by T. I. Lowe
I brace myself for the repercussions, but Beck only shoves back into him and slams the door before Jack is completely out of the way.
“Y’all are something else… It’s making me question if you’re hiding a bromance,” I tease.
He completely ignores my taunting and says, “Let’s go grab a bite to eat.”
Trepidation claws at my shoulders from the thought of leaving the house. Sure, he managed to push me out the door a few times to eat or shop for more substantial groceries before last week, but I feel like I’m back to square one.
“I’m not hungry.” I go to move past him, but his arm drapes over my shoulder and spins me back around.
“It’s going on suppertime. Let’s go.” Beck veers us to the door and doesn’t let go of me until I’m strapped into the Jeep’s passenger seat.
He pulls out of my driveway and in no time is pulling into his. I look over at him in question, but he remains silent until we are inside his house. I’ve only been here a few times. Unlike my pudgy one-story cottage that is nestled in the sand, Beck’s beach house is two-story and on stilts across the road from the beach. Another contrast is where my place is light and airy from its shabby chic style, Beck’s is all dark and masculine with teak wood and leather furniture.
But it’s different tonight. A softer vibe lures me to the flickering light of candles dancing around the dim dining room. The table is dressed with dishes and flowers.
“Wow, Beck…” I glance at him as he walks us to the table. “I didn’t know you had this in you.” I motion to the romantic scene.
“I figured I had to step up my game since you seemed to be growing bored with me.” He pulls a chair out and helps me have a seat. And what I love the most is he takes the chair right beside me and not the one across from me.
“I could never grow bored with you,” I whisper while searching the table. A vase filled with delicate peonies sits in the center and is surrounded by the candles. “Those flowers are beautiful.”
Beck grunts. “Took me forever to find ones that smell like you. Those are pretty close. I think the florist thought I was nuts, going around sniffing every bin of flowers she had.” He glances at me from the corner of his eyes as he scoops salad onto our plates.
All I can do is look at him in awe. “Why would you go through so much trouble?”
“You’re worth any trouble, Harper.” One side of his lips curls up while he busies himself with preparing our plates. He hands me a glass of iced water and taps his against it before taking a sip. “Tell me why suddenly you don’t seem interested.”
When he remains quiet waiting for an answer, I produce one. “I figured you were probably over your interest in me, so I was giving you a clean out.”
Beck hands me a fork and points to the salad, bossing me as always. “What gave you that idea?” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully while watching me.
I follow suit to buy some time. Swallowing, I finally mutter, “I’m not sure if you’ve seen that picture—”
“The one Jack shared?” he asks and I nod. “Yeah, I saw it. So?”
“Well, between that and me behaving like a drunken idiot, I assumed that was enough to have you running in the other direction.”
Beck shakes his head while removing the lid from a serving dish, releasing a robust aroma of garlic and herbs. Nestled inside is roasted chicken and vegetables. It smells amazing but my stomach is flip-flopping around, making it doubtful I’ll enjoy the meal. While he adds some roasted vegetables and a slice of chicken breast to my plate, I take another gulp of water.
We eat in amicable silence until most of his plate is empty and mine barely touched.
“Will you do something for me?” he asks, offering me a bite from his fork. I accept and nod. “Until you figure out how to face your life, will you lay off of the heavier drinking?”
“You’re one of those who think all the mentions in the Bible about wine are really grape juice?” I raise both my eyebrows for emphasis since I can’t figure out how to send only one into a high arch.
“I’m not going to sit here and debate Biblical interpretations with you. I personally see nothing wrong with having a drink in celebration or to accompany a meal, but it’s not okay for you to shoot back an entire bottle of alcohol to drink away whatever it is that’s bothering you.” Beck hitches a foot in the leg of my chair and yanks it so I’m facing him. He braces his hands on the back of it to cage me in. “You can keep filling the voids with food or snark or expensive booze all you want, but until you mend the cause of the holes, the pain is going to keep pouring out.”
His statement stills my squirming. All I can do is sit with my gaze locked on his beautiful, sincere eyes. He moves one hand to cup my cheek.
“I’m scared,” I confess.
“Of what?” he asks in a softer tone.
My heart kicks up in beats. “Of rejection, failure, of not being good enough.”
“So instead of acknowledging the life just begging for your attention, you choose to hide from it like a coward.” He doesn’t form it into a question, and before I can snap at him, he plows on. “Besides, you’re too stubborn to let any of that happen.”
I scoff and roll my eyes.
“I’ve got proof,” he retorts. “You put yourself out there to snag up that first agent. You shared your stories, knowing failure could happen. You’ve proved seven times to the world you’re more than good enough with your writing skills.”
I glance down, but Beck places a finger under my chin and gently tips it so that my focus is back on him.
“But those are only examples of your creative talent... Harper, so much of your life is unwritten, because you allow fear to hold you back.”
“I don’t understand why you even care.”
“Your life matters to me but let me show you where it really matters.”
I haven’t a clue what Beck means by this until he loads us up in the Jeep and drives us down the coastline and back to the familiar beach access lot.
He leans over the seat and places a tender kiss on my lips. “This is where it matters the most. Please just give it a chance.”
We walk hand in hand across the street and over to the pavilion that is alight with strings of lights and people singing. Oddly, it feels like we are walking up to a beach party and not a worship service. A band is set up at the front of the group and is belting out a lively song about singing of His love forever. People have their hands raised in the air and are dancing along to the beat the instruments are creating.
“This is weird,” I mutter to Beck and try pulling him to a halt.
He doesn’t allow me. Instead, he swings me around and starts leading us in a dance. “It’s only weird because you don’t understand it yet.”
“Aren’t Christians supposed to look differently from the world? This place looks like a frat party minus the kegs.” I look around and see only euphoric smiles gracing everyone’s faces.
“Exactly. No kegs needed. We’re high on joy. That is different from the world. If we hide our joy, then we rob the world of seeing what they’re missing out on.”
I keep a hold on my confusion, using it as a shield to suppress those peculiar feelings from building in my chest for a few songs, but it slips when my focus shifts from the rhythm of the music to the words being sung.
Live like you’re loved. You’re valuable. God loves you just as you are. Be who He made you to be. He holds your soul, so don’t be afraid to live in that grace. No more guilt… No more shame…
The intensity grows in my chest until I’m gasping for breaths.
“I’m having chest pains.” I rub at my chest, desperate for relief.
“It’s not chest pains. It’s soul pains.”
Tears burn my eyes. “How to make it stop?”
Beck turns so that I’m shielded from the group by his large form. “Easy. Just give your life over to God. Ask Him to heal those holes in your soul.”
I shake my head and press my
palm firmer against my chest. “I don’t know if I can give my life over.”
“Harper, it’ll be the most freeing experience of your life. You’ve not truly lived until you do this.” He leans down and fixes his lips near my ear and whispers, “Ask Him to heal the holes.”
I want nothing more than to fix whatever is broken in my chest, so I do. As soon as I stop rebelling against it, the most peculiar thing happens. My soul shatters, releasing all of the darkness that has been trapped inside for far too long. The sultry night feels heavy with all of the jagged pieces suspended in it, some float away while others seem to strengthen. Beck keeps his lips pressed to my ear and leads me in a prayer and by the time he concludes both of our faces are damp with tears. This moment feels like a fairytale and I wouldn’t believe in it had I not been living it. I truly feel the holes mending as the pieces of my soul weave back together. The tapestry of my being may never be complete in this lifetime, but I know it’s a pattern I’ll be more comfortable wearing.
I can’t help but giggle from feeling so light all of a sudden, like the burden evaporated right along with my tears.
“It only gets better.”
“You say that about a lot of things.”
“No. I say that about only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Life, and, babe, it will only get better.” Beck grins down at me and continues dancing us in a celebratory circle.
I can’t help but muse over how I’ve allowed ridiculous religious rituals that don’t matter a hill of beans to rob me of a joy just waiting for me to claim. All those years trying to live up to some impossible standard put into place by men and not by God. Their man-made malarkey was to keep a bridle firmly set in the members’ mouths. I allowed it to be my reason, no, my excuse to not write the life God had intended for me to live and to rebel like a brat. Beck has shown me I don’t have to be anyone but Harper Blume. Him showing me this side of God’s people has also shown me I can come as I am and not what people expect me to be. It’s truly the most freeing epiphany of my life.
Once the service concludes, Beck walks us across the street, bypassing the Jeep, and on to the beach. We kick our shoes off and continue dancing.
“Tell me a story. Our story,” he eventually requests.
“I’ve lived a life void of desire until glimpsing a picture of you. That first desire was born from curiosity and longing for something I didn’t understand…” Words fail me as the emotions thicken my throat.
He leans away from me abruptly. “Tell me more.”
I open my eyes and find those blue depths of his gaze locked on me.
It takes a few moments to get back to the story and when I do, my voice is unrecognizable. It’s low and husky. “Another aspect of desire met me on the beach that day. Never have I wanted to slap someone and kiss them at the same time until I met you.”
We both chuckle.
Taking a few deep breaths, I continue with my lips admitting a truth my mind had yet to comprehend until it’s articulated. “Desire is faceted on so many levels. I didn’t grasp that until you. Never have I felt worthy enough to expect anything from this life until now. You’ve ignited a desire in me to want it all. But my greatest desire is to love you through all of it.”
Beck blinks several times. “You love me?”
The affection reflecting from his handsome face and the sweet smile gracing his lips compels me to confess how I truly feel about him. Cupping my hands to his face, tears tickling the corners of my eyes, I whisper, “I’m in love with you. I promise I tried not to, but—”
“I love you, too, Harper.”
Overwhelmed by this declaration, my eyes close to help savor it.
“Open your eyes and live in this moment with me,” Beck quietly demands.
I do as he says and regain a bit of control. With eyes locked on mine, he leans down slightly to brush a kiss onto my parted lips. We breathe the air the other offers with our bodies swaying in time with the ocean’s luring melody.
“I love you, Harper,” Beck says resolutely, bringing me back to him as he rests his forehead against mine.
Beck’s words from earlier penetrate the blissful fog. Babe, it will only get better. His declaration was an understatement. It’s complete rapture.
“Beck, thank you for accepting all of my brokenness and for not giving up until I allowed God to put me back together.”
He releases a long sigh and rasps out, “You own me.”
There’s no doubt he owns me, too.
Chapter Fourteen
Sunlight filters through the checkered curtains as my thoughts continue to remain on last night. Stretching, I feel the ache in my calves and can’t help but grin from its presence. We danced the entire night away and are now sitting in the diner scarfing down breakfast.
“What are you smiling about?” Sleep rumbles Beck’s deep voice.
I look over and see him watching me with his head tilted to the side as he takes a bite of bacon.
“You know why. I’m feeling so light and free, I could float away.”
He reaches over and presses his hand on top of mine. “But I like you here. No floating away, Blume.”
I grin and blink my heavy lids. “I like being here with you too much to float away just yet.”
“I like that smile you’re wearing. It’s genuine.” Beck leans over the table to steal a quick kiss. “You wear it well,” he whispers against my lips before sitting back.
My lips stretch even wider from his compliment as my fingers touch the delicate petals of the peony tucked behind my ear. Beck swung by his place to grab the flowers so I can take them home. He kissed me in his driveway and then tucked a smaller bloom into my tangled hair, saying the flower was the perfect symbol for me. I was flattered that he took the time to look up the meaning of the pink peony. It symbolizes healing, and I feel my soul doing just that.
“It’s a feeling like no other, isn’t it?” Beck asks, somehow reading my thoughts.
“Yes. It’s euphoric.”
He takes a sip of coffee. Once the cup is back on the table, his eyes have taken on a serious note. “Just remember when a difficult chapter comes up—’cause, babe, it will—hold on to this epic moment.” He entwines our fingers. “Remember, nothing worldly can take care of it. Turn to God.”
The food binges and drunken nights flash before me. Each time I turned in either direction, I was always left in worse shape than I began. There’s no way I want to go back to that, but naivety could easily sway me to turn there. Beck is right to remind me. Here’s praying my life story can stay on the right track.
Tears tickle my eyes as I nod with understanding. Sniffing them back, I take my last bite of egg and wash it down with some coffee.
“We’ve got to go to bed soon. I’m about to fall into my plate of food,” I say on a yawn.
“Sleep will have to wait for me. I’ve got training sessions to get in first, but I’d like to take a nap on your deck later on.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” We grin at each other like goofy kids, but I don’t care. I’m too happy to care.
After finishing up breakfast, we head back to my cottage and find a new Prius parked in my driveway. For such a froufrou car, somehow this one with dark tinted windows and a gunmetal paintjob pulls off an edgy look. Beck parks beside it and is rounding the Jeep before I know what’s happening. I grab the vase of flowers and scoot out of the seat.
A man emerges from the car with his hands held up in surrender.
“Harper, you know this man?” Beck’s gruff voice and glare is enough to have me a bit nervous.
I glance at the man in question with his salt-and-pepper hair, bowtie, and thick glasses. His eyes are trained on the impending attack while his head nods.
“Yes, he’s Adrian Wild. My publisher… or was going to be until—”
“You’re the one who fired her?” Beck takes another step until he’s leering over Adrian with clenched fists.
I reach up and brace Beck’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Adrian had every right.”
He ignores my attempt to calm the situation. “Do you realize how talented this woman is?”
Adrian adjusts his glasses and steals a quick glance at me before regarding the giant threat in front of him. “Yes. That’s why I’m here to right my wrong.”
Beck jabs a finger just shy of Adrian’s chest, making me flinch right along with Adrian. “You better.” He takes a step back and pulls me to him, effectively blocking me from Adrian. “I’ve got to get to those training sessions, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”
“Okay,” I mumble just before he kisses me. It’s tender and delicate and amazes me that just seconds ago he was all menacing.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“Love you, too.”
Releasing me, Beck conveys another warning glare to Adrian before climbing inside the Jeep and leaving me to deal with whatever this may be. We both stand in the driveway, a bit stunned, until the Jeep rounds the corner.
“Now that is a noteworthy book boyfriend,” Adrian admits, his tone full of respect.
Snickering, I turn toward him and ask, “Now what would you know about book boyfriends?”
His lips pull into a smirk, showing off distinguished laugh lines. “I own a publishing house. It’s my job to know what sells.” He points to where the Jeep just disappeared. “And that, young lady, sells.”
“I’ve definitely bought into it.”
“Are you incapable of replying to an email or answering your phone?” he asks abruptly, sounding rather fatherly.
“Umm… My computer and I broke up and my phone blew up.” With my defenses going up, the snark joins the fight.
“You have one of those phones making headlines with the battery catching fire?”
“No. I have a garbage disposal that’s addicted to cell phones.”