Chapter 43
Chapter 43
S ummer is not a drama queen. Tears, when they fall from her eyes, start in her heart. They tell the truth. I waited. “David Bishop is only Murphy Shepherd when he risks everything. To love deeply, you must be willing to risk a broken heart. Again. It’s the price that you alone pay. The unspoken cost of the love you give. If you’re not willing to love all out, at all times, then Bones taught you nothing. His life with you was for naught. All in vain. Bones went back for Frank because his love was deeper than his hate. Deeper than his pain. And, as a result, stronger. So here it is, Bishop.” This time when she pounded my chest, the tears broke loose. “Will you risk your love? One more time? All or nothing? Take all these cracked and shattered pieces lying around you on the floor and sweep them up into your chest where only one thing can put you back together? It’s not anger and it’s not cold, callous indifference. The love you have is the only thing that will get you—and me—through the battle for you.”
There it was. In a nutshell. The battle for me.
She turned and sat up on her heels, nudging her knees against my thigh. “You taught me this. Love is the only thing in this universe or any other that will cause you to leave the safety, comfort, and security of the ninety-nine to set out in the dark and cold with all the odds stacked against you to find the one. No other power can do that. Only love walks down into the prison, amid the shackles and the bars and the stench, and says to the slave master, ‘I’ll buy them all.’ And when he balks and scoffs, ‘What will you pay with?’ if you’re serious, and if you really want to free them, and if, in the end, you want to live free, then there’s only one answer.”
I waited, but I knew it before she said it.
The tears trickled off her chin when she whispered, “With every last piece of me.”
When she voiced it, the echo sounded within my chest. Faint at first, then louder. And when I closed my eyes and looked again, I did not see Bones lying dead. He was gone. While that was painful, it wasn’t piercing. I couldn’t bring him back; I had to begin to let him go. And I needed someone to tell me that it was not a betrayal of my love for him to do so.
When I looked again, the only image I saw was three scared girls praying for someone to kick down the door.
And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to.
Summer continued, “So here’s the thing . . .”
Uh-oh. That tone sounded bad.
I opened my mouth to say something stupid when she held up a hand, then pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t interrupt.”
“Yes—” I tried to say “ma’am,” but she kept pressure on my lips.
With her other hand, she placed one of my hands on her leg, which was warm. Like she’d just exited the tub. It was also smooth. Shaven. Waiting until I’d made eye contact, she continued, “It’s true, you’ve been in a bit of a funk. But”—she tapped her heart—“Murph, I get it. You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to not be at your A-game when it comes to you and me. You’re allowed to miss Camp and Casey entirely. It’s okay. We’ve got time. But here’s the thing, and I need you”—she poked me in the chest—“David Bishop, to clue into what I’m saying. You have loved well, and deeply, and yet Bones is gone. He’s not coming back. That’s life. Welcome to planet earth. You loved him. He loved you. But if you’re going to do this, to be you, you’ve got to be willing to risk everything all the time. Nothing held back. You can’t do this in second gear. It’s all or nothing. And right now, you’re holding back. One of the things I love most about you is that you love really well, even when it hurts. Your heart is bigger than you, and you make room for everyone, but it’s time for you to pull your head out of your A-double-crooked-letter.”
Sweat dotted her top lip. And the veins in her neck were thick as rose vines.
“There are three girls out there right now praying that you’ll kick down the door, and if you’re not up for that, if you’re just gonna lie here in this little pity party you’ve cooked up amid your pain and misery, then you’re worse than the men who are holding them, ’cause you’re giving those girls false hope. And false hope... well...” She shook her head, blinked, and a tear broke loose. She took my hand and laid it flat across her heart. “You taught me that this thing in us is the most powerful weapon in the world. Nothing, not one thing, ever, can stand against it. In all of human history, the heart is undefeated. There’s just one catch. The best of them are tender and they wound easily.” She pounded her chest gently with my hand. “And when it does, you have a decision to make, so listen up and put on your big boy pants. You can stuff it in some box where it lies pale and lifeless, where all the blood runs out, where you can protect it, where no one can ever hurt it again. And you can leave it there. Cold, dark, and dead. And safe from any pain. And for a little while maybe no one would blame you. ’Cause we know how deeply you loved Bones. But you just need to know that if you do that, if you bury this thing in a box along with Bones’s memories, and then try one day to resurrect it and shove it back in your chest, it won’t fit. Not like it did before. ’Cause then, when you unearth it, dust it off, and try to love again, you’ll find that it won’t. Dead hearts don’t love. They only hate. Doubt. And cower. Because down there in the darkness, they’ve become a collection of scars. Little more than rocks in our chest. Weighing us down. Carrying us to the bottom of the ocean. So, David Bishop, you have a choice to make. And it’s really simple. Here it is. In three words.”
I waited.
She leaned close, her breath on my face, and whispered, “Live or die.”
Oh, how I loved this woman.
I held her flushed face in my hands, my own tears pouring down. Grief and maybe shame exiting my body.
She kissed me and whispered again, “You taught me there are two rescues. First is this thing you’re holding. The body. Then”—she tapped her own chest—“this. Right now, I’m snatching back your heart.” She straddled me, squeezing me between her knees and pushing my shoulders against the wall. Her posture was that of a triage medic, waking someone who was fading in and out of consciousness. “I’m not going down without a fight. I’m not letting you stay here.” Her face steadied just inches from mine. And every ounce of energy in her body was trained on me. “I’m not giving you up. I’m not yielding to the pain and the hurt and the grief. Yes, they are real. Yes, I know it hurts like nothing has ever hurt. But if the darkness comes for you, it’s got to go through me first.”
“I love you, Summer Shepherd.”
She shook her head. And then did the windshield-wiper thing with her finger, her body still taut, pinning me to the wall. “Bishop. Summer Bishop. It’s on my marriage license.”
I smiled.
She sat back on her heels and held up both hands. “I’m not finished. So stop trying to kiss me.”
I did as ordered.
“When this is over, when you find these three girls and bring them back safe to their mom and dad...” She paused to let that possibility sink in. “You’re taking some time off. I’m taking your phone and I’m putting you and Gunner on a plane and we’re going fishing.”
“I didn’t know you like to fish.”
“I don’t. I want to watch you do it.”
“But I don’t really like to fish.”
“Tough. You’d better start.”
“So you’re just gonna sit there and watch me fish.”
“Nope. I’m gonna soak up the sunshine, the salt water, bathe my body in coconut oil, drink little drinks with umbrellas, and if you stop testing me, I’ll bring my bikini and all the cellulite that comes with it.”
“We’ve been through this. You don’t have any.”
“Yeah, I do. Look.”
“Oh, trust me. I’m looking.”
She slapped my arm affectionately, then pointed a crooked and double-jointed finger in my face. “I’m not kidding.” She turned and pointed to the back of her thigh.
I shook my head. “Not seeing it.”
“You’re supposed to say that, so thank you, but you need to get your vision checked.”
“Summer, when I think of beautiful legs, yours come to mind.”
She raised an eyebrow. Suspicion growing. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. But I’m just not agreeing with this whole cellulite thing.”
Gunner rolled over and moaned, asleep under the haze of twenty ounces of nicely marbled ribeye. “What about Gunner?”
“What about him?”
“I mean, he’s been working hard too.”
“Yes. Gunner can tag along. Maybe we can find him a girlfriend.” With that, Gunner sat up sphynx-like and tilted his head, whining. She paused, returning to me. “So?”
I nodded. “I can do that.”
“Can or will?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re not fighting me on this?”
I shook my head. “Would it do any good?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I gathered that.”
Having made her point, she turned, settled her back against my chest, and nestled in between my arms. We sat there several minutes. I felt her heart pounding strong, rapid, and fierce inside her chest. A drumbeat.
After her breathing slowed, she spoke. The cooling sweat brought goose bumps on her skin. “I want one more thing.”
“Just one?”
“I’m serious.”
I waited.