That Was Then (Always Faithful Book 1)

by Leah Atwood

“I knew God had sent that sparrow to me. I mean, there I was, brushing my hair—the number of which he knows an exact count—and then a sparrow showed up out of nowhere.” She paused, grazed her bottom lip with her teeth. “After that, I knew you would be okay. Either you came home alive or went to God in Heaven. Granted, I didn’t stop praying you’d come home alive, but I had peace after that. Real faith requires trust in God and a commitment not to fear tomorrow.”

  “What if you hadn’t been sent a sign?”

  “Here’s the thing I realized. With or without a sign, I had a choice to make.” Gripping her Bible along the spine, she held it up. “The sparrow was a reminder, but I still had to decide if I wanted to believe what was in here or not. If I truly believed the words inside, then my faith had to sustain me through the trial. I couldn’t give it up because something difficult came along.”

  He thought about all she’d said. “You are wiser than many people could ever hope to be.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do know what I believe.”

  “That’s a good place to be.” Glancing to the church, he saw the ushers closing the doors. “We’d better get inside.”

  Pastor George already stood at the pulpit making announcements when they entered the sanctuary.

  Wyatt made eye contact with him.

  Huge mistake. From the look in the pastor’s eyes, he knew what was coming. Was it too late to duck outside?

  Corie gave him an impish grin before darting off to join her friends in a pew. Good to know she hadn’t completely matured—it restored a bit of balance to their relationship.

  Stopping mid-sentence, Pastor George pointed to him. “We have a special guest in the congregation today. Everyone give a warm welcome back to our hometown hero, Staff Sergeant Wyatt Deluca.”

  Could he will a hole in the floor to sink in?

  Every single person in the service craned their neck for a view of him. Okay, maybe not everyone. There was one mom busy wrangling her toddler back to his seat.

  He waved and smiled. Prayed it didn’t come across as a grimace which was a more accurate expression of his feelings. “Glad to be home.”

  The church gave him a collective round of applause and standing ovation.

  Make it stop.

  Attention was the last thing he wanted. Each clap of a member’s hands sent chills through him that raised the hairs on his neck and arms. He’d done nothing for which to be celebrated. All he’d done was honor an oath to serve and protect his country.

  After an intolerable amount of time—in reality, likely around thirty seconds—the applause ceased, and the worship leader stepped to the pulpit and led the church in a song.

  Wyatt hurried down the aisle to the pew where he’d spotted his parents. He focused on the words of the songs, willing away the ill feelings inside.

  Dad leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry. I had no idea he would do that, or I would have stopped him.”

  “It’s over now.” He couldn’t bring himself to lie and say it was okay.

  He wasn’t mad. That wouldn’t be fair to Pastor George and the community who only had noble intentions. He could appreciate their sentiments, and a part of him did enjoy the welcoming, as it reminded him he had a home and people who cared about him.

  Still, it didn’t negate the surge of guilt that he was there when many others were not. The awkward position of being praised for reasons he didn’t deserve.

  When the pastor began the sermon, Wyatt had a hard time concentrating on the message. His thoughts left the present and circulated the same memories that always tormented him. He shifted his position—crossed his legs, folded his arms, stretched his legs—so often that Dad gave him a sideways glance.

  Conscious now of his constant movement, he tried to remain stationary and shift his focus to the sermon. Instead, he reflected on what Corie had told him. Could he find that same peace?

  Was it as simple as making a choice to trust God? To believe that God works all things for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. He believed God called him to the military—he’d spent time in prayer by himself, and with his parents before he’d signed the contract. Was there any good that came from living a nightmare?

  It circled back to faith. He desperately wanted to regain that solid faith he’d had not so long ago. He longed for a day where he didn’t recall the screams as the helicopter crashed to the desert ground, and Mike’s final words to tell Janie he loved her. Was that kind of freedom attainable?

  Before he knew it, the worship leader was leading the congregation in the final song of the day, and Wyatt still had no answers.

  ***

  He appraised his reflection in the mirror. The jeans and t-shirt were a comfortable change from the dress pants and button-down shirt he’d worn to church earlier. He rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. Despite summer’s approach, he’d decided to grow a beard. Sure, it was a typical response to the newfound freedom of civilian life—he’d been clean-shaven for five years—but he liked the look. If he tired of it, he’d get rid of it.

  His alarm sounded, telling him he had to meet Meg in twenty minutes. His plans with Meg were only set in that they knew they’d spend the evening together. How they would pass the time was still up in the air.

  A vision of her materialized in his mind. She still owned the all-American girl look. Her hair had darkened a shade though it was hard to tell with the highlights. Her golden eyes still reflected most of the thoughts running through her head. He did notice that she’d stopped shaping her brows, at least not to the extreme she’d used to do them. When they were younger, she’d come home from the salon, and he’d tease her about how thin they were. Now, they held a natural appearance.

  Oscar pawed his leg.

  “What’s up, boy?”

  If puppy-dog eyes were a song, Oscar offered a stellar rendition.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Still a frown.

  He stooped down and put himself level with the dog. “And you don’t have to stay in the room. Mom said you can roam the house if you don’t cause trouble.”

  Man, he was going to become that crazy dog man.

  “Corie will be home tonight and promised to take care of you.”

  Oscar barked and lifted his head.

  That idea obviously met with Oscar’s approval. He’d taken to Corie as quickly as he’d taken to Wyatt—which humbled him a notch since he’d thought himself special.

  “Can I come in?” Corie knocked at the door.

  He turned and smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to knock, then ask?”

  She shrugged. “The door was open.”

  “Oscar was mad at me until I told him you’d be with him tonight.” He scratched Oscar’s ears. “There’s a strong possibility he might like you better.”

  Corie laughed. “I’m pretty sure he adores anyone who pays him attention.”

  “True.”

  “But just in case…” She winked at him and revealed a bag she’d held behind her back. “I bought him a present this afternoon to sway him.”

  Eyeing the bag, he arched a brow. “You’re not putting anything foofoo on my dog.”

  “Wait until you see it to judge.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a blue collar with silver bones. “He’s too handsome a dog to wear a plain collar.”

  “Fine, he can wear it.” His phone vibrated. “I have to get going. Thanks for looking after him tonight.”

  “My pleasure. Julia wants to come see him, and we’re going to teach him a trick.”

  He couldn’t stop the chuckle—he’d spent an hour earlier working on a simple fetch. “Good luck with that.”

  Satisfied Oscar was in capable hands, Wyatt snatched his phone off the dresser and left the house. He drove to the Baileys’ home, thinking what the night might bring. They hadn’t talked about the past, hadn’t mentioned the big D. It was the elephant in the room between them, despite falling i
nto the comfortable camaraderie they’d once shared.

  Eventually, the topic was bound to come up, though he’d be perfectly content not to discuss it. They’d proven they could get along and reestablish a friendship. He’d return to North Carolina soon and probably stay there, as it was his best bet for a job. They’d have little involvement in each other’s lives after that, making it unnecessary to rehash the past. What was done, was done.

  He arrived at Meg’s dad’s house and realized there was one benefit to always being lost in his thoughts—drives were much quicker. He barely remembered leaving the house, and then he was at the Baileys’.

  Cars filled their driveway, and he had to park along the curb. Family? He’d hoped to pick her up and leave—he’d had enough attention for one day. It’s not about me. Regardless, Meg hadn’t mentioned family coming over, though he figured it was a reasonable assumption. Would she still want to hang out tonight?

  Only one way to find out.

  Meg met him in the driveway. “Hey, I happened to peek out the window right as you drove up.”

  “Full house tonight?”

  “I’d say.” Her gaze swept over the vehicles. “A few family members came in today that we weren’t expecting. I’m going to stay at my house tonight so they can sleep here.”

  “It’s great they could come.”

  “It is.” A bittersweet smile worked to reach her eyes. “They’re on Dad’s side of the family, and I think having them here is good for him.”

  “Did you want to stay home tonight? I completely understand if you do.” A hollowness took root in his heart at the thought.

  She shook her head. “These are distant relatives to me, but Dad was once close to them. This might sound weird, but I think it’s best if I leave him alone with them.”

  “It’s not weird. Without you there, he’s free to laugh and enjoy their company without worrying what you’ll think.”

  “Exactly.” She touched his hand. “I’m glad you understand. It’s a constant battle not to want to cry and miss her, and I’m not sure I’m winning that fight at all, but Mama would want us to find the laughter and joy, even during this time. Dad’s relatives are helping him do that, but I noticed him guarding his responses—glancing at me, as if a laugh would betray my mom’s memory.”

  “Then we’ll leave.” He forced himself not to look at her hand still touching his. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Can we see a movie?” Emotions covered her face. “I want to lose myself in a place where I don’t have to think about tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  “I have to run inside and get my things. Do you mind dropping me off at my house later?” She pointed to the front car in the driveway. “I’m blocked in and don’t want to trouble anyone to move.”

  “Not a problem.”

  He watched her sprint to the house, glad that she’d still wanted to hang out, and he knew why. The flame between them had never extinguished, but he’d brushed it aside for all these years, and had no plans to reveal it again. At this rate, however, he’d have to erect barriers—and soon—to protect himself from getting too close.

  There was a distinct possibility it was already too late for that—and had been from the minute he’d agreed to come home.

  Chapter Eight

  The movie ended, but Meg made no move to empty her seat. A half empty bowl of popcorn sat on Wyatt’s right knee where they could both easily reach in for a handful. She’d stopped eating it after the third scoop when she realized the salt had driven her to drink an entire large soda thirty minutes into the movie.

  People filed into the aisles, many leaving their trash behind. The credits rolled, but few paid any attention. She always felt bad for the key grips and gaffers, and all the other positions no one cared about. They worked hard—or so she imagined they did—but received little credit from the audience.

  Wyatt’s eyes sparkled when he looked at her. “Old habits die hard?”

  Relieved to see that shine return, even if brief, she smiled. “I like to give them their due credit.”

  “Do you even know what a gaffer does?” He rose a brow, issuing a dare.

  “They’re in charge of the electrical department.” She shot him a smug, satisfied grin.

  “How do I know you’re not making that up?”

  “Look it up.”

  “I will.” Lifting his hips, he withdrew his phone from his pocket and tapped on it a few times. “Nope. You’re wrong. It says right here that a gaffer is someone who makes multiple gaffes.”

  “You’re lying.” She laughed and stole his phone. “Just as I thought—turned off.”

  He turned up his palms. “You got me.”

  “What did you think of the movie?”

  “It was all right.” The popcorn slid, and he rebalanced it. “Some of the scenes I could have done without.”

  “I agree.” At one scene, she’d feigned having to use the restroom so she wouldn’t have to see it. She didn’t care for intimate scenes to begin with, let alone with a male sitting beside her.

  She was happy to see that Wyatt had turned his head away from the screen before she left so he didn’t see it either. Nice to know some men still had decency. Had she known about that content, she wouldn’t have suggested that movie, but a few friends had said it was a clean movie.

  Note to self—don’t take reviews from that group of friends again.

  A bored teenager wearing a theater vest walked down the aisle with a broom and dustpan. He stopped near them and stared.

  “That’s our sign to leave.” Wyatt picked up his cup and popcorn then stood.

  “I remember the days of working crummy jobs.” She gathered her trash and rose to her feet.

  “Working at a movie theater isn’t so bad as far as high school jobs go.” Gently pressing against her back, he ushered her out of the row. “Cleaning bathrooms at the hospital was a lousy job.”

  “Try collecting bedpans.” Memories of the smells and ick factor sent a shudder through her.

  “The days we were scheduled for the same shifts weren’t so bad, were they?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Heat from a blush crept along her jawline as she remembered their many stolen kisses. Thankfully they were still in the dark theater.

  They threw their trash away and left through the exit that led outside, rather than the mall.

  Wyatt held up his keys. “What now?”

  “I would love a triple scoop ice cream cone from Schumacher's.”

  “Are they open on Sunday nights?”

  “Yes, but only from six until nine.” She almost laughed at the confused look on his face. “I know it’s weird hours, but First Church constructed their new building next door. The Schumachers decided to open for a few hours to give the members a place to fellowship after their Sunday night service. They donate all profits from those hours to the community center.”

  “That’s awesome.” He stepped off the sidewalk and toward his SUV. “First Church is where your parents always went, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She waited until they reached the vehicle to make her announcement. “I go there, too.”

  His head jerked up from opening her door. “You’re attending church now?”

  A slow nod of affirmation. “Not long after we—you know—I realized something in my life was missing. Something that went beyond you.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “I did.” All those times he’d asked her to go, and she finally did after they’d divorced. Standing under a streetlight in a wide-open parking lot left her feeling exposed. “Get in. I’ll tell you about it on the way to Schumacher's.”

  She sat in the passenger seat and waited for Wyatt to circle the SUV.

  After he had started the engine, he looked at her, cut to the chase. “What was missing?”

  “My parents made us go to church when we were kids, but as we entered our teen years, they left the choice to us. Dad said if we made a decision to follow Chr
ist, he wanted it to be of our volition, not an obligation.” She held up a finger. “And by the way, as an adult, I disagree with them on that, to an extent. I wish they would have kept making me go.”

  “It can go both ways. Our parents didn’t give us an option, and we all chose to accept Christ.” He appeared to want to say more but went silent.

  “True.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could block out that painful time in her life. “After you were gone, I stayed with my parents for a year, then moved to the city. Barely a year later, I was back in my parents’ house. I discovered quickly my dream was a far cry from reality.”

  “I signed up for the Marines after you moved to the city. I’d always wanted to serve my country, but my first obligation while married was to you.” Shadows danced across the interior and landed on the dash, lending him a grim expression. “Even when I signed the divorce papers, I didn’t believe we were over. But when you left, I knew. I couldn’t stay in Lilston any longer.”

  Her heart ached. She knew he wasn’t accusing her, but she still took on herself the responsibility for his experiences. Had they stayed married, he never would have joined and been involved in that horrific crash. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He swallowed and pressed his lips together. “I made a choice, and it was where God led me. Maybe I’ll never know why, but I know He sent me.”

  “If you ever want or need to talk, I’m here.” There. She wasn’t pushing, only making known the offer.

  “Thanks.” He drove out of the parking lot. “What happened when you came back to Lilston?”

  “I enrolled at the community college and took classes part-time, then I found the job at the library.”

  “What do you do there?”

  “I started out working at the circulation desk and filling in where needed, but now I’m in charge of the children’s programs.” Did her smile show how much she loved her job? “I’m also taking online classes for a library science degree. Mrs. Franks has been lobbying for a grant to hire an assistant director, and once I have my degree next semester, I have a good chance of earning the position.”

  “That’s great.” He averted his eyes from the road just long enough to give her a smile. “I’m proud of you.”