Felix shrugged. “I guess she was afraid it would make a scene. Anyway, he passed out, and she went to Tiffany’s hoping he’d be gone by the time she came back late this morning.”
“Was he?”
“Ah, no. And while she was tearing into him, Ms. Goodwin stopped by to drop off her rent check. The old gal helped Lillian get him out of the apartment.”
“Ms. Goodwin…” Chuck chuckled in disbelief. Then winced. He sat back and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. Poor Lillian. He couldn’t believe all she’d gone through last night. Hope stretched through his chest. But that could all be smoothed over, right? He’d apologize for leaving things the way he did, for not being there for her. Chuck bolted upright so swiftly, he knocked the chair backward. He barely glanced at it when he bent to set it right again. “I need to go see her.”
“She’s at Family Dinner, Buddy.” Felix’s voice, calm and even, clashed with the nervous twitch at the ends of Chuck’s fingers.
“So, I’ll wait outside her apartment until she’s done.”
He entered the kitchen, dumped his plate—with a half-eaten steak, potato, and untouched corn—on the counter. “Thanks for dinner.”
Felix followed him into the house, “Chuck, wait—”
“Have you seen my keys?” he asked, remembering he’d asked Lilly that same question—was that really only yesterday?
“Chuck.”
He spun on one heel. Ah. His keys, phone, and wallet had been dumped on the bookshelf in the corner. He pressed the home button on his phone, hoping to see a text from Lilly, but it remained dark. I’ll plug it in at home.
“Chuck!” Felix’s tone finally brought Chuck’s eyes to his.
“What?”
“What are you going to say?”
“That I’m sorry for being such a jerk,” he answered, snorting sarcastically through his nose.
“And how can you assure her that it won’t happen again—that you won’t hurt her again?”
Chuck brushed past Felix, his hand gripping the door knob.
“Because when you realize you haven’t truly forgiven Tanner—and are once again forced into a situation with him—what guarantee do you have that you won’t let yourself slip again? Or worse? You need to think about what that could do to Lillian.”
Chuck froze, stiffening. “What do you mean? I just told you that I forgave him.”
Felix shook his head. “You can’t honestly believe that was sincere. This isn’t you man,” Felix waved a hand up and down toward Chuck’s rigid posture, “angry and irresponsible. Putting yourself in situations you have no business being in. Don’t you think if your forgiveness was sincere you would be filled with peace? Because right now you’re so wound up you look like you’re going to snap.”
Chuck popped his knuckles. He fought to force words of defense out of his mouth. But they froze in his throat. What little fire had roared at Felix’s words was quickly smothered. Felix had seen Chuck through his darkest hours. Had been one of the few relationships that hadn’t faded after his father’s death. The only friend that had stayed with him in the middle of his raw and heavy grief in the months and years that followed. Every anniversary of the collision. Every birthday. Every Father’s Day. When his mom remarried. Through every unexpected instance that brought it all back—Felix had remained by his side. They’d known each other all of their lives; if anyone could speak straight truth in love to Chuck, it was Felix.
Chuck let go of the knob, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Chapter Forty-Five
Chuck hadn’t come to Family Dinner.
Lillian had known he wouldn’t, hadn’t truly expected him to. But still... As friends and neighbors filtered onto the roof, one by one, pair by pair, she’d watched for him, hope sinking further into the depths of her spirit.
Thank goodness for Tiffany. Though Lillian tried to appear normal, her voice and attention repeatedly died out mid-conversation. Time after time, Tiffany would jump in to rescue her before she’d even realized that she’d done it again. And she really shouldn’t have worried about keeping up appearances. It was obvious that, between Stephanie’s account of Drew buzzing her apartment at three AM and Ms. Goodwin witnessing the way Lillian kicked him out at eleven, most of the Idaho Building residents had put the story together on their own. In light of that, Chuck’s absence was deafening.
The neighbors took pity on Lillian and didn’t linger long after dinner. No one mentioned dessert or their routine of gathering around the fire pit to listen to Chuck play the guitar. Mr. Cooper hadn’t brought his bongos.
Lillian wished that she could’ve sat under the string of vintage Edison lights zigzagging from one shade umbrella to the other. Longed to enjoy the twinkle lights she and Tiffany had spent the day hanging along the half wall.
She suddenly realized that there was no reason she couldn’t sit on the roof alone, enjoying the sunset, and later, the charming glow of the lights. Certainly, the music added to the ambiance, but wasn’t that what Pandora and smartphones were for?
Lillian stood to clear what remained on the table. She offered the rolls to Stephanie and complimented her on the delicious pasta salad she had made. Eddie from the third floor offered Lillian the rest of the artichoke dip and she gladly accepted. She responded to Tiffany’s whispered inquiries as to her well-being over and over with flat smiles and stiff assurances.
Tiffany followed Lillian down to the apartment and helped her load the dishwasher and put the leftovers away. She placed the last two cinnamon buns on a plate and covered them with plastic wrap.
“Do you want these in the fridge or on the counter?” Tiffany asked, eyeing the contents of Lillian’s fridge, looking for room.
“On the counter. That way I won’t have to bother with the microwave when I eat them around midnight,” she winked.
Tiffany sighed, her hands hung on her hips, scanning the kitchen for any missed projects.
“Go, Tiffany,” Lillian said, pulling a folding step stool from the broom closet. She snapped it open and set it in front of the fridge. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m completely sure.” She opened the cabinet above the fridge, rooted around until her fingers brushed against glass.
“Because I can cancel,” Tiffany continued. “Felix would completely understand.
Lillian wrapped her fingers around the stem and pulled it from the cupboard. She climbed down and walked to the sink and flipped on the water.
“Honestly, Tiff. I am going to take my phone, my ear buds, my Bible and journal and head up to the roof.” She ran the rose pink beveled glass under warm water, using her fingers to be sure she got every cranny. How did cupboards that were rarely opened get so dusty?
“What is that?” Tiffany asked, as Lillian wiped it dry.
“This,” she answered, setting it on the counter with a flourish, “is my favorite iced tea glass. It was my grandma’s. I remember having iced tea parties at her house because neither one of us liked hot tea.” Her lips lifted slightly. “I plan to make myself an Arnold Palmer or two and enjoy our hard work today.”
Tiffany rolled one corner of her lip between her teeth. “As long as you’re sure—”
“I’m sure, Tiff. Please, go enjoy your date. I am going to be fine. I think having some time to think and pray is just what I need.”
Tiffany sighed dramatically. “Okay. I’ll go have fun with my boyfriend. But, seriously, call me if you get lonely. I will drop him like a hot potato.” She grinned wickedly and wiggled her eyebrows. “A very hot potato.”
Lillian laughed and rolled her eyes, gently pushing Tiffany through the living room toward the front door. “No drooling on my wood floors,” she teased. “You might warp them.”
Tiffany opened her mouth to respond when they heard it—the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, the jingle of keys. Lillian stared at the floor, her heart pounding, ears straining to hear over the rush of blood pulsing through them.
The steps stopped just outside her door, and she grasped Tiffany’s arm, certain she might scream if Chuck knocked on her door just then.
But instead, they heard the scrape of a key in his lock, the familiar squeak of his door, followed by the quiet latch of the lock sliding back into place. Lillian’s eyes burned. She finally looked into Tiffany’s eyes, round with sympathy.
Lillian shook her head and whispered, “I’m fine, Tiff. Just go have fun on your date. Really.”
With one last unsure glance, Tiffany opened the door, then closed it behind her. Lillian heard her walk away, ankle boots clicking loudly all the way down the hall.
Wonderful, Tiffany. Could you be any louder?
Lillian straightened the apartment before gathering everything she wanted to take up with her. She filled the rose beveled glass with ice, poured in equal amounts of tea and lemonade, and then set it on a bamboo tray. Beside it she added a bowl of strawberries and a small square plate. On the plate went a generous dollop of sour cream in one corner, a heaping spoonful of brown sugar in another. She poked around the apartment for her journal—found it on a shelf in her room. Once she had her Bible, phone, and ear buds added to the tray, she lifted it carefully, and—as quietly as she could—snuck out of the apartment. As she walked down the hall, she pressed away the ache in her heart.
Chuck hadn’t come.
***
Lillian had an hour of sunlight left to journal and read her Bible. She read a few Psalms, mulling them over, then scribbled notes to herself in the margins.
After a while she set the Bible aside and enjoyed her dessert. The first time Lillian had gone to book club, Jeni had served the simple treat. Lillian couldn’t believe how delicious a strawberry dipped into sour cream and then brown sugar had been. It became a daily indulgence. Her feet twitched to different praise songs as they rolled through her Ellie Holcomb station on Pandora. She left one bud out to listen for any unexpected company. But no one came. The roof was completely hers.
Lillian dipped her last strawberry and let the brown sugar dissolve on her tongue. Wasn’t there a verse that described God’s word as being sweet as honey? She licked her fingers and traded the empty plate for her Bible again, flipping through verses she’d underlined over the last few months.
It was the best thing she could have done—carve out a quiet place to think and to pray. To apologize for her weaknesses and bemoan the continued consequences from her past mistakes. She wished she would have done it from the start instead of turning to Tiffany to console her.
Why do I always go to others before you, Lord?
As the sun sunk lower—one final burst of color and warmth on the horizon before it bid her corner of the earth goodnight—Lillian finally let herself journal about Chuck. Her fears and hopes poured onto the page, thought after thought tumbled out, not waiting for the other to be finished before changing topics.
Oh, Father. He’s been through so much. I can’t imagine losing my mom. You knew about Tanner and his connection to my mom. I have to wonder why didn’t You warn us? It was too much.
And why did I let myself fall in love with this man anyway? I knew better. You know my heart. You know that Chuck reached deep into my soul and awakened life in me in a way no one else has. After his assurances, I even dreamt that, maybe, someday, we could be married and work for Your Kingdom together, side by side in whatever way that You ordained. But now? Even if he would let me explain what happened with Drew and get over that…how would we begin to be okay with the reality of Tanner in my family? And why, of all the men that my mom has fallen in love with over the years, did it have to be Wade that she married?
A tear fell onto the page, bleeding the ink. Her emotions rolled over her in waves, breaking free at last. Thoughts she had shoved away throughout the day, finally took hold. Beneath the glow of the lights, surrounded by warmth in a place she had prayed over and created to be a safe space, Lillian cried for what was surely lost. Despair leaked from her soul, wetting her cheeks, dripping from her nose. She fumbled in her Bible cover for a pack of tissues and tried to pull herself together. Took deep gulping breaths. Turned back to the Psalm that had resonated with her the most and copied it into her journal.
“The LORD will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness, O LORD, is everlasting…” Jesus, would You sink that into my heart? That You have a plan for me, even if everything is upside down right now? Even if it never turns right side up (the way I want it to) again. I love You so much, my Lord and my God. Even if my relationship with Chuck is over, I am Yours. And You alone are enough. You have saved me, redeemed my life from the pit, and placed me on solid ground…
The pen flew over the page, the letters becoming more slanted and illegible as praise poured from her spirit. She shared what He already knew—that she loved Chuck, longed for everything to work out in the way that her heart desired.
But even if it doesn’t, God, I know that You’re good. Even if it all falls apart, and I live alone forever. Please, keep me anchored in that truth all of my days no matter what storms rail around me. You are good. You are good. You are good.
At last she closed her Bible and journal and stacked them on the cement beneath her chair. She leaned back, breathing deeply of the summer fragrances that she loved. A song kicked on that she had only recently discovered and wanted Chuck to learn for Family Dinner. Her heart clenched, her carefully sought after peace threatening to topple off its thin foundation.
No, she reminded herself. My hope is anchored in Christ. Only in Him. No matter what happens in my love life, that is what counts. Even if it all falls apart, He is still good.
Even so, her heart ached.
Chapter Forty-Six
Crunching sounded on the roof behind her; shoes skittering rocks as they stepped closer. A current zapped from the flutter in her belly down to her toes and fingers. Goosebumps raised the hair on her arms. She knew without looking that it was Chuck.
His presence wrapped its warmth around her like a hug, heady and disarming as he drew near. She battled against the sudden weight of her eyelids and barely won. Just his being evoked that delicious quake in her belly. Only now, it came with a bite. As if the butterflies had transformed into vicious wasps.
Lillian hooked one finger around the bottom of the bud in her ear, releasing it. Her chest rose and fell as she fought for breath. The metal chair Chuck pulled even with hers scraped against the concrete. Groaned in protest as he lowered his frame into it. Lillian continued to stare out across the city, the golden embers of the sunset dying out slowly on the horizon. He’d pulled the chair close enough for their shoulders to touch. Her skin tingled where it met his, where the hair on his arm tickled hers. She could feel his eyes on her profile. She licked her lips, unsure if she dared to look back.
“How did you know I was here?” she rasped out at last.
“Tiffany. I texted her when you didn’t answer your door.”
She nodded without answering. She had no idea what else to say. When had this become so awkward?
Hmm…when the guy who killed his dad turned out to be your step-brother? When you kicked him out of your apartment? When he showed up this morning with coffee and Drew answered in just his jeans?
Minutes stretched by. A hummingbird found the pot of red geraniums Ms. Goodwin had contributed to the roof. Its small body was barely visible as it darted around the blossoms, feasting on the delicacies. Lillian watched the little bird more intently than necessary. The longer they went without talking, the less she knew what to say. And the more certain she was that they were finished.
“I owe you an apology,” Chuck’s deep voice resonated in her chest.
Her lungs pulled at the air. She wished she could store some up for later use. It was a certainty that she would forget how to breathe once she looked into his storm-blue eyes. Lillian allowed her eyes to close for the space of a few seconds, then turned to face him. And there went her oxygen, leaving her in a mocking rush.
The bill of his hat was pulled low, shading the upper half of his face. His lips were drawn, as if he had just given in to the pull of gravity for good. Lillian reached out to lift the hat from his head, her fingers itching to smooth out his disheveled hair. She set it in her lap, fingered the frayed bill. His eyes stared back at her, and even with the warm, romantic glow of lights all around them, they were nearly black, heavy with an emotion she couldn’t define. He looked wary and worn.
She cleared her throat, but still her words came out so soft, she wasn’t sure he could hear her. “I couldn’t see your face,” she said.
When he didn’t say anything more, only stared at her with pain etched all over his tired face, she licked her lips. Her knees started to bounce. “Why do you owe me an apology, Chuck?”
He met her gaze, held it. “I took advantage of you and probably left you wondering—”
“You didn’t take advantage of me, Chuck. I—”
“—about where I was all day. I broke a promise that I knew was important. To both of us. And I’m not sure how to earn your trust again.”
“I don’t think you can take any responsibility for how you acted last night—”
“No, Lilly,” he shook his head, reaching out to grab her hand. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Don’t make excuses for me. There is no excuse for breaking my word. For putting you in that position. For…using you to mask my pain.”
Lillian’s throat swelled. She didn’t know what to say to that. They sat without speaking for what seemed an eternity.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came by this morning, Chuck,” Lillian blurted out when she could no longer tolerate the awkward silence. She winced. She hadn’t meant to bring that up. The words had come on their own, without stopping to check for permission.
One corner of his mouth ticked up, a shadow of his Labrador smile. “To be honest, I’m really glad you weren’t. There I mean.”
Her forehead crinkled, bringing her brows low over her eyes.
Even If Page 30