“Enough!” Shanice tossed the magazine she’d been reading on the coffee table. “Do you want me to call her back and tell her to stop harassing you?”
“She loves him, Shanice. I should’ve left their house when I first had Samuel instead of allowing her to feel false hope.”
“You told her. She just didn’t want to listen.” Shanice sat on the sofa next to Grace and put her arm around her. “Oh, honey, don’t feel so guilty. Samuel is your son, not hers.”
“I don’t know how to make it easier for her.”
“You told Selah when you moved to Topanga Canyon you intended to have Samuel full-time as soon as you could arrange for proper childcare. It’s been two weeks, and she’s still calling. Maybe you should change your phone number.”
“I know, but it feels so final.”
Shanice gripped her hand. “Don’t start lying to yourself. You’ve been hoping Roman would contact you again. And if he did, what would you do? Move in with him the way Nicole has with Charles? You saw how unhappy she was the last time we saw her. Is that what you want?”
“No.” Right now, she didn’t care about anything. She was miserable and aching to see him again. Be honest, Grace. In her current emotional state, Roman could easily make her forget her moral decision. A few more kisses like that one and she’d give in to what he wanted rather than what God wanted for her.
“Little boys want their toys, honey.”
Grace looked at Samuel playing contentedly on the floor and remembered the day Roman had come over to the cottage exhausted after nights without sleep. They’d talked, and he’d held Samuel on his knee. He’d stretched out on her sofa, Samuel on his chest, and both had fallen asleep. She sat, looking at them for the longest time. Samuel needed a daddy. Had she been hoping Roman would want to fill that role?
She had to stop thinking about him! She needed to concentrate on moving forward, starting over again.
Shanice had given her strength over the last two weeks, but Grace didn’t want to outstay her welcome. Shanice had a life of her own, and Brian wanted to be part of it. Whenever he called, Shanice looked guilty, as though she’d done something terrible to Grace rather than merely invite her to have a girls’ night out. Grace was responsible for what happened, not her friend. And then, in the aftermath, she’d delayed moving ahead because she lacked faith. Now she realized the cost to Selah and her family. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
“I’m going back to Fresno, Shanice.”
“To your aunt’s?” Shanice’s eyes widened. “But she wouldn’t even speak to you—”
“I’m not planning to stay. I’m only going for a visit. If she’ll let me. It’s time, and she and I need to talk.”
“What if she slams the door in your face?”
Grace gave a soft laugh. “Aunt Elizabeth would never be so rude.”
“Why are you going to her when she wouldn’t help you before?”
“I just want to talk with her about a few things.” When her aunt had left Memphis, she’d abandoned everything and everyone she knew. Maybe Aunt Elizabeth could tell her how she’d done that. Grace also wanted to know why.
“You’ll come back after that?” Shanice looked hopeful.
If she stayed in Southern California, temptation would pound on the door of her mind and heart. How many times in the last two weeks had she thought about driving to Topanga Canyon? She’d been looking for an excuse to see Roman again. But she knew what would happen if she did.
Twice in the last week, she’d picked up her son and pulled out her car keys intending to go. And then she’d heard that still, small voice warning her. Don’t go back, Grace. Trust Me.
“As long as I’m here, I’ll be tempted to contact Roman. And I’d be a fool if I did. My mind tells me he wants all the physical benefits without any responsibilities, but my heart is deceitful.” She lifted one shoulder in bleak admission. “At least Patrick put a ring on my finger while using me. Roman wasn’t even willing to do that. Though I guess I should give him credit for his honesty.”
“Brian met with him at a coffee shop.” Again, that faint stain of guilt on Shanice’s face.
“How did it go?” Grace regretted asking and held up her hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She stood, grimacing. “I’m going to call my aunt. Pray for me.”
When Aunt Elizabeth answered, Grace asked if she would mind having company for a few days. Aunt Elizabeth sighed. “I take it you’ve made a difficult decision.”
“Several.” Grace ran her hand over Samuel’s head.
“When shall I expect you?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, if that’s convenient.”
Roman managed to cross the racquetball court fast enough to send the ball zinging toward the back wall. Brian missed it and let out a groan of defeat. “Mercy! I surrender.” He bent at the waist, hands on his knees, and gave a wheezing laugh. “Even with a bum leg, you’re more of an athlete than I am.” Breathing hard, he straightened. “And here I thought artists spent all their time standing around painting.”
Grinning, Roman bounced the ball up and down. “Depends on what kind of painting we’re talking about. A tagger has to be fast on his feet or he’ll end up cuffed and in the back of a police car.”
“Are you still doing graffiti?”
“Not anymore.”
A couple of young women stood at the window, watching. One had dark hair like Grace. Turning away, Roman retrieved his bottle of water and drank deeply. He couldn’t get through an hour without thinking about her. It’d been a couple of weeks, and he still felt crushed and broken inside. If she loved him, why the silent treatment? He’d put out the olive branch the first few days, hoping she’d pick up or text back or call or write or something so they could talk things out. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.
Brian picked up his towel and wiped his face. “She’s hurting, too.”
Roman didn’t have to ask who he meant, but wondered how Brian knew he was thinking about Grace. Was the pain etched on his face? He’d been trying to push it down, keep it out of sight. How long before it eased? How long before he could get through a single day without feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest?
“I want you to think about something.” Brian looped the towel around his neck and grabbed the ends. “The way you’re feeling now could give you an inkling of what God feels whenever we brush Him aside. Our Father sent His Son to pay the price for our sins, Roman. And Jesus suffered and died willingly out of love for us. Everything you and I have ever done wrong in this life was paid for on the cross.” He let out his breath. “We ought to love Him more than we love anyone else.” His eyes were filled with compassion. “You want to get things right, my friend? Stop obsessing about Grace. Make Jesus your first priority.”
The words sank deep and brought up the memory of power surrounding him, a power that sent demons screaming into the darkness. Roman remembered the warmth and light encompassing him, lifting him, all because he’d cried out the name of Jesus. Would he have known to do that if Grace hadn’t been talking about Jesus moments before his heart stopped? Had that been an accident of timing, or God’s planning?
His throat felt tight. His eyes burned.
Jesus, I’m sorry. I know You want more from me than what I’m giving.
Brian kept repeating the message. Roman felt it squeezing through the cracks in the wall he had built around his heart. Maybe it was time to stop putting all his hope in Grace instead of the One who reached down and pulled him up into the light.
Grace might not love him, but God did. Always had. Always would. And it would be a whole lot safer giving his heart, soul, and mind to Jesus than to a flesh-and-blood woman.
Selah called Grace again the next morning. She left another message, this time apologizing for her previous outburst, but asked tearfully if she could see Sammy, just for an hour or two. Grace called Ruben at his work number. “Selah and I both need your help.” She told him
what had been going on for the past two weeks.
“I didn’t know, Grace. I’m sorry. Things have been difficult at home. Alicia is acting out. I called our priest. Father Pedro wasn’t surprised to hear from me. We set a day and time for family counseling. I haven’t told Selah yet, but she’s going. We’re all going.”
“I’m so sorry.” Grace pressed cold, shaking fingers against her forehead.
“This isn’t your fault, chiquita. Selah was struggling before we met you. I thought helping you have your baby would help her.”
Grace informed him she intended to change her cell phone number and would be moving out of the area in the next few days.
“Selah will be heartbroken when she realizes she’s driven you away.”
“There are other reasons, Ruben.”
“Eres como mi propia hija.” Ruben spoke in a choked voice. “Dios te bendiga.”
No one had ever considered her a daughter before or offered such a blessing.
Grace had everything she needed in her suitcase, backpack, and a couple of boxes when Shanice came home at noon. She packed the car while Shanice sat on the sofa with Samuel in her lap. She looked teary-eyed when Grace was ready to say good-bye. “I’m going to miss you, girlfriend. You have no idea how much.” She lifted Samuel over her head and jiggled him. “And you, too, punkin.” She handed him back to Grace.
“I’ll stay in touch.”
“Any idea where you’ll end up?”
“Not yet.” Grace had some ideas, but she needed to do more research. And Aunt Elizabeth would undoubtedly have ideas as well. Her aunt had never withheld personal opinions, and looking back, Grace wished she’d listened. She could have saved herself so much grief. “Thank you for everything, Shanice. VirtualGrace.biz wouldn’t exist without you.”
“You just needed to remember who you are and who’s on your side. God’s going to take care of you, honey. Just stick with Him.”
Roman sat at his drafting table, the Bible from Grace open in front of him. He finished reading the story of Elisha, a successful farmer who demolished his plow and killed his team of oxen as a sacrifice so he could follow Elijah and serve God. Roman felt something shift inside him. Okay, Lord. I get it. Give up one life and start another. Get rid of whatever held him back.
Leaving the desk, he went to the windows and thought about the discussions he and Brian had been having about priorities. Roman had been surprised how comfortable it was to talk with Brian. He didn’t ask questions the way Jasper did, wearing him down, wearing him thin. Silence didn’t bother Brian. He made it easy to tell the truth. They had become friends because of it.
He might be standing at this window right now, looking out, but inside, he was still running scared. Lord, I’ve read enough to know You’re calling me. Okay. I’m listening. I’m done trying to figure everything out by myself. Go ahead and do what You will. I’m tired, Jesus. I just want to rest.
Afterglow, his best work, was still on the easel. He looked at it every day, seeing the woman who had inspired it. Had it become an idol? Maybe it was time to give it to Talia, let her sell it. Or give it to Brian to give to Shanice so she could give it to Grace. It only seemed right to give her the painting. She’d inspired it.
I’m still trying to find a way to get to her, aren’t I? I love her, Lord, but I was too much of a coward to tell her how much.
Brian assured him the pain would lessen with time. He needed to get his priorities straight. His life depended on God, not a woman.
Roman slid open the glass doors. Sunset in the canyon. Grace would have loved the western sky streaked with purple. Lighting the wood in the fire pit, he sat and watched the sun go down. He’d taken this view for granted, but Grace was right about it. The colors were never the same. God’s good night, she’d called it.
Stars appeared, one by one, until thousands scattered across the dark canvas. And I call myself an artist?
His cell phone rang—Brian. Roman answered. “Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m better than I’ve been.” He could tell something was up by Brian’s tone. “Any other reason for the call?”
“I just got off the phone with Shanice. Grace left this afternoon.”
Roman felt the hard punch in his stomach. “Left for where?”
“Shanice said she headed north, and even Grace wasn’t sure where she’d end up. She wants Samuel to grow up somewhere other than Los Angeles.”
How far north did she intend to go? She could end up in Oregon or Washington. Alaska? Roman closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Roman.”
“Yeah.” He looked out over the canyon. “That’s life.”
“Why don’t you come on over to my place tomorrow. We can talk.” He gave Roman the Vermont Square address. “Call Uber. You can’t leave that fancy car of yours on my street. How about eleven?” He chuckled. “Or is that too early for an artist to be up?”
Roman stayed outside, his emotions spiraling down until he hit rock bottom. He couldn’t see any way up except one. Jesus, grab hold of me again. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself reaching up. He felt the weight beneath him, sucking him down in a vortex of grief.
And then the whisper came, a thought not his own filling his mind.
Let go of her and walk with Me. One step at a time. One day at a time.
Simple. Not easy.
Let her go and put your hope in Me.
Shivering with the encounter, Roman took his cell phone from his pocket. Hand shaking, he tapped Photos. He thumbed through the pictures of Grace he’d taken on the road trip. How many times had he done this over the last two weeks? If he couldn’t have Grace, he could at least look at these pictures and imagine what might have been.
Let go, God said.
One by one, Roman deleted the pictures. When he got to the last one, his thumb hovered. He remembered the moment he’d taken this shot. Grace had been standing on a high place above the Dardanelles. She’d looked back over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow. And he had. She’d been a girl in love with life, and maybe, for a few minutes at least, a woman in love with him. Better to remember her like this than the last time he saw her; tears running down her pale cheeks, eyes full of hurt and disillusionment. He could almost hear her voice. I love you, Roman.
A soft breeze whispered through the chaparral. I love you more.
He felt the warmth of that declaration, the deep yearning to get closer to the eternal One. He could, if he stopped hanging on to someone who didn’t belong to him and never had.
Roman filled his lungs with the cool night air and touched the screen softly.
Grace disappeared.
AUNT ELIZABETH OPENED THE FRONT DOOR. “Oh. I thought . . .” She looked ready to cry as she stepped back. “Never mind. Come in. Where’s your suitcase?”
“In the car. Along with a playpen and—”
“Let me take him while you bring in whatever you need.” She plucked Samuel out of Grace’s arms.
Astonished, Grace watched her aunt carry her son into the living room. She’d never held him before and had barely glanced at him the one time Grace brought him here.
Grace put the playpen and suitcase in her old bedroom and peered into the living room. Aunt Elizabeth had Samuel perched on her knees facing her. She was talking to him in a soft, affectionate voice as he flapped his arms like a happy bird.
“Thank you for keeping him occupied.” She reached for Samuel, but Aunt Elizabeth shifted him.
“He’s fine where he is.”
Grace sat on the edge of the sofa, hands on her knees. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I thought you were going to give him away. I didn’t want to become attached.” When Samuel squirmed, she gave Grace a questioning glance.
“He wants to be on the floor. He’s crawling now. I’ll keep an eye on him so he doesn’t break anything.”
Aunt Elizabeth put him down. “I’ll save you the trouble.” She got up and wen
t around the room, picking up the breakables and putting them on a high shelf.
What had happened to bring about this change? “You were so angry when I told you I was pregnant.”
“Of course I was. Should I have been happy about the circumstances of his conception?”
Grace stared at her. “I was afraid you’d want me to have an abortion.”
“Grace.” Aunt Elizabeth’s tone softened. “You’ve always been a people pleaser. Frankly, I expected your friends to talk you out of having a baby.”
She spoke quickly in their defense. “My friends were the ones who suggested the pregnancy counseling center.”
“Yes, I know that now, and I imagine the family who took you in had plans of their own for Samuel.” She raised a brow in challenge.
“Selah still wants to adopt him.” Samuel slapped his hand against the sliding door to the garden, leaving a sticky handprint on the pristine glass surface. She rose, knowing how her aunt liked everything clean and neat. “I’ll get the Windex.”
“Sit down. Don’t worry about the window.” Aunt Elizabeth chuckled when he slapped it again. “It’s double-paned safety glass. He can’t break it. I’d say Samuel is going to be an outdoors boy.” She glanced at Grace. “Speaking of boys, how is Roman Velasco?”
Grace knew he’d come up in conversation sooner or later, just not this soon. “I don’t know. I quit and moved out of the cottage a couple weeks ago.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s mouth curved in a rueful smile. “He wanted to be more than friends.”
“He wanted to be friends with benefits.”
“I’m glad you passed on it. Most relationships that start out that way don’t end well.” Aunt Elizabeth shook her head. “A pity, though. I liked him.”