Page 85 of In a Word, Yes

“I’d like to know more about you, Lucy,” he says, evidently a mind reader.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

He quirks a smile. “Favorite novel?”

“Hmm. Well, it’s hard to imagine a world withoutPride and Prejudice. But for something more recent, I’d maybe go withThe Help.”

“Isn’t that about a journalist?”

“It is.”

“So you like books with humor and social commentary.”

“I like all sorts of books. I’m kind of a mood reader. But, yeah. That’s probably the chef’s kiss.”

He nods approvingly. “Whatdon’tyou read?”

“That’s easy. Anything dark. Anything too ... violent. Relational drama is fine—I mean, we’re all flawed...”

“Yes.”

“But there can come a point when human failing becomes...” I turn toward the mountains, search for words. “Unsafe to others,” I finally say, turning to look directly at Wyatt.

His lips form a straight line. “Is that what happened for you?”

I swallow hard. Draw a huge intake of air. And then, becausethis is Wyatt, I tell him. About a man whose attention turned into possessiveness, then controlling behavior and scathing words, and eventually escalated into something even more sinister.

Wyatt flinches as if absorbing a physical blow.

I tell him what it felt like to experience a husband’s disdain for his own precious son and my growing helplessness to protect Chase.

And then I describe for Wyatt the day I left Salem and rolled into a town I’d never heard of, on a stormy, gray day, in a dented gray Toyota stuffed chaotically to the brim. Just me and Chase hastily departing a life gone loony with nothing more than a few bags of clothing, some canned goods, and a rainbow of chunky toddler toys.

And how the central Oregon air kissed me with its tart, musky aroma—juniper after the rain, I would later learn—and whispered a beguiling invitation.Stay.

Sheesh, at this point I may as well grant Wyatt full access to my private journals.

“What about your grandmother in Salem? Couldn’t you have gone there?”

My chest quivers as I recount for Wyatt my unwillingness to expose Nana to potential danger. “I didn’t have a plan,” I say. “Only a prayer. Maybe I would’ve returned to Salem after things blew over. Or maybe I would’ve swallowed my pride and continued on to Nashville. Instead, this community opened its arms to me.”

Lurking among the evening shadows, I sense my occasional dark visitor out there somewhere, hovering in the not-so-distance: condemnation. Today, though, I’m celebrating how far I’ve come. How far I’ve been carried, that is. I’m basking in the soft glow of truth and healing.Thank you, Lord.

That old poltergeist isn’t welcome here.

I trace a circle around the top of my mug. “So, for Chase’s sake, I have to be super cautious.”

Wyatt leans forward. Close enough I feel his warmth. “For your sake, too, I should think.”

My eyes are ever drawn to that priceless chin dimple. Fiddlesticks, Wyatt probably thinks I’m looking at his mouth. If I’m not more careful, he’ll think I have kissing on the mind.

Do I?

I lean back and hug my tea to my chest. Let the record show: This woman is not inanyposition to take a freefall into who knows what.

Sure, I’ve had some wins recently, but there cannot be a yes for this.

“Oh, by the way,” Wyatt says, “I mentioned you to my mom.” At this, he makes a face. “Sorry, that sounded weird. But yeah, she corroborated your story about our mothers being friends. Except you left out the part where yours is a big-time Bible teacher.”