Chapter 39
Brandon
Jamie and Rebecka have already welcomed their newest addition into the world by the time we make it to the hospital. Rebecka is fast asleep in the hospital bed, resting soundly after a quick, intense labor.
“You should have seen the way that baby shot out of her,” Jamie whispers as Evie cradles their newborn.
Evie laughs, her eyes dancing as she toes the rocker she’s reclined in back and forth, gazing at her new niece. “She’s the sweetest, squishiest baby burrito I ever did see—just like Isabelle.”
“She looks just like you did when you were born,” her dad comments, smiling at Evie from the couch.
He and Francine arrived shortly after we did.
“A thick head of dark hair and eyes so black that I could see my own reflection in them. The first thing you ever did was stick your tongue out at me. I knew from that moment I was going to have my hands full with you.”
Evie smirks but says nothing, then glances at Jamie. “So you seriously haven’t named her yet?”
“Nope. Rebecka can’t decide on anything.”
Evie considers this for a moment, studying the baby. “What about Hope?” she asks then, looking up at her brother again. “She looks like a Hope.”
Jamie’s brows rise in consideration. “Hope is pretty. I like that, actually.”
Evie returns her attention to the baby. She looks totally blissed out with that bundle of joy cradled in her arms. I wonder if she picked out names for our baby, and the tidal wave of grief that sweeps over me is so unexpected that I have to take a calming breath and focus on a tile in the ceiling.
Teddy’s face materializes in my mind’s eye, and then I see another small, laughing face next to his, with eyes as dark as Evie’s—and I grieve silently knowing it’s a face I will never get to meet. Not until God calls me home, too.
For the first time in my life, I wonder if Evie isn’t the only woman who had to bear the ugly consequences of our actions alone, in silence. Without help. Without support. How many people have I unwittingly hurt?
God, I’m so sorry. I close my eyes as a maelstrom of emotion surges inside of me. I wish I could go back. Wish I could erase my past.
The room is quiet for a while. Evie’s mood palpably shifts when her father asks to hold the baby. She rises and gently deposits her into Richard’s eager, waiting arms. “I’m just gonna get some fresh air.”
She slips past me, and I wonder if I should give her a moment to herself or go after her. I’m about to follow her out when Jamie approaches me and nods toward the hall.
Outside, he walks a few paces before abruptly facing me. “I overheard Evie asking Francine if she should give you another chance last week.”
My chest tightens. I’ve thought of at least a million different ways to tell Jamie I’m in love with his sister, but never once did I imagine it would happen like this. “I see.”
He crosses his arms and widens his stance, his jaw tightening. “Not really sure what to make of that, if I’m honest.” He quirks a brow. “Care to explain what she meant?”
My heart drums violently against my ribs. It sounds like a freight train in my ears. “I— We—” I swallow and take a stabilizing breath. “We have history, yes.”
Jamie’s ears pinken, just like Evie’s do when she’s upset or embarrassed. “History?”
“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” I admit. “But I planned to.”
His nostrils flare. “What do you mean by history?”
I hesitate, not sure how much I should share—if anything. “All you need to know is that I made a mistake.”
His brows rise before his expression settles into a disgusted glower. “Of course you did.” He sizes me up, then sighs. “So . . . what does this mean? Are you two together now or something?”
“Not exactly.”
“Is that her decision or yours?” he asks, his voice reeking of skepticism.
“Hers,” I say, glancing over my shoulder like she might overhear us. “She’s not ready.”
He doesn’t ask me to elaborate. “I’m not happy about this.”
Ice spreads through my veins. On some level, I had always assumed that I would have to choose between Evie and Jamie once he found out about us. Last time, I chose Jamie.
A mistake.
“I knew you wouldn’t be.”
“You know Evie is fragile,” he says, searching my face. “She never takes anything lightly. Not to mention she practically worships the ground you walk on.”
His words unsettle me deeply. Lord, is that true?
“You’ll crush her when you end things,” he goes on. “Because you always do.”
Time to have the dreaded conversation. “I tried to end things once.”
His face hardens.
“Not because I didn’t want to be with her,” I clarify. “But because the timing was wrong. And . . . I knew you wouldn’t approve. I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”
“Bull.”
I grimace. “It’s the truth.”
He purses his lips, still studying me. Finally, he uncrosses his arms and shakes his head.
“Look, believe it or not, I actually believe you. I know you love Evie, and I also know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt her.
” I can hear the but coming from a mile off.
“But from the sounds of it, you’ve messed up once before.
What makes you think this time will be any different? ”
His question is valid enough. I’ve thought about that at least a thousand times myself, but .
. . Evie is what I want. She’s all I’ve wanted for quite some time.
Except . . . God’s warning from last week niggles in the back of my mind.
God might have something incredible in store for Evie, and a relationship with me might be standing in the way of that.
Or maybe I’m hindering her spiritual growth in some way—especially if she’s “worshipping” the ground I walk on.
And I can’t deny that I only seem to bring her heartache, not happiness.
Jamie takes mercy on me. “I love you, man. You know that. But this is my baby sister we’re talking about, and she’s—well, we both know what she’s like.
My concern is that the Brandon I know is still in there, and he’s going to backslide at some point and break her heart. I wouldn’t be able to let you live.”
Of all the things I expected him to say . . .
His doubt in me stings more than I thought it would.
But worse, what if he’s right? I have already failed monstrously at protecting Evie from myself.
In fact, I fail daily. My reluctance to surrender my plans for His is all the proof one needs to discern I haven’t really changed.
At least—not enough to be the kind of man Evie deserves.
A man who will love her like Christ loves the church.
Unconditionally, selflessly, and sacrificially.
A man who will lead her in love and truth, laying down his health, his happiness, his very life to protect her.
A man more like . . . Adam.
Is this really Your will, Lord? That I let Evie go? Release her from the bondage of my love?
His silence seems to affirm His answer.