ben.

  I just found out that Luke has a parole hearing today. I’m praying they let him out.

  Sebastian grunted skeptically. Luke had been uncooperative with his attorneys when he’d gone to trial seven years ago, and he hadn’t made a good impression the last time he’d come up for parole.

  Genevieve immedi
ately responded.

  I’ll be praying over it, too.

  Then from Ben:

  Same here.

  Sebastian kept his response neutral.

  Thanks for letting us know.

  His stance on Luke was complex. Sympathy and resentment. Indebtedness and bitterness.

  That evening Natasha sent a follow-up text.

  Luke has been released, thank the Lord.

  God continued to withhold clarity from Leah regarding Sebastian. But what she did receive—every day, day after day—was the heady delight of dating him.

  They talked and laughed on the phone each night and texted each other between calls. On Thursday, they reached the one-year anniversary of the day they’d met. They celebrated by simultaneously watching the first The Fast and the Furious movie—a film in which cars were wrecked in even more spectacular fashion than Sebastian had wrecked his.

  He flew to Misty River the minute he got off work on Friday. Dylan had an away game, so the two of them cooked dinner at her place.

  They spent Saturday and Sunday fishing on a remote stretch of river and hiking trails carpeted with crimson and yellow leaves.

  He flew back to Atlanta, and their texts and nightly phone calls immediately resumed.

  He returned the following weekend, which passed just as gloriously. They drove to the lake and rented a boat for the afternoon. When darkness fell, they moved to a lakeside firepit. Holding hands, they watched orange flames crackle against a backdrop of moon-silver water.

  They enjoyed Sunday lunch at Whiskey’s restaurant with Dylan and Mr. and Mrs. Coleman. Sebastian’s ease with her brother wooed her far better than flowers or chocolates.

  When it came time for Sebastian to return to Atlanta, Leah noted that saying good-bye to him was steadily becoming more difficult.

  They picked back up where they’d left off with texts and calls.

  Am I veering off track by dating him? she continued to ask God. Please tell me if I am.

  But an answer did not come.

  On Thanksgiving morning, the day before Sebastian was due to arrive for his vacation in Misty River, Leah slid a green bean casserole into her oven. She had a blessed gap of time before she’d need to transport her casserole and brother to Tess and Rudy’s for the big meal.