She would agree to his terms, mainly because nagging a person to faith never worked. But she also believed that as they worked through reconnecting, Gray would soon remember the joys they’d experienced in their previous relationship with each other. Perhaps their being together might prompt him to want to reconnect with God, as well.
Patience, she reminded herself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t get ahead of God. She’d done a lot of praying about her relationship with Gray, and she truly believed God wanted them to be together.
Now she just had to practice patience as they worked their way back together.
The sparseness of the Japanese Garden’s landscaping reflected her current pared-down relationship with Gray. Simple. Bare. The empty spaces seemed to point to possibilities. The discreet use of flowers and the garden’s subtlety in the numerous shades of green, brown, and gray reminded her of the need for a light touch when interacting with him. She would still be herself, of course, and her faith would naturally show through, but she’d leave all else to God.
Gray cleared his throat. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you,” he began at last. “What I can say is that we were in the desert, in unfriendly territory.”
They continued walking, and he touched her hand as if to hold it, then pulled away. She wanted to reach for him, draw him back to her, but resisted, giving him the space he seemed to need.
Carefully and cautiously, he opened up and described what had happened on that infamous day.
“Jake Rayner was the only person with me on that assignment,” he continued. “We called him Jakey because he was the baby of the group.” He paused to give a heartless laugh. “He hated that name. But he was just a kid, and he seemed like a little brother, so I felt responsible for him. After a while we became very close.”
She listened while he went on to describe how they’d been driving through a village when they came under fire.
“It was so hot that day it was like looking through rippling waves of air as we drove our Jeep near a remote town. I remember looking over at Jakey. The sun glinted down on him and sort of cut him in half with shadow and light. It was kind of a bizarre thing to notice, but for some reason it stood out to me.”
He brushed a couple of fallen leaves off a stone bench and waited for her to sit before joining her.
“The air was still, with no dust flying, and the sky was incredibly clear and sharp. You could see for miles.” He gazed off as if measuring that remembered vision against what he saw now. “In Virginia, even on the sunniest days, it’s not that sharp. Probably because of all the humidity here.”
She murmured agreement, letting him talk through the small things to get to the point of what he wanted to tell her.
“Our Jeep got hit by hostile fire. Next thing you know, we were running to take cover behind a mud-brick house that was missing an outer wall from all the shelling that had taken place before. Jakey and I crouched down near a pile of rotten potato peels and scraps of eggplant and tomato. That’s when we realized someone still lived in that bombed-out building. As long as I live, I’ll never forget that smell of rotting potato.” He paused a moment, apparently considering how to continue.
She waited. Giving him the time and space he needed.
“We returned fire. Hit the mark. As far as we could tell, there was only one shooter. That’s when I heard a kid from inside the house. In case there were other snipers hiding nearby, we decided to make a run for it…get away from there so we didn’t put civilians at risk. And Jakey was going crazy with fear, so I had to get him to safety before he lost his cool and put us in even more danger.”
Ruthie realized she was holding her breath, then let it out slowly. Even in the midst of being shot at, his concern had been for the residents of the house and his buddy. She imagined that if she were in that situation, she would be in full panic, unable to think clearly. Yet he had focused on others rather than on his own safety.
“While we were running for our lives,” he said, “we could hear the sounds of the outdoor marketplace going on a quarter mile away. For them the gunfire was just another everyday happening.” He shook his head. “People shouldn’t have to live like that.”
Now he grew silent. His fingers opened and closed on his lap as if even today his hands wanted to do something about what had happened back then. Something more. Maybe something different. She didn’t know which. All she knew was that it still pained him to think about what had happened.
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. She wanted to say something to comfort him. Something that let him know how much she sympathized with what he went through. How much she ached for the families—mothers, fathers, children—who lived under such stressful conditions every day. But all the words that came to her sounded lame in her head, so she suggested, “We can finish this another time. There’s no need to—”
“No.” Gray turned and met her gaze. He pulled her hand up to his lips and gently kissed the backs of her fingers. “This has stood between us long enough. I want to finish.”
Then, in opposition to his words, he sat for a long moment saying nothing. He watched the koi fish in the pond, so she watched, too. Their slow, steady movements provided a sense of calm purposefulness. After a few moments, he spoke again.
“When it looked like the area was clear, I grabbed Jakey by the sleeve and we ran for a wall. The whole time, I was operating on adrenaline, thinking only about getting to the next safe place and the one after that. Wondering if we’d be able to make it back to our camp on foot before nightfall, when we’d be the most vulnerable.”
Gray let go of her hand to rub the back of his neck.
“While I was relying on the training I’d received and on my own wits, Jakey kept saying over and over, ‘Lord, help us. Lord, save us.’ Like it was a chant or something. And while we were running for the immediate shelter of the fence, he started in on the Lord’s Prayer. We had just thrown ourselves over the fence when he got to ‘deliver us from evil.’ That’s when a grenade went off to the left of us, near Jakey, and he fell to the ground.”
Gray looked sick to his stomach. She wanted to stop him from saying more. Spare him from the images that surely haunted him. But he pushed on.
“After I took out the assailant, I dragged Jakey behind that broken wall where I could take a look at his injuries.”
“He was alive?” she asked hopefully.
He clenched his teeth, and his expression hardened. “Just barely. Remember how I said the glint of sun in the Jeep had seemed to cut him in half? That’s where the shrapnel tore into his chest.”
She gasped and drew a hand to her mouth. “No.”
He went on to tell of his struggles getting Jakey back to the camp, an hours-long ordeal on foot over several miles of harsh desert. Losing their way, coming upon yet another small village and skirting around it, away from the potential of more enemy fire. Running low on water. And finally encountering a stray dog with its hackles raised, ready to attack.
“I bandaged Jakey up the best I could and somehow managed to get him back to camp.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. “Alive.”
The tension in her gut eased at the revelation that young Jakey had survived the horrendous ordeal.
“He died less than an hour later.”
The news slammed into her, the unfairness of it hitting her like a rock to the temple. “Oh, Gray. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t know what else to say. In a situation like this, anything she said would be merely empty words. A hollow echo of a sentiment that was too little, too late. Instead, she touched his arm, wanting to convey her feelings to him without inadequate words.
Gray closed his fingers around hers. “He was barely old enough to shave.”
At Jakey’s age, Gray had been making eyes at Ruthie, working on homework for his college courses, and thinking about a future that he anticipated would span another fifty years or more.
“The kid had never had a chance
,” he continued. Shortly afterward he’d received another upbeat letter from Ruthie, saying all the things he could no longer believe. And he’d felt guilty that he would eventually be going home to her. “I felt guilty for not—”
No. He refused to go there. Playing what-if would only mess with his mind and rip further at his gut.
Ruthie watched him, her watery eyes full of compassion. She cared. There was no doubt about that. But she didn’t get it. For her to truly understand, she would’ve had to be there. And he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But maybe he could help her understand why the God thing had hit him so hard.
“Maybe I could have dealt with it better,” he ventured, “if the kid hadn’t been calling out to God for help. Even after he’d been hit, he was still praying. Mumbling incoherently most of the time, but he was definitely talking to God.”
If this had been five years ago—before Jakey died— and he had poured his heart out like this, Ruthie would have offered some comforting Bible verses. He would have accepted them back then, and they would have eased his spirit. But not now. He was grateful she didn’t attempt to go there.
She slid her arm around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Gray,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “It wasn’t fair.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t fair.” He put his arm around her shoulders and experienced a moment of guilt at finding comfort in her warmth and caring. “It should have been me.”
It was late by the time they returned to Abundance, arriving just in time for Sunset Blessings. Ruthie smiled, glad for the opportunity to outwardly celebrate the blessing of reconnecting with the man she loved.
Gray carried a couple of roasted chickens he had picked up from Ellwood Thompson’s grocery on their way back. Although Paisley would donate leftover sandwiches and pastries from Milk & Honey, Gray had suggested complementing it with something more substantial for their homeless friends. And when she had commended his thoughtfulness, he had brushed away her praise and mumbled something about buying the chicken to satisfy his own hunger. But she knew better.
Gray hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the shop. “Are you sure you’re ready to let people know?” he asked. “They might have some doubts about us, especially after….”
After the way he’d dumped her. “They won’t have any doubts,” she assured him. “My friends have never said anything against you, and they won’t start now.”
As for her, she wanted people to know. Now that Gray was back in her life—now that they were back in each other’s hearts again—she wanted the whole world to know. Wanted the whole enchilada. Every part of him. Even the part that used to love God but now wavered with doubt.
“Do you have doubts?” she asked in response to his question about announcing that they were back together.
He adjusted the grocery bag in his arm. “Not about you.”
Meaning he had doubts about the faith thing. Being honest with herself, she had to admit she was uncertain whether he’d ever come back to God. The possibility saddened her. But there was no doubt he loved her, even if he had trouble saying it at times.
“If you’re uncomfortable mentioning we’re back together again,” she said, “we can just let it slide for now.”
Save the announcement until after they’d had a chance to test their newly revived relationship. See if it would last.
He shook his head and set the bag at his feet. Then he pulled her to him and played with a tendril of hair that fell to her shoulder. “They’re going to know, whether we tell them or not.”
Ruthie glanced over his shoulder at a movement in the store window and thought that if he continued to hold her this close in public—a situation that certainly appealed to her—her friends wouldn’t need a Sherlock Holmes hat to figure out that something was going on between them.
He seemed to be tiptoeing through land mines, not telling her exactly what he wanted. She supposed he was feeling vulnerable, but she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. And she wanted to know he was certain about what they were reigniting. If he was certain enough to tell her friends, then she would have every confidence there was no doubt in his mind about their picking up where they left off.
“Would you rather people not know?” she persisted. She held her breath. On the one hand, she could understand any reluctance he might have, but on the other, she’d be hurt and maybe a little angry if he wanted to keep their relationship hidden.
Gray dropped his hand from her shoulder and captured her hand. “It’s a big step to take, and I want us to be aware that it’s a step. Not just trip over it.” He paused and looked down at his feet. After a moment, he met her gaze again. “I understand how much I hurt you with that letter. I don’t want to hurt you again. If it would be better keeping this quiet rather than have people watch us under a microscope, then I should not attend today’s Sunset Blessings with you.”
For a second it seemed as though he was backing away again, but the earnestness in his eyes told her his concern was only for her. She squeezed his hand. “I really want you with me, but only if you’re ready. I won’t push you.”
Although she didn’t say it aloud, the implication was clear that she wouldn’t push religion on him, either.
He smiled and stepped away to open the door. Inside, he looped his arm around her shoulders and walked with her back to the Sunset Blessings gathering.
The next day, Cali met Gray at the door of his grandparents’ home. Her tail wagged in greeting, and she opened her mouth in a goofy smile.
He rubbed her neck and slid a hand down her side, taking in how well the shoulder injury was healing. “Hey there, gal. You been entertaining Pop and Sobo?”
The dog danced happily and led him to Sobo’s temporary bedroom, where numerous voices filtered out into the hall. As he approached, he could see there were more than a half dozen people standing around her bed—the next-door neighbor and a couple of ladies from church chatting with Sobo, his parents and uncle talking to each other, and Pastor John murmuring something to Ruthie and Pop—and all their voices melded together in a pleasant din. It sounded like a party.
From his vantage point at the door, he saw Sobo propped up in the rented hospital bed. Even from this distance, her complexion was noticeably healthier than it had been a few days ago. Rosier than it had been when he saw her Monday evening after dropping Pop off at church.
Now everyone claimed her abrupt turnaround to be a blessing from God as a reward for the earnestness of their prayers. But he knew better. Though he believed Sobo’s sudden improvement to be mere coincidence—probably due to happen at that time with or without the addition of prayers—he was sincerely relieved to see her looking so much better.
He and Pop had brought Sobo home from the hospital this morning, and Gray had promised to stop by this evening to check on her progress. Maybe stay the night to help Pop care for her. With plenty of TLC and a bit of luck, she should be back on her feet in a month or so.
Cali led the way into the room, her tail held high as she threaded her way among the visitors to put herself within reach of Sobo’s small hand where it hung over the bedrail. At the touch of Cali’s fur against her fingertips, his grandmother smiled and rumpled the dog’s ears.
Sobo looked up from the brown dog, met his gaze, and her smile widened. She lifted her hand from the dog and beckoned him in.
He wondered whether the small room could hold another person but eased his way in anyway and stood beside Ruthie. “Hey,” he said to Sobo in particular and to everyone else in general. “What’s going on?”
Pop swept a hand toward his wife. “Your grandmother’s friends rallied around her during the rough time. She thought it only right that they share her joy over her recovery.” Pop slanted a wink at him. “Besides, I think she was ready for some company.”
“That’s great.” Gray found it encouraging that she wanted friends and family around her, but she needed her rest, too. “Let’
s just make sure she doesn’t get overtired.”
Sharon, Sobo’s friend from the Bible study group, turned and addressed his concern. “Everybody just got here a few minutes ago. We’ll keep it short.”
Ruthie reached for him, and he took her small hand in his. He had missed this. Missed turning to her no matter what was happening in their lives and always finding her there. Missed her smiles during the good times and the little line of concern between her eyebrows when they shared their troubles. The Sunset Blessings gathering and Sobo’s return home today were good ways to restart that.
“Yes, we need to let Naoko get her rest,” Pastor John said. “Before we go, let’s all join hands and take a moment to offer our thanks for her return home and ask for continued healing.”
Around the room, hands linked up. He and Ruthie were already holding hands, and now Pastor John reached toward him to complete the circle.
Gray looked down at the outstretched hand. Part of him wanted to join with the others and participate in giving thanks. All he had to do was simply take Pastor John’s hand, just as he did with Ruthie. Left or right, it shouldn’t make any difference. Unable to move either toward or away from the preacher, he stood in place as if paralyzed.
Involuntarily, he thought of Jakey. What did his buddy have to be thankful for? That God had ignored him despite his desperate pleas for help? And why did these people think God had anything to do with Sobo’s healing?
Though he was glad she felt well enough to come home, as far as he was concerned, her improvement had been a result of excellent medical care, rest, and time. That she perked up so dramatically after their prayers was mere coincidence.
Ruthie clamped her fingers tightly around his hand and beseeched him with her eyes. Stay. I’ll cover you.
He had no doubt she would pipe up and pray aloud in his place if they should go around the room adding individual praises and requests. But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be a hypocrite and stand here while everyone assumed he still bought into their beliefs.
Her Redeeming Faith Page 12