by T. K. Chapin
She started to choke on her words and I pulled her into me. “Everything is going to be okay, Bethany.”
Hyperventilating, she breathed, and we let go of each other a few moments later. Dabbing her eyes with her fingers, she said, “What is going on with our family?”
“I’m not sure, Sissy.” Shrugging, I said, “When things are difficult, though, that’s when we grow the most.”
My mom chimed in as she stood up from her chair nearby. Walking over to the two of us, she added her own two cents on the topic. “I think this family has done enough growing for the next decade. I’m ready to be done.”
Suddenly, a doctor came through the doors that led to the operating room.
“Mrs. Anderson.”
I’ll never forget the look in my mother’s eyes right in that moment. With a weak and trembling voice, she turned her glossy bloodshot eyes toward the doctor.
“Here I am.”
Chapter 36
MY FATHER’S SURGERY HAD GONE well, but he was in ICU recovering, standard procedure. The doctors had to replace a valve in his heart that was failing. The road to recovery would be long for him, but we were all thankful he’d be okay. I opted to take the first shift with my mom and stay up at the hospital. I knew I’d be able to come in a little later at work without much of an issue so Bethany could go home to her husband and kids.
Sitting beside my mother in my father’s hospital room, I read my Bible on my phone. She, on the other hand, sat right next to the bed and talked to my unconscious father. His eyes weren’t opening yet, but that didn’t stop her from talking the entire time. First, she spoke to him about how worried he’d made everybody. She started with when they were dating and all the highlights from that time in their life. It was cute to hear some stories I had heard a million times, and a few I hadn’t recalled ever hearing. I think my mom was just nervous about Dad and that’s why she was talking so much. I could tell that she didn’t like the way all the machines were hooked up to him and helping him stay alive. I saw it in her eyes every time she’d pause from talking and look at them for a moment. The breathing apparatus alone had me freaked out enough to not really look his direction too much.
My phone vibrated with a text from James at about eight o’clock that morning after the surgery.
James: I came over with the piano and nobody is here. What’s going on?
My stomach flipped. I had totally forgotten about him delivering the piano. My attention on my mom, I caught her gaze.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes peering down at my phone for a moment.
“James. Remember? The piano.”
She covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, no. He’s going to be so upset we didn’t call him.”
My heart flinched. “I know. I’ll go talk to him.”
Replying to his text, I told him I’d be there soon. I waited for Bethany to arrive and take over things at the hospital, then I headed out to meet James back at my parents’ house on Diamond Lake. On the drive out, I let myself cry uncontrollably. It wasn’t only about my dad, my sister, or myself. It was about my brother too. I knew him enough to know this could send him back to the place where he felt most comfortable—the drug life. The drugs numbed him from the pain. There was no stopping it from happening if it were to happen, but I knew I could always do one thing—pray.
I pulled into the driveway at the house and parked behind his car.
I got out and did my best to wipe my eyes. They were bloodshot, red, and swollen. I shook my head as I walked up toward him as he stood in front of the barn, the piano right behind him.
It was as if he already knew.
“What’s wrong with Dad? Where is he, Grace?”
I tucked my bottom lip into my mouth as I fought back the tears and the heartache. I shook my head as I peered into my brother’s eyes. “He had to have emergency surgery last night, James. He had a valve replaced. He’s okay now. We didn’t tell you because—”
He raised a hand. “You all made it a point not to tell me? Seriously? Stop.”
He took a step back, his legs wobbly. He sat down on the piano bench. Running his fingers through his hair, he shook his head and looked up at me. “I have to go.”
“No, James. Please.” My lips pleaded as I came over to him.
He stood up from the bench and sidestepped me, heading to his car. He turned and looked at me with a set of daggering eyes. His words cut right through my soul, leaving open wounds. “I’m sorry, Sis, but I can’t do this.”
He promptly got into his car and left.
Turning around after he left the driveway, I saw the piano still sitting there. A distressed white paint coat made it feel just like the one we used to have growing up. Giving into the call of the piano as it begged for me to play, I walked up and sat down on the bench, resting my fingers upon the keys.
Chapter 37
MY FINGERS GLIDED over the keys as a bird glides above the surface of the water. Closing my eyes, I stopped. The keys were cool to the touch, chilled from the morning air. The smooth ivory reminded me of a time in my life in which the world made sense, where logic triumphed and love prevailed.
I let my mind slow down to the point of not thinking. Keeping my eyes closed, I let my fingers play as they willed. Comptine d’un autre été by Yann Tiersen began to play.
No words accompanied the song, but a calmness and peace flowed through each note as it played. A series of highs and lows, I felt my current situation playing out in musical form. Though the world was chaotic and it didn’t make sense, there was a calmness and stillness that comes with the peace of God.
As I pressed the final key of the song, I heard clapping in the distance.
Both embarrassed and startled as I opened my eyes, I jumped off the bench and looked around to see where the clapping was coming from.
It was Owen. He was walking up the yard from the shoreline.
“You play beautifully. I could feel your heart pouring itself out with each note you played. Such a peaceful song.”
“What are you doing here, Owen?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Oh. Do you have a habit of walking up to random houses when you can’t sleep?”
He laughed. “Funny. No, actually, I went for a walk down the shoreline and heard you playing. When I heard the notes, I knew it was you even though I thought you were still up at the hospital. My heart knew. That song, it played the truth to everything going on in your life right now. A beautiful calmness despite the storm.”
He took a step closer to me, then another, coming the rest of the way. Grabbing hold of my hands, he looked me in the eyes with that affection and warmth I had been drawn to previously.
“My heart was made to love you, Grace. I can’t explain it very well, but I feel different every time I’m around you. I feel good.”
“Then, last night at the hospital, why did you reject me?” Hearing him declare his love for me was everything I wanted to hear, but I had to ask the hard questions to know if it was real.
Swallowing, he shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.” Tilting my head up at him, my eyes dared him to go on.
“I was married before. I should’ve told you, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Anyway, Deaconess was where I lost my wife on the operating table.” He looked away, probably afraid of what I would think.
My heart felt like it had ripped apart when I heard his story. “I’m so sorry, Owen. I had no idea. I can’t imagine what you were going through.”
“Just coming there was painful and difficult for me to do.”
“I’m sure.” We stood there in silence, me with a million thoughts and questions running through my head. He was married? And he’s a widower now? Why hasn’t he felt like he could tell me this before now? After almost losing my dad, I knew better now more than ever not to push.
He frowned and wiped his straying tears. “Is it bad that I felt wrong to kiss you in the
same place my wife died? I thought that not wanting to kiss you because of her meant I shouldn’t be with you, Grace. Then last night, I couldn’t sleep so I went to my grandpa’s place at about three in the morning. I managed to fall asleep for a little while but awoke suddenly. Then I went for a walk as I prayed and asked God for help.”
“And that’s when you heard me playing . . .” Realization that everything up until this point had happened for a reason gave me a chill that ran from the top of my head down to my toes. If we had called James right away, he never would’ve delivered the piano, so I never would’ve been playing right when Owen was walking. Tears slid down my cheeks as I felt humbled before my Creator and my God. Worshipping Him in the moment in my thoughts, I praised God as I stood in awe. Life is orchestrated by His hands and filled with His goodness.
He nodded as he brushed my tears from my eyes with his thumbs. “I can’t explain everything to you, Grace, but I know God was telling me to go to you, be with you. There is nothing else I want more in the world right now except to make you mine.”
As he came closer, he held my hands and looked me in the eyes. “I don’t promise to never mess up like I did at the park by decking that loser ex-husband of yours, but I can promise you one thing. No matter what, I’ll never stop loving you, I’ll never hurt you again, and I’ll always put you before myself.”
My heart melted, and I finally gave in to my feelings that were always there and wanting to come out. “Kiss me already.”
Smiling, he slid his hand gently into my hair and tilted his head, kissing me deeply. His other hand found my waist, and it slid to the small of my back.
While everything else in my life seemed so up in the air and uncertain, I knew one thing for sure. Owen would be by my side from this day forward.
The End.
Be sure to keep reading the series to see what happens to this family.
Want to find out what happens to Bethany? Be sure to pick up the next book in the series entitled “Journey Of Hope”
Want to find out what happens to James? Be sure to pick up a copy of the third book in the series entitled “Journey Of Faith”
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Book Previews
Love’s Return (Click/Tap here to view on Amazon)
Prologue
THE FIRST TIME I LAID eyes on Kirk was back in our senior year of High School while I was walking the track with Chloe. He was beneath the bleachers lip-locked with Vicky Haggar from the cheerleading squad. This wouldn’t have been an issue outside of the fact that he was dating my best-friend, Chloe. Not exactly a best first impression.
Two years later when I was twenty, I decided to relocate from Albany, New York, to Spokane, Washington. Kirk had found out about the big journey across country through mutual friends and approached me about road tripping together. I quickly rejected him. When he offered to pay for all the gas, I couldn’t help but give in. With over 2,000 miles to reach Spokane and a strong desire not to rely on my parents anymore, I knew his gas money would help me in the long run. I was on my way to Spokane to stake a claim in my independence from my parents and to work at a software company as a receptionist. Kirk had been into hockey and hoped for a chance at the big leagues by trying out for the Spokane Chiefs.
Through the long journey across the country, somewhere between Buffalo and Cleveland, I suspect, Kirk and I became friends. During our time together on the road, we laughed about Mrs. Bovey, our ninth-grade English teacher who hated children far too much to be teaching them in a school. We also shared our hopes and desires for the future.
When we finally arrived in Spokane five days after we left our hometown, I not only had a handful of memories from our road trip but a longing for something more for us. The trip had given me a chance to see past the façade he had put on in high school and see the real Kirk. At one stop along the way, at a gas station out in the middle of nowhere, he opened my car door for me. Then another time, he grabbed me my favorite candy bar without my even having to ask. When I became tired of driving, he’d willingly take over even if he was tired. Beyond those sweet gestures, I learned of a man who held a lot of regret over his checkered past. He had high hopes to start afresh and make a new life for himself in Spokane. Beneath all the muscles, I found a man with a big heart.
I couldn’t give into my desire to see him again, though, or to possibly have a relationship. He was, after all, Chloe’s ex-boyfriend. I dropped him off at the bus stop where his friend was picking him up and said goodbye for what I thought was forever.
Chapter 1-Jessica
FIVE YEARS AND TWO JOBS later, I was on my way to work when I stopped in at a favorite local coffee shop of mine downtown, Milo’s, for an extra boost of caffeine. I had already been running late for work as it was, sleeping through all three of my alarms. There was a reason to the madness. It was all due to my friend Isabella, who had kept me up half the night on the phone. She was like me, single and living on the hopes of someday being swept away by a gallant gentleman who would show us the love we needed. We talked last night about how miserable she was being single in a world full of married men, the only single ones being creeps. I understood the pain of loneliness, but only to a certain degree. My singleness was part of who I was. It had almost become a friend. Sure, I wanted someone to love and hold, but I had to trust the fact that God was in control and knew my heart. Plus, I had my work, which filled much of my time.
Standing in the coffee shop near the counter, I waited for my order. I had on my new white pea coat I had just picked up the other day at the mall. When I saw it hanging on the rack on my way through Macy’s, I instantly fell in love with it. It went perfectly with my red bucket hat, which I was also wearing. Scrolling through emails on my phone as I waited for my coffee, I felt the pressure of the day catching up with me. Already several new messages. Two from Micah, my boss, one from the graphics department on a design mock-up, and a reply from a pastor I had interviewed a couple of months back. Working at a startup magazine was anything but easy, but I loved every second of it. Not only was I a writer and reporter, but my boss, Micah’s, go-to person for whatever he needed. Sometimes, it meant donuts and coffee on my way into work, and sometimes, it meant writing ten articles in five days and spot-checking the print run at two o’clock in the morning, four hours before it went to print. It was hard work, but it carried purpose and I thrived on purpose.
“Kirk,” the barista said behind the counter, setting a cup down.
It took a moment for the name to register in my mind, but when it did, my heart leapt as I lifted my eyes to find the face that went with the name. I didn’t think about him often, but when he did brush across my thoughts, it was always with fondness for the time we’d shared together on the car trip five years ago. Over the years, the man had stayed with me in the depths of my soul, along with regret. Regret over the fact I hadn’t pursued him the day I dropped him off at the bus stop. We hadn’t spent time together before our car ride, but the time we did share over the trip was something special and close to my heart still to this day.
Surveying the coffee shop, I held onto the short string of hope I had carried all these years. It was like a loose thread from a piece of clothing that I knew if I pulled, it would unravel the whole thing. I refused to part with it. There was no certainty that Kirk still lived in Spokane, but it didn’t stop me from holding onto the possibility. My friend Chloe, back in Albany, hadn’t spoken his name in years, understandably, and I’d never found his name on the Spokane Chiefs’ roster (I checked every season), but still . . . I refused to part with the string.
“Thanks,” a man said, his voice rugged, worn.
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One Thursday Morning (Click/Tap here to view on Amazon)
Prologue
To love and be loved—it was all I ever wanted. Nobody could ever convince me John was a bad man. He made me feel loved when I did not
know what love was. I was his and he was mine. It was perfect . . . or at least, I thought it was.
I cannot pinpoint why everything changed in our lives, but it did—and for the worst. My protector, my savior, and my whole world came crashing down like a heavy spring downpour. The first time he struck me, I remember thinking it was just an accident. He had been drinking earlier in the day with his friends and came stumbling home late that night. The lights were low throughout the house because I had already gone to bed. I remember hearing the car pull up outside in the driveway. Leaping to my feet, I came rushing downstairs and through the kitchen to greet him. He swung, which I thought at the time was because I startled him, and the back side of his hand caught my cheek.
I should have known it wasn’t an accident.
The second time was no accident at all, and I knew it. After a heavy night of drinking the night his father died, he came to the study where I was reading. Like a hunter looking for his prey, he came up behind me to the couch. Grabbing the back of my head and digging his fingers into my hair, he kinked my neck over the couch and asked me why I hadn’t been faithful to him. I had no idea what he was talking about, so out of sheer fear, I began to cry. John took that as a sign of guilt and backhanded me across the face. It was hard enough to leave a bruise the following day. I stayed with him anyway. I’d put a little extra makeup on around my eyes or anywhere else when marks were left. I didn’t stay because I was stupid, but because I loved him. I kept telling myself that our love could get us through this. The night of his father’s death, I blamed his outburst on the loss of his father. It was too much for him to handle, and he was just letting out steam. I swore to love him through the good times and the bad. This was just one of the bad times.