Page 47 of Sheltering You

She grabbed two and wiped her eyes.

“Did you choose to be there?” He perched on the arm of the sofa, giving her plenty of space. “With those terrorists?”

“It does not matter.”

“It does matter, Jazz. Your choices matter very much.”

Somehow, his kindness calmed her. She took a breath and leaned against the kitchen table. “There is a story in the Bible. A Canaanite woman came to Jesus and asked Him to heal her daughter. He came not for her but for the lost sheep of Israel. She appealed to Him, saying that even the dogs get the scraps. You know this story?”

Again, his eyes narrowed, only this time she wondered if he guessed where she was going. “What about it?”

“There are dogs, you see? There are people who belong and people who do not. You belong, Derrick. You and your family, you are good people. You are…chosen. I am grateful that Jesus loves even the dogs who don’t belong. I know who I am.”

He stared at her for a long time, and there was a moment when she thought she saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. That tiny flicker nearly cracked her heart into a million pieces.

But then he shook his head. “I’m trying to understand, I really am. But you’re not a Canaanite, and neither am I. And neither one of us is Jewish, either. We were not born as children of Abraham, but if God chose us, then we’re chosen. That’s how it works.” Derrick walked toward her, slowly, deliberately. “God doesn’t have a caste system, sweetheart.”

The closer he got, the faster her heart raced. “Do not. You do not understand. Even my twin would not have come back for me. Even for her, I was not worthy.”

“Leila doesn’t define your worth, Jasmine.”

“Mama loved Leila and died when she left. Baba loved Mama and fell apart when she died. Nobody loved me.”

“God loves you. Doesn’t He count?”

What she couldn’t say, what she never wanted to have to say to Derrick, was the ugliest truth of all. That her father had seen her as a slave, never a daughter. And then a liability. He’d sold her to the first person willing to take her off his hands. To a man who saw her not as a beloved wife but as a concubine, a means to an end.

“I am not somebody who people love,” she said. “I am not what you think. And it will not work.”

He stopped a foot away from her. “You are precious and beautiful, Jasmine, and no matter how hard you try to talk me out of it, I love you.”

No.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly.

“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but…” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Emotion clogged her throat, but she forced words past it. “Then you are a fool.” Before he could say anything else, she escaped to her bedroom.

CHAPTER TEN

Derrick stared at the closed door. It was probably a good thing there was a little boy sleeping in Jasmine’s room. If not for Rabie, Derrick might storm in there and demand an explanation.

Which would be unacceptable, of course.

But, come on.

Her whole argument made no sense. She was unlovable because her parents had been stupid?

He obviously couldn’t love her because they hadn’t?

What in the world had her parents done to her to make her feel so unloved?

And what could Derrick do to prove to her how precious she was?

Could he change her mind? If he did, would she be open to him? Or was he fooling himself? Was her speech all some big, roundabout way of saying, It’s not you, it’s me?

His phone rang, the trill too loud in the silence.