by T L Gray
Naomi clutched a pillow in one hand. “So what happened?”
“After we got engaged, Stewart started pressuring me, you know, to sleep with him. He knew my conviction and my boundaries, but we’d been together three years already and were looking at another eighteen months for our engagement.”
“Eighteen months!” Naomi’s eyes got really big. “I can totally see why that would be hard. Jake and I were only engaged for two months, and there were several times we pushed the envelope. If he hadn’t made a promise to my dad, I’m not sure we would have made it.” She suddenly quit talking. “I’m sorry, go on.”
Taking a deep breath, I continued. The next part still crippled me with regret. “In my social circles, long engagements are the norm. Weddings are not just a moment but also an event, and the grander the better. I had planned that day since I was a little girl and knew exactly what I wanted. But the waiting was getting to him. He said he had needs and I wasn’t meeting them. I talked with my friends about it and they all said that I was crazy to wait. That we were engaged, and no one waits until they’re married anymore. So I gave in.”
Silence hung in the air as tears filled my eyes. Naomi didn’t say anything, but she patted my leg for reassurance.
“After a few times, I couldn’t stand the guilt. I put my foot down and told him I wanted to wait till we were married. I explained that I couldn’t enjoy being with him when I knew our relationship was outside of God’s plan. We argued about it for weeks, but finally one day he just conceded. The irony is that I actually respected him more because he put me first. The only problem was that while he agreed to be abstinent with me . . . he didn’t stop having sex.”
Naomi’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Grace. How did you find out?”
“My parents were hosting a dinner party and everyone was there. The wedding was only a few months away, so it turned into a couple’s shower as people kept handing us cards and money. At one point during the night, I spilled something on my dress. I went off to try to clean up in the bathroom and saw Stewart and Lacey, my best friend, making out in the hallway. In my house, of all places. They didn’t notice me. But I saw them disappear behind the guest room door.”
Naomi stood, her face fired by fury as she paced. “I can’t believe he did that to you! What did you do? Please tell me you hit him and then her and then hit him again.”
I laughed as I watched her. Her reaction was the same as my mom’s had been.
“Nope,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I’m just not wired that way. I hate conflict, especially when it’s highly emotional. After I got over the shock of what I saw, I went back to the party and carried on as if nothing had happened. Twenty minutes later, Stewart was by my side, as if it had all been in my imagination.”
My eyes followed Naomi as she dropped back down onto the couch. “That wasn’t the first time he’d been with her, was it?”
“No. I met Stewart for lunch the next day and confronted him calmly. He tried to deny it at first, until I told him I’d seen him and Lacey with my own two eyes. Then he confessed everything. I guess they’d been fooling around for a few months. Stewart insisted that she’d seduced him and that he’d wanted to stop, but he didn’t know how to without her telling me. He begged and pleaded for me to forgive him, but I just couldn’t. He swore to me she was the only one, but I often wonder if there were more while we dated. Either way, I knew I’d never trust him again, and that is no way to start a marriage. I just gave him back his ring and left the restaurant. That was two months ago.”
Naomi looked surprised. “Only two months ago? You seem so calm about it. Most girls would still be crying their eyes out.”
“Oh, I did cry, for about two weeks, but then I stopped crying and started really examining my life. I realized that I didn’t know the girl in the mirror. Everything I had planned out for my life was a carbon copy of my parents’ lives. In my effort to be just like them, I had totally forsaken my own path. This is one of those cases where what man intended for evil, God used for good. If I had married Stewart, I wouldn’t have accepted the job at Hartsford. I’d never have had the chance to make a difference in all these kids’ lives. I know this is where I’m supposed to be.”
Naomi’s face was full of awe. “You amaze me. You don’t seem bitter at all.”
I shifted on the couch and rested my head on a cushion. “It takes too much energy for me to stay angry, and I’ve never been able to hold a grudge, even when I’ve wanted to. Obviously, my relationships with Lacey and Stewart are over forever, but I don’t wish them ill. They aren’t bad people.”
“Are they together now?”
I shrugged. “Not really my business anymore. I’ve seen each of them at different places but never together.”
After a long swig of water, Naomi grinned at me. “So you are available and obviously tough as nails. You know, I have four handsome brothers and three of them are still single.”
We both fell into a fit of laughter and moved on to much lighter topics. It was pushing one o’clock when we finally called it a night, and Naomi insisted I stay in the spare room. The minute I crawled into the soft bed, I felt my muscles sink into the mattress. Making sure to thank God for my new friendship and all He had helped me through the past few months, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the best night’s sleep I’d had all week.
Chapter 13
* * *
MATT
I saw him in the hallway with a gun pointed at us. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Acting on instinct, I pushed my mother behind me and stared into the vicious eyes of my father.
His lips curled upward. “You always were an obstinate little brat.”
I now understood my mother’s terror. He had snapped. His eyes were too wild, his voice too calm. I pushed her and we slowly backed into the bedroom. I needed to find a weapon, something that could defend us from him.
My father followed slowly, never lowering his gun until he was standing in the doorway and we were trapped inside.
“Marcie, come here,” my father demanded.
My mother started to move around me, but I blocked her. “No, you aren’t going back to him. Never again.” I turned to my father. “This is over. Either let us go on your own or I will make you.”
He let out a wicked laugh. “You know, I never wanted you. Told your mother to take care of the problem, even beat her a few times to help the process. But no, she just had to have her little boy. What a disappointment you turned out to be. You’ll probably never graduate and will end up being a drain on society just like you’ve been a drain on me for the last sixteen years.”
I wanted to lash out, scream at him that I was better than he was, always would be, but fear for my mother held me in check and kept my mouth tightly shut. My eyes darted around the room, looking desperately for anything I could find that would disarm him.
“Worthless, Matt. That’s what you are and what you always will be.” My father’s eyes snapped to hers and I moved again so his vision was obstructed. “Remember what you promised me?” he yelled. “That I wouldn’t even know he was here. That nothing would change. But you always loved him more than me, and why? He’s a nothing, a nobody.”
My mother was gripping my arm and I could feel her teardrops as they landed. She was shaking violently at this point. “We’ll be okay. Just trust me,” I whispered, hoping she would calm down.
I turned when I heard my father rack his pistol. “Marcie, I’m losing my patience. I’ll shoot him. I swear I will, and society will thank me for it!”
The shaking stopped and my mom pushed off me, getting around my body so she could face him. “No, stop!” I yelled, gripping her tighter.
“Marcie, this is your last warning . . . get over here!”
I heard the shots, but all I could see was darkness. I screamed and screamed her name, searching desperately for her until suddenly the lights were on.
My screams were deafening when I sat up in bed, completel
y wet with sweat and gripping the sheets as if they were a lifeline.
I raised my fists toward the ceiling. “WHY?!”
I began hurling everything I could find—lamps, pillows, the shoes I had left on the floor. Ripping the sheets, I tugged and pulled until the bed was completely stripped and my room looked as if a rabid animal had been set loose in it.
Falling to my knees, I gripped my head and cried. “How long, Lord, how long?” I begged, rocking back and forth. I couldn’t take the pain anymore.
I woke up a few hours later, still huddled on the floor in the fetal position. The tears had dried on my cheeks and every inch of my body screamed in protest. The clock brightly displayed 5:15 a.m., and I slowly pulled myself to the shower, avoiding the mess on the floor.
I’d go to the early service at church. I didn’t want to see Grace. Didn’t want to look into those hurt eyes again. She thought me cruel and harsh, yet she had no idea what I was capable of. No idea that walking away from her was a gift I was giving her so she’d never know the kind of darkness I faced.
The morning passed in a daze, until I found myself seated in church, still stiff from the night before. The music played, but I barely heard any of the sound. My mind was too busy asking God why and demanding to know what His purpose was in all of this mess.
Pastor Davis was as eloquent as always, but his words made me angry. He was talking about joy in the Lord and contentment. I wanted to know where my joy was. Where did my contentment go? I felt like a spoiled child demanding answers, but I was entitled. I’d turned my life around. Gave up everything I knew for Him, and I felt abandoned.
At the end of the service, I was no more settled than I had been when I arrived, and pushed aside the nagging voice that said it was my fault. I managed to make it two feet from the door before I saw Grace sitting with Naomi at the café.
She was laughing with her head thrown back and she looked stunning. My eyes followed the line of her finger as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I could feel the tug, even from across the room. She was as bad as the nightmares. Sent to torture me with the knowledge that the one thing I wanted most, I could never have. Turning quickly, I pushed the glass doors open and left before she could see me.
Chapter 14
* * *
GRACE
I tried not to look distracted as I glanced at each person to come through the doors. Service would start in just a few minutes, and he should have been at church by then.
“Doesn’t Matt usually come to this service?” I asked Naomi.
She glanced around, looking for him. “Yeah, he does. Regularly, too. Huh. I wonder if everything’s okay.”
I slumped down in my chair, but tried to maintain an easy air. My emotional side said he was avoiding me, while my practical side reminded me that he did say he had plans this weekend. Maybe I was just being too sensitive, which is what happens when one dates the same guy for four and half years. My guy radar was completely malfunctioning.
Naomi and I finished our coffee and headed into the service. The music was fantastic and Pastor Davis’s words really touched my heart. I loved how going to church could get me so grounded when life and temptations started to pull me in too many directions.
When church let out, I felt empowered and motivated. I even stopped by the hardware store and picked up a replacement light for the vanity, determined that I was independent enough to fix my own hassles.
Three hours later, I wanted to scream my head off and throw the light fixture out the window. When I’d finally managed to get the old one down, using the emergency tool kit in my car, I thought the hard part was over. Then I opened the box and saw I had to completely build the new light. I should have known that was why the thing was half price. Worse, the directions were impossible. I could have been reading the French instructions, for all the ones in English helped me.
After another frustrating hour, I gave up and wanted to curl into a corner and cry. I’d thought I was so ready to be on my own, yet every day something happened to show me how completely naive I was.
When my pity party was over, I conceded that in this case I was just going to have to call someone for help. The building maintenance was a joke, so that wasn’t happening, and Jake would be gone until late that night. I had a contact list of all the people who worked with the center, but I couldn’t bring myself to call Darius on his one day off.
Whether he was my last option, or I just wanted to believe he was my last option, I don’t know. But somehow I convinced myself to call Matt and just ask. I mean, what was the worst he could say? No? Make me feel stupid? He’d already done both of those and I survived.
My hand shook as I punched in his number. Voice mail. I pushed my disappointment away and attempted a lighthearted tone.
“Hi, Matt, this is Grace. I’m so sorry to call you, but I need help. If you don’t get this, no worries—I’ll figure it out.”
Ending the call, I felt satisfied. My voice was a little shaky, but at least I didn’t sound desperate.
I kept the phone near while I worked on the list for the fund-raising banquet, trying hard not to get discouraged when an hour passed without hearing from him. Then a loud banging on my door sent a jolt of panic through me.
“Grace!” someone yelled, pounding again.
I rushed over, peeked through the peephole, and quickly opened the door when I saw Matt’s agitated face.
He took one look at me and pushed through the entryway. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” He walked around the apartment like a cop, searching for some unknown threat.
I shut the door in confusion and followed him. “Yes, I’m fine. I just couldn’t get this light fixture together,” I said, pointing to the heap of metal and wires I had piled on my bed. “And I thought you might be able to do it.”
He turned to me, his face a mixture of shock and fury. “Are you serious? Do you have any idea how terrifying the last fifteen minutes have been for me?”
“It was just a phone call. I never claimed I was in any danger. You’re acting as if I called you screaming.” My voice got higher as I defended myself.
He ran his hands down his face. They were shaking. Suddenly he dropped down on my bed and exhaled. The motion made the light fixture noisily clank around on the bed.
Calm again, he turned his tortured eyes to me. “Grace, you said ‘help’ in the message. I take that very seriously. When I thought I’d missed your call . . .” He closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them. “When someone needs help, I go. Immediately. Not an hour later. Not the next day. I go immediately because you never know what can happen when you wait.”
Somehow I knew he was no longer talking about me. Stepping forward, I ran my hand over his arm for comfort. “You don’t have to stay. I’m sorry if my phone call was misleading.”
He turned to look at the mess I’d made of the light and grabbed the instructions. “I’m already here. I may as well take care of this for you.”
He worked in silence for a few minutes, and I stood back, not wanting to crowd him while he expertly managed to do what I had found impossible.
“I see you put your bed together and finally got a mattress.” His mouth twitched but settled back in as he resumed concentrating.
“I did. I slept like a baby last night.”
That time he definitely grinned. I ignored the tingling it caused. Matt’s smile had a lethal effect on me. I continued to watch him work. He was so different from Stewart, but I liked that. I liked that he didn’t care about fashion and wore jeans and T-shirts everywhere he went. Chest-hugging T-shirts, I mused, averting my roaming eyes.
“You ready to put this up?” He lifted the large piece, and I was thankful he hadn’t noticed how closely I’d been checking him out.
“You’re done already?” I didn’t know whether to feel overjoyed or completely furious that he was able to put the light together in less than ten minutes.
“Come on. Grab a flashlight.”
/> I followed Matt to the bathroom and held the flashlight for him while he twisted the wires and manually tightened the screws. I’m sure he would have given his left arm for an electric drill, but he didn’t say anything.
When he hopped off the chair and flicked on the light, a small drop of perspiration ran down his forehead and along his cheek. I followed it with my eyes, staring at his lips until I realized what I was doing. I quickly glanced up, only to see a look that matched my own—a look that made my throat go dry and set off a wave of butterflies in my stomach.
Then the moment was gone.
I moved away from him and escaped to the kitchen, grasping for clarity. I wanted to pace, or maybe hit the wall or something. I couldn’t explain this feeling, this fire that was moving up to my chest. I wasn’t like this. I wasn’t a fighter. I was a peacemaker, but at that moment I just wanted to scream at him.
Still fuming, I turned away when he came in the room.
“Any more slave labor needed before I head out?” His voice was mocking and snapped the final straw.
I spun around in a fury. “Why don’t you like me?” I demanded. “Everyone else is nice to me and treats me with at least a little respect. But not you. No, you have made it your mission to jerk me around. One moment friendly, the next so hurtful I want to pull my hair out. What did I ever do to you?”
“I’m not having this conversation.” He grabbed his keys and started to leave.
“NO.” I’d probably lost my mind, but I clutched his arm, forcing him to turn and face me. “You’re not going. Not until you tell me what I did to make you hate me.”
We were both breathing heavily, overloaded with adrenaline, or at least I was. His eyes got that tortured look again, as if he were fighting himself more than me.
He moved forward and I instinctively backed up until my backside hit the counter. His arms slowly reached around me, gripping the edge of the Formica while they caged me in. My heart raced, desire raging inside of me as I stared into the depths of his eyes.