“Love doesn’t cause pain.”
“Who told you that lie?”
She frowned at Lucas.
“Because love causes all sorts of pain. It requires us to believe, and forgive, and put aside our own justice and our own desires. Love is painful . . . especially when you think you might lose that love. Or cause hurt to someone you love. Or even be required to love someone who has hurt you.” He swallowed, his gaze casting out the door, toward intensive care. “But it’s worth it. Love changes you. Love makes you brave. Love can change the world.”
She just stared at him, trying to sort through his words.
“Jenny, what if God brought you—all three of you—up on that mountain because of his great love for you?”
“So we could suffer?”
“So you could confront your wounds. Your fears. So he could break you free of the shame that holds us—all of us—hostage.”
“We’re going to escape this mountain, and then . . . What if I followed you out of the woods and back to Minnesota?”
Orion’s words burned through her, and she couldn’t breathe.
“What if God lets us suffer so we can reach out to him for comfort and in that moment receive everything he wants for us? Freedom. Hope. Love. The things we wouldn’t have if we didn’t have him. He is just that relentless in his pursuit of your hearts. Maybe it’s time you let him catch you.”
Out the window, a plane landed on the runway in the field behind the hospital.
“What if he doesn’t?” Jenny’s question emerged in a whisper. “What if . . .”
“What if your sins feel so great, you feel you haven’t earned the right to be forgiven? To start over?” When she looked at Lucas, it seemed he’d spoken from his own wrecked spaces.
She nodded.
“I’ve heard Sasha say that your past—who you were, what you did—is not going to stop the promises of God in your future. Promises to protect you. Save you. Love you.”
Her eyes burned, tears filming. “Then why do I feel so broken?” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken that aloud until Aria’s hand slipped over hers.
“You’ve always felt broken,” Aria said. “But usually, you’re running so fast to keep away from the pain . . . now, you’ve been forced to stop and feel it.”
She wiped her hand across her wet cheek. “Yeah, maybe. I was in such a hurry to get out of the hospital before, to put it all behind me. But I didn’t, did I?”
“Clearly not. And I know you’re in pain. But that’s what happens when God does surgery on your heart. It’s painful.” Aria smiled. “But you do get a new heart.”
She’d like one that didn’t always destroy people’s lives.
“God never said that healing wouldn’t be painful. But, he is about making you whole, Jenny,” Lucas said. “The more you fill up your hollow spaces with other things, the less you’ll see God. Sometimes we have to be desperate to finally figure out he is all we have left. And he’s enough.”
How she wanted to believe him.
Lucas got up. “I booked a room for you two at the Summit Hotel and Spa, just down the road. If you want, I can call you an Uber.”
“What about Sash?” Aria asked.
“I’ll be here. And she’s improving by the hour.” He said it with the smallest of tentative smiles, as if leaning into hope.
Maybe God had brought her to the mountain to make her slow down, confront her past. Tell Orion the truth, once and for all.
At least one of them could be set free. Start over.
“I could sleep for a year,” Aria said, getting up.
Jenny didn’t move. “Did Orion and Ham make it out?”
Aria’s expression fell. “I don’t know.”
Jenny drew in a shaky breath. Of course they had to have made it. “They might have taken Orion to a different hospital.” She eased herself off the sofa. “And it’s not like he’d want to see me.”
“Why not?” Lucas said.
Aria frowned.
Oh. Um. “I told him the truth about my involvement in the ambush in Afghanistan. I was the one who vetted, and approved, the information that cost . . . well, that cost him his knee. And the others their freedom, and their lives.” There, she said it aloud. Twice, even, and coming out the second time didn’t feel quite so—
Okay, it felt just as brutal, just as raw and ugly. But at least she said it. And maybe she could just start . . . well, taking a look at it. Facing it.
Stop running from it.
“That wasn’t your fault, Jenny.”
The voice came from behind them, and she turned as Ham stalked into the room. He was sunburned, his blond beard shaggy, and he hadn’t changed, still wearing his thermal shirt and a pair of overpants held up with suspenders over those powerful shoulders.
His dark eyes met hers, almost fierce. “That wasn’t your fault.”
She stilled.
“Orion told me what you said to him, and here’s the truth. Evil always seeks to betray. To destroy and separate and instill fear. And, on that day, evil won. But that doesn’t mean we surrender the battle. We will not dishonor those who paid the ultimate price for freedom by giving up. Evil wants to shut you down. Shame you. Destroy your relationships. Keep you from being the person you can be. Don’t let it.”
“But—”
He held up his hand. “Orion is going into surgery. I think he’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t think so.” She headed toward the door.
“Jenny!” Ham’s voice boomed across the room.
“Tell him . . . that . . .” I’m sorry. She blinked hard against her tears. “Tell him goodbye.”
She was practically running by the time she entered the hallway.
She nearly flattened the man in the wheelchair. He sat with his leg out straight, a barrier to her escape, and she jerked back to avoid hitting him. Tripped, and nearly fell.
But her arm trapped in a sling kept her from bracing herself, and to her horror, she fell hard into the man’s lap even as his hands caught her around the waist.
“I’m sorry—I’m—”
“Jacie, stop.”
The voice was so calm, so bracing, that she just stilled.
Orion wore a hospital gown that looked downright ridiculous on him, thin and flimsy against his wide shoulders, his thick arms. He stared up at her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe, caught in the depths of his gaze.
“Orion,” she said in a voice she didn’t quite recognize.
He was unshaven, his hair askew, his eyes cracked and tired. But he didn’t move, just kept holding her as if afraid she might bolt.
She had the crazy urge instead to throw her arm around his neck. “You made it.”
“Just in time to catch you.” He ran his hand down her unhurt arm. “Don’t run away again.” He swallowed, and her heart nearly stopped when he added a tiny, “Please?”
She had no words. Because last time she saw him, he couldn’t look at her—oh, wait. Morphine. He had to be on drugs.
“Orion, I—”
“Jenny, I forgive you.”
She looked away, shaking her head.