Page 125 of When Love Takes Root

Her voice softened. “What makes me so special that I get to be loved twice? What makes me different from the women still waiting? What makes me worthy of that much tenderness again?”

I looked at her and let the easy answers die before they reached my mouth.

Then I held out my hand.

“Can I pray with you?”

Celeste blinked. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

She stared at my hand.

I said, “Before I answer you with my mouth, I want to cover you with something stronger than my opinion.”

Her face changed.

Slowly, she placed her hand in mine.

I led her to the small table near the kitchen window. The rosemary sat between us and the night. I held both her hands, waited until her breathing steadied, then bowed my head.

“Father, thank You for Celeste.”

Her fingers tightened.

“Thank You for the love she had, for the life she built, for the children You trusted to her, and for every day You helped her stand when standing cost more than people could see. Thank You for Jamal’s love and the way it still bears fruit in this family. Thank You that remembrance is not rejection, and new joy doesn’t dishonor old love.”

Her breath caught.

“God, be gentle with every place in her that still flinches. Remind her that tenderness isn’t a limited resource in Your hands. Remind her that being loved before doesn’t disqualify her from being loved again. Teach her heart that she isn’t greedy for wanting warmth. She isn’t selfish for wanting companionship. She isn’t betraying anybody by living.”

A soft sound left her.

“If You’re allowing me to stand near her, correct me before I mishandle her. Slow me down when I need wisdom. Strengthen me where protection requires patience. Give me clean hands, a disciplined heart, and love that knows how to serve without trying to own. Cover her children. Cover her home. Cover every memory that still aches and every hope that’s scared to lift its head. Let peace meet her here tonight. Not pressure. Not confusion. Peace.”

Her tears hit our joined hands.

“In Jesus’ name, amen.”

For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Celeste lowered her head, and her shoulders shook once.

I stepped closer, but I didn’t pull her to me.

She came on her own.

Her forehead pressed against my chest first, then her hands curled into my shirt. I wrapped my arms around her and held her like something entrusted. Her tears soaked through the cotton near my sternum. I lowered my cheek to the top of her hair and closed my eyes.

She whispered against my chest, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything with me tonight. Just breathe.”

“That sounds like instructions.”

“It is.”

“You bossy too.”