Sewn with Joy (31 page)

“Better?” Joy jerked her head back, suddenly knowing where this was going, knowing why Matthew was here.

Her eyes skittered down to his nervous fingers as he fiddled with the hat in his hand.

Joy released a sigh. “I never expected it to end like this.”

“Who said it's ended? We have a second chance.”

Her eyes met his, and although he said the words, she saw worry in his gaze.
Does he expect me to just walk away from my job so we can pick up where we left off?

Matthew pulled back slightly, putting more room between them. His face was in the shadows, but she didn't need to see it to know he wasn't going to like hearing her say she wasn't leaving the set—not yet.

Joy took a deep breath and spoke the last words she wanted to say. “I think we should take a break for a while.”

Matthew's eyes widened and he smirked. “Take a break? Did I hear you just say that? You sound like one of those
Englisch
couples. You're becoming just like them, aren't you? That's just what my father was afraid of.”

“I'm learning a lot—about them, about myself, about God.”

He turned away and shook his head, not believing her. “So you're not leaving, are you?”

Joy didn't need to answer. He already knew.

Footsteps sounded from the roadway behind them, and boys' voices carried. A small group of Amish teens walked from the river, carrying fishing poles. They walked by the front of the house, looking first to Matthew and then to her. One of the teens gave his friend a nudge. Then he stumbled on a rock in the road, righted himself, and quickly moved on down the street. The other teens followed, each glancing over their shoulders at her. Even in the murky light she spotted accusations in their gaze.

“So everyone really is talking about me, aren't they?”

One of the teens paused and looked back. He met her gaze and his brow furrowed, almost as if he wanted to ask her something. Joy tilted up her chin and waited.

“Hurry, Saul, or we're gonna miss dinner.”

“
Ja
, everyone's talking, Joy. About you and about me. I can see in their faces that they all believe I'm a fool for still holding on to hope.”

“I'm so sorry. I never meant—”

The sound of a car pulling up in front of the house interrupted her words. Joy turned and saw Alicia climb out of the driver's seat. Only then did she remember their plans for tonight.

Alicia was wearing a summer dress with thin straps, and her hair was braided and cascaded over one shoulder.

“Hi, Joy. Are you almost ready?” She strode up the sidewalk, and even though she was talking to Joy, Alicia eyed Matthew with curiosity.

Next to her, Matthew's breathing grew heavy. His chest rose and fell, and Joy knew he was working to maintain control. Did he assume it was Alicia's influence that was drawing her away? Joy placed a hand on his arm as if trying to calm him, but Matthew pulled away.

“Actually, do you mind if we put off quilting until another day, Alicia? Something's come up tonight.”

“
Ja
, I mean yes.” Alicia chuckled. “Oh my goodness, I can't keep those
ja
's out of my vocabulary. I'm turning a little too Amish.” Then Alicia turned back toward her car.

Joy smiled, unsure of how to respond.

“Oh.” Alicia paused, turning back around. “Rowan sent a text message out to everyone, telling them not to come in until noon tomorrow. Can you tell your
mem
we won't be needing breakfast? And you don't need to be there either. Rowan has some type of Skype meeting with the network.”

Joy nodded, even though she had no idea what Alicia was talking about. Skype? It made no sense.

“Thanks for letting me know. It'll give me a chance to stop by the fabric store. I've been missing my friend Elizabeth.”

Alicia gave a final wave and then drove off. It wasn't until the car was completely out of sight that Joy turned back to Matthew.

“I suppose I'll be leaving.” His voice was sharp. “I don't think
there is anything else for me to say here.” He focused his gaze on her. “Unless you can think of anything.”

She read the ache in his eyes and knew it mirrored her own.

Say you love me. Say you're not going to give up on me.
All those words and more filled her mind, but she simply shook her head. “
Ne
, I suppose there isn't anything more. I'm sorry, Matthew. So sorry things turned out this way.”

“Listen.” Matthew held up his hands, a look of desperation replaced his anger. “We don't need to make things final today. Why don't we take a few days to think about things? When you're ready, why don't you come over, and we can talk again.”

He leaned down, kissed her temple, and then strode away. He was so strong, so handsome. And so hurt. And she was the reason.

Joy rushed inside, ignoring her
mem
, Grace, and Faith, who were all in the kitchen. She couldn't look at them, couldn't talk to them. She hurried to her room instead and flung herself onto her bed. Then, as if a movie were playing through her mind at double speed, Joy thought about where she'd end up if she continued down this path. The television show would be filmed, and her
Englisch
friends would move back to their own lives. Matthew would move on too, finding the perfect Amish bride who would always listen to the bishop and never disagree. Who wouldn't shame him. And Joy would be alone.

Lord, what am I doing? Why am I doing this?

From the kitchen, Grace called her to come have dessert, but Joy didn't respond. The last thing she wanted was to look them in the face. They no doubt had all overheard what was happening on the front porch. There was no way she could pick up her fork and try to put any food in her mouth. It was hard to breathe. Her lungs felt as if they had been trampled by horses and then put back inside her to die a slow death. Her chest ached, and her
mind felt as fuzzy as if she'd fallen asleep and was startled awake. She wanted this to be a bad dream, but it wasn't.

She'd hurt Matthew. She'd hurt his heart. She'd hurt his reputation, and he hadn't done anything to deserve that. Nothing at all.

Tears came next, heavy and hard, and suddenly Joy realized she had a choice. She didn't have to continue working with the show. They could go on without her.

God, can You bring in someone else to help Alicia? It doesn't have to be me.

Releasing a heavy breath, Joy sat up, knowing what she had to do. Knowing this was her story and that she had one more chance to turn it around. Knowing she didn't have to let true love walk away while she simply stood back and cried.

Alicia pushed up her sleeves and then moved to the bathroom sink in her hotel room.
Stitched together. Stitched together.
The words replayed in her mind.

She turned on the water, letting it run until it turned warm. Then, with a few pumps from the hand soap, she began washing her hands, moving up to her wrists. The water turned beige as it pooled in the sink. The stage makeup stripped away layer by layer until the red, angry scars appeared at her wrists. She'd hidden them from everyone. Only her manager and her makeup artist knew. The makeup artist had shown her how to apply the makeup herself. Even Rowan didn't know how far she'd fallen six months ago.

Her manager, Reagan, knew because he'd been at her side as she'd woken up in the psych ward. Shame and pain flooded her, remembering the look of fear on his face. Not fear over losing her,
but fear of her deeds being found out. Fear of the media picking up on the story. Fear that she wouldn't be able to come out ahead in America's eyes this time.

“Don't worry, sweetie. No one has to know about this,” Reagan had said. Not “Are you okay?” Not “I'm so glad you made it.” His words reflected the truth of their relationship. He was there to protect her image, to gloss over the pain that plagued her.

She lied to her psychiatrist after the attempt. She said it was her split from Rowan, the tabloids, and the pressure from Hollywood that had led to her attempt. She didn't mention the abortion. And when the psychiatrist had mentioned it after looking at her medical files, she claimed that the decision hadn't bothered her. That's what she was supposed to say, wasn't it?

What she hadn't told Joy was that there was a reason she didn't like the idea of God gazing down at her. Because He, too, knew what she'd done.

But since arriving back to her hotel room, she'd read about David—the guy who wrote those psalms—and Alicia realized he had messed up big-time too. He'd committed adultery. He'd committed murder, and yet he still turned to God.

Alicia dried her hands and arms with a fluffy, white cotton towel and then moved to the bed. The bedding was white, clean, perfect—a contrast to her ugly scars.

She adjusted the pillows against the headboard and then sat, leaning against them. Alicia thought about Joy's words during their Bible study.
David had a palace made of gold, silver, and expensive wood. It just goes to show that it doesn't really matter what you have. You have nothing if you don't have God.

Alicia had discovered what it was like to have everything and feel like it was nothing. She also knew it wasn't just the alcohol that had caused her to sabotage her relationship with Rowan. During
the weeks before her trip to Prague, he'd started talking about children and his desire for a family. The conversation had scared her.

After her abortion, she'd convinced herself that she wouldn't be a good mom and that she'd never have kids. To choose to have a child with Rowan would prove how wrong she'd been. A life growing inside her would remind her of the one she'd taken away. And so she'd done the only thing she knew to do—she committed the horrible sin that would push Rowan away from her. And it wasn't until he was gone that she realized how much she wanted him close. How much she loved him and needed him.

The room was still, quiet. Alicia focused on her own breathing. She looked at her scars again and thought of Jesus's scars, and for the first time in her life she believed. She believed He saw her and listened to her. She believed He loved her and wanted her to come near. She knew this because God had brought Joy into her life. God had brought a woman who modeled what is right and pure. A woman who talked about a God who liked to stitch together the torn and ragged scraps of each person's life.

And so for the first time in her life, she closed her eyes and prayed a simple, honest prayer. “Yes, Lord, I believe.”

 

Stitched Together

The stitch is worked from right to left on double material. First baste carefully together the two materials; the basting may serve as a guide to the worker, and also keep the materials from slipping apart. A seam should be made far enough from the edge of the cloth to avoid the danger of raveling.
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