But could she really blame them?
She sat, frozen on the bed, until a wind kicked up outside and sent something flying into the window. The sharp sound scared her; she jumped and clutched a hand to her chest, where her heart galloped in fear. The adrenaline wouldn’t back down, though. She had too much to be afraid of.
IT WAS JUST AN EXCUSE, really. Shaun wasn’t going after Jessie. She needed her space, and he didn’t want to keep putting himself in a position to have to defend Savannah. He’d just wanted to get off the phone.
He retreated to his office and shut the door, then turned the ringer off on his phone in case Savannah called again. He shut down his computer as well, and when the screen went black, the room went completely dark. No distraction, no input, no stimulation. This was what he needed right now.
It was time to face the fact that he was a failure. It didn’t matter what Savannah had done, it didn’t change the truth about Shaun. Her shortcomings had contributed to the disaster that now lay at his feet; but had he not stolen from A&A’s savings, had he not squandered their own personal assets, things would look very different right now. He had ruined everything, and if several thousand dollars didn’t fall into his lap very soon, everyone was going to know about it.
He tried to think rationally about every facet of the situation. Likely outcomes: He would go to jail. His daughter would hate him, and she would need some serious therapy to sort out all the ways she had been hurt by both her parents and God. His wife would hate him, and given her position in the ministry, it was possible she could be implicated.
Despite what he’d told Jessie, his opinion of divorce was beginning to change. He was starting to think that leaving both Savannah and Jessie might be the most compassionate thing he could do. And once he’d put as much emotional and physical distance between himself and them as he could, then he could kill himself so he could get out from under the mountain he had created. He could leave a letter explaining everything so Savannah wasn’t blamed for the ministry’s financial ruin. His death might even pull Savannah and Jessie together. At least they’d have their disgust for him in common.
He nodded to himself as he rocked in his desk chair. It was a decent plan. Not one he was quite ready to implement, but knowing he had it in his back pocket gave him a sense of control for the first time in months.
He turned his computer back on. He needed to start getting the details sorted. First he’d figure out the divorce, then he’d figure out the death. For a moment he began to miss them, as though the plan had already been set in motion, but he reassured himself as he brought up an internet browser. At least he’d see them again in heaven.
SAVANNAH PULLED THE COAT TIGHTER around her shoulders and dodged a peach tree branch she’d veered too close to on her unsteady feet. The sun was setting, and the sky was awash in watercolors that she knew must look brighter to others. Everything today had been cast in gray to her.
She was such a mess of emotions she couldn’t even sort out what exactly she was feeling. Depression was one of them, she was pretty sure. Probably some hard-core anxiety, too. And, of course, the ever-present anger. She thought it ironic that she was living in a place that housed two full-time counselors and yet she had no one to talk to. She didn’t want to bring all this up to Tabitha; she didn’t think she’d earned the right to go to her with such deep troubles, not when Savannah had basically told Tabitha to take a hike when she’d tried to do the very same thing. She’d also gotten a call that morning from Rose, the therapist she’d talked to back in Colorado, that had brought her even lower. “Just checking in,” she’d said in her message. “I haven’t gotten very much help yet on your situation, but I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you.” Savannah was tempted to tell her to give up. If there was any help to be found, someone would have by now. And despite the friendliness and empathy of the others staying there, none of them had any idea what she was going through.
She’d never been so alone. At least in the past she’d always had God to talk to. But now she had no one.
The wind picked up and she squinted against the dirt that flew into her face. A storm was rolling in from the north; she could see the massive black clouds in the distance. Part of her wondered if she should even be out here—how much stress would her heart take? Would she be okay if she started shivering? Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if this heart went out too. Her next check-up at the cardiology clinic was coming up; maybe they’d see her heart was getting too stressed and they’d give her a new one. Maybe if she got someone else’s heart she’d go back to being who she was. Maybe she could request a Christian this time. It would limit her odds of getting one before she died, but even then she’d at least be done with this nightmare.
She stopped in her tracks. “Am I suicidal?” She spoke aloud to the trees, really not sure if she was or not. She didn’t think so, but maybe she was close. How else could she escape Charlie’s hold on her? Apparently she could do nothing, and his thoughts were ruining everything. How bad an idea was it really?
When you can’t, God can. It was one of her tag-lines, one of the things she’d always worked into her books and talks. She’d lived by it, and then life had started clicking along just fine and she hadn’t needed to test its truth anymore. She’d gotten good at doing on her own whatever needed to be done. Her transplant had been the first thing she’d had to rely on God for in a long time. Now it seemed like her life was one giant “can’t”, but there wasn’t anyone she could turn to who could.
Over the last twenty-four hours, the weight of the anger in her heart and the chaos in her head had grown tenfold. She was so close to a fix, and yet completely stymied as to how to get it. She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, teetering, waiting for an outstretched hand to reach just a little further, grab her jacket and yank her back to safety. But the hand just hovered there, a couple inches short.
The wind picked up again. She was beginning to regret coming out here. The orchard was barren without a place to shelter from the wind—or from herself. No bedclothes to hide beneath, no armchair to curl up in to escape to her latest book. The orchard had no distractions, and she realized she’d been living the last week from one distraction to the next because she didn’t know how else to cope. How do you look reality in the face when it’s so despairing? Why even bother?
The house was a hundred yards away now, and as the force of her emotions and fear began a cascade through her system, she found herself without any protection or defense.
Jessie, Shaun, A&A, Adam, Marisa, her reputation, her family, her marriage, her self … the loss and potential loss of so many things dear to her began to cave in on her. It was all because of this stupid heart, this heart that didn’t seem to realize Charlie was gone and Savannah was its home.
She had to get rid of this heart. But how?
She began to run down the aisles between the bare peach trees, their naked limbs bending with the wind like arms reaching out to grab her. She swerved to avoid a rock in the path and her jacket snagged on a low branch. She’d been an avid jogger before her illness, but the months since had atrophied her muscles to mush. She ignored their burn, the complaints of tendons challenged without a warm-up, and pushed herself farther and farther, the house receding behind her like a movie finale. She thought only of her heart, of taxing it beyond its capacity, of punishing it for destroying her life. She wanted it to burst. And if they don’t find me in time, maybe that’s okay.
Her eyes streamed, her lungs burned, her heart slammed in her chest—until a hole in the path caught her foot and sent her flying face-down into the dirt. She burst into tears and screamed without thinking. “Jesus!”
The name was like a key in the lock of the floodgates that held back the fullness of Charlie’s pain. They swung open, pouring a tidal wave of grief and anger and desperation over Savannah’s soul. Her fingers dug into the ground as she sobbed, seeking an anchor lest the emotion sweep her away. Her heart kicked in
her chest as though trying to literally pound its way out.
Fear surfaced through the waves. What was she thinking, pushing herself that way? She didn’t really want to die, did she?
She couldn’t tell anymore what was her pain and what was Charlie’s. He was already dead, but his heart didn’t know it. If she didn’t get it under control, it might kill her, too.
She sucked in deep breaths, trying to slow the beat and rein in the overwhelming feelings. “Slow down, relax, be calm,” she panted. And then — because what did she have to lose? — “You’re mine. Charlie is gone, and you’re mine now. That anger is dead. That pain is done. Let it go. Just let it go already.”
Like flotsam from a shipwreck, thoughts swirled through her head that she knew instinctively were not hers, thoughts that told her life was a waste and love was a myth and God was a fairy tale. She pounded her fists to the ground and yelled. “No! Lies, lies, lies!” And then, grasping onto new thoughts that floated in the current like life preservers, she begged, “Be real, God. Be real again. I can’t do this anymore. Make this stop. This has to stop! Charlie is gone—you’re gone, Charlie, you’re dead, and this heart is mine!”
Her voice escalated with every sentence, her fists punctuating them on the dirt, until she dropped her head to the ground and waited for something to carry her away.
She had nothing left. No thoughts, no emotions. All were gone, like an ocean squall that disappears as quickly as it came, leaving you clinging to your raft and unsure if you can really trust it’s over. Her heart began to slow, her breath to regulate. She released the ground and slowly pushed herself up to her feet, standing cautiously as though the earth might tip and send her crashing down again. She felt different. She couldn’t identify the reason, but with each slow step that brought her closer to the house the difference became more pronounced.
Limping, she mounted the stairs to the front door. She headed for her room, ignoring the looks of concern from the others as she bypassed the flow of people leaving the dining room from dinner. She washed the earth from her face and hands, stripped off her stained clothes, and crawled beneath the blankets as exhaustion overtook her.
In the seconds before she fell into a hard sleep, she realized the difference was peace.
CHAPTER 14
SUNLIGHT BATHED THE ROOM WHEN SAVANNAH AWOKE. EVERY muscle ached when she rolled from the bed, but she relished the sensation as she sat on the floor to stretch. It felt good to have awakened her body again, beat it into submission, shown it who was boss. She smiled, her body responding to the wake-up call of a few pilates poses.
She was still not her old self. Foreign feelings still coursed through her veins, but the strange peace that had enveloped her before falling asleep the night before was still there. She noted with great pleasure that the simmering anger had cooled as well. Not completely, but enough to give her hope.
She had new feelings as well, ones that she could claim as her own. Empowerment. Ambition. No more hiding, no more distractions. Time to stare it all in the face and deal with it head on. It was time to find healing instead of despairing that it would ever come.
Her resources at The Refuge were too good to pass up. She found Tabitha and told her what had happened the night before. “I’m ready to try the group therapy, if you’re still alright with that. I don’t know if it’s going to help, but I might as well try — and if nothing else it’ll give me something else to do with my time.”
Tabitha hugged her. “You’ve gone through the fire and come out the other side.”
“That’s about how I felt.”
“Group is at ten.”
“I’ll be there.”
She had half an hour, and she spent it on the porch with a notebook. She labeled a page Shaun and began to list the issues she could identify, trying to bring order to all the confusion that had reigned in her head lately. After that she listed the steps she could think of that might help resolve things, or at least slow their descent into total catastrophe.
A little before ten she left the rocking chair and made her way to the group therapy room, where a circle of chairs awaited the Refugees. She was greeted with warm smiles that bolstered her courage. If they could do it, so could she. Even though she wasn’t sure what “it” was.
After everyone was seated, Tabitha announced Savannah to the group. “I know you’ve all met her already, but I wanted to give her an official introduction as a Refugee member. Welcome to the group, Savannah.”
Savannah gave a nod and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. After a brief murmur of welcome from the others, Tabitha kicked off the session with a statement-structured prayer that lacked any sense of a prayer at all. “God can heal us, and we ask him to do that today,” she said with eyes open, locking gazes with each person in turn as she spoke. “God can soften our hearts toward those who have wounded us, and can bring us out of the pain we’ve been living in. Do you agree?”
Some—though not all, Savannah noticed—echoed their agreement. She wondered if her own prayer for a softened heart would do any good, since her heart wasn’t exactly her heart. Maybe it’s like praying for someone else. Though that would require that she actually pray, and while she had called out to Jesus the night before, it hadn’t exactly been in a reverent and prayerful way. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to take that step, especially if uttering that one name had brought on such a tempest. What kind of storm would a whole prayer unleash? She decided she would open herself to the prayers of others, but not attempt her own quite yet. Baby steps.
Tabitha began talking about the subject of the day’s meeting: what forgiveness looked like and how it would help them, versus what it did, if anything, for the person that wounded them. She listened to Tabitha’s teaching, and to the honest and sometimes gut-wrenching admissions of the Refugees who were willing to share with the group. Her mind wandered a bit as she listened, attempting to determine how her own situation could be helped by this, but by the time lunch rolled around and they all filed out together she found she was energized and encouraged by the meeting. Tabitha stopped her before they entered the dining room and asked, “So, what did you think?”
“It was … it was good, I think. I’m really glad I did it. I’m still not sure how this is going to help me, but I’m willing to try it.”
Tabitha wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m so glad.”
Savannah was struck with an idea. “Listen. Would you be willing to pray for me? Not out loud, necessarily, just … while we’re standing here.”
Tabitha’s smile was electric. “Absolutely.” She led Savannah to the windows, and they each took a seat and stared out to the land that stretched along the front of the house. She found herself almost cheering Tabitha on in her mind, as though this one prayer might actually change anything. After a moment Tabitha turned to her and smiled. “Done.”
“Painless. Thanks. Baby steps are good, right?”
“They’re crucial, yes.”
“Okay, good.” She inhaled deeply, relishing the peace that was still hanging around. “Baby steps I think I can do.”
SHAUN WANDERED THE EMPTY GROCERY store aisle without really seeing the items on the shelves. He didn’t actually need anything—he still had a decent amount of food to finish off— but he’d been desperate to escape the prison of the empty house where he felt compelled to hide during the day. Midnight was the perfect time to venture out without the likelihood of running into someone who now hated him.
He turned the corner, eyes snagged by a bright display of soda cases arranged in a pattern, and walked right into a customer ticking items off a list. “I’m sorry—”
“Oh.”
Shaun and Marisa stared at each other as a blanket of awkwardness settled over them. “I wasn’t looking where I was going; forgive me,” Shaun finally said, stepping out of her way.
Her look of surprise morphed to irritation as she pocketed the list. “Slinking around in the dark,” she said, her tone sardonic
. “That’s fitting.”
He stared at her in frank shock. This was the woman who had shared their table at countless holidays and casual get-togethers, whom he’d seen nearly every day for years. She’d been like a sister to Savannah and, in turn, like family to him. He never would have expected so much venom. “Well … so are you,” was all he could manage to come up with in retort.
She rolled her eyes. “Taking a break from a night of packing so I can get to New York by Thanksgiving. I needed a break and a meal.”
“New York—that’s great.”
“Yeah — at least I have somewhere to go to. Unlike the other people you left in the lurch.”
“Marisa, I didn’t—”
“Look. I know you were doing something with the reimbursement forms. I should have followed my gut but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that you would steal from the ministry. And don’t think I don’t know that’s the root of the ministry’s financial issues. If I could prove it I would.”
Panic began to rise. How much did she know? How had she figured it out? “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever.” She pushed past him, then turned and skewered him with her eyes. “I just pray more people don’t get hurt by your selfishness. Six people who lived and breathed that ministry and looked up to you and Savannah is enough of a body count.” She spun and walked away, leaving Shaun speechless with fear. He abandoned his empty basket in the middle of the aisle and left the store, walking quickly and keeping an eye out for Marisa lest he run into her again. He was gripped by the irrational thought that she’d be able to read his mind the longer they were in the same vicinity. He had to get out, now.
He jumped into the car and fought not to speed the whole way home. Even back in the confines of his depressing house he didn’t feel any safer. Marisa knew something, and even though it wasn’t much, it was enough to ruin him and Savannah if she went public with it. Even without solid proof people would believe whatever accusation she leveled against him, given the abrupt shuttering of the ministry.
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