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Oh, dear Jonah, if only you knew how much you were breaking my heart. My eyes glistened, and I prayed that everyone attributed my tears to me being touched by the sentiment. With a shaky hand, I picked up my glass of lemon water as everyone raised their glasses. My eyes locked with Brock’s from across the table. He did what he had to do and smiled at me. “To forever,” he echoed Jonah’s sentiment.
“To forever,” everyone repeated.
Forever was daunting.Chapter SixteenDuring Sunday services, I stared at the dove in the stained glass window while the pastor spoke of reconciliation with God and the peace it would bring. According to him, all we had to do was act in love and renounce our sins to achieve such peace. I tried to placate myself, telling myself that I was acting in love. Love for my baby, even love for the Hollands, John excluded. It allowed a sliver of peace in, which was then crushed by the realization that I could never abandon my sins. I would forever live a lie. Even if I escaped, I could never tell my baby the truth about his or her father.
I ached to be the dove coming out of the starburst. It dawned on me that it was a symbol of breaking free from earthly stains—the ultimate peace. My longing and contemplation were interrupted by Brock taking my hand. His fingers immediately intertwined with mine, and his thumb began caressing my smooth skin. It was almost cruel that he could pretend to be so tender. I resisted the urge to lay my head on his shoulder and snuggle closer to him, distancing myself from John who sat on my other side. Yet I would rather take my chances with John than further injure my heart. And Brock wasn’t helping it any. Each swipe of his thumb had the butterflies in my stomach fluttering against my wishes.
I got a reprieve from Brock’s torture when his phone buzzed in his slacks pocket. He gave me an apologetic smile before reaching for it. After reading the message, he leaned in and whispered, “It’s Stefan; he was on call today in the ER, but he got food poisoning. I need to cover for him.”
My eyes widened, alarmed by the news. The private anesthesiologist practice Brock was a part of had a contract with the hospital in Pine Falls. They were a tight-knit group who watched out for each other. I knew they had been making sure to keep Brock’s caseload easy and unrelated to trauma; simple surgeries, like removing gall bladders and such. It was boring Brock, but under the circumstances, boring was good.
“Can anyone else do it?” I whispered back.
“I can handle it.” He knew exactly what I was getting at.
I wasn’t sure about that, but I knew it was pointless to argue with him, so I said nothing.
“You don’t need to worry about me.” He kissed my cheek.
I did worry about him. In fact, I couldn’t think of a moment since Brock had left on that fateful mission that I hadn’t been worried.
“Do you mind leaving early?”
My eyes drifted toward the dove. I found myself wanting to stay. Hoping the pastor would say something to bring solace to my soul. Wishing that the pavilion I had created that kept me from the grace of God would shatter. “I’ll call someone for a ride.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He leaned forward and reached across me to tap his dad’s leg. Quietly he asked, “I need to head to the hospital. Can you please take Dani home?”
“We’d be happy to,” John genuinely responded.
That didn’t make me happy, but what could I say now?
Brock focused back on me and ran the back of his hand down my cheek. His eyes were warm and inviting, his touch intoxicating. He seemed so sincere. Could it truly all be an act? It made me question what was real.
“I might be late.”
I nodded while my traitorous heart beat out of control.
He pressed his lips against mine, stirring the pot of emotions. “See you later.”
“Be careful,” I begged.
“I always am.” He stood and left.
I went back to my fixation with the dove, listening intently to the pastor.
“Every day is a battle for your soul. It is your choice whether you choose good or evil.”
I swallowed hard. I had tried to choose good, be good. I’d failed. Tears streamed down my face, and John pressed a handkerchief into my hand. I stared down at it, refusing to acknowledge him. However, he wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “You need to stop blaming yourself,” he said for my ears only.
I wrung the handkerchief tightly, refusing to let John comfort me or remove my tears. Oh, how I desperately wanted to blame him, but I couldn’t. I made my choices, and I would be held accountable for them.
