Page 83 of Love’s Silver Bullet

And God help her—because a part of her would.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

All ready for bed, Grace quietly closed the door behind her before disrobing and hurrying over to where Sheridan was lying practically comatose, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, what’s wrong?” she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed while she studied Sheridan with worried eyes.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” Sheridan asked with a tender look at the friend who was now more like a sister, attempting to inject at least some life into her dead tone.

Grace crooked a dark brow. “Uh, because you haven’t been right since you and Jake returned with the lemonade? Both of your moods were suddenly as sour as if you’d forgotten to sweeten your own drinks.”

Sheridan tried to smile, but the attempt was completely obliterated by the tears that pooled in her eyes. “Jake and I had a talk,” she said quietly, battling the quiver of her jaw as she fixed her gaze back on the ceiling.

Hurrying around to the other side of the bed, Grace scurried in close, facing Sheridan with a hand to her arm. “What about?”

A brittle laugh escaped Sheridan’s lips that quickly erupted into a sob. “Well, I thought it was going to be the answer to all my prayers, with him telling me he wanted to take our friendship to more.” She swiped at her eyes as she issued a grunt. “He even got down on his knees. But it was only to tell me that yes, he loved me, but he had no intention of ever getting married and didn’t want to lead me on.”

“What?” Grace sat straight up, a bit of a spark in those usually serene gray eyes. “Why the devil not?” she said in a near hiss, her rare swear word almost making Sheridan smile.

Almost.

Sniffing, Sheridan lumbered up to sit against the headboard while she dabbed at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. “Oh, something about his ‘vile past,’ making him a ‘damaged man.’” Handkerchief fisted in hand, she thumped the bed in frustration. “But we’re all damaged people, Grace, no matter our past, aren’t we? For pity’s sake, my father passed shortly before my mother died when I was four, damaging our family so much, my brothers and uncle practically smothered me to death, keeping me under lock and key most of my life. Even so, we become new creatures in Christ according to my Bible, don’t we?” She grunted again. “But apparently not according to Jake’s.”

“He wouldn’t tell you what it was, his awful past?” Grace gently kneaded Sheridan’s shoulder.

“No. Just said we didn’t have time to go into it, but someday he would.”

A rare grunt popped from Grace’s lips, echoing Sheridan’s. “Seems to me ‘someday’ ought to be right now, Sher, if he’s been kissing on you like he has.”

Sheridan’s nightgown rose and fell with a melancholy sigh. “I know, Grace, but I promised him I would leave all that behind for the sake of our friendship.”

Grace shimmied back against the headboard like Sheridan, arms in a fold that indicated her dear friend was not letting go so easily. “For the sake of the friendship I understand, Sher. But how about for the sake of the ‘friend’?”

“What do you mean?” Blotting her face with the handkerchief, Sheridan studied Grace with a tip of her head.

“I mean”—Grace turned to face her directly, eyes in a squint as if thinking the situation through—"you’re in love with Jake, and he’s in love with you, and yet something awful from his past is keeping you apart.” She gave Sheridan’s hand a squeeze as concern clouded her eyes. “Does that seem right to you?”

“Well, no, of course not because I’m in love with him,” Sheridan said with a swipe of her eyes, shoulders slumping all the more. “But what can I do? I can’t force the man to marry me.”

“No … that’s true,” Grace said with a slow nod, “but you can force him to be the friend that both you and he deserves.”

“How?” Sheridan’s lips took a wry twist. “It’s not like I can strong-arm him with kisses anymore.”

“No, but now you have something even better. A solid and caring friendship that allows you to probe and pray, becoming iron sharpening iron to help him face the truth, like the Bible says. The truth of a painful past healed by the truth of God’s Word so he’s free to be the man—and friend—God intended him to be.” She ducked to peer up into Sheridan’s eyes with a tender smile. “And maybe—just maybe—the husband as well?”

Sheridan blinked, her voice breathless as she shifted to face her. “But what if Jake is right? What if I’m not meant to be his wife, Grace?”

Grace shrugged. “Then you have a dear friend who is now healthy and whole, ready to be happy with the woman who is.” Her smile was gentle. “Either way you win, Sher, which is always the case with unconditional love.”

Sheridan’s eyelids drifted closed, the peace lighting on her spirit—along with a bit of an ache—telling her that Grace was right. She loved Jake. And she wanted him to be happy—whether that meant with her or with someone else. But whichever it was, there was one thing of which she was absolutely certain.

A man like Jake was never meant to be alone.

“Agreed.” Huffing out a sigh of surrender, Sheridan lifted her lashes to offer Grace a determined smile. “So, where do I begin? In order to sharpen iron, one has to get to the truth, and I seriously doubt that can happen unless Jake and I can be alone.” She hiked a brow. “Which he goes to great lengths to avoid, as you well know.”

“Oh, yes. “Grace giggled. “Which is exactly why quite a few jaws dropped when he hopped up to help you with lemonade.”

Her smile slid off-center. “Ah, yes—the sour to my sweet.” She sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to add a little sour to his sweet by insisting he tell me about his past—alone.” She scrunched her nose. “Maybe I can coax him into fishing at his favorite fishing hole like we used to.” Her mouth went flat. “Before I grew curves.”

Grace grinned. “Well, we have a whole month before we head back to school, so we’ll just put our heads together to come up with a plan. And we can start right now.”