When Forever Stays (The Forever Duet)

Fifteen

FIFTEEN

DANA

The windows rattle as the wind howls outside. It’s been three days of this. Three days since I ran away from Rhett after learning of his ultimate betrayal. From the very beginning, he’s lied to me about his identity, the very core of who he is. I’m not sure our relationship can ever come back from that.

Hurt and anger continue to grow inside me, creating the defensive wall I should have put in place from the very beginning to protect me from this new pain.

Rosa tightens the afghan around her shoulders as she reclines on my couch. She’s been with me since the storm arrived, sleeping in the spare bedroom that once housed Rhett. Where he had a nightmare and in his sleepy state told me he wanted to keep me. Tears burn my eyes at the memory.

Rosa shivers a little then says, “It’s gonna be a few more days of rough weather. I can feel it.”

“This storm came out of nowhere, didn’t it? I don’t remember hearing anything about it on the weather channel.” I keep my voice as monotone as possible, trying to show control over the torrent of emotions warring inside of me.

Rosa looks straight ahead, her expression calm and sure. “Some storms blast into life when we least expect them. We can’t prepare for them, but we do our best to defend what we can and trust that God will protect the rest.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Ooh, that’s good. I love a good jasmine tea.”

Rosa sounds so cavalier about everything. Stuff with Rhett, this storm that has kept us cooped up for days. How can she stay so relaxed when the world around us is slowly drowning us?

“We’re not just talking about a storm, are we?”

“No,” she says. “I was talking about the tea too.”

I give her a frustrated look. “Please just say what you want to say. Probably something along the lines of ‘I told you so.’”

Rosa calmly shakes her head. “No. Not even close. I want you to tell me what happened with Rhett when you’re ready.”

I’m ready. It’s been eating at me for days. So I lay it all out on the table. Her expression is unreadable as I come to the last things that were said.

“So what is it that you’re most upset about?” she asks.

“Everything,” I answer too quickly.

Rosa takes a long sip of her tea. “But what hurts you the most?”

“I don’t know.” Getting up, I pace the length of my living room, trying to find a way to burn off energy and clear my head. “It’s all hard.”

“It is. I don’t envy you right now. No one would. But you need to know God is working in all of this.” She squints as if deep in thought. “In everything He works for His glory.”

My nostrils flare and I purse my lips. “What about this would bring Him glory?”

Rosa tilts her head to the side. “That, my dear girl, is in your hands.”

I plop down on the sofa beside Rosa, and we sit in pensive silence. My eyes close as I pray silently. I’m not sure how much time passes, but the torment must show on my face. I hear Rosa’s tea cup clink on the saucer and I open my eyes. She takes my hands in hers. “You need to forgive him.”

Her unexpected declaration has my blood turning to ice. “How? How can you be on his side? You said yourself you thought he was keeping something from me! Rhett had every opportunity to tell me the truth of who he was–who he is–and he didn’t.”

“Did Jesus put a condition on the forgiveness of humanity as He hung on the cross? Or did He willingly die for all sins, no matter how awful they were?” Rosa’s eyes narrow, and for the first time ever, she raises her voice at me. “Forgiveness isn’t always easy. But it is necessary.”

She stares at me, but I can’t look her in the eyes because she’s right. And I don’t want her to be. I want her on my side, not Rhett’s.

Seventy times seven. It’s a whisper in my spirit, a reminder of Jesus’s lesson on forgiveness. The first time I’ve felt God in I don’t even know how long. It feels like a turning point. One I hope doesn’t take more months to process.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say reluctantly. “But it’s not going to be easy to forgive this. To accept all of this.” Not only did I date my teenage crush without knowing it, but he has a child with another woman. Because there’s always another woman. I choke on a sob and grab a pillow, clutching it to my chest.

Rosa rubs circles on my back. “Our plans are rarely God’s plans. Sometimes He throws a storm—or a rockstar—into our lives to teach us a lesson. Sometimes the lesson is specific, but every time the hardships hit, they are meant to push us closer to Him, the Creator of our world, our life, and sometimes, to get our attention, He allows our struggles.”

“You’re telling me,” I mumble.

She ignores me and continues. “People get it wrong a lot. They think ‘every good thing’ James talks about means that only the good things that happen to us without struggles come from God. But good things often come out of chaos, trials, and tribulations. And God’s good things often present themselves in those very tribulations. Not because He wants to hurt us or likes seeing us struggle; what He wants in those moments is for us to reach out to Him like a child reaching for their father in a time of need so He can scoop us into His loving arms and we can cling to Him as our world seems to fall apart. When we trust Him in every moment, He blesses us beyond what our human minds can even comprehend. He blesses us with His love. It’s the only love we truly need in this life. When we trust Him, He pieces our world back together, creating the tapestry He designed for us, and shapes us closer in His image.” She turns her face away and brushes a tear from her eye.

Thunder crackles in the distance, and the lighting that follows several seconds later lights up the sky in a mosaic pattern of purple, blue, and white. There is beauty even in the heart of the storm.

My eyes drop to the Bible I’ve neglected, sitting on my coffee table. I’ve reposted my popular videos the last few weeks because I’ve struggled to make new content. My desire to be in God’s Word has continued to dwindle the longer I’ve remained angry toward Rhett and unforgiving for his betrayal. It was hard before he returned, but now…now it’s even worse. But how can I forgive Rhett for not only abandoning me but lying to me and hiding his true identity? The longer I sit with that thought, the sicker I feel. Deep down, I know I need to forgive him. And I also know that in time, I will trust him again.

“How do I forgive him? How do I weather this storm? How do I let my world fall to pieces without grabbing for the fractured bits to try and put it back together myself?” I fire my questions at Rosa, unable to hold back anything. She’s not only one of my dearest friends, she’s the person I know will answer them with honesty and wisdom.

She picks up my Bible from the table and hands it to me. “You’ll find your answers in there.” She taps the cover.

A huff of frustration leaves me. Then I swallow the lump in my throat. “No one else knows this, but since you’re already seeing that my faith is failing, I may as well tell you.”

If she’s surprised by my statement, her face doesn’t show it. She just pushes her glasses back up her nose and looks at me as though we have all the time in the world. As if she’s perfectly happy sitting here with me, listening to me complain and whine.

“I’ve tried reading my Bible, but over the last few months, it’s been difficult. Even before this mess with Rhett started, I’ve felt like a counterfeit Christian.” I shrug a shoulder. “I haven’t been able to film new videos that have real substance.” Releasing a shaky breath, I admit, “I haven’t been able to read the Bible for my own growth either.”

Rosa tilts her head but is silent for a long moment. I scoot down the couch and pull my legs up, curling them beneath me.

Finally, she speaks up. “Our spiritual growth.” She blows out a breath and purses her lips as if she’s struggling to find the right words. “Let me phrase this in a way that leaves room for my error. Our faith shouldn’t depend on our mountain-top experiences with Jesus. Our faith shouldn’t focus on how close we ‘feel’ to God. It shouldn’t depend on how we feel at all. Our love of God isn’t a feeling but a choice. Will you choose to get up and read your Bible?” She raises a brow at me.

“I’ve tried!” I practically shout. “So many times. But every time I read the words, any understanding flees and I haven’t been able to prep a single word for the retreat.”

“That is something you’ll need to rectify.”

I give her a frustrated huff. “I’m aware. But how?”

“Stop looking at it as work. Read it because you want to. Don’t think about what you are going to get out of it. When you sit down and open it up, focus on what the passages teach you about God.” She points toward heaven. “Not what it can do for you, but what you can do for Him.”

“I would have felt much better if you would have stayed with me and West through this storm, and I don’t just mean the tropical storm.” Olivia gives me one of her looks before she takes a sip of coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me about Rhett?”

She sets her mug down, her face showing traces of the hurt I unintentionally inflicted. I take a long drink of my own coffee, giving myself a few moments to gather my composure and formulate a good answer.

She and West had just landed when the rain started. Thank God they made it to their penthouse before the thunder and lightning storms started. They were stuck there since they came home. Now that the weather has let up enough for her to leave safely, she came over to check on me. West stayed back, giving us this time together.

The rain finally stopped last night after a week of downpours. For days, I couldn’t even step outside for fear of either getting blown away by the winds or getting struck by lightning. Now the sky is a cloudless light blue. Sunlight reflects off the calm surface of the ocean. The air is fresh and crisp as we sit out on the porch in my Adirondack chairs with a little side table between us holding our mugs of coffee.

Olivia nudges my foot. “Why didn’t you tell me about Rhett?” she asks again, the little patience she had quickly dwindling.

“You were on your dream honeymoon in Paris. I knew if I told you what happened, you would be on the first flight back to Amber Island. I wasn’t going to do that to you or West.”

Her lips turn down into a little frown. She knows I’m right.

“I didn’t need my big sister to come fight this battle for me,” I add.

“I wouldn’t have come here to fight this battle for you. I would have come back so you knew I was in your corner.”

Her thoughtfulness brings a tear to my eye that I brush away. “Please don’t hold that against me. I wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon without needing to worry about me. And I’m perfectly good.”

Olivia scoffs. “Right.” She makes an up-and-down motion, referring to the hair I haven’t washed or brushed in a week pulled into a messy bun, my baggy sweatpants, and ripped T-shirt. “If this is perfectly good, I’m afraid to witness what not ‘perfectly good’ is.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Listen–”

Olivia cuts me off. “When was the last time you really read and studied your Bible?” she asks. It’s a question I posed to her when she abandoned West after their reunion. Just like when I asked her, there’s no judgment in her tone, only concern.

“I opened it a couple of days ago,” I answer.

After the storm passed and Rosa left, I opened my Bible like Rosa suggested—like I knew I needed to. But the words blurred together, and there was no way I could read it, let alone study it. None of the peace I used to have in the Word washed over me. Everything inside me curled into a ball of confused emotion.

“I didn’t ask the last time you opened it. I asked the last time you read and studied it. You used to spend countless hours in God’s Word.”

Shrugging, I say, “I needed to read it to create studies and videos. It was my job.” I practically choke on the words. That was never why I read my Bible. It was just a bonus to be able to share that passion with others. Originally. But recently? Well, recently, it’s been a whole other story.

“ Was your job?” Olivia asks incredulously.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I grit my teeth. “A girl who can barely read the Bible has no business making a profit talking about studying the Bible. It’d make me a fraud. If I go through the motions just to make an income…that’s not me. I want my videos to draw people to Christ, and to do that, my faith needs to be solid.”

“What they come for is your passion for the Word.” She visibly swallows. “Your passion for Jesus.”

“That passion is dormant right now.” My stomach clenches violently at the vocal admission.

Olivia doesn’t hide her surprise at my statement but then narrows her eyes before standing. She goes into my house and rustles around for a minute then comes out holding my Bible and a cup of pens and highlighters. Carefully, she places them on the table next to me.

“Give me back my sister. Stop making excuses. All your answers are in there.” She points to the closed Bible, echoing Rosa’s words. Words I know are true but am finding it difficult to follow.

I stare at her but say nothing.

She grabs her purse and slings it over her shoulder before leaving me alone with my thoughts and the Bible I desperately need to get back into. Her car starts, and I hear the crunch of gravel. After confirming she’s gone, I push my Bible away.