Chapter 31
Brandon
“Evie was supposed to marry this kid named Adam,” I begin after several minutes of psyching myself up for a conversation I thought I was ready to have.
Laughable, really.
Gladys waits patiently.
“They were born a few days apart. Their parents own Smart Living Home Care together.”
She lifts a brow. “So that means they were destined to get married?”
I laugh. “According to their friends and family, you’d think so.”
She waits.
“Adam was your classic Goody Two-shoes, but Evie was a little more rebellious.” I smile.
“Adam’s mom didn’t like her. Claimed she was always getting Adam into trouble.
” I pause introspectively. “And I guess, as a parent, I get it. But Evie wouldn’t hurt a fly.
She was just misguided. Lost. Sad.” I look down at my hands cradled in my lap, studying the lines in my palms. “But she wasn’t always like that.
She used to be pure sunshine. The life of every party. ”
I take a deep breath. “Anyway, they got engaged young. Too young, if you ask me. Everyone saw it coming, though; they’d been sweethearts for as long as everyone could remember.
So it completely blindsided me when Evie confessed to me that she didn’t want to marry him—and on her wedding day, no less. ”
Evie was just twenty-two, but she looked .
. . well, I’d never seen her look so mature.
So beautiful. I assumed she’d choose a big, poofy gown—something with a lot of bells and whistles.
In hindsight, I should have known better.
Evie isn’t over-the-top. Her tastes are subtle, simple—but never boring.
She wore a silk, halter top gown that hugged her every curve, and it had a skirt that pooled around her like water.
She looked incredible, and that was the first time I truly saw her.
Somewhere along the line, she had transformed from a spirited, mouthy girl into a demure, sophisticated young woman.
And I was . . . captivated.
But she was pacing like a caged lion, roaring at any minor inconvenience or annoyance . . . such as Jamie joking about whether she was ready for the honeymoon. Her face leached of color, and that’s when I knew.
“Then what?” Gladys prompts.
“Then . . .” I swallow uneasily. “We talked about it a little. Then—”
My heart races in the incriminating silence.
“And then I . . . I don’t know.” I shrug, trying to downplay what happened. “I flirted with her a little.” I close my eyes, seeing it all unfold in my mind, reliving the guilt I felt and still feel, flirting with another man’s bride. Adam’s bride, no less.
Gladys remains silent, and I take another deep breath.
“Then she asked me if I thought she should go through with it.” I hang my head and grip my hair tightly.
“And I said . . . no. That I didn’t think she should marry Adam.
” My throat feels like sandpaper. “I’m not sure if the suggestion was for her benefit or mine. ”
Gladys gently touches my shoulder, sensing my distress. “Honey . . .”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
I lift my head to look at her.
“You’re being very hard on yourself,” she says quietly.
“For flirting with another man’s bride on their wedding day? For telling her not to marry him?” I scoff. “What’s worse is that Adam is still in love with her, and here I am—” I gnash my teeth and hang my head again, unable to complete the thought.
“Here you are . . . ?”
“Still trying to take what isn’t mine.”
Gladys shakes her head. “Honey, Evie is her own person. She isn’t yours or Adam’s. She made her own decisions that day, and she will continue to do so—whether you’re in the picture or not. You can’t continue to punish yourself like this.” She pauses. “Not for sins that have already been forgiven.”
“Is Evie’s forgiveness in the room with us?” I joke, glancing around the room. Gladys can’t actually think Evie has forgiven me, surely?
“I’m talking about Jesus’ forgiveness, honey,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes. “Not Evie’s. I’m assuming you’ve surrendered this problem to Him.”
“Yes.” I’ve tried, anyway. I still carry the guilt like it’s a part of me.
“So stop punishing yourself.” She sits forward and takes my hand. “Need I remind you that you are a new creation in Jesus Christ, Brandon, and you don’t need to carry the burden of your past sins like they define you. The One who defines you is sitting on His throne, victorious.”
“It’s not that I think they define me, but . . .”
“But you haven’t forgiven yourself, Brandon.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re still chasing after Evie’s forgiveness like it’ll absolve you from the guilt,” she insists. “But I can tell you right now that it won’t.”
I shift to look at her. “It’s not a sin to want Evie’s forgiveness.”
“No, but you’re putting it on a pedestal. That’s why you’re still carrying the burden of shame, Brandon. You’ve convinced yourself you need her forgiveness to let go and move on.” She pauses. “And look what it’s doing to you. Not just you, but her, too.”
I’m silent as I consider it. I think she might be right.
I scrutinize her. “When did you get so wise?”
She smiles. “Brandon, Evie may never forgive you. And what if she doesn’t? Then what? Will you chase her around forever, causing each other misery until the end of time? What if what she really needs—what you both need—is for you to back off? Leave her alone?”
The Lord’s words circle back to me. Is My love enough for you? My forgiveness?
I hang my head in shame. “Gladys,” I whisper, heartbroken. “No wonder He’s been telling me to back off.” On some level, I think I’ve been idolizing Evie’s forgiveness. Trying to play God by attempting to represent Christ’s love in her life.
But I’m not God, and she needs Jesus.
She squeezes my hand. “Don’t get me wrong.
I’m in no way saying that seeking her forgiveness is a bad thing, honey.
It’s good, to a point. What I’m saying is that humans are fallible, and she might actually never want to reconcile with you.
And if she doesn’t, well . . . you can’t carry that burden.
Jesus gave His life so that we could be freed from the burdens of guilt and shame. ”
“But I haven’t told you the worst part,” I moan into my hands.
I’m desperate to get the full story off my chest.
The truth is shameful. It might even change Gladys’ opinion of me.
And not for the better.
Before I can tell her the ugliest truth of them all, my cell buzzes in my back pocket.
Hoping it’s Evie, I shift left and pull it out.
Evie’s name flashes on the screen. At first, I’m relieved, but the feeling is short-lived.
Evie wouldn’t reach out this soon after an argument. Not unless it’s an emergency.
She wouldn’t reach out at all if it was up to her.
“It’s Evie.” I accept the call. “Evie? Are you alright?”
She sniffles. “No. It’s Grandma.”
I stand. “What happened?”
“She’s on her way to the ER.” No. “She fell down the steps, and—” Evie whimpers, and I close my eyes, pacing the room as my mind races with the potential consequences.
“I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“Look, I-I know this is a lot to ask right now, but I don’t know where Grandma put her car keys, and I need a ride to the hospital. I know you’re at work, but Jamie’s already halfway there, and—”
“Yes, of course I’ll take you,” I interject, reaching for my keys and grabbing my coat. Gladys waves me onward, letting me know she’ll lock up. “Where are you?”
“Grandma’s. They wouldn’t let me go with her in the ambulance—”
“Stay put. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and the line goes dead.