by Lea Sims
“How long have you been coming to Refresh Station?” Delaney asked her.
Bethany swiveled around and straddled the bench to face her. “I’ve been coming for about a year. The mother of one of my students invited me to her wedding, which was at the church. Pastor Jason officiated the ceremony, and his message was so inspiring that I came back the next day for Sunday services. I came off and on for the first few months, but when everything happened with Wyatt, that’s when I decided to really get involved. I needed it. It’s helped me and my children so much.”
“Were you already a Christian, then?”
“Uh…well…yes and no. I grew up in the Methodist church, mostly Sunday attendance and some Sunday school. My parents still go, but I drifted away from church after high school.” Then her eyes widened and she pointed at Delaney. “Well, you know what it’s like living in New York. When you’re in an environment where nobody’s really talking about God or church or faith, it’s easy for you to forget about it, too. I didn’t stop believing, exactly, but it just wasn’t on my radar for a long time.”
Delaney nodded. “Yeah, I can see that happening. I grew up here in church, too, but unlike you, I made a conscious decision to walk away from it.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Long story…I had some experiences growing up that made me really question whether God is actually real. I didn’t just forget about God when I moved to New York; I left him behind altogether.”
Bethany shook her head slowly. “So what changed your mind? When did you give your life to Christ?”
“I haven’t.”
Delaney watched confusion and surprise register on the woman’s face. Then she saw her gaze dart furtively back to Drew across the field. When she glanced back at Delaney again, she opened her mouth to ask the obvious question, but Delaney saved her the trouble by answering it first.
“Like I said, Drew and I live in two different worlds,” Delaney replied evenly. “He and Jason and Claire—they’ve all given me a lot to think about when it comes to God, but I’m still not sure what I believe. And obviously Drew is very certain about what he believes.”
“Well, God brought you to the right place to figure it out, that’s for sure,” Bethany said. “I grew up believing in God as a child, but I didn’t really meet him until I came to this church. He has become very real to me. I see his hand moving all around me, and I can feel his presence in my life. I would hear people say stuff like that when I was younger, and I never understood what it meant, but now I do.”
“I’ve definitely had many moments this week where I have been forced to question my assumptions,” Delaney said, exhaling wearily, looking for all the world like someone weighing the truth in her hands and trying to get all the scales to balance in her mind. “Don’t get me wrong. I want it all to be true—God, heaven, everything. I want to see my parents and my aunt again. I want to believe that there is a God who watches over my life, guides my footsteps, and loves me sacrificially…”
“But…?”
“I have to weigh that hope against the evidence in my own life. It just hasn’t been true for me—God allowed way too many bad things to happen to me without lifting a finger to help me.” She pursed her lips tightly and lifted her shoulders in a purposeful shrug. “At least that’s how it’s always seemed to me.”
“How do you know he didn’t lift a finger to help you?” Bethany challenged. “I’ve found that God’s intervention comes in ways we don’t always recognize at the time. I mean, let’s face it. He can’t come flying in wearing blue tights and a red cape, beating up the bad guys and whisking us away from our problems. Believe me, if I thought he did that, I’d be praying for him to go grab my husband by the neck hairs and drag him back home where he belongs.”
She looked over her shoulder to a nearby table where her children were eating ice cream at the kids table. A dark-haired boy with large blue eyes looked up and smiled at her. He was about seven years old. Dark stains of chocolate circled his cheeks and chin. Next to him sat a girl of three with the same hair and eyes, holding a half-eaten swirled cone in her chubby fingers, ice cream running down her arm. She gave her mommy a big smile and a wave, flinging vanilla droplets around the table and wringing an admonishment from her big brother, who proceeded to swipe at her hands with napkins.
“You sound like Drew,” Delaney said, drawing Bethany’s attention back to their table. “He told me that if I have the courage to revisit my story, God will show me that he was watching over me.”
“Gorgeous and smart,” Bethany said with a grin. “He’s a catch, that one.”
A sting of tears threatened Delaney’s eyes. She cleared her throat and said, as matter-of-factly as she could muster, “I know he is. Which is why he deserves a nice church girl who loves Jesus as much as he does. I’ve just gone through a divorce, I live in New York, and I’ve pretty much dared God to prove to me that He exists. Not exactly what the doctor ordered for Drew.” She let out a hollow, unconvincing laugh.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Bethany whispered, her heart twisting in sorrow at Delaney’s bleak words.
“I don’t have to believe it, Bethany. It’s the truth. It doesn’t matter how I feel about him. We’re all wrong for each other.” Those words were so at odds with how she’d felt all day—how she’d felt pressed against him on the ground during the relay race, how she’d felt when he’d swept her off her feet and held her so close she could feel his heart beating beneath her hand, how she’d felt when he’d stared into her eyes and communicated without words that he was falling for her. Every bit of it felt right.
But she couldn’t deny the plain facts on paper. They weren’t a good fit. “I’ve been a distraction to Drew, I think,” she said resignedly. “It will be better for both of us that I get back to New York where I belong.”
“That’s too bad,” Bethany answered her, head shaking in disappointment. She stood up and stepped out of the picnic bench, grabbing her empty plate and can and throwing them in the trash can next to the table. “That kind of connection doesn’t come along every day. I’m not suggesting you jump into anything. If your divorce process was anything like mine’s turning out to be, you need time to heal. But there’s definitely something pretty powerful going on between the two of you. Everyone can see it. I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it if I were you.” She patted Delaney on the shoulder and then turned to walk back to the kids table.
She was just a few steps away when she turned around and said, “Hey, you said you grew up in church but you haven’t given your life to Christ. I’m assuming you mean now…as an adult. Did you get saved as child? Were you a believer when you were younger?”
Delaney nodded.
Bethany gave her a beaming smile and put her hands on her hips. “Then you’re not an unbeliever, Delaney. You’re a prodigal! Look around you.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand across the field, drawing Delaney’s attention back to the people and families laughing and doing life together there. “God is reminding you that you belong to a family. You just need to come home, sister.” And with that remark, she pivoted gracefully and kept walking.
As she watched her walk away, Delaney turned Bethany’s parting words over and over in her mind. There was an increasingly stronger voice in her head telling her to let go, encouraging her to fall into faith at the deep end of the pool and just stop fighting it. There were a lot of good things waiting for her in that water, including Drew. But in moments like these, the voice of her pain always spoke the loudest. The jury was still out for her on the issue of God. She couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—jump back on the ship of faith simply because Drew was beckoning her from the main deck.
Those voices were engaged in an escalating shouting match inside her head. It was giving her a headache—this constant swing of emotions, giddy joy bubbling up within her one minute and bleak despair robbing her of it
the next. This is why I don’t do emotions! She huffed to herself as she got up from the picnic table and marched across the field to talk to Claire.
Drew, who was halfway through a funny story with the men standing around him, broke off in mid-sentence to watch Delaney making a beeline across the park toward Claire, who was stretched out sound asleep in a lawn chair under a tree. As far away as he was standing, he could still see the storm brewing on Delaney’s lovely face. His wide grin faded and his jaw clenched in concern. “Excuse me, guys,” he said stepping through them, “I’ll have to finish that story later.”
He had to jog a bit to catch her before she descended on the sleeping Claire. “Hey there,” he said softly, stepping in front of her and halting her in her tracks. Seeing both the shimmer of tears and the gathering clouds in her eyes, he grew more concerned. “Delaney, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
She closed her eyes, trying to wipe her emotions from her face, but he put his finger under her chin and tilted her face upward. “Open your eyes, beautiful.” She squeezed them even tighter at his husky command, trying desperately to keep from crying. She couldn’t possibly explain to him what had triggered the turmoil she was feeling. “Please,” he whispered. She raised her lids and looked into his eyes, shaking her head slowly.
“I need to go,” she said woodenly. “Please don’t ask me why. I just need to go.”
“Okay. That’s okay. No problem,” he said, reassuring her. “Can I walk you back to the hotel?”
“No, I need to go home, Drew. To New York.”
“What? Right now?” Drew’s voice rose in confused alarm. “Delaney, please…please tell me what happened. Did someone say something to you? Offend you in some way?”
She stepped around him and said firmly, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just—I just need to go home, that’s all.”
He grabbed her hand to stop her from walking away. “I don’t understand. Is it me? Was it something I did…or said?”
She looked thoroughly horrified by his statement, her eyebrows flying into her hairline. “No! I mean…yes, it’s you…but it’s not something you did or said. Please, just drop it.”
Yes, it’s you. Drew felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. She was leaving because of him. Maybe he’d overstepped his bounds this week, misinterpreted what he thought had passed between them earlier today. Perhaps he’d pushed too hard about God, come on too strong about faith. The beautiful soul standing in front of him with her heavenly blue eyes had appeared on the canvas of his life barely a week ago, and in the last six days, she had painted indelible hues on that otherwise muted landscape that were not going to come off easily. And now she wanted to leave. Because of him.
“I’m sorry that it’s me.” Drew said quietly, looking down at the ground. “After all you’ve been through this week, I would never want to cause you more pain.”
“No! Oh Drew…please,” Delaney gasped. This was going all wrong. She didn’t want him thinking this was his fault. Even now, he was concerned for her welfare. The kindness of his heart tore at her own. “It’s not you.”
His head jerked upward, eyes flying back to hers, a sardonic eyebrow now raised. “You’re not about to say ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ are you? Because that might be the fastest I’ve ever been told that.” There was a pained and bitter edge to his sarcasm.
“I’m wrong for you, Drew!” she said in hushed, earnest tones through clenched teeth. She glanced subconsciously around, aware that there were more than a few surreptitious looks being cast their way. And then she realized how stupid she sounded. Not a single word of declared interest had been spoken between them—just a lot of feelings zipping around that neither of them had formally acknowledged. I’m an idiot, she thought. I should seriously be put in a straitjacket right now.
Suddenly comprehending what she was saying, the tension left Drew’s shoulders and he sighed exasperatedly. He glanced to his left and right, and decided what he needed to say to her next should be done somewhere privately. He whistled to Rogue, who was licking ice cream drippings off the kids table, and the dog came bounding over to them. Grabbing Delaney by the hand, he tugged her over to where Claire was napping. “Ms. Claire,” he said, clearing his throat and tapping gently on the woman’s sandaled foot.
Claire’s eyes popped open, amusement dancing across her face. She hadn’t been asleep, but she had been listening. Drew scowled down at Claire as he attached Rogue’s leash to her collar. “Can you tell Jason I’m going to walk Delaney and Rogue back to their hotel? We’re going to skip the movie.”
“I can tell him that,” Claire answered, standing up. She gave Delaney a hug, her eyes never leaving Drew’s. He knew what she was thinking. He was taking Delaney back to her hotel.
He shook his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed. “No worries, Ms. Claire.”
She nodded and said nothing but watched them closely as they turned and walked across the field to the far corner of the park. For the second time that day, the sight of the three of them gripped her heart. In so many ways, they were a destined match—perfectly suited. But Claire knew there were some big obstacles in their way, and she prayed earnestly that God would remove them.
Watch over them, Lord. Give them wisdom to set the right boundaries. If you are orchestrating a union here, God, I pray for the protection of your presence as they find their way. Oh, how I pray this is your will, but if it isn’t, Lord, shut the doors to this relationship! Shut the doors that are opening in their hearts, and protect them both from heartbreak and sorrow.
“But most people don’t get lucky. They get human. They get crushes. This means you irrationally mortgage what little logic you own to pay for this one thing.”
—Sloane Crosley
It was dusk and the Savannah street lights were coming on all over the downtown historic district. People were sitting on the porches of their homes or B&Bs sipping espresso and nibbling on pralines. Others were gathered in restaurants and pubs, cheering teams and telling jokes, their laughter spilling out into the street. The fireflies were beginning to emerge, appearing and disappearing like elusive faeries among the lush greenery that lined the darkening streets. The evening was balmy, a light breeze blowing in from the Savannah harbor.
Drew walked her down Whitaker Street toward the river, and as soon as they were out of eyeshot of the Refresh gathering, Drew reached over to hold Delaney’s hand. She looked up in surprise and he squeezed her hand, though he did not look down at her. They walked hand-in-hand for several blocks, strolling comfortably without speaking and simply breathed in the magic of the evening around them. Delaney felt her soul settle a bit, the tumultuous emotions of the day fading somewhat in the ease of the moment.
He was holding her hand.
A few blocks from her hotel, Drew suddenly tugged on her arm and guided her down a cobblestone walkway between two buildings, where a narrow walkway led to a quaint wrought-iron gate. A little wooden sign hung from a brick archway overhead. As they got closer, Delaney could make out three words in faded blue cursive: Pour les amoureux. Her wide eyes darted upward to his face, studying him closely, but he still did not look at her. Instead, he drew the hand he was holding more closely to his chest, tucking her arm under his own, and unlatched the gate.
Beneath her hand, she could feel Drew’s heart beating. It was thumping as wildly as her own. The knowledge that he was as affected by her as she was by him made her smile shyly in the darkness, but it also made her heart ache in ways she was not accustomed to. She had never experienced this kind of painful yearning and uncertainty with someone. It was as if she suddenly understood what every tormented love ballad had been talking about—songs she had never been able to relate to and secretly always mocked.
They stepped into a small courtyard garden, immaculate and well landscaped. Oak trees wrapped in creeping ivy with branches draped in Spanish moss, arched protectively
over the entire garden. A few small light posts and shepherd’s hooks holding hanging pots of succulents hugged the stone path, which curved invitingly around beds of begonias, sweet peas, and impatiens. The rhythmic sound of lapping water was coming from a large fountain in a patch of thick green grass around which there were several park benches and rocking chairs. Another bench that looked like it had been entirely carved by hand out of a single tree trunk was tucked under a large oak in the corner.
Drew led her to that bench, sat down, and pulled her down to sit next to him. He let Rogue off her leash so she could explore the garden since the gate was the only way in or out. He turned toward Delaney on the bench. For a long moment, he simply looked at her. He gazed at her for what seemed like an hour with such intensity and warmth that she blushed hotly under his gaze and began squirming.
“There are some things that need to be said, I think,” he said quietly.
Delaney immediately began shaking her head and scooting away from him on the bench until her back hit the iron armrest. “No…no they don’t, Drew. We’re good. There’s nothing that needs to be said.” If they didn’t talk about their feelings, then they wouldn’t have to discuss what a bad idea they were. But Drew grabbed both her hands and tugged her gently toward him until her knee was touching his and they were only inches apart.
“Please don’t do that,” he said gently, reaching up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “It dishonors how we both feel.” She started to open her mouth in protest, but he shook his head. “At least let me say what I need to say. Can you let me do that?”
She closed her mouth, shoulders slumping resignedly, and nodded.
“I know you need to head back home—that you need to get back to your life and your job in New York. But I want to see you again, Delaney,” he said earnestly, eyes searching her conflicted face. “There is something going on between us. Surely you feel it?”