And that’s when she’d finally, fully realized—Megan could take care of herself.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” The conversation with Tony fresh in her mind, Crystal tugged at the curtain to the right of the window. “How would you feel about venturing out again tonight?”
“I don’t think I’m up for it. We’ve got a full day tomorrow.” Megan sat on the edge of her bed and massaged her neck.
Crystal sighed and walked to her own bed. She grabbed a pillow and sat down, hugging it against her chest. “I just got a call from Tony. He said I’m needed in New York this Monday.”
“What?” Megan’s hand stilled and she pulled it into her lap. “Why?”
“The pitch I’ve been working on has been moved.”
“Can they do that?”
“Unfortunately.” Crystal curled and flexed her bare feet. “The client requested the earlier date. He has no obligation to select our firm for his project, so we have to accommodate his schedule.”
Megan worried her bottom lip. “Can’t they tell him their architect is out of the country?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“But, Crystal . . .”
“I know it stinks. I was thinking we could go see the Eiffel Tower lights right now, and maybe catch a really early mass tomorrow, and then be done.”
“I didn’t kiss a handsome stranger in the rain.” Disappointment still shone in Megan’s eyes over her failed attempt.
“You can do that at home. It doesn’t have to be in a specific place. Minnesota will work just as well as Paris.”
Megan’s lips twisted and she sighed. “I guess you’re right. I just wanted to have it all done while you’re here with me. And readers are expecting it.”
“But you can’t control when it rains.” Crystal peered at Megan, whose eyes clouded. “I don’t see a way around it, Meg. I need to get home.”
“You’re really leaving?” Her sister didn’t have to say the rest of what she was thinking: You’re leaving . . . again?
The memory of that moment in the hospital—when Crystal hadn’t had the courage to stay with Megan in her room—taunted her. And though they’d touched on the incident during their fight in the Spanish airport, they’d never talked about it again.
Crystal had never apologized, not really.
Her lungs deflated, and she sucked in a breath. “It’s different this time.” A muffled siren outside raced past their window. Crystal stood and paced. “Back then, I was a coward. I was selfish. You have no idea how hard it was to live with the guilt, that it was you and not me. I was strong and you were weak, physically speaking. It was like I stole that strength from you when we were inside Mom’s womb. And then there was the fear that you—the person I loved more than anything in the world—might disappear from my life at any moment.”
Crystal’s hands shook as the truth finally slipped from her, and she stopped moving, slumping against the wall. “I couldn’t deal with it, Megan. And I’m sorry. I know you said you forgive me, but I don’t know how. I am having a hard time forgiving myself.”
Megan’s mouth formed an O and she blinked rapidly.
But instead of tears flowing from her sister’s eyes, a light shone. Understanding. Hope.
Megan got up, silent, and faced Crystal. “Of course I forgive you. It’s forgotten.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and Megan slipped her arms around Crystal’s shoulders.
Could the past really be wiped away like that, her deeds not held against her any longer?
But Megan’s next words were even more shocking. “Now will you forgive me? I . . . didn’t know. That you felt that way. And I didn’t try very hard to see things from your point of view.”
“There’s really nothing to forgive. None of this is your fault.”
“Please, Crystal?”
“Okay. I forgive you.” Crystal squeezed her sister back and then pulled away. She cocked her head. “Are you really all right with me leaving in the morning?”
“I wish you didn’t have to, but I understand.”
“Thank you.” Crystal stopped pacing and locked her gaze with Megan’s. “At least this time I’m leaving hopeful, not scared. And I’m leaving behind a beautiful, confident woman who is fully capable of doing this on her own.”
“For the first time, I kind of believe that.” And then came her sister’s tears. “But even if I’m capable, I’ll always need my sister. So please promise it won’t be three years before I see you again.” Megan lowered herself to the edge of her bed again, tapping the spot beside her.
Crystal sat and leaned her head on Megan’s shoulder. “Promise.”
There was that feeling again, nestling inside her.
Joy.
If things between her and Megan could get better, and she landed the Lerner project, and she and Brian continued their forward motion when she got home—maybe she could have it all.
Maybe she could even give God another try. He was important to Brian, after all, and Nana had always said he was in the business of miracles. If this moment between her and Megan wasn’t a miracle, what was?
Above all, maybe Crystal had been wrong. Maybe the past didn’t have to be a bitter mark always marring the surface of her heart. Maybe life really could be an amazing adventure, one not of her own making, but the kind that comes from toil and heartache and love.
Especially love.
Chapter 31
July 29
Blog Post Title: The Jewel of France: Notre Dame
Post Content:
Have you ever felt like you were meant to be somewhere at a certain time? I hadn’t . . . till today.
Megan took another sip from her paper cup. The hotel room java didn’t have the pizzazz she’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing. And she needed it. She and Crystal had stayed up late talking, then managed four hours of sleep before her sister caught a 7:00 a.m. flight.
She got up from her seat at the tiny hotel desk and flung open the curtains. The sun shone bright. At eight, the streets of Paris were already bustling below. And was it her imagination, or did she smell the delicious scent of chocolate and fresh bread baking?
Today was going to be good. She’d complete as much of the bucket list as she could, and she’d get to do it with Caleb.
Maybe they’d even get to finish what they started on the London Eye. If their flirting via text all week was any indication, her growing feelings for Caleb were mutual.
A knock reverberated in the room. She shook off her nerves and walked to the door, flinging it open. “Hey.” Her attempt at a casual greeting resulted in a squawk. She cleared her throat.
Caleb stood with his hands in his jeans pockets, an easy smile on his face. “Hey, yourself.” He gathered her in his arms and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “You smell good.”
The electricity between them charged her whole body.
He pulled away and tilted his head. “Are you ready to venture out?”
Megan resisted the urge to throw herself back into his arms. “I am. Hang on.” She dumped the rest of her coffee down the sink, tossed the cup in the garbage, and snatched her purse. “Crystal had to leave unexpectedly this morning, so it’s just you and me.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, just work stuff. She had to get back home.” Megan gestured to the door, but Caleb stepped aside, indicating she should go first. The light pressure of his hand on her back guided her out.
“Sorry to hear that.” They started walking toward the elevator bank.
“Are you?” Megan turned her face toward his and cocked an eyebrow.
He laughed. “I’m not sad to have you all to myself, but I’m guessing it must have been tough on you. I’m sorry for that.”
She smiled and nudged him with her elbow. “It was at first. But we talked—all night, in fact—so I’m okay. Surprisingly, the idea of finishing my trip alone doesn’t freak me out like I thought it would.”
“I wo
uldn’t exactly say you’re alone.”
“True.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” He snatched her hand and held it all the way down the hallway, to the lobby, and onto the metro, where they caught a train to the stop nearest Notre Dame.
As they approached the white-washed building with two turrets reaching for the sky, Megan couldn’t breathe.
And it had nothing to do with her physical condition—more like her spiritual one.
“It’s gorgeous.” She stared at the cathedral in front of her. Why was this different from all the other holy buildings she’d visited during this journey? Her neck hurt from craning, but something about it just made Megan long for . . . more.
“And you’re only seeing one side.” Caleb rested his hand against her back and led her around a bend. “You have to see the famous flying buttresses. And then the view from across the River Seine—it’s magnificent.”
Caleb was right. Each side had something different and new to offer. At first, she exclaimed with each discovery as she gazed up at the centuries-old church, but then she grew silent, just grateful to see it all for herself. “Let’s go inside.”
As they scooted through the doors, an ethereal sort of quiet struck. Sconces were lit along the various columns of the Gothic cathedral. The arched ceiling rose high above them, and her eyes were drawn to the front, where the pipes of a grand organ nestled just under a beautiful arched display of stained glass. People moved about the church, some filing into wooden seats, some gazing about in awe.
Yes, this was a tourist attraction, but it was more than that. It pulsed of something holy.
She got the feeling Caleb was watching her, so she swiveled her gaze toward him. “What?”
He leaned closer and whispered, “I’m just taking a mental picture of this moment.”
“Why not take an actual photo? It’d last longer.” She pointed to the professional camera slung around his neck.
“I seriously doubt that.”
She gulped. There it was again, that serious tenor to his voice that told her they had a lot left to discuss.
“Come on. The mass is starting.” Caleb tugged her gently toward a pair of seats near the back.
Megan had been to mass a few times with her grandmother as a child, so she was slightly familiar with some of the traditions, which were a lot different from her Baptist church back home. Still, when the entire service was in another language, it made it difficult to know what to do.
She and Caleb followed the crowd when people stood or sat, and she hummed along when she recognized a tune.
But mostly she allowed herself to finally try praying for the first time in forever.
Hey, God.
This feels so strange, to be talking to you so informally. To me, you’ve been this sovereign deity in the sky, someone with an iron will who decides what happens here on earth. And you are. And you do.
But I think maybe you’re more than that.
My experiences have shaped how I view you—and how I view myself. Maybe I’ve been mad at you a little for making me weak. But how can I be mad at you when you turned around and saved me?
Although if you hadn’t saved me, would I even be justified in being mad at you?
Would I still say you are trustworthy even if you hadn’t saved me? Do I believe your trustworthiness—even your goodness—has to do with me? Or is it something steadfast, that can’t be changed no matter what happens to me?
I don’t have the answers. Maybe I never will. But I’m seeking.
As the mass continued, Megan quieted her soul. After all, as Nana used to say, “You can’t hear the Lord speak if you don’t listen.” What she hoped to hear, she wasn’t sure.
And then something in her shifted.
It was as if God was nudging her toward . . . something.
Like the nudging she’d felt when she’d wanted to wear a dress that exposed her scar. Or when she’d knocked on the Abbotts’ front door, about to meet them for the first time. Or when she’d stood with Caleb on the London Eye, nearly kissing him.
Bravery. That was it, wasn’t it? He was nudging her toward bravery. And she’d been resisting.
Resisting because she’d been afraid that she wasn’t enough. That she could never be brave like Crystal. That she didn’t have what it took to live life as an adventure.
But wasn’t life an adventure in and of itself? Three and a half years ago, she hadn’t thought she’d live long enough to find out. But God had given her back her life. He’d given her abilities, which should be used, not buried. And then opportunities had come along, like the chance to take this journey and write for Sheila Daily.
And once again, the ball was in her court. What would she do with these opportunities? Clutch her old weakness, or reach out for the new strength she was discovering in herself?
The mass ended and people rose to leave, but Megan stayed. Her hands remained in her lap, and she didn’t realize she was biting her lip until she tasted the tiniest bit of blood.
Something was holding her back from the freedom to be found in bravery.
Her hands moved to her purse, unzipped it, reached in, and pulled out her notebook—the one with weeks and weeks of recorded heart rates. Beside her, Caleb remained silent, as if sensing she needed time. Megan ran her fingertips over the smooth surface of the notebook, filled with pages of useless knowledge.
This notebook wasn’t keeping her safe. It was only a ritual to make herself feel better about the big, scary world of unknowns regarding her health.
Megan stood and laid the notebook on the seat where she’d been sitting. She held her hand out to Caleb. “Ready?”
He took her hand, and they walked together out the doors, into the sunshine of a day brimming with possibilities.
Chapter 32
25. Give my heart away.
I’ve always wanted to fall in love.
Of course, I wonder if someone like me could ever trust another person so completely that my secrets fall away and don’t matter anymore. And even if trust wasn’t an issue, how can I ever be brave enough to tell a guy all about my past?
The other day I asked Mom how she knew she loved my dad. Her answer still rings in my head: “He helps me be the bravest version of myself.”
And so, I think in order for me to ever truly live, I will someday have to do the hardest thing of all: give my heart away.
Chapter 33
July 30
Blog Post Title: Crepes, the Eiffel Tower, and Fulfilling a Dream I Didn’t Know I Had
Post Content:
The best things in life are the ones that surprise you . . .
She was almost done with the list. And then how would she go back to normal life?
Megan walked beside Caleb down the streets of Paris, pausing occasionally to browse the windows of bakeries and little gift shops. Yesterday, after visiting Notre Dame, they’d hopped a train to Versailles and explored King Louis XIV’s garden and gilded palace. Even though it hadn’t been on the list, Caleb had convinced her she simply had to see the smaller city. Since they had another day here in Paris, she’d consented. Today had been a flurry of sightseeing, and finally they were approaching the Eiffel Tower.
To complete Amanda’s list, Megan only had to stand beneath the tower, observe its lights at night . . . and kiss a handsome stranger in the rain. Crystal was right. She might have to wait until she was home to finish the last item.
Although if the clouds on the horizon were any indication, she may have a chance to finish it tonight—if she could find a handsome guy willing to kiss a stranger.
And if she was willing to do it in front of Caleb.
Ugh.
“I can’t believe this is our last day here.” A breeze kicked up, and Megan pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders.
“I know. It’s flown by.” Caleb would leave tomorrow for his next photography assignment—an extended trek across Tibet that
could last up to two months—and she’d return to Minnesota. Her new job would begin a few days later, and she’d dive back into reality.
Hopefully, all the things she’d experienced here wouldn’t simply become distant memories. She wanted more than anything for the lessons she’d learned to become part of her life, and she fully intended to keep pursuing her dream of writing. It may go a little slower than she’d like, but she had a clear vision and wasn’t going to let anything stop her this time.
“What are you looking forward to the most about Tibet?” She walked by a creperie, where a baker stood in the window creating crepes. He mixed batter in a bowl, then poured the thin delicacies onto a skillet. As a customer exited, Megan caught a whiff of sweetness and couldn’t help but sigh. She yanked her gaze away and kept walking.
Caleb halted his pace and turned. “Did you want to get a crepe?”
“What? Oh, no.” Despite all the temptations along this trip, she’d managed to avoid rich foods and stick to her strict diet. Giving up her notebook was one thing, but a diet change actually could wreck her physically. No sense in tempting fate on her last day here. “Let’s keep going. The Eiffel Tower isn’t too far ahead.”
“The Eiffel Tower can wait. You can’t leave Paris without eating a proper crepe.” Caleb grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the creperie’s door.
She tugged back. “No, really. It’s fine.”
“Megan, you’re a stick. You can afford a little flour and sugar.” Caleb pushed out his lip and widened his eyes in a pathetic attempt at a sad puppy face. “Pretty please?”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her. “Don’t even try to pull that old trick.”
“Oh, I’m trying.” Caleb squeezed her hand. She tried to ignore the way it made her tingle. “But I won’t force you. I guess some people just aren’t real tourists, because a real tourist experiences all that a culture has to offer.”
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