Chapter 7 #2
The honesty touched him. “Here’s what I think,” he said. “People deserve grace, especially when they’ve made a mistake. Especially when they’re already beating themselves up about it.”
“Grace,” she repeated. “Church word. Mom said you were…a church guy.”
He smiled at the phrase. “Fair enough, but the concept of grace doesn’t have to stay in church.
” He paused, choosing his words carefully.
He knew Kate’s position. He knew he was walking a line.
But he also knew what he believed, and Emma was sitting in front of him with real pain, and he owed her honesty.
“I’m an architect,” he said, hoping to come at it from that perspective, rather than one of “a church guy.” “One of the most important tools we use is a plumb line. You know what that is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a weight on a string. You hold it up and gravity pulls it perfectly straight—perfectly vertical. It doesn’t care what the wall looks like or what the builder thinks. It just shows you what’s true. Whether the wall is straight or not.”
“Okay…”
“I believe God is the plumb line of life,” he said. “Not what other people think of you. Not social media. Not the kids at school. They’re all shifting and unreliable. But there’s a standard that doesn’t move, and it says you have value that no mistake can erase.”
She didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t look away. She just listened, her chin resting on her knees.
“I know it’s hard to see it that way,” he continued gently.
“But I believe you were made with purpose, in the image of God, and that includes your body. It’s yours, Emma.
It has real value. And the boy who took what you trusted him with and used it to hurt you?
He didn’t just violate your trust. He disrespected something that is sacred. ”
“Sacred,” she repeated, as though testing the word.
“Your body is a temple. That’s not me being preachy. That’s not a cliché—it’s directly from the Bible. A temple is a place where God lives.”
“It says that?”
He dug into his memory for the verse. “First Corinthians, maybe chapter six. It says, ‘Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own.’”
He could quote more, but if he went any further, he’d end up preaching the gospel and that might be too much.
No, it was never too much, but he had to tread lightly.
She was quiet for a long time. A dolphin surfaced about thirty yards off the bow, its gray fin cutting the water in a smooth arc before disappearing. They both watched it, letting the distraction give them a chance to breathe.
“I went to a youth group once when I was in middle school,” Emma said. “With my friend Chloe. It was at her church in Ithaca.”
“Yeah? What did you think?”
“It was…nice. Not what I expected. They weren’t weird about it. They just talked about life and stuff and then someone played guitar and it felt like…” She searched for the word. “Safe.”
“That’s what it should feel like.”
“I want to be…a temple,” she said softly. “I want to be special to someone.” She let out a long sigh. “I am so, so sorry I sent that stupid picture. Not just because it blew up in my face, but because…” She looked down, quiet for a few heartbeats. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”
Eli knew she’d just repented, but he also sensed this was enough Christian lessons for one day. Still, he couldn’t resist one more question.
“If you ever want to wander into a church with me while you’re here, I go to a nice one in Destin. Really chill.”
She laughed. “My mom would freak if I started going to church.”
“Your mom loves you. She wants you to find whatever helps you heal. She might surprise you.”
Emma considered that, looking out at the water where the dolphin had been. The sky was deepening now, gold giving way to peach.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take that,” he said, gesturing toward the ignition. “You want to start her up and get us home?”
“Yes!” She dropped her legs and put her hands on the wheel, but then she looked up at him. “And Eli?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for not screaming at me. For being kind.”
His heart cracked a little. That was such a low bar.
“You never have to thank me for that,” he said. “That’s baseline. Kindness is what you should expect from every man in your life, and don’t settle for less.”
She nodded slowly. Then she turned back to the wheel and twisted the key that hung on a floatie, looking determined to follow that advice.
Once they were docked and tied, Eli could have sworn he noticed the smallest shift in Emma. Something in her shoulders had loosened. She walked beside him with her hands in her pockets and her ponytail swinging, more like when he’d met her a few months ago when she and her brother had visited.
They spotted Seamus again, this time reaching into the box and pulling out a stack of books.
“Need help, Seamus?” Eli asked.
“Wouldn’t mind if you’d give me a hand to get these inside,” he said, raising his stack.
“Sure thing.” Eli looked down at the box, a smile pulling. “Are these Bibles, Seamus?”
“They sure are! Fifty of them.”
Eli reached into the box and pulled out a compact Bible, smaller than standard, with a deep blue cover. The front was embossed with a silver fish—simple, almost like a sketch—and below it, in clean lettering: Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men. Matthew 4:19.
“For boaters?” Eli asked on a soft laugh.
“For the kids in my Abundant Catch program,” he said, his eyes brightening. “We ordered these with our logo. We used the money from the fundraiser. You know we raised almost double our goal? Thanks to your boy Roman Matteo donating that signed Jaguars football. People went nuts for it.”
“That’s awesome,” Eli said, remembering how excited Seamus had been about the donation—and how the gesture had delighted his niece, Lacey, now Roman’s fiancée.
“You know about the scholarship?” Seamus asked Emma.
She shook her head.
“The Artie Wylie Memorial Scholarship.”
“It’s named after my grandfather?” she asked, her voice rising. “He sure loved to fish.”
“That he did, young lady. When we were younger and the Wylies and Lawsons visited Destin, Artie was my favorite fishing buddy. Great man.”
Emma’s expression softened. “He was,” she said quietly. “He was the best grandpa in the world.”
“Well, his name is doing good work down here.” He leaned forward, offering the stack of books to her. “Here. Take one. Consider it a gift from the Abundant Catch.”
Eli braced himself. He expected the polite deflection from a kid who’d most likely never held that book in her life and probably felt like this little trip to the marina had turned into one long Bible study.
But she took a book from the top of the pile.
“Thank you,” she said. “How cool that my grandfather’s name is attached to something like that.” She looked at the cover. “Cute fish.”
Seamus beamed and exchanged a look with Eli, who didn’t say a word. He’d learned long ago not to step in when the Holy Spirit was at work.
On the way home, he told Emma about the Abundant Catch ministry that helped underprivileged kids in the Panhandle, and she shared her favorite memories of fishing with Artie in the Finger Lakes near their house.
“But he never let me drive the boat,” she finished, giving him a playful elbow jab. “So, thanks for that.”
As they crossed Gulf Shore to the house, Jonah’s Honda rumbled into the driveway and came to a sudden stop behind Eli’s truck.
“Wow, he worked late,” Eli murmured as he walked toward the driver’s side.
“Thanks for the boat ride, Eli,” Emma said, holding up the Bible. “I’m going to run this up to my room.”
“Thanks for being a great boater—and listener,” he said with a smile.
She disappeared into the house. Jonah climbed out of his car looking like a man who’d been through a war and lost. His hair was pushed in every direction, his back hunched like he’d run out of gas.
“How’s Atlas?” Jonah asked without any greeting.
“Atlas is great. His cold’s almost gone—barely any congestion today. He ate well, napped twice, and charmed every woman in this house, which is quite a few.”
Jonah closed his eyes for a second, exhaling. “Good. That’s good.”
“How was school?”
He ran his hand through his hair, reminding Eli very much of himself under stress. “Lab ran long, and I couldn’t leave because Broussard wanted to…” He huffed a breath. “I have this opportunity and it’s amazing, but…it requires time and I sure don’t have a lot of that.”
“What is it, son?”
“A stellar—and paid—internship at Driftwood, with a top chef.”
Eli drew back, familiar with the high-end restaurant. “That’s wonderful, Jonah.”
“You have no idea. Full credit, on the line by week three, and if Isobel Vega likes me, it could lead to a real, legit job.” He paused. “Chef Broussard gave her one name out of twenty-two students. Mine.”
The pride that swelled in Eli’s chest was immediate and fierce.
His son—who had spent years lost and drifting, who had lived in a van and dodged his potential and nearly broken Eli’s heart with his refusal to become anything—had been singled out by a chef he respected for an opportunity that could change his career.
“Jonah. That’s incredible.”
“It’s incredible on paper and I’ve been trying for a week to figure out a way to do it.”
“You will,” Eli said, certain of it. “Why didn’t you mention this?”
“Because it’s Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, five to close. And Saturday service when needed, which could be every week. All on top of my lecture schedule.” He looked at the house, shoulders slumped. “On top of Atlas.”
“Busy, yes, but you can do it.”
“I wanted to work out the childcare piece first, but I can’t because there is no answer. I simply cannot impose on anyone to watch Atlas that much.” He shook his head. “It’s not right or fair or smart or kind, even though every person in this house wants to help. I just…can’t.”
Eli nodded, knowing the dilemma was real, but solvable.
“I thought about taking him with me to school tomorrow,” Jonah said. “It’s a light day, no lab. I can keep him in the harness or the stroller.”
Whoa, that was a terrible idea, but Eli didn’t say that. “Have you thought about hiring someone?”
“It’s too expensive,” he said.
“That’s a solvable problem.”
“Not by you.” Jonah’s voice was firm but not angry. “I’m already getting school from a Dad loan, I’m not adding a babysitter. I’m an adult and I’ll have to figure it out. There are daycares all over Destin, and that’s less than a nanny.”
Again, Eli didn’t love that idea, especially with a house full of caretakers who loved Atlas, but he had to respect that this was Jonah’s parenting issue.
“When’s the internship start?”
“Well, I have to interview first. No stress there, huh?” he scoffed.
“You’ll have a solution before then. You always do.”
Jonah gave him a look that was half skepticism, half desperate hope. Then he straightened his shoulders. “I need to see Atlas.”
They walked in together and the moment Jonah stepped through the door and found Atlas in Kate’s arms on the sofa, everything changed in his demeanor.
The exhaustion, the stress, the money—all of it dissolved as he crossed the room and scooped his son into his arms, pressing his face against the baby’s neck.
“Hey, buddy,” he murmured. “Daddy’s home. Late and dirty, but home to you.”
Atlas grabbed a fistful of Jonah’s hair and shrieked with delight.
Eli stood in the doorway and watched them, a sudden pang of a fifteen-year-old grief gripping his heart.
Melissa would be there for him. She’d move heaven and earth and grandma harder than anyone.
The thought faded as Kate leaned in and kissed Atlas’s head, one hand on Jonah’s shoulder with nothing but love.
“He was an angel, Jonah. I couldn’t love him more.”
Of course. The Lord provided. He always did.