Even If

by Bethany Riehl

  Lillian blinked. Lord, did I just get schooled by a high school junior?

  Jordan jogged over just then, hair still wet from the shower. Holly gave him a side hug as he sat down, her smile warm and content. She pulled out her phone and took a selfie with him, then leaned forward to take a picture with Lillian also.

  “I’m glad you guys worked everything out,” Lillian said sincerely. Chuck began to strum the guitar and everyone rose to their feet.

  “Be sure to text me that picture, Holly,” she whispered before she turned forward again.

  She could barely concentrate during worship. Holly’s words, the morning at the lake, Chuck’s apology, her fear of getting into the canoe with Chuck—it all swirled around her, making her dizzy. She had butterflies swelling in her stomach, but couldn’t define the reason. It wasn’t the same flutter she had when Chuck passed his eyes over her face, wasn’t nerves…just a disquiet she couldn’t define.

  She finally sat on the log with her eyes closed, hands clasped in her lap, letting the music wash over her. After a few songs, Chuck took his place on the stump again, his Bible open in one hand. He prayed and picked up where he’d left off that morning.

  “I don’t know how many of you had a chance to read through Ruth, but I think most of you know the story. A young widow follows her mother-in-law back to her home country. Ruth works in a relative’s field, gleaning from the harvest to support them. She finds out Boaz is her kinsmen redeemer—the man that she can marry in the family to have children for her deceased husband—and approaches him to redeem her. And then an odd transaction takes place. In chapter three, Boaz has told Ruth there was another, closer, relative that has rights to her and the land she and Naomi possess. In chapter four, Boaz approaches the man about the land, and, of course, the man wants to buy it for himself. That is until he realizes it comes with a wife. I assume because he already has one, he quickly backs out. Because one woman is enough, right fellas?”

  Whoops from the men and groans from the women chimed back. Chuck laughed and glanced sheepishly at Lillian before turning back to the Bible.

  “Okay, okay, lame joke. Anyway. Boaz is kind of nonchalant as he makes this exchange. ‘Hey, I realized that our relative’s field is up for grabs. You have first dibs. Oh, and by the way, on the day you buy the land, you inherit this woman as well.’ Do you see what Boaz is doing? We have two men here interested in two very different aspects of their relative’s estate. Boaz, we know from chapter two is a man of great wealth. He doesn’t care about another field. But, listen carefully—he buys the field to acquire the bride.”

  Chuck smiled, the late evening sun easing behind him, shimmering on the lake in the distance, painting his face in warm hues. He paused, eyes twinkling, letting the statement sink in. Lillian smiled to herself. It was certainly a romantic thought.

  Chuck paused a heartbeat more. Then he said, “Okay, now turn to Matthew 13:44.”

  Pages crinkled as they turned, and the call of a disgruntled crow echoed from high in the pines. Lillian reached the verse quickly and read it, her brow furrowing in question.

  Chuck’s voice washed over her again, warm as the glow on his face. “Okay, so. Matthew 13:44 says, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells all that he had and bought it.’ Okay. I’ve always heard this explained as a parable of how we should react to the gospel. That our salvation should be considered so precious that we should be willing to sell everything we have to possess it. Not so. Look at this verse in context. The rest of the chapter, Jesus is talking to His disciples about the kingdom of heaven. About the mysteries of God, really. This verse is surrounded by parables of tares and wheat being separated at harvest, or good fish and bad fish being sorted, and finally the angels coming at the end of the age to take out the wicked from among the righteous. Now consider that field again. Consider the man. If we take that other interpretation, it almost sounds like our salvation is a treasure that we must sell everything to obtain, right? But that’s not so. It can’t be so. We could sell all the possessions in the world and not even make a dent in the debt we owe the Lord. Not a dent. We can do nothing to earn our salvation. And that’s what the context is, isn’t it? Wheat and tares, good fish and bad fish, the righteous and the wicked.”

  Lillian shivered, thinking of that awful day when all would stand before the Lord, the saved and unsaved. The horror of those being turned away because they sought their own way instead of Jesus’ for salvation. But she couldn’t see what Chuck was getting at, couldn’t understand what the sweet story about Boaz and Ruth had to do with it. Her head ached and she realized she’d been scrunching her forehead. She tried to relax and lifted her brows, stretched her jaw. The butterflies in her stomach swelled with anxiety in the quiet.

  Finally, Chuck smiled and said, “Consider Boaz again. All throughout the Old Testament, the lives of the patriarchs point to Christ. It’s the same with Boaz. Yes, he’s Ruth’s kinsmen redeemer in the same way that Christ redeems us. But look closely at these two examples of a man considering a field. Boaz buys the field to get the bride. You guys, the man in Jesus’ parable buys the field to get the prize. He is the man, and you are the prize. Underline this part in your Bibles: ‘…From joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.’ ‘You were bought with a price,’ Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians. You are the Bride. You are the treasure in the field. This is the mystery of the kingdom of God, that ‘God demonstrates His own love for us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’ ‘But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastising for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.’ We are the treasure, and He gave up everything—to the extent of His own life—to redeem us.”

  You are the treasure in the field.

  Her dream from the night of the BBQ washed over her. The barren field. The rocky soil. The man that brightened when he saw her and took off running.

  You are the treasure.

  “Oh, Lord…” she breathed. The truth of what He had been trying to tell her settled around her, weighing her down with the unworthiness of it all. The glorious wonder of it all.

  From the start, she’d held herself back, convinced that, yes, she could be redeemed, but only by default. Only because God had promised to save anyone that believed on His Son’s name. But He’d shown her that, no matter what she had done, no matter what happened with Drew or Chuck or anyone, He loved her. He found her worthy. He’d given her that dream the very night she had failed. To tell her that even if she fell again and again, He would be there to catch her. There was nothing that she could do to eradicate His love. He would come back for her again and again.

  Her butterflies stilled. Peace washed over her. She was the treasure. His treasure.

  “One more thought and we’ll get to s’mores and then Capture the Flag,” Chuck said, waving his hands for the teens to settle. “One more thought, tying together this morning’s devotion. How should we respond to this great love? With obedience. With belief. All you have to do is believe Him. Not only in His plan for your salvation, but also in everything else He reveals to us about Himself. Believe that He stores your tears in a bottle, that he knows the number of hairs on your head, that He will take care of your needs. Let’s let Paul’s words in Philippians sink in as never before. ‘…it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure…’ and also in Romans, ‘For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.’ Whether you like it or not, you are made for Jesus—for His good pleasure. Bask in it, guys. Grab onto it. Okay,” he closed his Bible and held it in both hands and stood. “Let’s pray and head over to start the campfire.”

  Lillian didn’t hear his prayer. She was rocked to her core with the truths God had revealed to her through His word.

  She was His treasure. His Bride. Made thro
ugh Him. For His good pleasure.

  Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Something had changed. Lillian’s countenance was…different. Peaceful, joyful. More beautiful than ever, which Chuck hadn’t thought possible. What was it? The braids? That couldn’t be the reason for the lovely glow in her cheeks, the light in her eyes. He smiled.

  But those braids were stinkin’ cute.

  He watched her openly, as she set out the s’mores tray. As she laughed with a few of the girls. As she teased Tiffany. Joked with Felix. Gave Holly a side squeeze. He rubbed the place over his heart where it nearly inflated right out of his shirt.

  Lord, I love her. You know this. Please, show me how to love her, even if she’s never meant to be anything more than my friend.

  Lillian caught him staring, and the smile fell from her face. She caught it just before it dropped away completely, curling her lips slightly in the corners, her eyes on the tray in her hands. Chuck made his way to her.

  “What does Chef Pepe Le Pew recommend from the menu this evening?” he said, hoping his teasing would help her relax. It worked.

  She laughed and held the tray away, out of his reach. “Chef recommends you stop teasing her about the skunk incident, or she’s going to risk being sprayed again just to slip one of those cute little critters into your tent tonight.”

  Chuck laughed and held up two hands. “Okay, okay. But, seriously, this is quite the spread.”

  He looked down at the assortment of peanut butter cups, sandwich cookies, candy bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers.

  “Hey, if we’re going to work it all off running through the forest in the dark, we might as well go big, right?” She met his eyes, laughing.

  The reflection of the firelight behind him sparked a fire in her eyes. His stomach gave a low roll, and his arms went numb. He loved her. So much it physically hurt to think of never holding her in his arms again.

  Lord, he prayed again, show me how to love her. Even if she can’t be mine.

  “Chuck? Earth to Chuck,” Lillian balanced the tray on one hand and waved the other in front of his face.

  He licked his lips, shook his head a little. “Sorry, I had a sugar rush there just looking at it all. Um, I’ll just get started with a marshmallow. Ease my way in.”

  He speared one onto the end of his roasting stick and headed to the fire. He couldn’t tell, but her eyes, her…everything, was different. Relaxed. He watched her set down the tray and stick a marshmallow on her own stick. She took the empty place next to him but didn’t immediately start roasting. Felix said something sarcastic, and she responded. Chuck’s ears were buzzing, and he couldn’t make out the words. Couldn’t stop staring at her.

  Lillian met his gaze and held it. She lifted a brow, questioning. Chuck remembered another fire with Lillian. Did she remember it?

  Chuck maintained eye contact with her and thrust the marshmallow into the center of the flames. He brought it out a moment later, letting it burn a few seconds more. He blew it out and pulled the blackened treat from the end of the roaster and popped it into his mouth. Did she understand?

  Just in case, he repeated the vow he’d made to her, his voice low so that only she could hear it. “Lilly, I would eat blackened marshmallows all day long just to be with you.”

  She swallowed hard and looked away, blinking rapidly.

  Now walk away, Davis. Let that percolate. Chuck walked over to the table. He picked through the tray and piled his s’mores ingredients onto a paper plate. When he returned, Lillian remained frozen, holding her roaster with the still unroasted marshmallow on the end close to her chest.

  Chuck repeated his actions from before; set the marshmallow on fire, then blew it out to place on his peanut butter cup, sliding it off the stick with the graham cracker. He felt Lillian’s eyes on his profile as he ate it in two bites. He leaned over, still staring at the fire, licking the chocolate from his lips. “I could get used to that.”

  She continued to watch him, then turned back to the fire and finally began roasting her marshmallow—close to the coals, slowly turning it until the white turned to light, golden brown.

  “Lilly, what are you doing?” Felix asked from across the ring, indignant. “We had a very serious debate about this, and you’re making our side look bad.”

  She smiled, eyes on the coals as she continued her slow rotations. So softly Chuck almost missed it, she said, “I thought it was worth a try.”

  ***

  Even though the plan for Capture the Flag had been Girls vs. Boys from the beginning, Chuck had somehow arranged for Felix and Tiffany to lead the girls’ team while he and Lillian led the boys’. The teens were itching to play and didn’t much care who the leaders or spotters were. They just wanted to play.

  Lillian watched Chuck rearrange everything with a lighthearted sigh. What did it matter if they were on the same team? They were going to be running around in the dark looking for the other team’s flag anyway.

  One of the girls in her tent stepped out and turned around to zip it up behind her. Lillian nearly screamed when she turned back around.

  “Krista? What on earth?”

  The girl was dressed in camo, from the stocking hat on her head where she’d tucked her blond hair, to her green and brown military fatigues, down to her army style boots. Her face was painted black with shoe polish; only the whites of her eyes were visible.

  Her row of white teeth flashed at Lillian in the darkness. “I’m a little competitive,” she said, striding toward the fire.

  Yeesh. You sure are.

  Each team had already sent out their two designated members in charge of hiding the flags. “Okay,” Chuck said to the group that remained. “The girls’ territory is from the tents to the lake. Docks and water are off limits. Boys, your territory is the area from this side of the tents to the bike path on the other side of that clump of trees. Felix and I hammered reflective strips on the trees to show how wide your areas are. Jails for both teams are the picnic tables. Be careful and play fair. Ready. Set. Capture the Flag!”

  In a scurry of commotion, the teams charged and dispersed. Some ran around in wide circles, hoping to sneak into enemy camps and find the flag. Lillian was one of them. She’d loved Capture the Flag in high school and college and had become skilled at finding the enemy flag. Dressed in dark jeans and her sweatshirt, she pulled the baseball cap over her braids and slunk along the trees, trying to disappear into the shadows. As she did, she suddenly wished she had borrowed Krista’s face paint.

  A scuttle in the bushes stopped her heart for a moment. She froze and listened, covering her mouth to hold back laughter as two girls whispered to each other about the placement of their flag. She leaned against a tree and gazed up at the stars, little pricks of light sparkling against the inky black sky. The contrast was how she felt. Her heart had finally cracked all the way open and light burst forth brilliantly, melting away the darkness that had always been there.

  Oh, Lord. You have searched me and known me. And you knew just how to get my attention. I praise You, Jesus. She kept still another moment before realizing it was quiet again. She moved quietly, head ducked low when she came to a small clearing. The girls had talked about a fallen tree trunk. She knew just the one, and, not seeing anyone around, she broke into a run.

  Lillian darted around the trees and found the trunk. She dropped to her knees and felt around the opening, praying no critters were hiding inside. Not wanting to use the flashlight and give herself away, she felt along the edge of the trunk. The hair suddenly stood up on the back of her neck. Just when it hit her that no one was guarding the supposed hiding place, a beam of light hit her in the eyes.

  “Caught ya, Lilly,” Letitia giggled. Holly stood next to her, pointing the other flashlight at the ground.

  “You guys set me up,” she protested, rising to her feet and letting them lead her away.

  “It’s sad how easy it was.”

  “Tha
nks a lot, Holly.”

  As they neared camp the girls began to call out with pride, “We brought Lillian to jail. Here’s one of their leaders. Lock her up!”

  “Hi, Lillian,” Joy smiled from her place warming her hands in front of the fire. “Welcome to jail.”

  Sweet girl. Much too sweet to be the jailer.

  Lilly gave a mock salute and settled at the picnic table. She sat for long moments with no activity anywhere near her. Everyone would be avoiding the jail. She heard a rustling near the tents and turned to squint into the darkness. There, army crawling through the boys’ territory, just beyond where the firelight could reach, was Krista. Lillian squeezed her eyes shut and laughed quietly. Krista was definitely her kind of girl. She watched the bottoms of the girl’s boots as they were dragged into the forest by the top half of her body, and then all was quiet again.

  The crackling fire shot sparks of light to the tops of the pines. Lillian breathed deeply, enjoying the moment of peace. But the shrieks and giggles, as well as dancing flashlights in the distance, taunted her. Her leg began to bounce. She needed one of her teammates to rescue her so she could get back in the game.

  ***

  Who could concentrate on a stupid game when Lilly had basically invited him to pursue her? What had she said?

  “I thought it was worth a try.” That was symbolic, right? He hadn’t imagined it?

  Chuck leaned against a tree trunk, wondering what to do next. Someone screeched in the distance. Male voices called out, laughing. Chuck groaned. He needed to get his head in the game. He couldn’t very well sweep Lillian into his arms with a bunch of teenagers around. Of all the weeks to finally see a spark of hope.

  He began to creep across the open field when he heard female voices. He hit the ground, face in the dirt.