Mending Places (30 page)

When he drew back slightly, her trembling hand found his jaw. He turned his face into her hand and placed a kiss there. Their shaky breaths mingled, and Hanna knew in that instant she had fallen in love with this man. Fallen in love with his integrity, with his vulnerability, with his sense of honor.

A rebellious strand of hair had tumbled onto his forehead, and she brushed it back, loving the feel of his silky hair on her skin. A smile formed unconsciously on her lips.

“What?” he asked.

And his voice. She loved his voice too. But she didn’t want to confess her feelings just yet. She wanted to savor them awhile longer. She ran a finger along his lips, and when he kissed it, her breath caught. “You’re going to lose your bait,” she whispered.

He tenderly captured her hand, his lips twitching. “That’s not all I’m going to lose if you don’t cut it out.”

She blinked innocently while her hand slipped into his jersey pocket and closed around his keys. “What are you going to lose?” She held up
his keys well out of his reach. “Your keys?” She raised her brows, trying to provoke him.

“Hey, now, those are the keys to my wheels.” He swatted out to snatch them, but she scooted back in the grass, pulling her hand behind her back.

“All right, you’re gonna get it now.” He crawled toward her.

“Losing your patience?” She backed away, crab-style, his keys clutched in her hand.

His eyes lit mischievously as he advanced, despite the menacing growl that snarled from his mouth.

She giggled, “Losing your temper?”

“Losing my mind is more like it.” He shot forward, catching her ankle.

She shrieked and flailed, but he held tight, crawling beside her and tickling her ribs. Their laughter floated on the wind, vibrating the air with joy, piercing the tranquillity around them with sounds of giddy pleasure.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
 

“Hi, come on in, Hanna.” Natalie shut the door behind her sister, then gave her a quick hug. So much had happened in the last few weeks, and she was glad to see her only confidante. “Shh. I just put Taylor down.”

“Where’s Alex?”

“At a friend’s house. That’s why I asked you to come over after one, so we could talk in peace.” They headed into the kitchen, where Natalie had brewed a pot of French vanilla coffee. “How’s Gram doing?”

“Pretty good, really. You know Gram; she’s using her sense of humor to help deal with it.”

Natalie grunted. Her own sense of humor seemed to have disappeared lately. There was something about affairs, attorneys, and divorce papers that wasn’t conducive to a sense of humor.

“Are you ready for the court date?”

“As ready as I can be.” She set mugs down on the bar. “Even Carol, my lawyer, has been surprised at how fast we worked out the details. He’s getting the bank; I’m getting the house. He’s getting the other woman; I’m getting the boys.” Ugly bitterness seeped into her tone. She couldn’t seem to help it anymore.

Silence, normally welcomed this time of day, blossomed into awkwardness. So she was angry. It was easier than being hurt, and she wasn’t going to apologize for her feelings. Not even to Hanna.

“I’m glad he’s not vying for custody of the kids. And you said he’s paying the bills, right?”

“How big of him.”

“Are you still seeing Micah’s dad?”

“And how would I pay for it? Right now, I’m living off a man who has deserted me. I can’t exactly tell him he needs to pay for therapy, can I? On the other hand, he did cause this whole mess, why shouldn’t he pay for it?”

Hanna ran a finger around the rim of her mug. “I can understand your anger, Nat. Anyone would be angry at what he’s done and the way he’s handled the whole thing.”

“But?” She heard it coming, and irritation boiled up within her.

“It’s just that, at some point, you’re going to have get rid of all that. I know it must be hard, but you’re going to have to forgive him, for your sake as well as the kids’.”

“Forgive him? He left me for another woman, Hanna.”

“I know, and I understand—”

“You can’t possibly understand. You’re not even married. What’s ever happened to you that was so awful?” Nat’s breath caught as she remembered, and she wished she’d left the last sentence unspoken.

“How can you say that? You watched me go through it.”

“I know. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not the only one who’s suffered, Nat.”

“I know; it’s just … that was a long time ago. You’re talking about forgiveness, but you’ve had, what? Six or seven years to get over it? I’ve had a matter of
weeks.
And your situation was different. It was a stranger who hurt you. My
husband
betrayed me, the one who was supposed to love me and care for me ‘till death do us part.’”

“What he did is awful; I’m not saying it’s not. But don’t brush over what I went through. I was raped. It changed my life. I still sleep with the light on, for heaven’s sake, and until Micah, I couldn’t bear the touch of a man, so I’d hardly consider that ‘over it.’”

Nat closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Hanna. I didn’t mean to make light of what you went through, what you’re going through.” She offered her sister a wan smile. “Truth is, I’m angry and bitter and testy, and you happen to be here.”

Hanna offered a reluctant smile.

“For the first time in my life, I feel like I have more pain than I can deal with. It’s there all the time, and I wish it’d go away, for just a few minutes at least. I keep praying for God to take it away, but I can’t even feel Him anymore. Where is He, Hanna?”

“He’s still with you.”

“I don’t feel Him. I don’t feel His comfort. I don’t feel any comfort at all.”

Hanna squeezed her hand. “Have you been going to church or to your women’s Bible study?”

Guilt pricked Natalie’s conscience, not for the first time. “I haven’t been keeping up with my study guide, so I haven’t been going to study group, but I have been going to church.”
And my mind has been miles away from the message.
Maybe she should start her study again. She’d done a few days’ worth before she’d found out about the affair, and she’d been enjoying it.

They talked awhile about Gram and the divorce proceedings before Hanna looked at her watch and said she needed to run.

After Natalie shut the door, she went to the bookshelf and scanned the titles. She might as well make use of the quiet moments before Taylor woke. Finally she found it,
A Woman’s Heart
study guide. She went to the garage to get her Bible, feeling guilty again that it was still in the car from last Sunday.

She wondered why she was even bothering with the study. The women’s group must be almost finished with it by now.

When she sat at the bar and began thumbing through the first finished pages, she saw she’d done a good job of keeping up with the daily worksheets, but on week two, day four, her penned-in answers stopped. She grabbed a pen from the junk drawer and went to work.

She began reading through the day’s lesson about the manna the Israelites received from God every morning. Turning to Lamentations 3:22—23, she read the verse and then the question: How often are God’s mercies new? She filled in the blank: every morning.

Another characteristic of the manna spoke beautifully of God’s mercy: It would always be given in perfect supply for the need. God’s measure of mercy is offered according to the need. That is why we often say the words, “I could never endure it if that happened to me.”

How many times had she wondered that when other women had found out their husbands were having an affair? It had always been her worst fear, next to losing one of her boys. She quickly read on.

In the moment we say those words, our ratio of mercy matches our present need. True, on that exact amount of mercy, we could not survive. But when the time arises and the need escalates, so does the grace required for us to make it!

Then why didn’t she feel God’s presence, His mercy? She didn’t feel like she was “making it” at all. Glancing down at the workbook, she looked up the next verse and wrote it in the blanks: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Her eyes perked at the next paragraph in the guide.

Although I rejoiced greatly over what God taught me about the manna, one thought kept occurring to me: “Precious Father, I’ve known a few Christians who did not appear to make it very well through their crises. If Your mercy is always sufficiently given according to the need, what happened to them? I have known Christians who had nervous breakdowns. I have even known Christians who committed suicide.” In His great tenderness, God led me back to the wilderness and instructed me to do exactly what I am going to ask you to do.

Natalie’s eyes skipped to the next blanks, where she was instructed to look through Exodus 16 and list every verse in which the word
gather
appeared. She listed seven verses, wondering about its purpose. What did gathering manna have to do with Christians finding strength to get through difficult circumstances? She read on, looking for an explanation.

I finally understood the nature of God’s mercy and grace. They are always there, available every day prior to our need, and in direct proportion to every moment’s demand; but we must gather them. That part is completely our responsibility. What do you think would have happened to the Israelites if they had stayed inside their tents with their stomachs growling? They would have starved to death with the provision right outside the tent!

Natalie stared at the page. Why had she never seen it before? Of course. She needed to gather the manna. But what had she been doing all these weeks? She’d been cooped up in her tent complaining she was hungry. Didn’t Jesus call Himself the “bread of life”?

She bowed her head.
Thank You, Father God, that You’ve opened my eyes to a new teaching. I will begin gathering, and only then will I expect to find the mercy and grace You intended me to have for this time in my life. Forgive me for forsaking Your provision. Amen.

Natalie read through the next day’s lesson, then the next, filling in blanks and gleaning nuggets of wisdom from the Scripture. By the time Taylor called to her from his crib, she’d read a week’s worth of lessons and gained new insight that strengthened her and cloaked her in the grace and mercy of her Father.

Somewhere in the lodge, a door slammed shut, and the muffled sound pulled Hanna from the depths of sleep. She rolled over and tugged the comforter over her shoulders. A stray hair dangled over her nose, tickling her, and she swiped it away.

Then she started thinking about bills. Specifically those she’d received in the mail the day before. Had she received a bill for the magazine ads this month? She mentally reviewed the stack of mail on her desk tray and couldn’t raise the image of the bill. Had she gotten last months bills for the ads? She didn’t remember paying them, but surely she had.

Hanna cracked open her eyes, blinking at the light from the bedside lamp and peering at her alarm clock. She groaned. Four thirty-seven. Why was she wide awake when it was practically the middle of the night?

She turned over and shut her eyes, but after ten minutes of trying to lull her brain to sleep, she gave up and tugged on a pair of sweats. She may as well get some things done before church.

The door made a loud click behind her as she turned into the hall, guided by the exit lights. She hadn’t even brushed her hair or teeth, but then, she wasn’t likely to see anyone at this hour.

A noise sounded in the lobby near her office. She stopped just short of the wide doorway, hugging the wall. What if it was the person who’d been breaking into her office? Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. Should she go back to her room? Go wake Micah?

Before she reached a decision, someone rounded the corner. Her breath caught. He turned the other direction, walking away from her.

It was Micah’s silhouette, his build, his gait. She released a breath and started to call out to him, then stopped. What was he doing out here in the dark of night?

Suspicion crowded her mind. Could he have been doing it all along? He was here; he had the opportunity. She watched him amble down the hall and slip inside his door. If he’d been up to no good, wouldn’t he be in a hurry? Wouldn’t he be looking around, sneaking around? He’d been walking as if he’d been out for a midnight stroll, not breaking and entering or stealing confidential information.