26. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Stone
A knock at my door catches my attention, and I tell Stanton over my headset that I need to step away from our typical early Saturday morning round of Call of Duty.
“Hello,” I say as I swing the door open to find… “Brother Johnny? What are you doing here? Is Mom here, too?”
He chuckles, wrinkles forming at the edges of his honeyed eyes. “No, no. She’s home. Stella and Lucas are with her. I, however, would like to visit with you alone today. Sorry it’s unannounced. Forgive my intrusion.”
I motion for him to come inside. “It’s no problem. You know you’re always welcome.”
“Do you have plans?”
“Not really. Going to a bonfire tonight with some friends, that’s all.”
He grins. “Wonderful. I’ll be out of your hair after lunch. Don’t want to get back home to my beloved too late. ”
My chest warms, and for a brief moment, I’m extra thankful my mom decided to let go of the feeling like she’d be cheating on Dad if she remarried. She needed someone like Brother Johnny in her life.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He scratches his balding brown hair. “Do you have sweet tea?”
“Would I be a southern man if I didn’t?”
He laughs, and I point him to the couch while I make two glasses of tea.
“ Call of Duty , huh? You like to game?” he asks as I hand him his drink.
“It’s something my buddy and I do pretty much every Saturday morning unless we have other things happening. Just casual. This is really the only game I play these days.”
Brother Johnny nods his head, and then suddenly, his happy-go-lucky pastor face disappears, in its place a stern—fatherly?—expression. “We need to talk about that girlfriend of yours. Now, don’t be mad, but Lucas and Jared told me what was going on a couple of weeks ago after you visited us randomly, and I’ve been meaning to get up here to talk with you.”
I clench my jaw but keep a smile pasted on my face. I haven’t told my family that Lucy and I are done. So done that she never reported back to work. Instead, she sent my secretary an email saying she was resigning effective immediately three days ago. The day after she walked out of my house and wailed on my doorstep. I sat on the other side of the door, silently leaking tears and begging the God who everyone says is good but apparently hates me to change the prophecy He had set forth for my life. I said I was going to figure out this Christianity thing, but I’ve been too emotionally exhausted to even attempt to work through everything. “They did, did they?”
We both lean back against the couch as I fight to rid myself of the haunting memories of Lucy’s broken cries.
“They’re worried about you. And her. They like her a lot, you know?”
“Hm.”
He continues. “And I do, too. Most importantly, I love you, Stone. I know I’m not your father nor could I ever replace him in your life. Furthermore, I would never try to do that. But I do love you as if you were my son.”
That catches my attention.
“You—what? You do?”
He reaches over and places a tanned, wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Looking deep into my eyes, he says, “I really do.”
Just hearing those words breaks something inside me that I didn’t know was built. I’ve known friendship love. I’ve known romantic love. I’ve even briefly known fatherly love, though I think I forgot about it until this very moment.
Didn’t know how much I needed it…
“Thank you, Brother Johnny,” I say, fighting not to cry. What’s with me? Only cried twice in my life but here I am, an absolute emotional wreck lately. The way I cried over Lucy…
“And because I love you like a son, I feel it is within my rights to talk to you like one, if you’ll allow me. I drove all this way, after all. ”
I’m not quite sure I want to hear what he has to say since it obviously involves Lucy. I make a small mental note to sneak attack my brother-in-law and friend when I go back to Dasher Valley.
“Go ahead.”
He doesn’t skip a beat. “Stop running from the Lord, Stone. From what the guys told me, and after I prayed over what to tell you, it sounds like the issue runs deeper than you not wanting to open yourself up completely to Lucy. You can’t love her well because you aren’t allowing yourself to experience and know the love of your heavenly Father.”
Dumbfounded and at a loss for words, I do the only thing I can do: shut up and keep listening. Because for some reason, I want to. I think—I know—it’s what I’ve been running from.
“What’s blocking you, Stone? You’re a smart man. A kind and generous man. So why are you afraid to not only commit to Lucy but also to the Lord? And don’t give me crap about it being because of Lacey.”
“Pastor, you just said the word ‘crap,’ you know?” I ask with nervous laughter.
He only raises his bushy eyebrows, waiting for me to answer him.
I clasp my hands together and lean onto my knees, thinking. “I–I don’t know. Lacey is the only thing that comes to mind. Being rejected by her hurt a lot. It made me feel like I would never be enough for any woman. If the one who knew me at my deepest level didn’t accept me, then who else will?”
“I’m not saying she doesn’t play a role. She does. But the problem runs deeper than that. It runs into acceptance. What else? ”
A smidge of anger flares, and I stand to my feet. “If you know what the problem is, then why keep it from me? Just tell me already instead of making me read your mind.”
Brother Johnny blinks, a frown forming on his face.
After a beat, I relax. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out as rude. But I’m at a loss—” and emotionally unstable at the moment “—though I’m sure it has something to do with running from the Lord or something like that.”
“Bingo.” He takes a deep breath and motions for me to sit again. I do, taking a sip of my sweet tea, relishing in the smooth taste. “From where I’m sitting, it looks to me like your problem is your lack of relationship with Christ. I have no doubt you’re a Christian, but you’ve run far away. I think, and you can correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you blame God for taking your father away at such a young age. I think you blame God for giving your mother Rheumatoid Arthritis. I think you blame God for Lacey saying no to you when you proposed to her. I think you believe He’s at fault for your inability to commit and love because everyone you do love somehow leaves or is punished.”
I sit in stunned silence, unable to look away from him. All the emotions I haven’t been able to name or process bubble to the surface and overwhelm me in my already fragile state. That’s exactly what’s going on with me… How could I not see that? Lucy and her sadness and her fears were practically a mirror to me, her grief reflecting my own.
I break down as raw guilt over my actions, sorrow over my life, consumes me .
As Brother Johnny holds me, I weep. He tells me to let it all out as he pats my back. He prays over me, and all at once, I know this is just the beginning of a long healing journey back to where I belong—in fellowship with Christ. Walking with Him. Letting Him lead so I can one day lead and love a woman correctly and fully.
I tell Brother Johnny what happened with Lucy three days ago.
“That’s a tough one.” He brings his fingers to his chin, deep in thought. “Lucy’s an author, right? Words are important to her, and outside of your actions, your words have hurt her. Do you think you can use your words to help her?”
I think through the request as my eyes burn and ache from crying so much. My brain is mush at the moment, but I nod. “I think I can. I’ve read all her stories. I know what she likes. What she wants her leading men to say.”
“Careful there, son. Don’t say what you think she wants to hear. Speak from your heart. Be sure to take it to God first.”
“Right.”
“You know I’m a licensed Biblical counselor, don’t you?”
I nod, standing to go fill up a glass of water.
He continues. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me about everything, but I am here for you. I can help you through this.”
“Like, counsel me?” I ask, sitting back down with my fresh drink.
Brother Johnny nods.
“It might be a rough go at first, but I think—” I pause, taking a steadying breath. For so long, I’ve thought therapy and counseling was for weak-minded people. But honestly, if that’s the case, then so be it. I’m weak right now, and I need help. “Okay. Let’s try it.”
“Glad to hear it, Stone. You’re not alone, okay?” He stands and embraces me in a man-hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow to set something up with you.”
“Thank you,” I say as we walk to the door. “Can I just call you Johnny?”
He grins, eyes alight. “I would love nothing more.”
After he leaves, I hop on my motorcycle and take to the roads to process. I drive to Hartfield then down the Mississippi River, passing old antebellum homes and estates. I ask God questions, ones that I have zero answers to currently. I beg Him to fix me. I thank Him, even in the exit of my rebellious state, for sending Johnny up to talk with me today. I eventually find myself in front of the store, and go in and purchase a pink composition notebook.
Lucy is a lover of words and stories, and I want her to see my heart. Even if I don’t know what comes next for us, if there will still be an us, I want her to know that I’m ready to change. To try. To wrestle with God and find answers.
I’m ready to learn how to love her best.
S wallowing the fear and resistance in my throat, I knock on Lucy’s door.
“Who is it?” she calls in a strained voice from somewhere inside her apartment. I swear I hear her mention something about the audacity of receiving surprise guests as her footsteps approach the door. The urge to flee flickers at the edges of my thought, but I stand my ground, squaring my shoulders and clenching a small notebook in my hand. I suspect she’s looked through the peephole and spotted me since she’s said nothing else nor made a move to open the door.
“It’s me, Lucy May. Can I come in?”
“Why? State your purpose.” Her tone is indignant, but I can’t control the small smile that flashes across my face at her word choice. She sounds like a detective bent on an accurate interrogation.
“I need to talk to you. And I have something to give you.”
“I don’t need anything from you. Nor do I have anything to say.”
I place my hand on the door and bring my face closer to the peephole. Am I slightly nervous that some sort of needle may bust through it? Yes. “I have something to say. It’s important you hear it.”
After a long pause, I hear the deadbolt unlock and she slowly opens the door.
Taking in her beautiful face after not seeing her except in the pictures still saved in my phone, my eyes grow a little misty. My step-dad has counseled me a few times over the past couple of weeks when I’ve had something come up that I wanted to talk about with him, and I guess I’m a man who cries over small things now. Do I still sometimes feel like I’m not a man because of it? Absolutely. Do I now fight that internal monologue with scriptural truths? Yep. But I have a long way to go .
“What? You’re the reason I’m like this.” She gestures from her frizzy, unkempt hair down her stained t-shirt and then to her baggy basketball shorts
Wait a second, those are mine…
I press my lips together to keep from commenting something inappropriate, though I’m sure my locked gaze on the shorts says it all. Man, I still have a lot of work to do…
When I snap my attention back to her face, she’s grimacing at me with her arms folded over her chest.
“You’re beautiful as ever, Lucy. Now can I come in?”
“No,” she says sternly. “Say whatever you need to say right here.”
I guess I’ve earned that. I release a breath and remember the words that I wanted to say. “Apologies are not adequate for what I’ve put you through over the past four months, but I’m sorry. I’ve thought through many different ways I could show you how sorry I am, but everything came up short. I won’t tell you the full story of what has happened since you walked out of my house, but I did write it down in this notebook, along with other things. I know you’re a lover of words, so I wrote our story through my eyes, and I hope you won’t criticize me too much for not being as talented a writer as you are.”
The tiny pink composition notebook feels like a brick in my hands as I hold it out to her. She eyes it warily, but she takes it. As she begins to open it, I reach forward and snap it closed, my hand covering hers and sending all those electrical energies that I haven’t felt in a while coursing through my system.
Our eyes meet, and I lean forward as if pulled by a magnetic force to kiss her. She doesn’t smell like spicy vanilla right now. In fact, she smells like the old coffee stains on her shirt. Right before my lips meet hers, I halt, remembering this is not what I came here to do and it instead only proves that I need to tell her this final thing.
Sighing as I pull away, her face twists in confusion. And then disgust. She throws the notebook into her apartment and then spins to enter herself.
I grab her wrist out of instinct. “Wait!”
She turns and glares daggers at me but doesn’t speak.
“I’m sorry. Again. Ugh!” I release her wrist and run the hand through my hair trying to control the frustration within my voice. “This is why I can’t be with you right now. Because of no fault of your own, I can’t resist you. You are heroin—without an ‘e’— to me, Lucy May. I’m the problem, and the notebook will explain that.”
She stares blankly at me, so I continue, bringing my voice to a calmer, albeit pleading level. “You almost used sex to keep me with you that night after the Halloween Bash. You should never feel the need to use your body in such ways. You are worth so much more than that. I was conflicted, going back and forth on whether to keep you all to myself while not giving you what I know you deserve or letting you walk away and thrusting my hand into my chest, ripping my own heart out. But the moment you reached for your zipper, I had my answer. I abhorred myself that I brought you so low.”
Shame covers her face, and even though I’ve tried to make it clear it wasn’t her fault, that I recognize that as the man, I led us to that moment. I have no doubt she’s thinking if she wouldn’t have done that then everything would be okay right now between us .
I cup her face in my hands, needing her to truly hear my heart. “Lucy May Spence. I love you. Most ardently.” My lips twitch upward as her hazel-green eyes widen at my Pride and Prejudice confession. But I’m not done, and while I’d love to stop there and kiss her senseless, I can’t. Not right now. “And it’s because I love you that I cannot be with you right now. I’ve shown you lust, and now I am determined to figure out how to show you love. Genuine, pure love.”
Her brows knit together, and I can tell she wants to punch me, so I hurry and continue. “There’s no doubt in my mind that I want you. Lucy, no woman has ever had me like you do. Please, read my little book I wrote for you. See yourself how I see you. Understand that what I’m doing, though I know it hurts you as it does me, is for you. For us.”
“Stone, I—” She opens her mouth, but I cut her off.
“I’m working on processing emotions that I’ve shoved down for a long time.” I take a deep breath; all of this being one-hundred percent open stuff is draining. “Step one was surrendering my life back to Christ. Step two was realizing and admitting to myself that I loved you. And now I need to become a man worthy of you. I need to understand God’s love for me so I can love you fully. But Lucy, I can’t do that alongside you as much as I wish I could. And that’s not your fault.”
“So you’re walking away again, right?” Her voice is tinged with franticness, and I can’t blame her. Maybe I shouldn’t have said I loved her before telling her I had some things to work on before I could be with her. But I couldn’t wait to at least speak those three, honest words to her. Even if it’s going to take a minute to figure out how to show her.
I drop my hands from her face and take a step backward. “This is not a cop-out or an excuse, Lucy. I pray you believe that. I will come back for you when I’ve worked on rebuilding my relationship with Christ. He has to come first. It’s only then I can be the man you deserve. Be the man that can stand solidly by your side when you’re feeling so low yourself. I understand you may not wait, nor will I ask you to. I can’t give you a timeline as much as I wish I could. But if you’re still here and will have me when the Lord gives me the green light, I would be over the moon.”
The slim string of hope I had that she would understand me is cut when she spins on her heel, steps into her apartment, and slams the door, solidifying it with a lock.
Right then and there, I whisper a prayer that God will restore me quickly and that He will also heal Lucy. Tears burning in my eyes, I walk down the stairs and battle the urge from Satan to run back up there and beg her to take me as I am.
But I can’t.
I have to be a better man for myself.
I have to take the time to be better for the woman I want to make my wife.
I’m learning to trust God again.