Chapter 8 #2
He looked away. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“I know what I’ve done.” The words came out barely above a whisper.
“Today I killed two men. I pulled the trigger and watched them fall. I know it was self-defense, I know they would’ve killed me, but they’re dead.
Children of God, created by Him for a purpose, and now there’s no hope for them. I have to live with that.”
His expression softened. Or maybe she just saw what she wanted to see.
“So no,” she continued, “I don’t know what you’ve done. But I know God is big enough for my mess, no matter how ugly it is. Which means He’s big enough for yours too. The question isn’t whether He’ll take you back. It’s whether you’ll let Him.”
Jasper looked beyond her. “My dad used to say something like that. ‘Do your best, trust God with the rest.’” His voice went rough. “Feels like a long time ago.”
“Your dad’s a wise man.”
“Was.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Kenzie’s sister Delaney had said Noah and Jasper’s parents had died when they were young. Kenzie had forgotten.
Jaz didn’t say anything, didn’t shift at all.
“It’s never too late to start trusting again.”
“Maybe for you.” He turned his focus to his laptop. “Do what you have to do. I hope it helps.”
Dismissive, but Kenzie recognized it for what it was—not rejection of her, but rejection of hope itself.
“I’ll pray for you too,” she said softly.
His fingers froze on the keyboard. “Don’t waste your prayers on me, Jesus girl. Just pray you survive tomorrow.”
But she would pray for him. Because if God could forgive her, He could forgive anyone.
Yet she was in this terrible mess, despite having walked with Him all her life.
I’ve trusted You all along, haven’t I? What is Your plan here?
She took the bag Laguerre had brought for her and headed to the bathroom. Inside, she found a plain white T-shirt, pale blue gym shorts with a drawstring waist, a small travel kit of toiletries, and a hairbrush. Nothing fancy but everything she’d need to get to morning.
Thank You, Lord, for small mercies.
She turned on the shower, then struggled out of the silk dress while the water warmed up.
The zipper caught halfway down her back, and she contorted herself trying to reach it, finally managing to tug it free.
The dress pooled at her feet, and she kicked it aside.
She tied her hair in a very poorly secured knot and used the shower cap provided by the hotel to keep it from getting wet.
The hot water was heaven. She’d showered a few hours before, but she wanted to wash away the sand from the beach—and the tension from this endless day.
As she scrubbed, her mind kept returning to Jaz. He was a mystery. A playboy who wasn’t a playboy. A commando who’d saved her life. Also, a man who’d abandoned his daughter. But maybe she understood that now. Maybe he hadn’t had a choice.
She had about one one-thousandth of the information she needed, if that. “I need Your wisdom, Lord,” she whispered, letting the water cascade over her back and shoulders. “I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know what to do next.”
Rest.
Yeah, well, that was the one thing she already knew. Rest and pray and trust God to work it all out.
She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and was about to change into the clothes Laguerre had purchased when she heard another whisper from the Lord.
Trust him.
Him, as in God? No, then He would’ve said, Trust Me. So God must mean Jaz.
He had kept her alive this long. Unless she wanted to call her father, she had no choice but to trust Jasper. And God wasn’t telling her to call her father, though that would be the easiest decision.
Dad would have her on a plane in an hour.
Dad would keep her safe, but if she ever wanted to get her life back, she needed to do more than just escape this madness. She needed to figure out who’d set her up and make sure that person never had the chance to do it again.
Dressed and ready for bed, Kenzie inhaled a breath for courage and stepped back into the hotel room.
Jaz had flicked off the overhead light. Only the lamp on the bedside table was lit, casting soft shadows over where he sat at the table. He’d changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, which Laguerre must’ve brought in the duffel bag.
Jaz looked up from his cell phone. “Everything okay? You had what you needed?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He’d found an extra blanket, which he’d dropped on the floor at the end of the bed beside one of the many pillows. Was she really going to make the man who’d saved her life sleep on the tile?
Trust him.
Well, easy for God to say. He didn’t have to share a room with the man.
But if God thought Jaz was trustworthy, then she should too.
She pulled the covers back on her side. “You can sleep on the bed, as long as you stay on your side. And sleep on top of the covers.”
His eyebrows hiked. “You sure about that, Jesus girl?”
No. Not even close. But she wasn’t cruel, and the bed was big enough for both of them.
“As long as you realize God’ll strike you dead if you wander onto my side.”
“That would be unfortunate.”
“Are you a…flopper?” she asked. “Am I going to find you starfished in the middle of the bed?”
He chuckled, an authentic, strangely comforting sound. “No one’s ever told me I starfished. But then, despite popular perception, I sleep alone.”
Did he? She wasn’t going to press that particular question tonight. “Okay, then. If you can respect my boundaries…”
He started tossing things onto the bed—extra pillows, his duffel bag, his discarded clothes—and then arranged them down the center of the mattress.
“A barrier?” she guessed.
He dipped his head and raised his eyebrows like a professor instructing a wayward student. “In case you decide to get frisky.”
She turned to hide her smile and climbed in on her side, facing away from him.
“I’ll just brush my teeth.”
The bed moved as he rustled around for something. Then he flicked off the lamp and used his phone’s flashlight to make his way to the bathroom.
Leaving her alone. She closed her eyes and told herself to relax, listening to the water running. Just normal sounds from a normal human being. No reason to be nervous.
She couldn’t help a little fear, but her nerves weren’t just about the stranger sharing her bed. It was all of it. The crazy events of the day that played on a loop in her mind. Pirates. Gunshots. The shock of cold water. The explosion.
Magras’s cold eyes, studying her. If he figured out who she was, he’d try to kill her.
The bathroom door opened, and though Kenzie didn’t open her eyes, she felt it as Jaz moved through the room, then climbed in on the opposite side of the bed. He settled quickly, probably trying not to bother her.
But it wasn’t Jaz keeping her awake. It was…everything.
Lord, I don’t even know where to start. What happened today? What am I supposed to do now?
She worked to quiet her soul, to listen to His whisper, but her fears were turned up to high volume, accompanied by images she couldn’t get out of her head.
Lord, help me rest. I trust You. Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love. Let the morning bring me focus and answers and…
A pirate stood over her, gun aimed, cruelty in his eyes.
A gunshot made her flinch. She wasn’t dead. She’d shot a man. Two men. All of them were dead now.
She hadn’t blown up the boat, but she’d pulled the trigger.
She’d killed. She’d killed again.
Souls who didn’t know God had lost their chance. Misguided men were not her enemy, yet she’d killed. Hot tears dripped from her eyes. She turned her face into her pillow and tried to muffle her sobs.
She wanted to go home, to her apartment. She wanted her books and her plants. She wanted the sweet puppy that lived in the alley behind her place, who never got close enough to touch but always finished the food Kenzie put out for it.
She wanted this to be over. She wanted her business back.
But what kind of person grieved the loss of her apartment and her business when two men had lost their lives?
She knew what kind of person she was. An awful, awful person, because she praised God that she was still alive, even though it meant those men were dead. She’d have to learn to live with it, but experience told her the trauma would never go away.
She sobbed, silently, begging God to help her sleep. To make her mind stop spinning. You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.
But nothing was safe, not anymore.
The bed shifted, and a hand slid onto her shoulder over the blanket. Even so, it felt warm and comforting.
“You’re safe, Kenzie.” Jaz’s words were barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, as deep as the darkness. “It’s going to be okay.”
She didn’t know why, but somehow, she believed him.
Maybe she should’ve pulled away, but that hand, that human connection, arrested her spinning thoughts.
With his touch grounding her, she was able to focus on God’s presence. He was here with her, in this place. He was watching over her. She should have died today, but she hadn’t. God had been with her, and He was with her still. He was watching over her.
Lord, I’m lost. I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know who to trust. I don’t even know if I can trust myself.
Show me the way. Show me the truth. Keep me safe and help me see clearly.
Whatever information I have, help me remember so I can bring these criminals who’ve used me to justice.
Help me hear Your voice above all the noise.
She paused, thinking of the man beside her in the darkness. A man who’d saved her life but believed he was beyond saving himself.
And help Jaz hear Your voice too. Whatever wall he’s built between himself and You, help him tear it down. Help him remember You’re still there. Still waiting. Still loving him, even when he can’t love himself.
She wondered if Jasper were praying, too, or if he’d forgotten how.
She wondered if he remembered that God listened to the prayers of prodigals.
Lord, lead us. We need You.