Kept (38 page)

She closed her eyes and relived his smelly, sweaty hug. What would God think if she prayed about him? Would that start her off on the wrong foot? Because she wanted so much—

Oh, God, please.

She jogged across the street, her feet slower than they’d been.

Miska never expected such excitement over a decision that affected only her, but there it was—Jordan, Amanda, and Tracy hugging her, their laughter contagious, their excitement recharging her own.

“So, Miska,” Amanda said as they sat around Tracy’s table, “you know what this means. Cam’s going to ask you out.”

Jordan and Tracy laughed.

Miska frowned at Amanda. “I thought you were a couple.”

“It was never serious.”

“It’s what Cam does,” Tracy said. “He asks the new girl out. It doesn’t last long.”

Jordan agreed. “I remember Garrett being relieved that he asked Tracy out before Cam could.”

Tracy’s mouth curved into a cynical smile, her eyes on her glass.

“How long has this been going on?” Miska asked.

“I’ve been here three years,” Tracy said. “So at least that long.”

“Why doesn’t it last?”

Jordan and Tracy shrugged, but Amanda pursed her lips.

Jordan smacked the tabletop. “Amanda knows something.”

“Maybe. I think it has to do with what he said Wednesday—about his life before he was saved.”

Tracy shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Because he won’t talk about it. All I got out of him is that he’s the only Christian in his family. You ask about them, and he’s got this wall.”

“So he just clams up?”

“He changes the topic. I don’t think he lets anyone get beyond the surface.”

Of course not. Miska nodded. “He doesn’t feel worthy.”

“Why not?” Jordan asked. “We don’t care about his past. Whatever it was, I wouldn’t hold it against him. Would you?”

Amanda shook her head.

“It’s easy to say, but what if you found out…” The only thing she could think of was her own story. “What if you’re falling for a guy, and you find out he’d…” Why was it so hard to say? “That he’d slept with a lot of women? That some hadn’t meant anything—” Her throat tightened, the ache swelling until she feared she couldn’t hold it down.

“Miska.” Amanda squeezed her hand. “If a guy holds that against you, he’s not worth it.”

“Would you want that in your relationship? Especially if you’d waited?”

“What are you talking about? STDs? So you get tested. You go from there.”

The STDs she’d had had been curable, but her guilt… “It isn’t that simple.”

Jordan arched an eyebrow. “It should be.”

“You don’t get it. You all grew up in church and were Christians before you hit puberty.”

Amanda snickered.

Seriously, she and Jordan had no idea how life changing the order of those events was. “Dillan said his big sin was picking on Garrett. Really? That’s what haunts him at night? I can’t let anyone know my story because I
have
slept around. I’ve been with more men than I can count on my fingers and toes. Which makes me feel incredibly inferior.”

Jordan frowned at her. “Do we make you feel that way?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you shouldn’t feel that way.”

Tracy leaned forward. “Regardless of how we should or shouldn’t feel, the fact is that sometimes we do feel worthless.” She sighed. “I felt that way. When Garrett told me where he’d come from, I felt better. We both had pasts, you know? He couldn’t condemn me.”

“Tracy.” Jordan whispered her name. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

Tracy flashed her a tremulous smile.

Amanda ran a finger through the condensation on her glass. “Tracy, I thought you grew up in church.”

“No, I…”

She held up a hand. “I don’t need to hear it. All I know is who you are now—a Christian who’s kind and sweet and doesn’t deserve what her fiancé did to her. No offense, Jordan.”

Jordan widened her eyes. “I’m with you.”

“If people are holding your past over you, they’re in the wrong. But if you’re holding your past over yourself—” She shook her head. “How crazy is that? It’s gone. Move on.”

The words were beautiful, but Miska wasn’t ready to stand on them. “What do you do when someone’s talking about you?”

Amanda glanced at Jordan. “You mean Ethan.”

So he
was
talking about her. She closed her eyes and locked her fingers behind her neck. “What’s he been saying?”

Jordan grimaced. “Do we have to go there?”

“What’s he said, Jordan?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ethan’s a perv. The guy’s hardly ever at church—”

“But sometimes he is,” Tracy interrupted. “So what does he know?”

Jordan sighed. “He knows about a certain night you were drunk.”

Of course he did. And everyone else soon would if they didn’t already.

“If it helps, Garrett feels bad.”

It didn’t. “What do I do?”

Amanda lifted a hand. “Beat him up.”

Jordan laughed.

Tracy smiled. “I’ll help.”

“While that might be cathartic, I don’t think it’ll help my cause.”

Amanda shrugged. “Then beat him to it. If you tell people your past, what’s left for him to talk about?”

“But you said to move on.”

“Well, of course. You don’t need to go into detail. But share how God saved you, what he saved you from. Put it out there as neat or messy as you want. Then who cares what he says? You said it first.”

Dillan knew enough without her going into detail. Or was his imagination worse than the truth?

In her purse by her feet, Miska’s phone rang, that dull ringtone.

Mark was calling? She glanced at the clock. The funeral was only eight hours ago. What did he want? She picked up her bag, pulled out her phone, and caught Tracy’s eye. “It’s Mark.”

The phone rang again.

“Who’s Mark?” Amanda asked.

Tracy gripped the table’s edge. “Don’t answer.”

“Who’s Mark?” Amanda whispered to Jordan.

Jordan grimaced and shook her head.

It rang again. He’d just keep calling. How clear could it be? He wouldn’t take no.

She pushed her chair back.

“Miska, turn it off.”

“I have to face him. Can I use your bedroom?”

Tracy groaned but pointed to a closed door off the living room.

Miska shut herself inside and answered. “Mark?”

“Miska.” He heaved a sigh. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t answer.”

“Sorry. I’m with some friends.” She cringed. What a stupid thing to say to a man who’d just buried his wife.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay. You?”

“Needing to see you. That’d make today bearable.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

What was there to say?
Sorry for your loss, for the baby you never knew. Please don’t call me.

“Darcie’s family leaves tomorrow. Tell you what—that can’t happen soon enough.”

“Mark.”

“You spend a week with people who think your wife was an angel and glare at you every second you’re not mourning her.”

Darcie’s family was upset with him? “Why? What do they know?”

“Know? About what?”

“I don’t—I mean—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

She squeezed her hair. “I don’t know what to say. I feel caught in the middle, and I don’t want to be. I’m sorry Darcie’s gone. I’m sorry for your loss and for the baby—” Her mouth shook. “I never meant to ruin your marriage, Mark. I’m so sorry—”

“Miska, stop it. You made it bearable.”

“How can you say that? You were trying to have a baby with her. You had to love her.”

“Of course I did. But it’s time to move on. With you.”

Tears trailed down her cheeks. “How can we have a relationship after this?”

“Miska—”

“I took away Darcie’s chance at a good marriage. She never had a chance while I was around.”

“What are you talking about? She’s gone, Miska. This is our shot to
have
an honest relationship.”

No relationship with him could be honest. “A lot’s changed with me.”

“Please. What could be that drastic?”

“I mean it. I’ve been rethinking things.”

“Like?”

Everything. “What I believe about life. How I want to live.”

“Winters in Fiji. Remember?”

She pulled up the memory of Dillan’s sweaty hug. “Mark, I don’t think it’ll work.”

“What aren’t you getting?” he hissed. “Darcie’s gone. You wanted her gone, and she’s gone.”

No. He didn’t mean… “What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” He swore. Swore again. The phone banged on his end, and something thumped. His voice rang loudly in her ear. “Listen to me. I didn’t do anything. Got it? I was in Arizona. In a hotel. Then at the ballpark. Talk to anyone there. How could I have done a thing if I was in Arizona? Hmm?”

“Mark, you’re not—” She sorted her thoughts. “You’re grieving. You’re not yourself right now.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

How could he be so flippant? “You’re not ready for us.”

He growled.

“Listen. I’ve been where you are, okay? When someone passes, everything’s messed up. Nothing’s right. I know. I understand. Okay? Okay?”

There was another thud on his end. “Yeah.”

“You need time. You need to work things through.”

“I don’t want time.”

“But you need it. You’re angry at her. Don’t you see? You have to deal with that, Mark. For our sake.” She bit her lip at the lie, hoping he’d buy it. “Take some time to let things inside you die down. Take some time to… to enjoy being single again.”

He said nothing.

“Mark?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“None of it’s your fault. So don’t be.”

It wasn’t true. She’d gotten between a husband and wife.

“Miska, I need to see you.”

“No.”

“Stop saying no.”

“It’s not safe! Your wife just died.”

“Don’t yell at me! You think I don’t know that?”

She plopped down on Tracy’s bed. “Mark, I told you we couldn’t—”

“Let’s meet somewhere in the middle, near the state line.”

She sucked in a breath. “I can’t.”

He breathed a curse. “When will it be okay? Give me a time frame here.”

Her own ultimatum rose before her. Had that factored into Darcie’s death?
Please, God.
Don’t let him have killed her.

“Miska.”

“Let me think about it.”

“No. I want—”

“My friends are calling. I need to go.”

“Wait—”

Cringing, she ended the call. She’d never heard him like this. Never.

What kind of a man was he? Truly? If she kept saying no, what would he do?

The door opened. Tracy poked her head inside. “Everything okay?”

Nothing was okay. Mark wouldn’t let her go. And no matter how much she’d changed, her past wouldn’t let her go either.

A full week passed. Then another. Miska continued her habit of reading her Bible, then going for a run and savoring what she’d read. The words were coming alive, full of hope and promises, conviction and encouragement. She pored over the John book and the passages the head pastor taught each Sunday. She arrived early to small group and stayed late, relishing her new friendships… and catching every glimpse of Dillan that she could.

Cam remained his usual friendly self. Ethan stayed just outside her vision, but his gaze was always leaving her whenever she noticed him. Mark returned to baseball, starting two games before reinjuring his shoulder. He hadn’t called since the funeral, but now that he was on the disabled list again, she expected another call.

Not that she wanted it.

Adrienne stopped by on Monday, laptop in hand, and they spent the evening devouring homemade guacamole while they worked. Adrienne asked about the blog, and Miska confessed that she hadn’t looked at it in, well, almost two months. She made a mental note to close it down. No way could that part of her life get out.

Adrienne spent the night, and it felt like their best days together, like the year Adrienne had moved in while she swore off relationships and figured out life. There was no arguing, no disagreeing. Just quiet, enjoyable companionship.

Sometime during Miska’s run the next morning, Adrienne left. Miska threw sheets from the guest bed into the wash, then showered and started her last Relentless Hearts edit, a steamy time-travel set in modern-day and Roaring-Twenties New York. As she read one graphic scene after another, the characters’ behavior—once so similar to hers—rubbed her wrong. By early afternoon she stopped editing, head in her hands.

How many sex scenes had she edited over the years? She knew the effect they had on her. What about the people who read the work she’d helped perfect? What did God think of what she’d done, was doing still?

If she was really going to follow God—and she wanted to—it couldn’t be okay to continue this. But what was she supposed to do?

Dillan’s words resurfaced, how he’d gone to God and how God had met him, had been enough.

Was God big enough for this?

She pursed her lips. The real question was, did he care?

The blue summer sky called from the window. She wandered over. Buckingham Fountain was in the middle of a water show, the central jet flirting with cotton-ball clouds that glided over the lake, darkening water and dimming boats.

How far did God want to go in her life? Did he care where she worked? What she did? Books were just words—

No.
She shook her head. This work she’d done for so long flew against everything she’d learned about God. The last thing she wanted was to go against him, and she was doing just that. She knew it.

“Okay, God. But I need to eat. Pay my bills. I can’t do this anymore. So…”

She wet her lips.
Just say it, Miska.

But they were so much more than words. They were a completely new way of living. Once she put it out there…

What if he didn’t answer? What if nothing happened? What if…

There just comes a point where it’s faith. We hadn’t seen it yet; we hadn’t experienced it yet; but we chose to believe and put everything in his hands.