Chapter 29
Brandon
It figures Evie would demand to have the conversation I’ve been trying to have with her for years now—when Gladys is just across the hall. I sink down onto my patient couch, staring at the doorway Evie vacated just moments ago.
Lowering my head into my hands, I focus on my breathing. Lord, why can’t I get things right with her? I’ve kept my distance. I’ve been patient. I’ve shown her grace upon grace. What do I do now?
Do you trust Me?
I hesitate to answer. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction is a resounding, “Yes, Lord.” But in the secret recesses of my heart, which aren’t hidden from Him, we both know my answer comes with a boatload of caveats.
Yes, Lord, I trust You are who You say You are .
. . but I occasionally feel frustrated by Your character.
Yes, Lord, I trust You work all things together for the good of those who love You .
. . but that doesn’t guarantee I will get what I want.
Yes, Lord, I trust You are good and that You have my best interests at heart .
. . but that doesn’t mean I get a free pass from adversity.
I sigh as I rub my temples. Lord, please give me wisdom.
Let her go.
I freeze. I can’t. I just told her how I feel about her. How I’ve loved her all this time. That I wouldn’t give up on her. I can’t walk away now. I told her I wouldn’t . . .
Let her go.
Did You not hear me just now? I can’t break my word.
I love you.
I know.
Do you trust Me?
Yes, Lord . . .
Let her go.
But I love her.
I love her more.
My eyes water. I know, but I will take care of her on this side of heaven. I promise. Please entrust me with her. I will give her all my love and devotion. I will bring her joy, happiness, pleasure, and spiritual guidance.
I hear nothing but the ticking of the analog clock above my door while I wait on His response.
Lord?
His silence drags on, and in it, I open the Word. I flip through the pages, frantic for answers. The paper sticks to my fingers, which are damp with my sweat and frustration. I read and read and read, searching for something to anchor my hope to, and then—
“What did you do to that poor girl?”
My head lifts. Gladys is leaning against my office doorway, arms crossed. “Evie wants you to know your last patient canceled.” She eyes the discarded diary on the floor. The fact that Evie left it here in her haste to retreat speaks volumes. “Then she went home because she wasn’t feeling well.”
I lower my head. “How much did you hear?”
She comes in and sits down beside me. “Enough to know you did something you shouldn’t have.” I groan. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.” I turn my head to glare at her. She lifts her hands. “Sorry, honey. No offense, but it wasn’t that long ago that you’d jump into bed with any woman who—”
“I get it.” Her eyes widen, and I sigh. “Look, Evie and I . . . it’s complicated.”
“So you did sleep with her.”
“Once. Yes.” I frown at myself. As if the number of times matters. While Evie and I might have only slept together once, there was enough going on between us behind closed doors to make our friendship far from innocent.
Gladys shifts off the couch, grimacing at it like it has cooties. “Not here, I hope?”
The scowl returns to my face. “Be serious, please. This was years ago.”
She grins sheepishly. “I was going to say . . . sleeping with the help could be a big problem for you.” She tilts her chin down, arching a brow. “Lawsuit big. And I know you’re not that stupid.”
How stupid I am is debatable. Leaning back, I clasp my hands on top of my head and sigh, feeling helpless. I wanted to go after her just now, but I knew that if I did, she’d only end up lashing out at me again. She needed space.
To be fair, so did I.
“So what happened?”
I shrug evasively.
“Spill the beans, child.” She lifts her wrist and starts a timer on her watch. “You’ve got one hour. After that, I charge extra.”
I laugh. “Go home, Gladys. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
She shimmies back against the couch, settling in. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk. I know you need to get something off your chest. The tension between you two has been putting me on edge for weeks now. Can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”
I groan again. And to think I’ve been begging Evie to hear me out, but I can’t even bring myself to tell Gladys the full story. “She’s always had a crush on me.”
She frowns, confused.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself. To pin what happened between us on Evie’s childhood crush is diabolical of me. I sit forward and rake my hands through my hair. “I don’t know. I knew that, I guess. And yet . . .”
I’m expecting Gladys to wag her finger at me, but she sits quietly. “And yet?”
“I wanted her,” I whisper, shamefaced as I think back to her wedding day—and how she looked in that form-fitting gown. It was as though the scales had fallen from my eyes, and I could see her clearly for the very first time.
“And what was so wrong about that?”
“Because she’s liked me all her life. Ever since she was a kid.”
She stares at me like she’s struggling to connect the dots. “Well, she’s not a kid anymore . . . so what’s the problem?”
“You make it sound so simple. And it’s not.”
“Tell me why it’s not.”
Somehow, my heart starts beating even faster. “The truth is ugly.”
“I’m sure I’ve heard uglier,” she says, pulling her legs up beneath her so she’s sitting cross-legged.
“I don’t know . . .”
She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. But where do I even begin?
“Start at the beginning,” she says, like she can read my mind. She grabs a mint from the side table and untwists the wrapper. “And do not sugar coat anything. Give it to me neat.”