Hearts Surrender

by Marianne Evans

  “I think I started to answer a few questions today.”

  “About?”

  She couldn't quite bring herself to say the words Is my love for you what brings me to God, or is my love for God sufficient enough? Instead, she replied, “Is my faith in God strong? Is it focused where it should be? I’ve discovered the answer is yes. To both.”

  Tired and spent, she luxuriated in the sensation of resting against him, though she finally detailed the episode that had taken place at 220 Merrill just a short time ago. Patient and steady, he watched after her, held her close, and listened.

  “My friends refuse to see me in the framework of a Christian spirit; especially Drew. He couldn't see me living up to Christian principles. He said I was too enlightened and too intelligent to be drawn in by something as intangible as religion and faith. Ken, I got so mad at him, and I felt so hurt. It raised insecurities I have about my relationship with God. Stuff I need to really work on.”

  “Like what? What’s holding you back?”

  Not being good enough for the man I love so dearly.

  That truth stalled in her throat. “I just…I can’t quite bring myself to believe I'm worthwhile. Am I qualified to be a part of His mission?” With you…?

  Yet again, that addenda item remained frozen inside her.

  Ken quirked a finger beneath Kiara’s chin and directed her gaze up to his. “Kiara, you answered that question as well. Take a close look at the past two months. Review what you intend to do from this point on, then answer that question for me. Right now. Honestly. From the gut. I want to hear you say it. Are you qualified?”

  She could literally feel herself drift into his warmth. And he was right—despite everything between them, and despite everything rocking her world—she felt safe enough, and confident enough, to say, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Ken smiled and her heart took flight.

  “Good answer,” he said, stroking her cheek, causing her eyes to flutter closed on a flood of contentment. “You're human. Kiara. You’ll succeed. You’ll fail. The only guarantee is an imperfect trying, and that God loves each and every effort we make. Don't feel doubt because of someone else’s misperceptions. Don’t give other people that kind of power. That kind of thinking has been a weight on your shoulders for far too long.”

  “I know.” She watched, enrapt, as the stroke of his hand against her neck, and shoulders, emphasized his point. Quietly, she continued. “He made me so angry. I left him feeling shocked at how angry and hurt I felt about the way he attacked people who believe in God, people who have faith.”

  “But you stood up to him. When you turned the tables on him, you did so by standing on your own two feet, and by relying on your own belief system rather than someone else's influence. I’d call that God inspired.”

  Brightness took root, expelling all else, warming her through. “Exactly. Dang but you're good, Pastor Ken.”

  “Ken,” he corrected with a grin and a sparkle in his eyes that she loved. She wanted to just sink into him, to stay in this moment, this connectedness, forever. “In the end, no matter who, no matter what, no single person is ever going to fulfill you. At some point, we're all going to fail one another. We’re going to fall short, no matter how good our intentions.” He paused. “Even me.”

  That opened the doorway to all that lay between them—compatibility, mutual faith and trust. Love.

  Kiara decided it was time to move forward, saying, “I was stubborn, and it was wrong of me to walk away from you the way I did.”

  “You were justified, because you were hurt. But please know, I never meant to—”

  She silenced him by reaching up to stroke his lips closed. “That doesn’t even need to be said,” she whispered. “I know that without being told, Ken. It just…it hit me. Everything seemed to pile up on me, and open up old sores. My issue. Not yours. I know you were defending me—”

  “Us,” he clarified.

  Us. The simple, two letter word slipped through her like a sweet, tempting breeze.

  Ken continued. “But I blew it afterwards by showing I didn’t have the kind of faith I urge everyone else to hold on to. I was going to talk with you after services today, and when you didn’t show up, I honestly felt something inside me crumble. I wanted to take you home, make you breakfast, and at least try to explain myself. All I could think about the past couple days was having the chance to just be together outside of everything, and everyone, but each other.”

  Meanwhile she had suffered through that horrendous brunch. Kiara sighed out loud, sad for the emptiness they had both endured, but so very eager to make up for lost time, to build goodness anew. She sifted her fingertips through his hair and the subtle earth spice aroma of his shampoo was released. The scent tickled her nose, most intriguing…

  “We need this, Kiara.”

  The tenor of his voice was promising, deep and rich. The power behind that statement filled her with delicious tingles. Just as quickly as it had been born, that biting ache of need she carried died in the arms of hope, and joy.

  “But you have to go to the hospital.”

  Ken slid his fingers against hers, linking their hands together. “Not for a while yet. Will you come home with me?”

  She nodded. He drew Kiara to her feet, and she felt so light she wondered if she couldn’t actually float away on the wind. Ironically, a punctuating breeze drifted against them, lifting her hair, causing a few strands to dance across her face. The look in Ken’s eyes, when he reached up, and slid them back into place, made her shiver. She reached up, caressing his forearm, moving her touch up to his shoulder. She stepped close, feeling bold now about taking custody of God’s gifts, and plans. So she curved a hand around his neck, drawing him down, initiating a kiss that was open, mutually receptive, moist and warm.

  They sighed in unison, a pleasured punctuation mark to what Kiara considered a distinct, treasured moment of homecoming.

  ****

  Ken hadn’t even thought about the bouquet. The fact that it was the first thing Kiara’s attention fixed upon when she entered his home, however, left him keenly aware. Her focus on the item opened up his portion of some of the things that needed to be said between them, for the bouquet was a silk flower replica of the arrangement Kiara had given to Barb following Woodland’s Autumn Fest years ago. In fact, it resided in the same low, expansive white wicker basket, at the center of Ken’s living room coffee table.

  Her eyes widened in instant recognition.

  Ken tried not to feel sheepish and embarrassed; he tried to maintain balance when he had been caught in a gesture of a secret homage to Barb—and to Kiara.

  Her gaze darted away from the now conspicuous display. In a shy, somewhat nervous gesture, she tucked a slice of hair behind her ear and moved inside. Grace and poise back in place, she set her purse on the floor and sat down on the couch—but after a brief look into his eyes, she reached out to touch a rust colored mum.

  “This is beautiful.”

  Her questioning glance left Ken, a wizened 30-something, at the precipice of a blush. But he was ready for the challenge now, and he gave her a nod, meeting her gaze head-on. “It honors two of the most spectacular women I’ve ever known.” His voice went low. “But something tells me you already know that.”

  Kiara blew out a soft puff of air, and diverted her eyes. “When did you make this?”

  “At the end of last year.” Ken joined her on the couch. This time he was the one to reach out, and he stroked the petals of a vibrant, yellow bloom. “I finally felt ready to box up a few things, and donate them to charity. I came across the basket in a storage closet.”

  She listened intently, watching him. Ken continued. “Barb meant to do something with the basket, but—”

  “But she died a month after my visit,” Kiara murmured.

  Ken nodded sadly. “She ran out of time.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. Exploring the memory of Barb’s last days wasn’t the way he would have orchestr
ated this particular conversation, but things needed to be said, and understood, between him and Kiara. God would do the rest. So he simply let go and released himself into the moment.

  “Time came, last fall, that I started to move forward,” Ken said. “I packed things away and organized my life. I tried to go on.”

  “You did her proud.”

  Ken didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he felt; he embraced his emotions and strove to keep his voice from wavering. “I was boxing and sorting, wanting to finally, and fully, deal with the aftershocks of her death. That’s when I found the basket.” He paused.

  Kiara nodded.

  “It brought so many things to light. I remembered how your visit touched Barb—and me. How a simple, thoughtful gesture, in the form of a fall bouquet, lifted her spirits. It made me think about you. The effortless, instant way you touch people. It’s an amazing gift, Kiara.” He shrugged, wondering if anything he said made much sense. Judging by the soft, tender radiance of her eyes, she understood. “In that instant, in that moment of memory and perception, I woke up again. My heart, my focus, turned to you, and all the wonderful things that you are.”

  “So you recreated the bouquet.”

  “Symbolic—and safe enough a gesture to reemerging, I suppose, since it remained private. Until now.”

  Kiara shook her head, looking into his eyes with an expression he could only describe as amazement. “Ken, you never, ever fail to slide into my soul like a piece of velvet.”

  “What a coincidence,” he replied, skimming a fingertip against the outline of her jaw, then her chin. “I could say the same thing to you.”

  A silence stretched between them before Ken picked up the conversational ball once more. “Love is about the process of surrendering just enough of yourself to say you want to grow in unison with someone else. It's not easy, but it's real, and it fills a part of your soul, and it lasts. If you let yourself find it and if you make that surrender it return.”

  “I think I understand that now. Better than I ever have,” Kiara answered. “I don't control this, Ken. God does. We do. Give me the chance. Please? Have faith and let me follow His lead and be the person I want most to be. With you.”

  In the pause that followed Ken’s heart stuttered, then began to pound.

  “You’ve shown me possibilities. You’ve helped me remember how wonderful innocence is. I’ve been without that kind of purity for a long, long time. You helped me realize I haven’t lost it for good. You showed me the way to a God who loves me, flaws and all. I suppose I thought I could hide those blemishes from the world at large. With God, with you. I can’t. And what’s more? I don’t have to.

  “I’ve worn armor all my life, of one sort or another. The right look, the right persona, the right way of life, but it wasn’t truly me. It wasn’t real. You saw through to the heart of me; then God entered in and did the rest. He transformed me into someone different. I thought you saw that end result. I thought you believed in my strength of conviction—my rebirth. If you need assurance, let me say this: I can’t—I won’t put on that armor ever again. It doesn’t fit anymore. It doesn’t protect me at all. It never did. I want to share who I am now, with you. But you need to make that step forward as well. You need to show me I matter, and that I have a place in God’s plan for your life—if you think that’s even the case.”

  He tucked her hands into his, looking straight and deep into her eyes when he whispered, “My turn now.” He paused. “Kiara, nothing you do, nothing you've done is going to change what Christ did for you. You've been influenced by the people in your life, parents who pushed you past what they felt was a meager upbringing. Your beauty, internal and external, draws people in. Your personality warms hearts and opens them wide. Your taste for beauty, in all its forms, is paramount to your job and the success you've found. You say you've made mistakes, veered off the path, let yourself be won over by glamour and material things. Name me one prophet who didn't stumble. Name one person who hasn't been tempted to do something they wouldn’t ordinarily even consider.”

  “That’s part of my point. You know my secrets, and my failings. What are yours?”

  Ken shook his head. He focused on the bouquet for a moment, then on their joined hands. “The situation I've had to reason through and come to terms with is you, Kiara. And when I say that, I want you to take it very seriously. Don’t brush it aside or ignore its impact on me. I want you to put yourself into the following scene and live it with me.”

  Ken focused on her intently. She watched, and waited.

  “Over the past couple of years, as I got to know you, you pulled me in deeper and deeper. You enchanted me, Kiara.” In an instant her face transformed from questioning to stormy. He hastened to add, “I mean that in the best possible way. Meanwhile, my wife, whom I loved beyond measure, the woman I pledged my whole life to, who possessed such beauty and such strength, began to fade. Her life dimmed as yours brightened. You filled me with vibrancy and laughter—with passion and hope. You brought me everything I most needed. I clung to every second I had with you, just as strongly as I held on to my wife as she died. Can you understand how guilty I felt? I never, ever imagined my life without her. I wanted my fifty or more years with her. I wanted a lifetime. I wanted kids, and grandkids, but that wasn't God's plan. I got angry with that at times. Anyone would. When I saw her suffering, it shattered me. I needed to find a way to deal with losing her, while at the same time, reconcile myself to the betrayal I felt in being so...so...pulled to you while Barb fought with every inch of her being to keep on living.

  “Still, I met you and you entered my bloodstream. I haven’t been the same since. I agonized over Barb. I watched her suffer and endure so much. I loved her. I still love her. But at the same time, I’d go to church, and I’d see you. Your vitality, your heart and your spirit—reached out and filled me up.”

  “I never knew. Not even for an instant—”

  “How desperate I felt? How drawn I am to you?” he concluded for her.

  Kiara nodded.

  “Good. You weren’t meant to. I hid as best I could. Then, when she died, I prayed for hours about what I felt was my heart betraying itself. That’s when God provided me with the answer I sought.”

  “Which is?”

  For emphasis he kept quiet, studying each curve and line of her face, saturating his needy heart with her beauty and soft tenderness of her jade colored eyes until he was certain he had her full focus. “He was preparing my heart, and my life, for you. It was Barb's time, but it wasn't mine. And God prepared me for you perfectly. He led you to my church where I got to know you, and understand the myriad of gifts you possess, the joy you give. No one prompted, no one pushed, you were eager to be part of the church. That passion made you part of my life in a very personal way. I let you in—couldn’t help it. We worked side by side, and grew closer through every project we tackled. The church renovation. Working on church activities. The mission trip to Pennsylvania. You’ve become a partner, Kiara. Your spirit and love feeds mine. You're part of me now. No matter what's happened in either of our lives, Jesus' plan remains. That plan is us, Kiara. Together. And I promise you that we go forward together with every bit of love I have to give. It's yours. Forever.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six Months Later

  Sea waves tumbled and rumbled, a rhythmic punctuation that added life to the steamy, sun-drenched atmosphere that swept gradually through the interior of the hotel suite. Salt-tanged air swirled, tickling Kiara’s senses alert, coming from the beach just beyond a set of wide open terrace doors.

  Reluctantly she stirred, leaving slumber behind. She instantly found herself pulled backwards, drawn up tight against the long line of a strong, warm body. A low growl of approval came from the spot next to her in bed, as did a huskily spoken: “Good morning, Mrs. Lucerne.”

  She turned, sliding against Ken. She beamed when she came upon sleep-weighted, cocoa-colored eyes, a tumble of thick brown hair, and a smile of
greeting that melted every bone in her body.

  “Good morning,” she replied, snuggling against him.

  Ken lifted up to glance at the clock. “Unreal. It’s already eleven o’clock in the morning? That’s not possible. I’m completely losing track of time.”

  Kiara stroked her fingertips against the mild, abrasive stubble that shadowed his chin. “That’s what the island of St. Thomas is for. Besides, sleeping in from time to time is a supreme indulgence and luxury. Don’t knock it.”

  They drew together in a slow, rich kiss that went on and on and on and moved inexorably from lazy ease to fire and electricity. Kiara continued to melt, and she sighed, surrendering her all to the arms and heart of the man who rolled above her. He moved just far enough away to stroke back her hair, and study her eyes.

  “Speaking of indulgence and luxury,” he said, “we owe them.”

  “Them meaning Daveny and Collin.”

  Ken nodded.

  Kiara giggled. “Yep. We sure do. They’re experts at pampering.”

  A wooden ceiling fan spun lazily above them stirring air that already leaned toward pleasantly humid. Light increased, beaming chunky, thick rays that angled inward through the open doorway and the window above their bed. Sunshine glinted upon a band of yellow gold on the third finger of Kiara’s left hand and her soul spun in a timeless dance of joy. Opting away from a traditional engagement ring and diamond, she told Ken what she wanted most were simple, matching wedding bands bearing a subtle, geometric design. Inside, both were inscribed: Ken & Kiara, April 3, United by God—in love.

  Kiara’s contentment lifted, growing until it was off the record charts. She studied the piece for, oh, about the millionth time since Ken had placed it on her finger during a candlelight ceremony held amidst a bevy of family and friends at Woodland Church just a few days ago.