Surrendered Hearts (23 page)

He shook his head, looking confused. “Okay, but can’t you pursue that in Portland? There are churches all over town. I’m sure you could find one you’d like.”

“I’m not just talking about going to church, I’m talking about a relationship with Jesus. And in order for that relationship to grow, I need to be in a place where people understand that and where I have the love and support I need. I have that here, Phillip.”

“So this is it? After all I’ve done for you, you’re just giving up on us?”

She studied the angry tilt of his chin, the haughty lift of his brows. He didn’t get it, and she wasn’t sure he ever would. But that wasn’t the only issue between them. “You know, not once this weekend have you said you loved me.”

He pulled back. “But I came all the way out here. If that doesn’t prove I love you, then I don’t know what will.”

“Okay.” She unhooked her seatbelt and slipped off the lacy white shirt she had worn over her sleeveless sundress. Cool determination flowed through her as she turned over her arm, giving him full view of her scars.

He pulled back, his lips twisting into a painful grimace. “Oh, Jenn . . . that’s exactly why we should sue the construction company for all they’re worth.”

She held her arm steady. “It goes all the way up my neck and across in front. I’ll look like this for the rest of my life, Phillip. It’s not changing.”

He shook his head, his face pale. “There’s got to be plastic surgery or something they can do to fix it.”

His reaction sealed her choice. She pulled her arm back and laid it in her lap. Raising her chin, she looked him in the eyes. “Take me home.”

* * * *

Bill shoved the front door closed behind him and trudged through the quiet house. With a weary shake of his head, he laid his Bible on the counter and glanced around the empty kitchen.

The afternoon sun shone through the sliding glass door spreading light across the room, but it couldn’t penetrate the gloom hovering over him. Sinking into a chair, he lowered his head into his hands.

Father, how could You let this happen? I was so sure You were going to answer my prayers. Now it doesn’t matter if I stay in Vermont or move to North Carolina. Jenn’s leaving, and I’m losing her forever to that, that—

Bill clenched his jaw and pushed himself out of the chair. Praying wouldn’t help. It was over. Done. He had to get a get a hold of himself and forget about Jennifer Evans.

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen any time soon.

He wasn’t hungry, but he opened the cabinet and searched the shelves. Nothing looked good. Finally, he pulled out the bag of rice and set it on the counter. Maybe he’d feel more like eating after the rice simmered for a while.

He grabbed a pot from the lower cabinet and kicked the cabinet door closed. The loud bang startled him. He had to stop acting like an idiot. So things hadn’t worked out with Jenn. He’d get over it. Maybe not in the near future, but eventually. Like maybe in five or ten years.

Stifling a groan, he dumped rice in a measuring cup. Some spilled over the top. He swiped it aside, and his hand skidded through a sticky spot of day-old jam on the counter. Grumbling, he rinsed off his hand and filled the pot with water. With his fingers still dripping, he turned on the front burner and centered the pan over the flames. 

Where were Phillip and Jenn eating lunch? He grabbed a kitchen towel and dried his hands as he mulled it over. Probably at some ritzy restaurant in Rutland. He could picture them now seated side-by-side in a plush booth with dim lighting. Phillip would slip his arm around her shoulder and whisper in her ear. She would smile and lean closer, inviting his kiss.

Bill’s stomach convulsed, and a fierce growl exploded from his throat. He slammed the upper cabinet and threw the towel across the counter. Without a backward glance, he stormed out the sliding glass door and down the back steps.

Stomping through the tall grass and muttering under his breath, he followed the trail downhill, toward the rushing stream. The trees closed in overhead, shading the rugged path. He continued on, beating his way through the forest, not caring where he ended up.

Less than five minutes into his trek, he tripped over a fallen limb and crashed to the ground. Air whooshed out of his lungs, and gravel bit into his chin and hands. A curse flew from his lips. Immediately, a piercing shard of regret cut through him.

Oh, God, forgive me. But it hurts so much. I don’t want to lose Jenn. Waves of sorrow broke over him, and hot tears burned his eyes.

Give it up, Bill. Give it to Me. I know what’s best.

He rolled over and sat up, wrestling against the gentle voice in his soul. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and tried to focus his churning thoughts.

Bittersweet memories of times he’d spent with Jenn rose in his mind. Why hadn’t he tried harder to explain the importance of his faith? Why hadn’t he found a way to make her understand? He’d prayed for her so many times! Why hadn’t God answered?

A sudden realization hit him. Almost every prayer was motivated by a desire that she would come back to God, not so much for her sake, but so that they could be together.

His selfishness slapped him in the face, and remorse swept through him. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. That’s not the kind of love she deserves. Please draw her closer to You even though she’s leaving. Pain twisted through him, but he pushed it aside. You know I love her, but I surrender all my desires and hopes to You. Watch over her and protect her. Give her the life and love she deserves.

He rose to his feet and lifted his eyes to the leafy canopy. His heart still felt heavy, but knowing he’d surrendered everything to God gave him a measure of peace.

The sudden gust of wind blew through the trees carrying a faint smell of smoke. Frowning, he turned and sniffed the air.

Jenn pulled open the screen and walked through the back door at Long Meadow. The delicious scent of something baking in the kitchen drifted toward her and made her stomach growl. Was it Tilley’s famous cinnamon rolls or her delicious oatmeal raisin cookies? Jenn couldn’t tell, but either one sounded good.

“Is that you, Jenn?” Tilley called.

“Yes, it’s me.” She rounded the corner and walked into the cozy kitchen. A tray of raisin-studded cookies cooled on a metal rack near the stove. Their tempting cinnamon scent drew her closer.

Tilley stood at the counter stirring a tall glass pitcher of iced tea. “I didn’t expect you back until this evening.” She looked past Jenn’s shoulder. “Where’s Phillip?”

Jenn took a warm cookie from the tray. “He went back to the bed and breakfast.”

Tilley’s spoon stilled and she looked up. “Is everything all right?”

“I won’t be going back to Oregon with him.”

Tilley dropped the spoon into the iced tea. “Hallelujah! She’s seen the light!”

Jenn laughed and almost choked on her cookie.

The older woman reached over and patted her on the back. “Sorry, dear. Are you okay?”

Jenn coughed and nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”

“I was planning to, but I decided to pray and give the Lord a chance to take care of things first.”

“Thanks for praying. The answer came through loud and clear today.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I wasn’t too impressed with that young man, but even more than that, I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving us and moving so far away.”

“Neither could I.” Jenn gave Tilley a hug and headed upstairs to change.

She slipped out of her dress and laid it on the bed. As she turned and reached to open her dresser drawer, she glanced at the scars on her right arm. Slowly she turned her arm toward the light streaming in the window and examined the familiar pattern of mottled and twisted skin.

A sense of wonder swept through her. God had taken something she considered painful and ugly and used it to expose Phillip’s motive and protect her from making a choice she would regret. Her scars had been transformed and their meaning changed forever. Gratitude flooded her heart, and she whispered her thanks to God.

As she came down the stairs a few minutes later, the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she called and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“This is Harriet Walker, Bill Morgan’s neighbor. Is Bill there?” The elderly woman’s voice sounded strained and shaky.

Jenn frowned. Why was she looking for Bill? “No, he’s not here. I saw him at church earlier, but I’m not sure where he went this afternoon.”

“Oh, dear.”

Apprehension rippled through Jenn. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I saw some smoke by Bill’s house.”

“Smoke?” Jenn gripped the phone more tightly.

“I called over there, but no one answered.”

Jenn’s pulse raced, and her hands began to tremble. Where was Bill? Could he be he trapped inside his house, overcome by heat and smoke? No! That couldn’t be true. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced those terrifying thoughts away.

“I’d go check myself,” Harriet continued, “but I had surgery a few weeks ago, and I can’t walk without—”

“That’s okay. I’ll go over there now. Thanks for calling.” She hung up, and ran into the kitchen. She found Tilley sitting at the table reading the Sunday paper.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Concern lined Tilley’s face.

Jenn explained Harriet’s call. “I’m sure Bill’s okay, but I want to drive over and check.” She willed confidence into her voice, but it didn’t stop her legs from feeling like jelly.

Tilley got up and reached for the phone. “We should call the fire department just in case.”

“Good idea.” Jenn snatched her purse off the counter and grabbed Wes’s keys from the hook. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Would you pray for Bill?” She had to swallow before she could speak again. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

“Of course, dear. I’m sure he’s fine, but I’ll pray for you both.” Tilley sent her a reassuring smile. “Now go on. The sooner you see him, the better you’ll feel.”

“Thanks.” Jenn hurried out the back door.

Tilley was right. There was no need to panic. Bill was okay. But shivers raced up her back, and she couldn’t stop the feeling of dread building in her stomach. She hopped in Wes’s car and sent gravel flying as she took off.

She made the drive to Bill’s in less than four minutes. Careening around the corner onto Shelton Road, she continued her prayer, “Please, God, don’t let anything happen to Bill.”

Leaning forward, she scanned the sky, looking for any sign of smoke, but trees on both sides of the road blocked her view. She rounded the curve and screeched to a stop in front of Bill’s house. Peering out the window, her heart clenched. Smoke curled out from under the eaves on the left side of the house. Bill’s black truck sat in the driveway. She shoved her car into park and sprang out the driver’s door.

The blaring wail of the smoke alarm from inside sent a chilling tremor through her. She ran toward the house and dashed around the side following the smoke. What she saw there stopped her cold. Flames licked up the outside, melting the siding and blackening wood around the open kitchen window.

She screamed Bill’s name and tore around back. With her heart pounding in her ears, she flew up the stairs and across the deck. Her hand froze on the metal handle as she stared through the sliding glass door. A churning cloud of smoke swirled through the living room, and greedy flames leaped up the kitchen wall around the window above the sink.

Bill couldn’t be in there. He couldn’t be.

But what if he was?

She shoved the door open, and noxious smoke billowed out around her. Squeezing her eyes against the stinging pain, she called Bill’s name. The only answer was the crackling flames sucking in the new surge of oxygen from the open door and the wailing alarm.

Terrifying images of stumbling through her flaming apartment filled her mind. Searing pain scorched her arms again as it had five months ago.

How could she go in there? How could she face the flames again? Fear gripped her by the throat, and blinding panic swirled through her. Oh, God, help me. I can’t do this. I can’t!

But she had to. Love demanded it, even it if meant walking through the fire to find him. Gathering her courage, she stepped inside on trembling legs and pulled the door closed behind her. Crouching low, she slipped along the central wall toward the bedroom opposite the kitchen. She ducked through the doorway and quickly searched the bedroom and bathroom. Then, holding her breath, she ran back past the flaming kitchen, through the living room, and out the sliding glass door.

Coughing and gasping for air, she leaned on the deck rail and tried to focus her racing thoughts.

If Bill wasn’t in those rooms, the only other option was upstairs. But wouldn’t he have come down when he heard the alarm? She rubbed her stinging eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. What if the fire had started upstairs, and the smoke was so thick he’d passed out? If that was true, how could she survive going up there to look for him?

Oh, God, please show me what to do. She turned and peered through the glass again. Flames shot up the kitchen wall and licked across the ceiling. How much time did she have before the fire burned through and consumed the rooms above? Five minutes? Ten? She had no idea. Only one thing was clear—If she didn’t go now, it would be too late to find Bill and get him out.