Her Redeeming Faith

by Carolyn Greene

  The circle widened, and he coached the pair through the exercise. “Paisley, you’ll be the attacker, so come right here behind Daisy and—”

  “I’d rather not.” Paisley backed away, palms out. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly.

  Gray scowled, obviously trying to get his head around her reluctance to play the role, then softened. “Okay, you’ll be the victim. Just stand here and—” Paisley shook her head and sidestepped his guiding hand. She looked to Savannah, concern marring her delicate features. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fine,” Savannah urged. “We all need this training.” She stressed the word all as if to remind Paisley that she needed it even more than the others.

  Now Gray was confused. And Ruthie was almost as in the dark as he was about why her friend had developed a sudden reluctance to participate in learning the techniques they’d come here for.

  All she knew was that something had happened in Paisley’s past, before she came as a young college student to the U.S. Something she didn’t talk about.

  Gray rubbed the palm of his hand over his jaw while he seemed to ponder how to handle this unexpected resistance. “It’s hard to teach a hands-on demonstration without going hands-on,” he said at last.

  Savannah stepped forward to take Paisley’s place and shooed her friend to join the other observers. “She has her reasons. Show me what to do.”

  With Paisley watching from the sidelines, Gray showed them how to walk and scan their surroundings for potential predators in a way that exuded confidence rather than fear. By the time the one-man demonstration ended, Paisley seemed to have gotten over her aversion to the exercise, and she and Nikki paired up to practice with each other.

  Then Savannah and Daisy chose each other as partners, leaving Ruthie to act out the scenario with Gray.

  Was it her imagination, or did his Adam’s apple bob when he realized he’d be paired with her? Ruthie involuntarily mimicked the action by swallowing hard, then following his instruction, aimed the heel of her left hand toward his nose.

  Gray intercepted her slow-motion gesture, fully aware that she was afraid of hurting him. He grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her to him, coaching her through the countermoves to block his advances.

  If only it were this easy to teach her to block the furtive looks he often found himself aiming her way. But every time he caught her gaze, her wide hazel eyes projected the message that he had already knocked her off her feet, without even touching her.

  He still cared about her. Couldn’t be close like this without caring. And wanting to kiss her. It was clear something was going to give, and he was afraid it would be his determination to do right by Ruthie and hold her at arm’s length.

  It was getting late. He’d better end this class before he did something stupid. Like pull her into his arms and give her a kiss that would make her forget her own name. If he did that, though, he’d better be prepared to forget about the reason they no longer shared the same faith.

  Her faith involved reliance on a capricious God who sometimes answered prayers and other times left a believer floundering alone and wondering why he had been abandoned.

  His faith, on the other hand, involved reliance on knowledge, strength, and sometimes a bit of luck. Those were what had gotten him through the tough times…the times when God hadn’t been there for him.

  “Before we wrap it up,” he said, “look around you for a weapon to swing or throw at the assailant and an exit route for escape. No matter what your environment, always make yourself aware of the tools at hand that can assist you if you’re ever approached by someone intent on harming you. Even if you don’t render your attacker unconscious, you’ll want to throw him off-balance to give you a few seconds to get away.”

  Ruthie didn’t need to throw a table lamp at him. She had already knocked him off-kilter just by being here. Just by being herself. By being the same woman he’d fallen in love with. Worse…by having grown into an even better version of the young woman whose heart he’d been forced to break a few years ago.

  After they restored the reception area to order, the young women left amid a flurry of thank-yous and see-you-laters. All but Ruthie, who had put on her bike helmet and now poked the white earbuds back into her ears.

  Gray reached forward and plucked them out. He wrapped the cord around his hand, tied a tidy little knot, and handed the earphones back to her. “How are you going to be aware of your surroundings with music pounding in your ears?”

  She pushed them into a tiny key pocket in her yoga pants. “Oops, forgot.”

  Outside, Savannah’s car pulled away from the curb, drawing his attention to the fading daylight. Ruthie’s bike ride wouldn’t take more than about fifteen or twenty minutes, but he didn’t like the idea of her going home to an empty house at dusk.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket. “You can take off your helmet. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

  Of course she was fine. Better than fine. She was superb—a fact that wouldn’t go unnoticed by someone with criminal intent. Sure, the likelihood of her being accosted by some random stranger was slim, but recent news reports of a prowler in the area had sent his protective instincts into overdrive.

  “Okay, you go first,” he said, holding the door. “I’ll follow you in my car to make sure you get home safely.”

  She did a cute little eye roll reminiscent of her teen years when Sobo had insisted she let him walk with her whenever she left the house after dark. “Bristow men protect their gokazoku,” Sobo had often said, referring to family. “And their women let them.”

  Ruthie hesitated, then a tiny glimmer lit her eyes. A glimmer that he had come to know meant she was up to something. A glimmer that had him wondering if he was about to be laid low by this little snip of a woman.

  “I suppose we are still kazoku,” she said, using the more intimate version of the word for family. She swept the helmet off her head and sent those red strands flying. She stepped past him into the hallway where her bike awaited. “Thank you. Are you sure you have room in your car?”

  He had plenty of room in the car for her bike. But nowhere near enough for all the baggage they lugged between them.

  Ruthie’s spirits soared on the drive home. There was still hope.

  She’d noticed the awareness that had passed between them, as she was sure he’d also noticed. Yet here he was, driving her home despite everything that had transpired between them, both today and in the past. She was still kazoku to him. Not sister family but bonded-by-the-heart family. Once he let someone in, that person was always his.

  Gray pulled into an open parking spot in front of her house on Floyd Avenue. Shadows fell beneath the ancient maple tree, casting the sidewalk in a mottled pattern that created an illusion of movement beneath her feet. The house lay dark before her. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t think twice about the eerie effect, but today’s class had made her hyperaware of all aspects of her surroundings. Especially of the big strong male hoisting her bike out of his car.

  She moved ahead, keys in hand, and pushed the gate open on her side of the house. Divided down the middle, with separate entrances and a white picket fence between the two halves, the blue two-story frame house exuded a quaint charm that harkened back to the early 1920s.

  Should she invite Gray in? How would he interpret such an invitation? Would it scare him off? Despite a few bumpy moments, the day had gone well, and the last thing she wanted was to make things awkward between them.

  Something snapped.

  At first Ruthie thought the noise came from the latch she lifted to open the gate. She moved it again, up and down, but the noise did not repeat itself. Their neighbors, a young married couple with a spoiled miniature dachshund, were away for the weekend, so the sound couldn’t be attributed to Rotten Ralphie snuffling through the postage-stamp yard.

  A cool breeze swept over her, raising
gooseflesh under her jacket sleeves. Now she peered through dim light into the neighboring yard but saw nothing that warranted alarm. She gave herself a mental shake for being so silly and reminded herself that a combat-trained former soldier followed just a few yards behind her.

  The sound had probably come from the neighbor two doors down who liked to cook out on the barbecue all year long.

  She pushed through the gate, Gray bringing up the rear, and this time something rustled sharply on the other side of the divider fence. She spun toward the sound to glimpse a quick movement in the next yard.

  Her heart lurched into her throat, and she clenched the keys so hard they would certainly leave imprints on her skin. A nondescript brown dog nosed along the bushes, its tail curved upward like a feathery plume. Just as quickly as she had started at the sound, she blew out a relieved breath and proceeded up the steps to the front door.

  She pushed the key into the lock. Every now and then an occasional stray animal wandered the neighborhood, but she had no idea how this one had managed to find its way inside the fence. She’d check it after Gray brought the bike in and see if the dog wore a collar and tags.

  Behind her the bike suddenly clattered to the ground, and feet pounded up the paved walkway. She turned just in time to see Gray vault sideways over the waist-high divider fence, his movements as fluid as a gymnast’s.

  The bush shook violently in front of the latticework, and a man in camouflage clothing bolted from his hiding place in the neighbor’s yard. Gray burst after him and rounded the yard in pursuit, the brown dog hot on his heels.

  “Go inside and lock the door,” he ordered, then disappeared around the side of the house.

  Ruthie stood frozen for what seemed like minutes but was probably only a couple of seconds before she collected herself enough to reach for her cell phone and dial 911. She quickly gave the dispatcher her address and a summary of what had happened.

  “Does the man have a gun?” asked the woman at the other end of the line. “Or a weapon of any kind?”

  A gun? It hadn’t occurred to her that Gray might be chasing an armed man. He might be good at self-defense, but bullets were stronger. And even if the stranger wasn’t armed, his dog had teeth that it might be willing to use to protect its owner.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He had a medium-size dog with him, but I don’t know if it’s aggressive.”

  After shakily answering a few more questions, she disconnected the phone and begged God to watch over the man who was willing to protect her, even at risk of harm to himself.

  High-pitched yelps resounded from the back of the house. Ruthie’s chest squeezed so that she could barely breathe. Remembering Gray’s admonition to always be aware of potential weapons, she scanned the front porch and grabbed a ceramic pot filled with soil…the intended home for Savannah’s future begonias.

  By now footsteps trod slowly and unevenly on the flagstone path that led from the backyard. She doubted the prowler would be daring enough to make his way back here, but an equally disturbing thought occurred to her. What if Gray had been injured and was now limping back?

  She had prayed for him throughout his tour of duty in Afghanistan, even after their breakup, and he had returned home safe and uninjured. One hand automatically curled, her thumb touching her fingers. Please, God, You kept him safe before. Don’t let anything happen to him now.

  Ruthie sprinted back toward the gate, the pot of dirt tucked under her arm, leaped over the prone bicycle, and flung open the gate to her neighbor’s yard. With an extra burst of adrenaline, she lifted the pot in preparation for defense, skirted the yard, and slammed to a halt.

  In the shadows of the narrow corridor between this house and the neighbor’s, the tall male figure loomed before her. He clutched something in his arms and moved toward her.

  “I told you to go inside,” Gray said, his tone abrupt but tinged with concern and maybe a little fear. For her?

  “I was.” She set the begonia pot on the ground. Was he all right? Was that a limp?

  As he trudged closer, thin rays from the streetlights fell on him, and she was able to discern the brown dog that he held close to his chest. The dog lifted its head and tentatively licked Gray’s chin. Another female fallen prey to his strength and charm.

  “You were praying, weren’t you?” he said with a nod toward her left hand. The question sounded accusatory. Almost angry.

  She looked down at her hand, knowing even before seeing it that the familiar gesture had tipped him off to what she’d been doing. He used to tease her for the way she prayed when in public. Her mother had taught her to pray with both hands folded in front of her, and that was how Ruthie preferred to talk to God.

  Ideally, on her knees. But sometimes, when she was driving or involved in some other activity that didn’t lend itself to such a reverent posture, she liked to show her respect by pressing together the thumb and fingers of one hand. A one-handed version of folded hands. Gray had often joked that the formation resembled the head of a baby bird, and he had made shadow puppets on the wall to demonstrate. “Got your emu?” he’d asked when she tearfully kissed him goodbye the day he deployed.

  He’d been joking then, but he didn’t seem very amused by it now.

  “Looks like your God forgot to watch out for this little one.”

  Chapter 6

  A crimson stain covered the short brown fur on the dog’s shoulder and smeared across Gray’s arm. In the darkening shadows, it looked like a scene from a horror movie.

  “Oh, no. What happened to her?” She quickly scanned both man and animal for further injuries, but in the dark it was hard to tell what additional damage they may have suffered. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. I had just grabbed the guy by the scruff of the shirt when Calamity Jane here had a close encounter with the metal corner of a lawn chair. Her squalling distracted me, and the prowler got away.” Then, perhaps in an effort to reassure Ruthie, he added, “We don’t know that he was up to any harm. He may have just been a Peeping Tom.”

  Not that it made any difference to her. Either way— prowler or Peeping Tom—it was just plain creepy to have a strange man lurking near her home.

  The Lab mix lowered her ears and extended her nose as Ruthie approached. The dog sniffed her hand and gave her fingers a friendly lick. And to think she had worried this sweet dog might try to bite Gray.

  “We should get her inside and see if she needs to be looked at by a vet,” she said.

  They walked back to her house with Gray in take-charge mode. “Get the gate.” “We need to call the police.” “Don’t forget to let your neighbors know what’s going on.” “Let’s wash the blood off this dog so we can see how bad she’s hurt.”

  At any other time, she might have chafed under his bossiness, but after what had just happened, she appreciated his calm certainty about what needed to be done next.

  The police arrived just as Gray had maneuvered the dog into the bathtub to get cleaned up. While Ruthie gently sprayed water over the dog’s cut, Gray went to the door and gave his statement and a description of the man he had chased out of the bushes. Then they swapped places, and she told her version of what happened.

  After she showed the police officers out, she went back to the bathroom where Gray toweled off the dog, taking care to avoid rubbing the laceration on its shoulder. Gray had already washed the blood off his own arms, but the stain remained on the sleeve and front of his shirt.

  The scary evidence of his close encounter reminded her that it could just as easily have been Gray’s blood staining his shirt. Ruthie prayed a silent prayer of thanks for God’s protection during their run-in with the prowler.

  “All that blood made the cut look worse than it really is,” he said, pointedly ignoring her emu hand while he dabbed liquid from a brown bottle onto the wound. “A little peroxide, some food to fatten her up, and soon she’ll be good as new.”

  Gray rose to his feet, and the dog shook herself a
nd wandered off to the kitchen as if to say the idea of food was a good one. Ruthie rummaged through the refrigerator and filled a bowl with leftover roasted chicken, a sprinkling of peas and carrots, and a small dab of mashed potatoes.

  “Calamity Jane,” she said, referring to Gray’s earlier description of the dog. They watched the animal devour the sumptuous fare, and after it finished, she added a bit more chicken. “Jane doesn’t seem to fit, but perhaps Calamity would fit…or Cali for short.”

  Gray shook his head. “Don’t do it. If you name her, you’ll end up keeping her.”

  He was right. If she didn’t commit to the dog in the first place, it would hurt less later on when it came time to part with her. Too bad the dog had already become Cali in her mind and would remain so forever. Just as her heart still claimed Gray as her fiancé. Ruthie found it easy to make room in her heart for more loved ones. Letting go proved to be more of a challenge.

  “You shouldn’t stay here tonight,” he said. “In case the prowler comes back.”

  Right again. Part of her wanted to argue that she’d be fine staying here by herself, but the truth was she’d really rather not remain in an empty house while a potentially dangerous man roamed the neighborhood. Although the guy had likely been scared off for good, there was still the slight chance he might come back for the dog or whatever else had drawn him here in the first place.

  “I suppose I could go over to Nikki’s place. They already have a sleeping bag for me, and we could put down a blanket for Cali—um, the dog.”

  Gray reached down and rumpled the dog’s ears. Cali melted under his touch and rolled over onto her back. If Ruthie had been a dog, she would have done the same thing. Instead, she tried to suppress her natural inclination to turn to putty in his presence.

  “Might be a little noisy for her after what she’s been through this evening,” he said. “It would be quieter at Pop’s house, and he could use the company.”