Chapter 24
Simeon downed the last gulp of his coffee, then headed for the stairs to check on Abigail. She’d said she’d be down in a minute—twenty minutes ago.
He reached the top of the stairs just as she emerged from the bedroom at the end of the hall, and he caught his breath. She was wearing the light pink floral sundress she’d bought on their honeymoon—and that he hadn’t even known she still owned. She smoothed her hands up and down the fabric that he remembered feeling silky and soft.
“Sorry.” Her smile wavered. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
He shook his head. “You look wonderful.” He wanted to say more, to take her hand in his or even brush a kiss over her lips, but he held back. He was supposed to be acting as if they were just getting to know each other.
When Everlee had suggested it, Simeon’s first reaction had been to wish they hadn’t gone to counseling after all. But now that he’d had a couple of days to think about it, he could see the wisdom in it. Were he counseling another couple in a similar situation, he probably would have given the same advice. But that didn’t make it any easier to implement in his own relationship.
His gaze went to Abigail’s ringless finger, and he couldn’t help thinking of those divorce papers he’d torn up. If she hadn’t gotten in that accident, would they have ended up in this exact same spot, her finger no longer wearing the symbol of their unending love?
Maybe.
But the difference now was that she was actually willing to work on things, to give them another chance. He had to be grateful for that. And for the fact that she was willing to go to church with him this morning.
That had been another of Everlee’s suggestions—one that Simeon was much more on board with. He and Abigail had always shared their faith—it had been the cornerstone of their relationship, at least until the past year, and he couldn’t imagine losing that.
He stood aside to let her head down the stairs first, her flowery scent breezing past him and beckoning him down after her. But he gave her a little space before following.
“You probably have time to eat a quick breakfast before we leave.” Simeon trailed her into the kitchen. “There’s coffee.”
“Thanks, but I’m too nervous to eat.” Abigail pressed a hand to her stomach.
Simeon stepped closer, wanting to enfold her in his arms and reassure her but contenting himself with a smile. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, I promise.”
But a fistful of nerves walloped him. What if she didn’t like the service? What if she said she was never going back? What if she was never willing to wear his ring again?
He worked to shove the worries aside. “Let me at least pour you a cup of coffee.” He filled a travel mug and started to add sugar like he always did, then stopped. Maybe she’d only been drinking her coffee with sugar because that was how he’d been making it.
“Sugar?” he asked.
She made a face. “Do people actually drink it without sugar?”
He let out a breath and a small laugh. It was good to know some things hadn’t changed.
He added another scoop, then stirred it, popped a lid on top, and passed it to her.
“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his as she took it, and it sent him back to the first time that had happened when he’d passed her a glass of chicha de pi?a, an Ecuadorian pineapple drink. The spark of her touch had caught him by surprise that day—and it was just as powerful now.
“You’re welcome.” He watched her take a sip and nod her approval, then led her out to their vehicle.
The drive was short and mostly silent, and Simeon used the time to pray. If it is your will, Lord, please let her get her memories back. And if that’s not your will— His hand tightened on the steering wheel. The thought that she might never remember who he was to her—who she was to him—was too much to take. If that’s not your will, then help me to be the husband she needs me to be, even if that means acting like I’m not yet her husband. If she doesn’t remember the love we once shared, then lead her to fall in love with me again.
He let out a careful breath as he pulled into the parking lot of Beautiful Savior. He was going to need all the help God had to give him on that one. He’d always been completely baffled by what had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
“There are Lydia and Liam.” Abigail pointed to the pair, who were just approaching the church, and Simeon’s heart eased. He was grateful for how quickly she had grown close to his family again.
“And Benjamin.” Simeon pointed to his youngest brother, who was unfolding himself from his tiny car.
“What’s he driving?” Abigail asked with a laugh.
Simeon rolled his eyes. “That’s his Gremlin. Don’t let him hear you laughing at it. He loves that thing.”
“Got it.”
He pulled into a parking spot and got out to open her door. She only hesitated a second before sliding out of the vehicle. She looked up at the big brick building that had always felt like a second home to Simeon.
“There’s nothing to be worried about,” he reassured her again as they started toward the church. He nearly slipped his hand into hers as he had done a hundred times before as they walked into church but remembered just in time not to. He also resisted pointing out that they had been married here.
Inside, he led her to the pew where Benjamin, Lydia and Liam, Ava and Joseph, and Asher and Ireland already sat. The others all slid over, sending smiles and greetings to Abigail. Ava leaned over to hug her, and though Abigail looked surprised, she returned the gesture.
Simeon’s heart expanded.
As Ava and Abigail chatted, Simeon glanced around the church, frowning when he didn’t spot Zeb. He’d tried to call his brother several times over the past few weeks, but even when Zeb did answer—which wasn’t often—their conversations were brief and superficial, with Zeb insisting he was fine.
Which was an obvious lie. Because how could he be, without his wife?
Simeon let his eyes go to his own wife, once again overcome with gratitude that she’d survived. He may not want to start their relationship over from scratch—but at least he had the opportunity. Which was more than Zeb had.
Abigail’s eyes lifted to his, and she offered a soft smile. He had the overwhelming desire to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in tight to his side, to reassure himself that she was really here and she was really his, but he clasped his hands in his lap.
“Good morning,” a voice sounded through the sanctuary.
Abigail’s eyes went to the front of the church, but a second later she leaned toward him, eyes wide. “That’s not your dad.”
Simeon chuckled. “That’s Pastor Cooper. He works with Dad. He’s the youth pastor.”
“Ah.” Abigail settled back into the pew, her arm lightly brushing his, her sweet scent making him lightheaded in the best way.
It took all of his concentration to focus on the service. Every once in a while, he let himself look at Abigail, who seemed to be listening intently to everything Pastor Cooper was saying. Simeon desperately wanted to ask if she remembered any of this, but he remained silent as Pastor Cooper stepped into the pulpit to deliver his sermon.
“How do y’all feel about storms?” Pastor Cooper asked. Simeon winced, glancing at Abigail. She had always hated storms, and after what had happened during the last storm . . .
But she appeared completely unperturbed.
“I never thought I was afraid of them,” Pastor Cooper continued. “Until a couple of years ago, when we had a powerful storm roll through the youth camp. We were caught out in it, the thunder crashing right on top of us, lightning threatening to catch us, trees snapping under the force of the wind. And the rain—let’s just say I wouldn’t have minded having an ark. I can’t speak for the other chaperones—” He glanced toward Asher and Ireland, who Simeon knew had been on that trip. “But I was scared—a lot more scared than I could let on to the kids. I had no idea what was going to happen to us or how long the storm was going to last or how we were going to get to safety.”
Simeon felt Abigail shift, and he glanced in her direction. Tension crinkled her forehead, and he wondered if the description of the storm had caused it.
“When we finally reached the cabin,” Pastor Cooper continued, and Simeon saw Abigail let out a breath. “It felt like we had reached dry land after being stranded in the middle of the ocean. Kind of like I imagine the disciples must have felt when they were in the middle of a storm with Jesus.” He flipped open his Bible and read: “A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’”
Pastor Cooper looked up from the Bible. “These guys were not wimps. Many of them were seasoned fishermen. They’d seen their share of storms. But not like this. The wind howled through the sails, threatening to shred the masts to pieces. The waves relentlessly crashed up over the boat, threatening to overturn it. It was all the disciples could do to hold on for dear life. And what did Jesus do? He slept.” Pastor Cooper shook his head with a laugh. “I’m a pretty sound sleeper—once the youth camp kids decorated me in shaving cream while I slept, and I never realized it until morning.” He paused as the congregation chuckled, and Simeon’s heart swelled to hear Abigail’s light laugh join in.
“But y’all,” Pastor Cooper continued. “Even I couldn’t have slept through that storm. So why did Jesus? Was it because he didn’t know what was going on? Was it because he didn’t care? Or was it because he was giving the disciples an opportunity to trust him?”
The words struck Simeon. An opportunity to trust him.
Was that what God was giving him right now?
“Well, eventually,” Pastor Cooper said. “It occurred to the disciples that they’d seen Jesus do some pretty amazing stuff. They wondered if he could do something about the storm. So they woke him up with their plaintive cry, ‘Jesus, don’t you care?’ Instead of answering them, Jesus got up and spoke to the wind and the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’” Pastor Cooper paused, and Simeon held his breath, even though he knew what was coming next.
“And the storm instantly stopped.” Pastor Cooper snapped his fingers. “It didn’t slowly wind down. It didn’t get a little better. It calmed completely.”
Pastor Cooper scanned the congregation. “I don’t even have to ask if there are any storms in your life right now. We all have them. Illness. Financial stress. Trouble at work. Relationship struggles.”
The air slowly seeped out of Simeon. His relationship with his wife had been floundering even before her accident. But now—now that relationship had been thrown into the middle of a roiling sea. His eyes went again to her ringless finger.
“Those storms can seem like they last forever,” Pastor Cooper said. “It can feel like they’re going to pull us under. We cry out for God to calm the storm, but it seems to rage on. Where is God? Doesn’t he care?”
Simeon knew the answer was that he did care. That he was right there. But sometimes it felt like . . .
“Listen to his words,” Pastor Cooper said. “‘Quiet! Be still’ He speaks those words to you. ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Even when the storms rage on. Even when everything around you threatens to overturn the boat. ‘Quiet! Be still!’”
He paused, seeming to search the congregation. “But how? How can you be still when you have to figure out how to calm the storm? When you have to find a way to fix everything?”
Heaviness settled on Simeon’s shoulders. That was just it. He should know how to fix this.
Pastor Cooper shook his head. “Take a lesson from the disciples. It’s not about you. It’s not about how you’re going to repair the sails and bail out the water and keep the boat afloat. It’s about who’s in the boat with you. Jesus is right there. He gives you his peace. The storm outside of you may still rage. You may still be ill or dealing with financial problems. Your relationships may not be suddenly restored. But you can still have peace in the storm. Because you know Jesus—the one who has power even over the wind and the waves. He has all things, even the storms of this life, in his hands. He has promised us there is no storm so big it can pull us away from him. He has already taken care of the biggest threats. He has freed us from our sin, defeated the devil, won for us a place at his side in eternity. Whatever the storms we face in this world, none of that is going to change. That promise is secure. So ‘Be still.’ You have God’s peace, even in the storm. Amen.”
Simeon pushed to his feet as Pastor Cooper asked the congregation to stand.
That sermon—
It was like every single word had been intended just for him. It wasn’t about finding a way to fix everything. It was about trusting that God was in control, even in this storm.
He let his eyes go to Abigail, who had bowed her head with the rest of the congregation for prayer. She looked up, as if she felt his eyes on her. He offered a smile, and she gave him a tentative one in return. The weight that had pressed on him since the moment she’d woken up and not remembered him lifted a little.
He opened the hymnal to the next song, “Be Still My Soul,” and held it between them. But he had to stop singing as his eyes came to the second verse: “Be still, my soul, your God will undertake to guide the future as he has the past.” Simeon blinked at the words, then cleared his throat so he could keep singing. God had guided him and Abigail to this point. And he would guide them to whatever came next. Whether she had her memories or not.