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“Were you trying to work yourself to death?”
He shook his head. “Trying to work some mad to death.”
“Did it help?”
Hunter sat up, ran a hand over his sweat-drenched hair, then shook his head. “Not sure.” He leaned back, slumping against the exposed shiplap on the wall and rubbed his chest. “Gave me a headache—or made the one I started with worse. Sort of wish you’d just let me pass out.”
“That’s not gonna happen.” Bennett stood and walked over to where Hunter had shed his coat and shirt and picked up a water bottle that sat among the clothing. Then he returned and sat so that his back pressed against the wall. “Want to talk about it?”
Hunter accepted the water and took a long slug. He wiped his mouth against the shoulder of his already wet shirt and then sighed. “Janie is out with Grady right now.” His face turned toward Bennett, revealing sad, tortured eyes. “Like a date.”
“Ouch.” Bennett winced. “I thought I saw you coming from the back of her café?”
“Yeah. I told her I’d finish cleaning the dining room and lock up so she could get going.”
“That was . . . generous.”
“It was either that or lose my head.” Hunter gulped another drink. “I’ve done that too much, I think.”
“So you kept all the mad inside, closed the café for her, and then let it out on the punching bag?” Would Bennett have that much self-control? “That’s better than some men might do.”
Hunter sat forward again, draping his arms around his propped-up knees. His shoulders rounded as he hung his head forward. “I don’t get it, Bennett.”
“Do you and Janie have . . .” Hunter and Janie had obviously a convoluted history, and neither one appeared to be over whatever had passed between them. Hunter had quickly softened his anger toward Janie. Janie though? The woman seemed not to know what to do with Hunter. One moment Bennett would catch Janie gazing at Hunter like a woman enamored. The next she was glaring at him with all the fierceness of a mama bear.
How could love be so hard?
The question that had tied Bennett up in knots over the past several months—because he knew the difficulty only too well. How could he love Hazel with every inch of his heart and yet it wasn’t enough for her to trust him? How could she claim to love him and yet she refused to give him a lifelong promise?
But this conversation wasn’t about Bennett and Hazel. Bennett trained his wandering mind back to Hunter. “I mean, did you have a reason to think . . .”
“She offered to cater my groundbreaking. Just came right out and said she’d do it. And smiled at me.” That last sentence came from Hunter as if he’d been punched.
And Bennett got that. A woman could reach clean into a man’s chest and take full ownership when she smiled at him. “Yeah, I was there. It was . . . nice.” Had Janie meant to play a cruel game with Hunter’s heart? Though he’d witnessed her fire and snap aimed at Hunter, Bennett doubted Janie was that harsh. Sometimes what women intended as simple kindness, men took as something more. “But that—”
“I know.” Hunter growled. “Trust me, I know she didn’t mean to make me believe it meant a fresh start. Janie’s been mad at me for a long time, but she’s not cruel. I’m stupid to think this, I guess, but I took it like a sign.” He looked back at Bennett, the torture in his gaze now compounded with childlike confusion. “Bennett, you said before you thought I was brought back here for redemption. And I believe it—with Hazel, there’s already been that, and that’s flat out amazing considering she refused to even answer my phone calls for months. And I’ve come to see that I need God—I need to be saved. John showed me how Jesus came to take my guilt and save me.” He tapped his chest. “I believe that—and I sort of think you do too.”
Bennett stared at him, stunned at how well Hunter put his new faith. “Yes. I do. My faith is a revived thing, and I’m still kind of stumbling around in the dark, trying to live the way I believe God wants me to. But the base is there—that I have faith in Jesus as my Savior. I’m glad to hear that He’s your Savior too.” More than that simple statement conveyed. Joy burst in his chest at knowing Hunter’s eternal life was secure with Christ.
But there was the conundrum that seemed to plague all Christians: How did one make sense of the messiness of life? How did they live now, with the heartaches and the disappointments—not to mention the weakness of the flesh?
Hunter nodded, then looked back at the floor in front of him. A length of quiet extended, and Bennett pondered those big questions, as well as what exactly had triggered Hunter’s extreme response to Janie—and why his new faith seemed to amplify it.
“Hunt, I’m not following here. Tell me how believing in Jesus is confusing you about Janie.” Even as he said it, Bennett knew there were all sorts of ways to make that kind of connection. His own faith, and the desire to live a different life—a godly life that didn’t make sense to others—had stirred up some powerful issues between Hazel and himself. Things that were still not resolved.
Following Jesus affected every aspect of life. And the truth was, some things were made more complicated by that faith.
“I took Janie’s kindness the other night as a sign.” Once again, he met Bennett’s gaze. “Not just from her, but fromGod. Because I got a text earlier this week from John Brighton. He was sharing Proverbs 3:5–6, where God says to trust Him and He’ll work it all out. That’s in the Bible, Bennett. And I thought that . . .” Shaking his head, Hunter rubbed his neck.
“Oh. I see.” Bennett leaned hard against the wall behind him. He got it—all the way deep in his heart. Bennett understood this confusion. “You hoped that since you believe God now, and He said to trust Him, that God had worked it all out, and your relationship with Janie would fall back into place.”
“Yeah.” Hunter slammed the half-empty water bottle down beside him and pushed up to stand. “Stupid. How simple could a man be?”
“I get it, Hunt.” Bennett followed Hunter to his feet. “I’m not sure that’s stupid. Maybe just . . .”
“Stupid.”
“No. Shortsighted. But I think every believer has run into this kind of disappointment before, on some level or another. It’s not stupid—it stirs up legitimate, hard questions.”
