Chapter 15
Anson stood on Sydney’s front step with the most expensive flower arrangement available at the grocery store.
She would probably say he shouldn’t have bought them, but she’d dip her face to smell the flowers as she spoke.
He pressed the doorbell. Around him, crickets hummed and distant traffic swished like one long sigh. Another calm night in Many Oaks.
The door opened. Sydney, dressed in leggings and a tank top, leaned against the frame. Head tilted, she eyed the flowers. “What’s this about?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah.” She stepped back to allow him in.
He’d imagined she’d immediately let him off the hook. She hadn’t even accepted the flowers.
Regret pooled in his lungs. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“We didn’t even get together the day of, and I thought I was okay with that, but a call or something would’ve been nice.
Then, on Saturday when I did see you, you were pretty discouraged after talking to Carter.
” She perched on a stool at her kitchen island and pulled one foot up under herself, a steaming mug of tea beside her.
“I asked if you wanted to talk, but you said you’d rather watch a movie. ”
“I would’ve gotten out of my head if I’d realized I was missing our anniversary.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “If it had been important to you—”
“I didn’t forget because you’re not important to me. I forgot because I’m an idiot. I got caught up with work. Carter and Eric ….” He shook his head.
Her mouth thinned into a line. “I think it’s more than that.”
It was. Carter reminded Anson too strongly of Guriel.
But if he explained, the conversation would go in that direction when he and Sydney needed to discuss their relationship.
“I hate failing. I knew doubling the youth group was a stretch, but I thought I’d be closer than I am.
Now, there’s Carter, and on top of it, I’ve failed you.
” Shame heated his face and arms, right down to his fingertips.
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “Tell me about our relationship. How do you see us?”
At least she was still willing to talk. He placed the arrangement in the center of the island. “As the perfect match.”
Her eyebrows hiked.
“I’m serious.” He took the stool beside hers. “We complement each other. Our faith and values align. I trust you completely. I respect you and what you’re about.” The words came easily. Perhaps he should’ve bought a ring. “We make perfect sense.”
She fiddled with the paper tag hanging from her tea bag. “Logically, maybe.”
The words lodged center mass. “Maybe?”
She turned her glassy eyes away. “Logic gave us this year together, but a relationship has to make sense in other ways too. My friends remembered our anniversary over a week ago.” Sydney chuckled.
“Madison is more of a romantic than I realized, but even if it’s not fireworks and thrills every time, it’d be nice to have romance sometimes. ”
“Don’t we?” He eyed the flowers. “What do you want from us that’s missing?”
“Passion.”
His spine straightened. She’d come up with that pretty quickly.
“My friends questioned whether we even kiss. I know you’re a pastor and we have to set a good example for the kids and the congregation, but even when we don’t have an audience, you’re hardly affectionate.”
He looked down at his clasped hands resting on his leg. Only inches separated them, yet he hadn’t reached out. Hadn’t thought to.
“I’m not just talking about our physical relationship. Even after a year of dating, I hardly know you better than your students do. It’s like you’ve let the job dictate all of who you are, and I don’t get anyone but Pastor Marsh.”
“No one else in Many Oaks knows about Guriel.”
The corner of her mouth turned up ruefully. “You only told me because I stumbled across a picture and asked the right questions, but you never got into the details. Same with the bus accident. That night must’ve been horrific, but you act unaffected.”
“Of course it affects me.” Even her reminders of the tragedies turned his throat raw, and the words burned like bleach in a wound. “It’s why I do what I do.”
“Right. You want to imitate your old coach. You want to help kids before they end up like your brother. That’s what you focus on—the actions and reactions. You pretend that all those losses did was motivate you, not inflict any scars or doubts.”
“You want me to be scarred?” He lifted his hands. Scoffed. “And I should doubt what? God?”
“I want you to be human with me. But …” She dipped her chin, eyes sad. “But I can’t hold that against you, because I … I think I’ve been one-dimensional with you too. I know what you expect from me—and what people at church expect—so I stifle things about myself.”
“Like what?”
“My spontaneity.”
Anson shook his head. “Why would spontaneity be a problem?”
“Because you like routine. Even if you didn’t, the church calendar dictates how you spend several nights a week, and soon, you’ll be juggling basketball again too.
If we manage to schedule a date, you know everyone in town.
Unless we leave Many Oaks, every date is a group event.
I get the whole role model thing, but people have opinions about everything, and keeping them happy is exhausting.
” She sipped her tea and blinked slowly as she put it back on the counter. “The whole lifestyle is exhausting.”
Anson crossed his arms as they tightened with offense. Where was this coming from? And what was he supposed to do about it? Change jobs? “I’ve been a pastor and coach as long as you’ve known me. My lifestyle shouldn’t surprise you.”
“You’re right.” She ran her fingers into her pulled-back hair, mussing her ponytail. “I did know, and for the love of my life, I wouldn’t mind the sacrifices.”
And there it was. A truth as powerful as it was ugly.
He swallowed hard. “But I’m not the love of your life.”
Her exhale stuttered, but she held his gaze. “Am I the love of yours?”
He’d wanted her to be.
“Come on, Anson.” Her tone softened. “I think if you take a step back and honestly look at what happened, you’ll see you chose me with your head, not your heart.”
Sharp words formed barbs in his throat. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“When your heart chooses, you will.”
In a flash, he was back at the canoe. His hand tingled where Blaze’s leg bumped his thumb. Her voice filled his ears. He fought the river’s current to get to her. Relief and pride flooded him when she relaxed into his arms.
Had that been his heart choosing?
Didn’t matter. He couldn’t build a life on emotions. As a pastor, he’d witnessed too many people follow their hearts into trouble. God gave him a mind, and with that, he knew he and Sydney were better suited for life together.
But she wanted more.
She walked to the door and opened it, then looked at where Anson still sat at the island. Shocked, he followed. He paused by the threshold and considered trying to change her mind, but she’d said this wasn’t love.
Maybe it wasn’t.
“Goodbye, Sydney.” He stepped into the night.
Blaze stood at the counter between the kitchen and dining room as she reviewed Mercy’s school assignments as her sister scrounged up an after-school snack.
Sandwiched between other papers, the plastic report cover for her Argentina paper stood out.
The project impacted a big portion of Mercy’s grade, and she’d spent weeks working on it.
Blaze pulled the report from the backpack.
The social studies teacher had inserted a grading sheet over Mercy’s hand-drawn illustration of the country.
Penned in red, the word Incomplete topped the paper.
Blaze’s shoulders dropped. She’d questioned Mercy about whether the project was done.
Mercy had insisted it was and, for proof, had pointed to the assignment’s checklist. Every item had been marked off, but now that she looked more closely, some of the items weren’t even listed in the table of contents, let alone in the report itself.
“You swore this was done.” Blaze lifted the teacher’s notes. “But you skipped two of the required sections. What happened?”
Mercy dumped sweet potato chips into a small bowl without answering. Since Mercy’s diagnosis two weeks ago, the cold shoulder had been getting worse and worse the longer Blaze resisted putting her on medication.
“You need to talk to me about this, or I’m going to have to respond as if you purposely lied. Is that what happened?”
Mercy’s chin jutted forward. “I forgot.”
“The list was there to remind you. Why did you check them off if they weren’t done?”
“I thought they were.” She pivoted away and rattled around in the fridge.
Blaze lowered the grading sheet to the counter.
She believed Mercy could’ve been distracted from finishing the report.
That happened to Blaze at work all the time.
But when reminded of her work, Blaze always knew what she had and hadn’t finished.
Yet when asked, Mercy had sworn the work was done.
Could she have forgotten, or had she lied?
Mercy dropped a piece of string cheese on the counter. “It’s your fault, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s been forever, and you still won’t put me on medication. It’s not fair.”
Blaze leaned against the counter and hooked one foot behind the other. The cheese and chips were part of their no food dyes, higher protein diet, but she’d yet to discern a change in her sister. Except for the growing resentment.
Mercy filled a glass of water, then swept up her snack and stomped to the living room. The TV blared.
Blaze counted to ten before following. She paused Mercy’s show and stood between the couch and the TV. Her sister slouched deeper into the cushions.
“I need to understand what happened so I can make a fair decision. If I don’t know I can trust you, I won’t know if medication is best. What happened with your report?”
“I did forget.” She pursed her lips in an angry scowl. “When I remembered, it was too late, so I said it was done.”
Mercy hadn’t claimed to be done with the report until Blaze asked the afternoon before the due date. “You could’ve worked on it another hour or two that night. I asked you before dinner.”
“Do you know how long it took to do the rest of it? Way longer than that. It was hopeless.”
Mercy had camped out at the dining table most of an entire weekend, working on the paper. Then again, Blaze had seen her reading and surfing the internet a few times when she’d passed through. If Mercy had been able to focus, she might’ve finished the whole thing.
“Thank you for being honest with me.”
Mercy knotted her hands together and kept her eyes down like a convict awaiting punishment.
“You need to finish the report and ask your social studies teacher if you can have an extra credit assignment to make up for the lost points.” Blaze toyed with her hair, weighing her options.
“I can see your schoolwork is still a struggle, and I do want that to get better, but I don’t want you to learn you get your way when you lie. ”
Mercy’s gaze lifted in jerks until she met Blaze’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you, but I want you to clean the bathroom as a consequence.”
Mercy nodded.
“After you clean the bathroom, we can go fill the prescription.”
Mercy’s posture straightened until she had the poise of a pageant contestant.
Blaze held up a hand of warning. “Remember that the medication takes time too. It might be a few more weeks before anything changes.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Mercy bolted for the bathroom.
For better or for worse, they’d be picking up the prescription within the hour.