Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Roger
I flip off the sheet covering my body and roll off the couch onto the floor.
I immediately begin doing push-ups until my arms tire and my biceps are taut.
Then I jump up and start doing burpees until a thin sheen of sweat coats my body, and my chest is heaving from the exertion.
I take a few sips of water before eyeing my running shoes, which I placed by the front door when I unpacked last night.
I’m itching to go for a run, and I debate whether or not I should wake up Harper and find out if she wants to join me.
I decide it’s better to let her get some sleep, so I put on my shoes before grabbing a pen and the notepad from the end table.
I’m in the middle of leaving her a note to inform her where I plan on going when she walks out of the bedroom wearing yoga pants and a tight-fitted tank top.
“I was just leaving you a note that I was going for a run. I planned to let you sleep in until our video call with the team at eight. Seeing that you’re awake, do you want to go with me?”
Harper bites her lower lip and looks away. Talking toward the wall instead of me, she says, “Um, Jessie and Elijah invited me to train with them this morning. I can cancel, though. I’m sure that they’ll be fine without me.”
“No, you should go, Harper. Jessie and Elijah will put you through the paces, and the workout you’ll get with them will be more than any run on the beach can give you. The invite to run with me is open every morning.”
Still talking to the wall, she says, “Alrighty then. I’ll be back by 7:30.”
I walk over and stand in front of her, but she still refuses to meet my gaze. I gently cup her cheek and urge her to look at me. When she finally does, I ask, “Harper, what have I done that has made you uncomfortable? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “I really need you to put on a shirt.”
“What? Why? Harper, you’ve seen me without a shirt before.”
Her eyes shift toward the ground as she mumbles, “When I was twelve. I wasn’t old enough to notice or appreciate your lean muscles or sweat-covered body. So…”
I bellow out a laugh, which makes her even more embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t mean to laugh, but weren’t you the one who mentioned putting lotion on my back in a flirtatious manner? How do you intend to do that if I’m wearing a T-shirt?”
There’s a knock on the door, giving Harper the perfect excuse to avoid answering my question. In her haste to escape, she opens the door to a grinning Jessie before I even have a chance to check the cameras and verify it’s safe.
Before I can chastise Harper for the faux pas, Jessie strides inside and eyes me up and down.
She fans her face and remarks, “I don’t often get to see you without your button-up shirt and pocket protector, Roger, but I have to admit, you give the term ‘dad bod’ a whole new meaning.
Woo wee!” She walks over and touches my abs with the tip of her finger and then pulls back like I’ve burned her. “Yep, you’re still hot!”
I smack her hand away. “Knock it off. You’ve crossed the line and gone too far, Jessie. You know good and well that I don’t wear pocket protectors!”
Jessie chuckles and is about to retort—probably with some other ‘old man’ joke—when Harper reminds her that they have plans.
Jessie spins on her heel and joins Harper on the front porch, opening her mouth for one last jab.
Before Jessie can get a word out, Harper closes the door in her face.
Although I don’t need Harper’s protection from Jessie’s verbal assaults, it’s nice to know that she has my back.
I stretch for the next ten minutes and then head out for my run. I use the time for quiet reflection and talk to God in my head.
“Father, I don’t know if Robert and Eloise are with you right now or if they are being held captive somewhere, but if it’s the latter, I ask that you keep them safe.
I pray that we’ll find them in time and that we are on the right path to figuring out what happened.
Please guide us in the direction you need us to go. In your name, Amen.”
As I continue my run, Psalm 112:7-8 pops into my head and forces me to stop and take stock of the message.
I take it as a sign from God that he’s answered my prayer.
I speak the words aloud, not caring if anyone is around to hear me.
“He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.”
Clasping my hands atop my head, I take several deep breaths to slow my heart rate back to normal.
I find a small bench along the paved path and take a brief respite to collect my thoughts.
The entirety of Psalm 112 is a poem about praise and blessings for those who fear the Lord, but sometimes I get a snippet of a verse or verses that are meant to address my specific situation.
Bowing my head and holding my hands between my legs, I continue my conversation with God.
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret Your answer.
I’ll admit, I like the ‘triumph on his adversaries,’ part, and you know that my heart is ‘firm and trusting’ in You.
It’s the ‘bad news’ that I’m not looking forward to.
Is it going to rock my world? Of course, it is; otherwise, You wouldn’t have used this particular verse to communicate with me.
The fact that ‘not afraid’ is uttered twice means that it’s going to be really bad news, but that You have a plan.
I’ll trust in that, and in You, for whatever is to come. ”
“Who are you talking to?” Harper asks as she wipes sweat from her face and neck.
I stand up and stretch out my back. “Just having a one-on-one with Jesus.”
Harper tilts her head and peers at me curiously. “You say that so casually as if you talk with Him all the time.”
I shrug. “I do. When you’re close to someone, you want to share everything with them.
You want to share your hopes and dreams, your fears, your needs and wants, as well as your burdens because you know that they’ll love you no matter what.
You want to show them gratitude for always being there for you, even when the times get tough.
That’s the way I feel about God. He’s not only my Father; He’s also my best friend. ”
Harper smiles. “I like that. I’m not sure what possessed you to have a conversation with Him on a bench out in public, but I love that you don’t care what people think or say.
Do you want to share your burden with me?
I’m willing to shoulder it with you, and not just because I’m technically your wife, but because I’m also your friend. ”
I want her to be so much more than that, but I know her father would never approve—not because I’m not good enough, but because he views me as family. But Harper’s right; she is my friend, and I don’t have any issues with sharing what’s on my heart.
For the next few minutes, as we walk back to the cabana, I tell her about my prayer and God’s answer. Like me, she’s not particularly fond of the idea of bad news heading our way, but she agrees that whatever is to come is what’s meant to be.
“Does God always answer you through Scripture?” Harper asks. “I pray, too, but I’ve never received an answer like that.”
I leave the “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the door as I open it for Harper to enter. Once we’re inside, I grab two bottles of water and hand her one. “Not always, but reading scripture regularly helps. How He answers depends on what I’m asking for.”
“Why does what you’re asking for matter?” She asks.
“If I need clarity, scripture gives it to me. But there are times when I just need to know if what I’m doing is the right thing.
That’s when His answer most often comes in the form of a strong urging.
Sometimes, I get a sense of peace reminding me that He’s in control when worry and doubt slowly creep in and take over my thoughts.
More often than not, I don’t get any answer at all,” I explain.
Harper takes a few gulps from her bottle of water, and I watch as a few drops dribble down her chin. She wipes them away with the back of her hand. “Don’t feel alone. God almost never answers me.”
“He does. The real question is, are you listening?”
We each take turns using the bedroom to take a quick shower and change before we link up for a video call with the rest of the team.
I mirror the laptop onto the large television screen hanging on the far wall so that we can see everyone’s faces clearly.
The screen is divided into blocks, each with a camera view.
Jessie and Elijah are together in one block, Carter and Leanna in another. Ben, Ethan, Patrick, Jerry, Savannah, and Jaxon take up the remaining spaces as they connect. Once everyone is on the call, Harper stares at the big screen and starts giggling.
With the microphone still on mute, I ask her, “What’s so funny?”
She points at the screen. “Do you really not see it? It’s like watching the opening intro to ‘The Brady Bunch.’”
I raise an approving eyebrow in her direction. “That was one of my favorite shows as a child, and even then, they were reruns. The show ended two decades before you were even born.”
“It was one of my mom’s favorites, and we watched it together. I always dreamt of having a big family. Maybe not six kids big, but as an only child, the idea of siblings was always appealing to me.”
“Maybe you and Roger can have a couple of kids together. Roger, didn’t you say once that three was the perfect number?” Savannah says, snickering and shocking us both. I glance at the microphone icon in the lower left of the screen to see that it no longer has the slash through it.