Della knew Nathan and her dad were both supposed to be at The Spindles today. She called Brandon. She’d no more than started to explain what had happened when he boomed, “Are you okay?”
“Yes. It was at Van’s—”
“Is Van all right?”
“Yes—”
A tussle sounded, and Nathan’s voice came over the phone. “Van—is—”
“She’s right here.” Della handed her the phone. Three minutes later, while Vanessa was still talking to her husband, Brandon’s jeep screeched to the curb. He and Nathan bolted from it as Daddy’s truck rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. The fact that two police cars pulled up behind with lights and sirens only added to the effect.
Brandon grabbed Della and held her tight. Her dad stood behind her, yanking her back toward him. In the midst of their tug o’ war, Della watched as Nathan scooped up Vanessa—tablecloth, phone, and all, and plowed toward a cruiser.
“Sir—”
“My wife just about got electrocuted. Get us to the hospital.” The one squad car left.
Della remained sandwiched between Brandon and her father as the other officer approached. “You men were speeding.”
Brandon yanked Della closer still. “I was going faster.”
❧
“I don’t understand how anything so right can be wrong.” Brandon could barely get the words past the tightness in his throat.
Nathan squeezed his shoulder—the bad one. The pain didn’t even begin to compare with the anguish Brandon felt.
They stood at the head of the stairs, looking down as the caterer carried the last bag of trash away.
Della, radiant in a russet-colored dress, thanked the worker as Vanessa closed the door. The women shared an exuberant hug. “Oh, it’s been a splendid affair!”
“Everyone loves it,” Vanessa agreed. “I’ll bet Nathan has this place booked solid for the next six months!”
The two women chattered and headed for the kitchen.
Brandon gripped the banister until his nails dug grooves in the highly polished oak. “I love her.”
“I know you do,” Nathan said in an equally muted tone.
“We’re opposites on just about any level. She’s a princess; I’m a jock. She’s—well.” He groaned. “It works for us. We’re a perfect fit. Why can’t we be different about God?”
Nathan jerked his head toward one of the upstairs business suites. They went in, shut the door, and sat across from one another in the made-for-big-men upholstered chairs. The silence between them ached.
Finally, Nathan asked, “Have you prayed about it?”
“I have. I can’t. I do.” Brandon banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “God must be sick of hearing me. I’ve been begging Him for three weeks solid.”
“God isn’t sick of hearing you. He’d love to have Della as His daughter. Ultimately, she has to make the decision, though.”
“What’s so wrong about me marrying her? I’d get her to come to church. She’d hear the gospel. I can’t see anything wrong with that.”
“It’s tough.” Nathan winced. “But you’re assuming a lot—that she’ll eventually make a decision to follow Christ.”
“She has to.”
“There aren’t any guarantees. We live by what we value. Since you’ve been saved, you’re using your time differently. Can you honestly say that Della wouldn’t be jealous of the time you spend alone in the Word and in prayer? You said she’s uncomfortable when you pray at meals now.”
“She could get used to it.” Brandon resented the question. He resented the need for the question. Why couldn’t Della just see the light?
“You don’t marry with the expectation of changing your mate. You have to say your vows with the understanding that you fully accept Della as she is. It’ll make for an unhappy marriage if she feels like she doesn’t measure up to your expectations or hopes.”
Nathan’s words held a lot of wisdom.
Brandon didn’t want to think about it though. Given enough time, surely, Della would have to. . .but his thoughts came to a grinding halt. Wishing for something didn’t make it happen.
“And what about your children? You’ll want to dedicate them to the Lord and train them up to know Him.” Nathan’s words hit hard. “A mother’s example is vital.”
Brandon raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t make this decision. Not yet.”
“Hey, you guys!” Vanessa’s voice cut into the conversation. “Stop hiding away and gloating alone. You promised to take us out for a celebration dinner!”
Nathan popped to his feet and headed toward the door. He cast a quick glance back at Brandon. “Take a minute.” He left and shut the door.
Brandon could hear Della’s heels clicking up the wooden stairs. Every beat sounded just like a nail being driven into a coffin.
❧
“Guess which fork,” Della teased as dessert arrived. They’d gone out to supper with Vanessa and Nathan—an elegant dinner at a fabulous restaurant. Nathan and Brandon both complained about the “arsenal” of silverware on the table, but neither had a bad thing to say about the wonderful food and service.
Brandon didn’t pause for a moment. He reached over and swiped hers. “This one.”
Laughter bubbled out of her. Brandon’s playfulness cropped up at the most unexpected times, but whenever it did, it never ceased to delight her. She held out her hand.
His brow hiked in unspoken challenge.
“That’s cheating.” She wiggled her fingers in a beckoning motion. “I know you always play by the rules.”
“You can share,” Vanessa suggested.
“Are you kidding?” Nathan gave his wife a disbelieving look. “Della ordered chocolate cream pie. No man in his right mind deprives a woman of chocolate.”
Brandon laid the fork back in Della’s hand. The silver felt warm from his touch. “Truer words were never spoken. Get this: Della keeps a stash of chocolate behind the cash register.”
“With all of those expensive gowns?” Nathan gave Van an astonished look. “Did you know that?”
“Of course she did.” Della gave the men a you-have-to-be-kidding-me look. “Girlfriends don’t hold out on one another.”
“In fact, Della invited me over to taste test the chocolates.” Vanessa grinned. “We decided on the best ones.”
Brandon gave Nathan an I-told-you-so look. “Women and their chocolate.”
“Since when did you care about chocolate?” Della tapped the back of his hand with her fork. “When we went hiking, you took away my chocolate and made me carry beef jerky!”
“Chocolate melts. The sugar attracts insects. It’s a refined carbohydrate, so you don’t get long-term energy from it.”
“See?” Della cast a knowing look at Vanessa. “He not only plays by the rules, he can quote them.” The waiter served the desserts. Della cut a bite of her chocolate cream pie and held it up to Brandon’s mouth. “I’m going to tempt you. Forget the rules and live a little.”
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, Della had the strange feeling she’s said something wrong. Embarrassment swept over her. Had they mistaken her words to mean some-thing racy?
“Oh, eat that.” Vanessa picked up her own fork and dug into her mud pie. “Della, just don’t blink, or Brandon will inhale his pie and yours.”
Everyone chuckled, but the tension didn’t dissipate. Della couldn’t shake the odd sensation that she was missing something important, but she didn’t want to ruin the supper by asking. This was Brandon’s big day. He’d proven his skills by completing a detailed, difficult renovation. Nothing was going to dampen the joy.
❧
“Something’s wrong,” Della said as they sat in the cool sand the next morning. Tendrils of early morning fog swirled around them, but they’d finished their run and were warm.
Only Brandon’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. Ever
ything used to be so easy between us. Suddenly, it’s strained. I don’t get it.”
The time’s come. Brandon whispered a prayer for a miracle. . .and if that miracle didn’t happen, for the strength to do what he had to. He reached over and folded her hand in his.
Fifteen
“I’ve changed, Della. I’m a new man.” The confused look in her eyes had him continue, “When you accept Christ, you’re a new person.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the same man.”
“No, Babe, I’m not. I’ve come to know the Lord, and that makes me different—different from who I used to be, and”—he paused and added quietly—“different from you.”
A wariness crossed her features. “I told you that doesn’t matter to me. I’ll do the church thing with you sometimes.”
“That’s a good start, and I appreciate that you’re willing to meet me halfway.”
“But?” Her voice nearly broke on that one syllable.
“But it’s not enough. Some things in life can’t be halfway.”
“What are you saying, Brandon? That if I don’t get religious, I’m not good enough for you?”
“I’m not religious, Babe. What I am is forgiven.”
“You’re a good person. So am I. We had this talk and agreed that was enough. Suddenly, you’re changing the rules, and I have to change or I don’t measure up? Give me a break, Brandon. Those rules don’t matter. Christians don’t even keep their own rules. Look at Katie and Jim—they’re Christians, and they’re living together.”
“We both know they shouldn’t.” He didn’t know how to respond to her comment. For people to call themselves Christians and live against God’s precepts didn’t just affect their own lives. It also ruined their witness. The pastor had a term for that—being a stumbling block. How could non-Christians understand what it meant to be different—to be set apart, when Christians acted just like non-Christians?
He let out a big sigh. “The wrong things others who call themselves Christians do make me sad, and I can’t condone their actions.”
“So if they do something wrong and God still loves them, then He can still love us. We’re not even doing anything.”
“There are going to be times when I blow it. I’m not saying I’m perfect. But when I do mess up, I’ll go to the Lord and ask forgiveness and try to follow Him more closely. I’m responsible for my own behavior.”
“But you’re not responsible for my decisions. Just because I don’t wear a cross and sing hymns, it’s not your fault.”
“Being a Christian isn’t just something you do; it’s what you are on the inside.”
“Well Katie and Jim say they’re Christians. I don’t see any difference. Why are they any better than I am? I’m not sleeping with you. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Tears filled her big brown eyes. “You want me to buy into this whole God-and-religion thing, and I don’t. All of a sudden, who I am isn’t good enough for you. I can’t lie, Brandon. So we have this—this”—she slashed her hand up and down—“this wall between us. I didn’t put it there. You did. Isn’t my love for you enough?”
Pain washed over him, lapped and pulled at him like the outgoing tide. He cupped her cheek. “Babe, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love—but I can’t lead you on.”
“You’re not leading me on. I know what the score is. We’re different in lots of ways, but we get along just fine.”
“This is the one thing that’s not negotiable. I’ll wait for you. I’ll pray for you. But I can’t keep dating you or ask you to marry me until you’ve given your heart to Jesus.”
She sat there in stunned silence. Slowly, her eyes filled and huge tears began to roll down her cheeks. “You don’t mean that.”
God, help me. He rasped, “I do.”
She fell apart on him. Brandon held her as she soaked his T-shirt with her tears. Some of his joined hers. He’d made the decision because it was the only honorable and righteous thing to do—but the anguish was unbearable. The depth of Della’s emotions only plunged the dagger more deeply into him. He’d done this—and he couldn’t do a thing to change it.
❧
“I can’t believe it,” Della told Katie two days later. “Van and Val were my best friends in high school. We were all still so tight—and then poof! They just side with Brandon.”
“That’s rough,” Katie sympathized.
“I still can’t believe it. We were so right together. Everything went like a fairy tale; then he just dumped me.”
The ice clinked in their glasses as Della wiped away her tears. “Van spouted off something about him being a Christian so we’d be ‘unequally yoked,’ as if we’re stupid oxen.”
“Oh, yeah.” Katie nodded. “Now I get it.” She hastily held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it stinks. You and Brandon make a great pair.”
“So then what’s the problem? He can go to church. I already promised him that. What more does he want?”
Trailing the tip of her fingernail in a water drop on the tabletop, Katie sighed. “From what Jim’s said, Brandon’s a play-things-by-the-book sort of guy. Christians make rules. They think there’s only right and wrong—nothing in between. That leaves you here.” She made a wet dot on one side of the water streak on the table, “and him here.” She made another dot on the opposite side then looked up.
“You and Jim aren’t like that. You accept me just the way I am. Why can’t God? Why can’t Brandon?”
“God will accept you—but there’s a hook. You have to accept Him as your personal Lord and follow Him. That’s what Brandon wants out of you, too.”
“Why can’t you Christians get your story straight? You’re a Christian. You aren’t forcing me to agree with you or be damned to hell.”
Katie shrugged. “I’m not hard-core Christian. I was once—back in high school. But life happens, you know? My parents split up, and God didn’t make it better. I still believe in Jesus, but I don’t feel like I have to walk around quoting the Bible and show up in church every time they open the doors.”
“Then I don’t see the difference.” Della couldn’t hold back the tears. “I figure God is there somewhere, too. Why should I have to conform to their rules just so I’m good enough to love?”
Squirming in her seat, Katie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
❧
“Stevens.”
Brandon glanced up from the blueprints and knew he was in for a rough time. Della’s dad and brothers looked ready to electrocute him. “Yeah.”
“I told you back at the start, if you made my baby girl cry, I’d—”
Brandon nodded once, curtly. He didn’t need to hear the threat. If having the Valentine men beat him to oblivion would solve the problem, take away Della’s pain, or mute his own, Brandon would willingly stand still and let them take him down.
“You hurt her.” Gabe’s accusation hung in the air.
“I know.” He didn’t bother to hide the ache in his voice.
“You love her,” Justin ground out. “We all know you do.”
Brandon looked him in the eye. “I can’t deny that. But it’s not enough.”
“Not enough?” Della’s father bellowed in outrage.
“Sir, I respect your daughter. I can’t ask her to change.”
“My daughter is perfect. She doesn’t need to change.”
“I’ve accepted Christ as my personal Savior. Because of that, I’m not the same man I used to be.”
“You’re no man at all to hurt my sister,” Justin sneered.
“I’d hurt her every day by wishing she were something she isn’t. I can’t do that to her.” Brandon rested his palms on the table. “I told her I’d pray for her. That I’ll wait. I’ll have faith that someday—”
“Forget it.” Gabe slashed the air. “Just forget it. Della doesn’t need you and your religion. It’s you who’s not good enough for her.”
Nathan sauntered up. “Gentle
men?”
Della father shook his finger at Brandon. “As long as he works for you, I don’t. Power Electric is canceling our contract bid on the housing development.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I value Brandon.”
“You made your choice.” Della’s family stalked off.
Brandon stared down at the blueprint. It was the one he’d chosen as the home he’d buy for his future with Della. No matter where he turned, reminders of his loss swamped him. He rasped, “I thought God was supposed to give me peace about this.”
“This is a different kind of war. Peace doesn’t mean an absence of struggle. It means you’re certain that no matter what happens, God wins in the end.”
“Ultimately, God wins the war, but I never wanted to put Della in the line of fire. What kind of man am I to let the woman I love become a battle casualty?”
“You’re a man of faith,” Nathan stated firmly. “God can bind every wound and heal the brokenhearted. Put your trust in Him.”
Brandon thumped a weight down on a fluttering end of the blueprint. “I used to think only weak men turned to God. I’m coming to discover it takes more strength to believe than to deny Him.”
❧
“I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but—”
“Oh, come on.” Katie yanked on the cord to close the blinds in her apartment then nudged one of Jim’s shoes toward the corner, next to the backpack overflowing with her new textbooks. “You have to quit moping, Della. I already told Harvey all about you. We’ll double-date. You can chose where you want to go. Saturday night—”
“I’m already busy Saturday night.” Della jumped on the opportunity to avoid another of Katie’s matchmaking attempts. “I know you’re trying to help me, but I need some time.”
“I can’t help it if I know dozens of guys. I’m surrounded by them in school. Brainy, hunky engineering and architectural majors. You could do a lot worse.”
Della didn’t respond. Katie had a habit of asserting herself, and most of the time it was okay, but this wasn’t one of those times. After Manny just “happened” to run into them at a movie, Della didn’t say anything. It felt like a set-up, but she didn’t want to make unfounded accusations. Lunch with Ashley seemed like a nice break—until Ashley turned out to be “a true Southern gentleman” with an obsessive need to cut his sandwich into precise, one-inch squares.
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