He dried off and changed into borrowed clothes from the borrowed room. When he looked in the mirror, a stranger stared back. This man could be anyone. A teacher. A businessman. A father. He slipped the watch Thomas gave him onto his wrist.
He made some coffee and filled their customary mugs.
When he entered the living room, Pearl was patting Ivy’s back, the empty bottle on the side table. She smiled sweetly. “I could get used to this. A handsome young man bringing me coffee, and a sweet baby girl in my arms. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this blessing.”
He placed her mug on the table and sat beside her. He lifted a corner of his mouth. “You’ll make us blush. Me and Ivy both.”
Pearl leaned down and laid Ivy on a blanket and settled back with her hands cupped around her steaming mug. “While I was feeding Ivy, I was thinking—”
Uh-oh. A Pearl plan.
“I have two extra rooms here. You’d be right by work . . .”
He put down the mug. The hot liquid crept back up his throat, setting fire to his insides. He shook his head. “No, ma’am. We couldn’t—”
Pearl’s telephone clanged, jarring the conversation. She held up her hand. “Before you turn me down, we need to talk this out. Sit tight.”
She shuffled to the kitchen phone. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her voice sliced through the thickness in the air.
“Well, hello, Miriam . . . No I wasn’t asleep. An accident! For heaven’s sake. Is he okay? Oh, mercy.”
Air became trapped in Harvey’s lungs. He bent at the waist with his head between his knees—a buzzing in his ears distorting sound.
“Bless his heart . . . Oh, Harvey is here, actually. He stayed through the storm. Okay, I’ll tell him. I’ll be praying.”
Harvey gripped his knees. This was why you didn’t let people close. Because they drove cars, and bad things happened, like accidents in the rain.
He could control his solitary life in the woods. But these people twined together, and he couldn’t stop the pain from wriggling in. People died. Attachment equaled loss.
A steady hand landed on his shoulder. “Harvey, are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?”
He propped his elbows on his knees and lifted his head.
“For goodness’ sakes, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What hap—” Pearl pressed a hand to her cheek. “You overheard . . .”
She knelt beside him, and laid her wrinkled hand on his knee and peered into his eyes.
“Pastor Thomas had an accident. He’s banged up pretty badly, but he’s okay. You are okay. Everybody’s safe.”
Ivy wriggled and cooed on her blanket, oblivious to the way the earth shattered with such ease. He turned the watch around his wrist. These people. He cared too much. He needed to escape, but he couldn’t. They’d wrapped their way around him just like Ivy had.
He lifted a hand, wavered for a moment, and placed it on Pearl’s bony shoulder. “Thank you.” His words, a gravelly whisper from the tightness in his throat.
“Miriam?” Thomas’s voice, thick from sleep, roused her.
She sat straight with a groan. She’d slept on the floor, half-upright against the couch where Thomas had slept all night. She must have dozed off again after calling Pearl. She arched her back, stretching out the kink. “I’m here. Are you in pain? What can I get you?”
She stood and brushed the hair on his forehead to the side. He was pale under the bruising on his face.
“You slept there all night? On the floor? You should have gone to bed.” He glanced to the clock on the wall. “I better get up and get to work. Harvey will be waiting.”
“I already called Pearl and told her you were taking the day off.”
“I’ll be all right. A few bumps can’t keep a man down.” He struggled to sit up, wincing. Even more color drained from his face.
She helped him shift upright, and he sank back into the overstuffed couch’s armrest. “Okay. You win. Maybe a day off wouldn’t hurt.”
“You know, you scared me last night, Thom. I can’t believe you wouldn’t let the hospital call.” His police officer friend had given him a ride home.
“You would have come out in the storm.”
“We’re kind of in this whole life thing together. At least we’re supposed to be.” She paused for a second. “Maybe you need to stop trying to protect me. That’s why you weren’t straightforward with why I haven’t been in church, isn’t it? To protect me?”
He rubbed his hands over his knees and swallowed. “Maybe. Maybe to try and protect us both. I don’t want to think I’m that selfish. But what if I am?”
She sat beside him and pressed a kiss to his temple. “If you are, it makes you human.”
His eyes brimmed and he blinked. “I should have handled explaining your depression better. Forgive me? Although I know I don’t deserve it.”
She placed a hand on his knee. “Pastor Thomas, I think I’ve heard a sermon or two from you about undeserved forgiveness. Besides, you’re not the only one who needs forgiveness. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own pain I couldn’t see beyond my disappointments and unmet expectations.”
He probed the dark purple bruise under his eye and winced. “I hope you know I never expected you to just snap out of it. Please know that. But I’ve prayed for your suffering to lift every day.”
“I wish I had done a better job of dealing with things. I just couldn’t seem to see through the fog. But I’m starting to.”
His eyes closed. “That’s the thing I’m learning—that we don’t have to have it all figured out. That it’s okay to stumble. Even to lose sight of where we’re going at times. God isn’t looking for pretty, he’s looking for real.”
She picked up a folder from the coffee table and placed it in his hands.
Thom opened it and scanned the paperwork. “Miri?”
“I . . . I think I might be ready to foster. I filled the papers out last week and was planning to surprise you with them, but with everything that happened . . .”
“You mean it?” He took a breath, expression sobering. “I don’t want us to rush into this.”
She nodded. “The whole process will take time. We can go at our own pace. But I think I want to explore it.”
“My body feels like I’ve been beat by twenty grown men, but my heart feels like heaven right now. Good things are ahead, Miri. I feel it.”
Miriam smiled, embracing the peace in the air. “On that note, how about a glass of water? And I have your pain medication from the emergency room if you think you need it.”
“Ugh. No more of that stuff. I was out of my head last night. I barely remember it, but I know I couldn’t walk a straight line when Officer Michaels helped me inside last night.” He smiled a half-smile. “Hopefully he won’t share those stories with the congregation. There’s no telling what I said.” He shifted on the couch with a groan. “But maybe I will take an ibuprofen.”
While she was in the kitchen getting his water, painkillers, and toast, Miriam laughed under her breath as she remembered how her husband had staggered through the door. He mumbled unintelligible apologies to her, while the officer, who had happened upon the wrecked car, explained what had happened.