Even If

by Bethany Riehl

  Chuck blinked. “Because that would have meant you were there…together.”

  A lump worked up her throat, coming out in more unapproved words, “Did you really think that I could be with another man after…”

  Chuck sat up, squeezing her hand in both of his. His palms were moist. “No, Lilly. No.”

  But there it was—a flicker in his eyes. It was gone in a heartbeat, but that small flame told her that he did, even if just for a little while, believe that of her. The weight pressed down harder.

  Chuck swallowed. He looked down at their hands, hers lifeless now in his grip. She looked away. Felt him roll her hand over, cupping her knuckles with his left hand, tracing a pattern in her palm with the fingers on his right. A shiver worked through her, and her eyes burned. She closed them and presented her profile to him, willing away the tears that threatened to come to the surface. One rolled down her cheek anyway. She swiped at it as quickly as she could, but of course he saw.

  “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he whispered.

  She didn’t answer. Why was he be apologizing to her?

  “Lillian, talk to me,” Chuck pleaded.

  Can’t. Trying not to throw up over here.

  He reached out to brush her tears with his knuckles. The weight pressed down harder, darker. All of her hopes from earlier crashed down around her. Burning like ash in the back of her throat.

  How can this possibly work? The question rolled through her mind like the news ticker in Times Square. Because the problem wasn’t their stolen kisses. Or Drew’s drunken intrusion. It was much bigger than that. She rolled her lips inward, bit down hard. A fog of hopelessness rolled over her. There was no way to fix this. How could there be? No matter how they felt about one another, something bigger and darker had fallen upon them.

  Tanner.

  “Lillian, last night…after I left, I went back to your mom’s.”

  She sat up straighter. “You what?”

  “I didn’t go in or anything. Just sat around the corner until Tanner and Luke came out.”

  She clenched her eyes shut. “Oh no.”

  Chuck shook his head. “No, I didn’t do anything. Well, not there.”

  Lillian widened her eyes. Chuck rushed on before she could speak. “I followed them to Tanner’s house and then knocked on the door after Luke left. I wanted to forgive him, Lillian. I knew that was the only way that this,” he wagged two fingers back and forth between them, “could work. Aside from breaking up your mom’s marriage, which isn’t exactly practical. So, I knocked on his door and told him that I wanted to forgive him.”

  “What did he do?” her voice was high, breathy. Hopeful.

  “Uh, he cursed me out and slammed the door in my face.”

  Her shoulders drooped. Chuck kissed the tender flesh of her inner wrist and stood, letting her hand slip from his. He walked to the half wall and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down on to the buildings below.

  “So, I drove to Table Rock and waited for sunrise. I prayed a lot. Told the Lord that I had finally done what He’s been telling me to do for years. Asked for forgiveness for what I did to you—”

  “Chuck—”

  “And still, I feel…awful. Not just because seeing Tanner was a shock. Not just because he threw my offer of forgiveness back in my face. Not only because Felix had to point out that my forgiveness wasn’t sincere.” He turned to look down at her, his eyes softening. “Not just because I betrayed your trust and took advantage of you.”

  She clenched her fists in frustration and growled at him. “Stop saying that. You didn’t—”

  He held up a hand, palm out. “I did, Lilly. Trust me, I did.” He turned back to the city, eyes roving over the tall buildings and bright lights.

  Lillian stood and stepped into place beside him, thinking of every time that Chuck had assured her that her past didn’t matter. That he cared about her. That she was precious to him. She knew with certainty that he’d meant every word. She ached, knowing that it wasn’t enough. This was too big for both of them.

  “You weren’t there alone, you know,” she said, leaning against the wall, her elbows resting on the hard surface, addressing the only burden that could be absolved. She finally looked at his face. Two vertical lines creased his forehead; his eyes were glassy. He could feel it too, the hopeless reality of their situation.

  “Thank you, Chuck.

  “For what?”

  She took a deep breath. Forced herself to say what she must. “For being the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. For helping me to understand my place before the Lord.”

  He turned toward her, grabbed her shoulders. “No, Lillian. Don’t do this. Don’t. Please, believe me when I say we can figure this out,” his voice was higher than usual, eyes wild.

  Lillian placed her hands on his forearms and tilted her head up to look in his eyes. She wanted so desperately to believe him.

  “How, Chuck?”

  His Adam’s apple dipped. His fingers tightened on her face, and he opened his mouth. But nothing came out. Lillian’s heart broke for him. For the loss that he’d suffered. The loss that she, in an indirect way, had brought to the surface. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her for a heavenly second before Lillian forced herself to step back.

  “It’s okay, Chuck. I understand. I really do,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

  “Lilly, wait—”

  “No, Chuck. Please let me go. I—I’m just so sorry. About everything.”

  His eyes softened, and he took a step toward her. She stepped back. They faced off, agony etched into both of their faces.

  After several heartbeats, Lillian stepped away from him and gathered her things, hands trembling. She stacked the tray with her empty glass and the plate painted with swirls of sour cream and brown sugar. The earlier sweetness of her evening had turned acrid.

  She felt Chuck watching her, risked a glance at him. He stood frozen in place, a muscle working in his jaw, hands clenched at his sides. Lillian straightened with the tray in her arms and filled her lungs with oxygen. She tried to wrestle a kind smile onto her face, but only managed a trembling twitch of her lips. She turned, leaving him standing alone, the glow of the strands of light surrounding him in a soft, romantic haze.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Two weeks later, Chuck heard Lillian’s door open and close just as dawn began to pierce the darkness. Her sneakers squeaked as she walked down the hallway. The stairwell door banged shut, and all was quiet again.

  He was seated at the island, elbows on the counter, feet resting on the bottom rung of the stool, fingers forked into his hair, the heels of his hands pressing into his temples. His Bible lay open in front of him, coffee mug next to it, the brew cooling to room temperature before he ever took a sip. He stared, unseeing, uncomprehending.

  As was the case every night since the BBQ, Chuck had tossed and turned, unable to shake the dark thoughts and images swirling through him. He rose before dawn and tried to read the Word, to capture the solution—to make everything normal, better. But he couldn’t concentrate.

  Lillian didn’t seem to be faring any better. When they met for their morning meetings, shadows of exhaustion hung below her eyes, and he noticed she drank three cups of coffee to his one.

  She’d taken up running early mornings, and again in the evening. Stayed professional and polite during the work day; made herself scarce in the evenings. Chuck missed her.

  Lord, how did I mess this up so completely?

  And how had two weeks passed since everything had caved in? Two weeks since he’d arrived at Lillian’s with a weary heart puffed up on hope, only to have all the life sucked out of it?

  The calendar alert on his phone dinged three times. Brows furrowed, Chuck swiped his thumb across the screen. A rectangle box appeared.

  Reminder: Mom/Todd’s patio demo. 7 AM.

  He groan
ed. Weeks ago, he’d agreed to help Todd demolish a concrete patio and prep the ground to build a deck the following week. He was certainly not in the mood to see his mom after successfully avoiding her since the BBQ.

  Then again, he thought as he dressed in worn jeans stained with various colors of paint and an old t-shirt, smashing concrete all day might be just the distraction I need.

  Definitely better than sitting around pouting about Lillian. He stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and swiped the keys from the hook by the door. He stepped into the hall and turned to lock the door, fitting the baseball cap backwards on his head. The building was still quiet with most residents enjoying the morning off to sleep in. He jogged down the stairs, eyes on his feet. He rounded the corner after two flights and smacked into Lillian on the landing.

  Instinctively, he reached out to steady her. Lillian turned shocked eyes on him, one ear bud dangling down to her waist, the other still in her ear. They stood frozen, his hands cupping her shoulders, thumbs painting slow half-moons into her soft skin, almost of their own violation. Almost.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, throat dry at the nearness of her.

  “My fault, I wasn’t watching,” she answered, eyes dropping to the floor.

  Dude. You’re still holding on to her.

  Chuck cleared his throat and forced himself to let go. They stood awkwardly, neither making a move to pass the other.

  “Back from your run already?” he asked, nearly kicking himself when he did. Way to sound like a stalker, Davis.

  But Lillian was dressed in running capris and a fitted tank top, a headband holding the hair back off her face. Maybe she’d think her outfit and the early hour was to blame for his question.

  She puffed on a self-deprecating laugh and held up the end of her headphone wire. “I completely forgot my phone,” she said.

  Chuck smiled. “Well, you could run without it.”

  Lillian relaxed slightly. “Uh, no. I need something to entertain me—and my timer to tell me when I can be done. I found Pastor Ryan’s sermons online and have been listening while I run. Not exactly upbeat, but it keeps my mind off the misery of running.”

  She smiled up at him, fully meeting his gaze at last. He drank in the green, brown, and blue flecks in her eyes. Chuck’s chest squeezed. It felt almost normal standing there talking to her. Her smile beaming up at him.

  “You don’t like running? You sure have been doing a lot of it lately.” Wonderful. Now he really sounded like a stalker.

  She swallowed hard. “Well…it keeps me busy.”

  And out the window went the brush with normal. Their gazes danced around each other before locking and becoming tangled. Chuck wanted to hug her, hold her. Assure her that she didn’t need to keep busy. But he was enjoying the lightheartedness of their conversation, didn’t want to lose it.

  “No more Chuck?” he asked. His eyes widened. “The show, I mean.”

  She laughed, the darkness that had clouded her hazel eyes clearing away. “Nah. Once they got married, the show just turned weird. Chuck doesn’t even have the Intersect anymore.”

  “What? How do they keep the show going that way?”

  Lillian rested a hand on the stair rail and waved the other in the air, still clutching the end of her ear buds between two fingers. “I know. It’s lame. So, now I jog.”

  “Well, maybe we could—” Chuck’s phone rang, reminding him of his commitment. He glanced at it before silencing the ring and shoving the phone in his pocket.

  “Sorry. My mom,” he told Lillian. “I’m helping Todd take out their concrete patio.”

  “How does one take out a concrete patio?”

  Chuck pantomimed holding a hammer over his shoulder, “You smack it with a sledgehammer, breaking it up chunk by chunk.” He brought the pretend hammer down in front of him.

  “Ah.” Lillian smiled again. His chest clenched. Again. “Well that sounds just about as fun as running,” she winked.

  He licked his lips. As long as the moment was ruined… “I miss you.”

  He regretted the words as soon as the clouds rushed back into her eyes. They glistened and skirted away from his, glued to the floor once again.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just...Lilly, I miss being your friend. If I can’t have you as…I mean if we can’t…can’t we at least be friends?”

  “Doubtful.” Lillian took a shuddering breath. Met his eyes. Shrugged. “I mean…well…maybe.”

  His phone beeped again. A text. The moment had been doused with water, snuffed out before it could amount to anything. But, it was far better than the stiff meetings and nods in the hallway.

  “You better go,” she smiled tremulously and stepped around him, her arm lightly brushing his as she passed.

  ***

  “Well, why can’t you be his friend, Lil?”

  Another week had passed. Another week of strictly professional meetings with Chuck. Another week of running far more miles than necessary—or desired. Tiffany and Lillian lay in lounge chairs on the roof in their bathing suits, faces turned toward the sun.

  Pink spots danced behind Lillian’s eyes. A suffocating breeze worked over her heated skin. Drowsiness pulled at her, barely keeping her present with the conversation.

  “Hmm? Oh. I don’t know, Tiff. Because I’m in love with the guy but I can’t have him? Because being around him is pure torture? But, it’s getting better. Seeing him in the hallway and at work, I mean.”

  She sat up abruptly, propping herself up on one elbow and facing Tiffany. “I just realized this is the second time I’ve dated a guy I work with.”

  Tiffany laughed, big round sunglasses covering most of her face. “You just realized that?”

  Lillian smiled and shook her head, easing back down. “Technically, Drew and I worked in different offices. I guess since Chuck and I were friends first and didn’t date very long I didn’t think of it. Other than our quick meetings to go over the day, we don’t see each other all that much during work hours.”

  “It’s getting better, but is it still awkward?”

  “Well. Yeah. Although, not as bad since we ran into each other last week. I think that broke the tension. Or maybe it just helped that he said he missed me. Now I don’t feel quite so pathetic.”

  “Why? Because you’re spending most of your time running, watching Hallmark movies, re-watching the first few seasons of Chuck, or hanging out with me and Felix?”

  “How did you know I’m re-watching the first few seasons of Chuck?”

  “Ha! I didn’t!”

  Lillian laughed. “You’re a turd.”

  Tiffany gasped. The chair squeaked. “Did you seriously just call me a turd?”

  Lillian peeked at her out of one eye, squinting into the bright sun. Tiffany had moved her glasses onto the top of her head and stared at Lillian in feigned outrage.

  “Yes. But that was before you showed me your ridiculous sunglasses tan. Now I’ll call you Amelia Earhart. It looks like you’re wearing pilot goggles.”

  Tiffany groaned. “Bummer. I always forget to take off my stupid sunglasses when I tan.”

  Lillian had needed a day just like this. While Tiffany was right about the ways Lillian was keeping busy, she had no idea how many hours her friend lay awake at night, crying into her pillow. She relived her short relationship with Chuck over and over again. The sweet moments. The kind things he said and the way he treated her. She tried to stop the flow of memories when she got to the night of the BBQ, but they came anyway. She usually fell asleep a few hours before it was time to get ready for work, and the cycle would play out all over again. She was so tired. The thick air pressed around her, lulling her to sleep.

  Tiffany’s voice floated over her, veering to safer topics—Felix. Youth group. Tiffany had taken Lillian’s place with the teens, and Lillian now spent all of her time in the main building. She attended first service and helped in the kindergarten room for second service. She missed the teens, but found jo
y in teaching little ones. Tiffany shared details about the upcoming youth camping trip, and Lillian fought against the weighty pull of exhaustion.

  “I’m trying to memorize as many verses as I can about grace,” Tiffany said. “I’ll need it to deal with Katrina after not sleeping because of a bunch of girls giggling all night. I mean, I like her, but she’s so…blah. And kind of on the grumpy side.”

  Lillian smiled just imagining it. She thought the camping trip sounded fun, but didn’t comment. She was thankful to be free of the subject of Chuck, both the show and the man.

  “So, tell me, Lillian, what would be so wrong with getting back together with Chuck?”

  Nuts. She should have known that Tiffany wouldn’t let it go. “He doesn’t want to get back together, Tiffany. He just wants his friend back.”

  “Then what’s wrong with that? Not that I agree with you one bit.”

  “Tiffany, I’ve never cared for anyone like I did—do—for him. It rips my heart out every time I look into those stinkin’ gorgeous eyes of his. He wants to hang out—sure. And that’s fine. Maybe he can go back to how it was, but I don’t know if I can. I mean, how can we be close friends or anything more than co-workers with this between us. Tiff, my step-brother killed his dad. How do you recover from something like that?” The words caught in her throat, choking her.

  “Chuck cares about you, Lil. You have to know that.”

  “Okay, so maybe he did. But I’m telling you that night was steamy. Even if Tanner wasn’t in the picture, I don’t know if Chuck could look at me the same after that anyway. I’m afraid he saw a glimpse of the trash I once was. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why this happened. Like God wanted to show me what could have been if I’d lived differently. You know?”

  Lillian flung one arm over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. Tears burned the back of her throat. Darn it, Tiffany.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up, startled. Tiffany, crouched down next to her, tears spilling from her eyes and down over her cheeks.

  “You are not trash, Lillian. No, you didn’t make the right choices. No, you weren’t perfect when Jesus called you. None of us are. ‘…but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.’ He is not punishing you, Lilly. He loves you.”