19. Elijah
“Elijah, you really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” I push Edna’s lawn mower into her garden shed then shut and lock the door. After removing my gloves and shoving them into the back pocket of my jeans, I face her.
“Well… Then come in for some lemonade.”
I really don’t have time. With a system update to perform remotely and some emails to respond to, I shouldn’t even have come back today. But after seeing just how long her lawn was getting, and knowing she was going to try to mow her own yard to save money, I didn’t see a choice.
“I’m okay. I need to get in to work.”
“You need to come in for some lemonade, boy. Don’t make an old woman drink an entire pitcher alone.”
I smile, unable to bring myself to argue further. “All right. A few minutes.”
She beams. “Good. Come on. Take your shoes off outside.”
I do as she says, leaving my boots just outside the door and setting my gloves on top of them. After washing my hands, I take a few minutes to look around her living room. My stomach flips when my gaze lands on a picture of a gorgeous brunette, her dark hair cut just above her shoulders. She smiles from the photo, though I note that it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Who is this?”
“Ahh, yes. That is my granddaughter, Andrea. Andie for short. She’s in New York. A big-time fashion designer now.” Her words are full of pride, but her tone is heavy. Almost sad.
“Do you not see her often?”
“Not nearly as often as I’d like. Here.” She offers me the glass then gestures for me to take my seat on the couch. “Now, you’ve been in Hope Springs for a few months, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Former military?”
“Army,” I reply.
“And you’re working at the security firm?”
“Word gets around in this town, doesn’t it?”
“That it does,” she replies with a laugh.
I take a drink of the lemonade then stare down at the glass. “You made this?”
She arches a brow. “Is there a problem with it?”
“No. It’s—it just reminds me of my grandmother’s,” I say, nearly choking on the wave of grief that hits me from nowhere. She’s been gone a little while now, but the wound is still so fresh. And the pain from that particular hurt is far more difficult to manage than the injuries I sustained overseas.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
“Tell me, are you close with your family?”
Ouch. “I don’t have any. My parents passed when I was little, and my grandmother raised me. She’s gone now.”
“I am so sorry. Siblings? Cousins?”
“Only child. And since my father was also an only child and my mother lost contact with her family long before I was born, I never knew any cousins. It’s just me.”
“I’m sorry about that. I suppose I shouldn’t have pried, but I was curious.”
Her candid nature is somewhat calming to me. Which is strange, seeing as how I can’t stand talking to anyone about anything deeper than the weather.
“I really appreciate your help with my lawn,” she says.
“I appreciate the lemonade.”
“Good.” She smiles. “I have one final question for you, Elijah. Then, I promise to ease up on the interrogation.”
“Okay.” I’m a bit worried about what’s coming next.
Edna narrows her gaze on me. “How do you feel about pot roast?”
* * *
By the timeWednesday morning rolls around, I’m still no closer to finding anything of value. I’ve scoured through my old files, scrubbed my own personal history, and doubled down on Andie’s. No matter how much I dig, there is nothing to be found.
Add to that the tension between us these past two days, and you could say I’m beyond frustrated and desperate for a swim or some time at the gym. A run. A fight. Anything to help me burn off this frustration.
Unfortunately, I’m still technically supposed to be taking it easy. The pain might be manageable and dulled to an ache, and I’m officially off bed rest, but my body is still nowhere near where it’s supposed to be.
Andie’s door opens, and she steps out wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored t-shirt. Her dark hair has been pulled back from her face with a clip of some kind, and instead of being barefoot like she’s been every day since we got here, she’s wearing tennis shoes.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Michael is on his way to pick me up.” Her tone is clipped as she lifts her purse and slings it over her shoulder.
“You can’t leave.”
“I’m not a prisoner, Elijah.”
“It’s not safe,” I insist, the idea of her leaving this haven suffocating.
“Michael will be with me. I have an appointment. I skipped last week, but I’m not missing this one.”
“With who?”
She turns toward me. “You can’t have this both ways.” She gestures between us. “Either you want to be friends, or you don’t. If you don’t want to be friends, then you have no reason to know where I’m going as it has nothing to do with what’s happening.”
“You leaving has everything to do with what’s happening.”
I can tell by her reaction that my answer was not the one she wanted. But how am I supposed to give that to her if I can’t even seem to figure out how I’m feeling?
“I’ll be back in a few hours, Elijah.” She turns to leave, so I reach out and grab her arm. The touch ignites a fire in my soul, a burning desire to draw her closer, so I let go.
“Please tell me where you’re going.”
She glares up at me, and I note small, barely visible freckles dusting her nose and cheekbones. How did I miss those before?
“Church,” she says.
The doorbell rings, and she moves away from me to answer it.
“Ready?” Michael asks, breezing in as though nothing’s wrong. That’s his special ability though, to diffuse tension in the room without even trying. Or so he thinks. Having him here now only makes me more anxious.
“Let me grab something really quick, and then I will be.” She smiles at him, though her gaze completely avoids me.
I hate the burning jealousy that sparks to life inside me.
“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.” I repeat Proverbs 14:30 in my head, over and over again, as a reminder that jealousy is not something I need to allow to fester.
Especially when Andie isn’t even mine to feel jealous over.
“You okay?”
“She doesn’t need to be leaving,” I snap.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I go where I’m called, Elijah.”
“You know it’s not smart.”
“Which is exactly what I told her. But she is insistent on keeping this meeting with Pastor Redding.”
“What are they meeting about?”
“Again, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her? You two are here playing house after all.”
“It’s not like that, and you know it,” I growl.
“That why you’re so peachy today? Because you want it to be that way and it’s not?”
I don’t even have time to respond because Andie steps out with the box of letters in her hands. I can’t let her walk out without me. “I’m coming with you. Don’t leave without me.”
“You shouldn’t be going anywhere,” she insists.
“Neither should you,” I call back as I head into the bedroom I’ve been using and grab my wallet and keys.
* * *
The driveto town is a quiet one with Michael singing along to Skilletand Andie staring out the window. My side aches just a bit, but I haven’t had pain medicine in two days, so I’m considering it a win.
Hope Springs is a welcome sight as we head down Main Street and pull up outside the church. I all but jump out of the back seat to pull open Andie’s door. She glares at me as she gets out, the box of letters in her hands.
I long to know what she wants to talk to the pastor about even though it’s none of my business. The walls between us are stifling, but I’m the one who put them there.
Michael opens the large wooden door to the sanctuary and peers inside. I do the same, ensuring the only person in there is Pastor Redding. He smiles and waves at us as he crosses the room.
“Please keep the doors locked,” Michael asks him.
“No one will harm her while she’s here,” he assures us, his gaze lingering on me as though the assurance was meant specifically for me.
I fight the urge to squirm where I stand.
“We’ll be across the street in the diner,” Michael says. “Call before you unlock those doors, and if there’s any trouble?—”
“We’ll call,” Andie answers.
“Perfect,” he says.
“Thanks.” Without a word to me, she heads inside, letting the door shut firmly behind her.
“Well, you did something,” Michael comments with a laugh as he clasps me on the back. Together, we walk across the street, though, with every foot of distance between me and Andie, my anxiety grows.
We choose a booth right by the window with a clear view of the church. There are no cars in the parking lot aside from Michael’s and the pastor’s. So when Lilly comes over to take our order, I spare her a few moments.
“You’re here!” she exclaims. “We’ve all been so worried.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
“We’ve been praying for you,” she adds. “How are you?”
“I appreciate the prayers,” I say. “And I’m doing much better.”
“Great. Well, whatever you want is on the house.”
“That’s not?—”
“Isn’t it, Alex?” she calls out to her husband.
“On the house!” he yells from behind the counter.
“You saved my best friend,” she tells me, eyes misting. “This is the least I can do.”
Knowing that any further argument will still lead to the same outcome, I concede. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. A coffee for now, please.”
“Same,” Michael adds.
“You got it.” With a smile, she heads toward the kitchen, so I turn my attention back to the church.
“Are you going to tell me what happened or make me annoy you until you finally cave?”
“I drew lines in the sand, and I don’t think she likes them.”
“What kind of lines?”
“The kind that leave no room for misinterpretation,” I reply.
Michael nods in understanding. “Ahh, so in true Elijah fashion, you pulled her closer then shoved her out the door as soon as she got comfortable.”
My temper flares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you always start out with the best of intentions. And being yourself—kind, reliable—you draw people in. However, when you sense someone getting too close, you throw the walls up.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You do. Draw them in then shove them out the door as soon as they decide to come through it. I’m honestly surprised you let Edna get as close as she was. Then again, you had no romantic interest in her.”
“I am not romantically interested in Andie.”
“Here you go.” Lilly breezes over and places the steaming cups in front of us. “Do you know what you want to eat?”
“Nothing yet,” Michael replies. “But thanks.”
“Anytime. Just wave me down when you decide.” She slips away and heads toward another table with four teens.
“A lie to yourself is still a lie,” he says. “And I know you better than you know yourself most days. I’ve seen the way you look at her. More importantly, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
The mere idea that Andie could possibly feel anything beyond tolerance for me is far more thrilling than it should be. “You’re projecting your own complicated feelings onto me.”
Michael brushes off the mention of his ex-fiancée and the torch he still carries for her. “You can tell yourself all the lies you want, but it’s not going to change the facts. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to learn to let someone in, Elijah.”
“I have no time for relationships.”
“No. You’re just afraid of what having one would mean.”
“Please, continue to enlighten me on the inner workings of my own self.”
“Fine.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “You want enlightenment? Here it is. You’ve spent the last few years doing everything you can to avoid any kind of attachment because you’re still angry that you survived.”
His words hit. Hard.
“Angry I survived?”
“Yes. You carry guilt for the man you were before you joined the military, and even though that man died a long time ago, you’re acting like it was him who walked out of the fire. Not the man you became after finding your faith.”
“There were so many others who should have survived,” I tell him. “Better men. Stronger men.”
Michael leans in. “God saved you. He saved me. Lance. I won’t even pretend to know why, but I do know that you have to stop beating yourself up over something you couldn’t change even if you wanted to. Every single day you let yourself suffer with the loneliness as your own personal punishment is one more day you’re wasting the gift you were given.”
“I don’t know why He saved me.” Saying the words out loud alleviates a bit of the weight. It’s true though—of all the men He could have rescued, allowing me to survive feels like a mistake.
“I have no idea why He saved me either, but I do know that it was for a reason.”
Taking a drink of my coffee, I study the front of the church. Andie is just inside, talking about who knows what. Is she hurting? Grieving in silence?
“Stop wasting your second chance, Elijah.”
“You’re acting like I’ve been tossing out dating invitations and living in a hole.”
“Not the dating invitations,” Michael replies with a half-smile, “but the small apartment above the lighthouse is as good a hole as any, wouldn’t you say?”