“Just because someone calls you a name, doesn’t make it true. How much enchilada sauce did you say?”
She smiled at the drastic change in subject, dabbed at her face with a towel, and brought the can over. “Just enough to cover the pan bottom.”
He drizzled sauce while she observed the crimson pouring. She envisioned heart-red streams of forgiving oil drenching down an ancient Israel cross.
Thank you, King Jesus, for dying for me. Meadow pictured nail-pierced hands plunging through dirt, like she’d shoved fists into the snowman for her shoe. Images hit of those strong, scarred hands deep underground, closing deftly around a root. She thought of Colin’s hand coming out of that snowman with her shoe and realized the symbolism.
God sent him to encourage her. Lord, I release Colin from any wrongdoing, and I reject this bitterness. Please pull it out of me, root and all.
“Let me guess, tortillas next?”
Colin’s question drew her from the prayer, but she departed it in peace. Something felt different inside. Either the green chili was working up an inner warmth or hope had a safe place inside her to lay its head for the first time in ten years.
“Yep. Two deep, like this.” Together they layered corn tortillas over the enchilada sauce, then added hamburger meat cooked with onions and garlic, then cheese.
Colin spread her clumped cheese to the edges, making her smile. “Sorry. OCD.”
She grinned. “Not complaining. My enchilada pie never looked so good.”
They started adding the next layers.
“We add tomatoes and lettuce after baking?”
She nodded, not complaining one bit when their hands brushed and mingled in the process. Maybe their hearts a little too?
He peered down at her. “It layers like lasagna.”
She smiled. “Exactly. You’re a fast learner.”
“On some things.”
His remorseful tone elicited compassion and an urge to comfort. She changed the subject instead.
“Del’s improving.”
He nodded. “She told me about her abusive ex.”
“Really? When did you talk to her?”
“Went to see her this morning after my pavement therapy.”
“I see you running sometimes when I walk to the lake to watch the sunrise.”
Mention of the lake jarred them both. She knew without it being said that he thought of the night he and his friends left her at the other lake. His face looked stricken with sorrow as his eyes roamed every facet of her face.
She thought the hurt had been behind her. But his coming back to town and ending up as her neighbor had shaken things up and shown her she was far from healed of it. “Not the lake. I meant the little pond at the park,” she found herself clarifying.
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Just continued studying her with tender, probing eyes. Then finally, “I still had workout gear on when I went to see her.” As though remembering something, a grin squeezed past the remorse holding his handsome face hostage. “She told me she wouldn’t be caught dead running unless someone was chasing her with a substantially sharp knife.”
“Sounds like Del.” Glad he’d veered off the lake subject, Meadow turned left to put a spoon in the sink the same time he turned right to grab a trivet.
“Oomph!” They collided; her face smushed in Colin’s chest, his steadying arms springing up to grasp hers.
They stood like that a shocked moment before Meadow realized Colin wasn’t letting go. She stalled, not knowing what to do, say, think, or what this moment meant.
Determining to be brave, if even for a blink, she let herself feel. Strong arms shielding. Tender heart beating against her cheek. Soft cotton shirt warm against her skin. His fresh waterfall scent and piney aftershave awakened her senses. For an unguarded instant, she let herself soak in not just him but all he was becoming to her.
Breaths deepening, he shifted. She thought he was about to let go until he further encircled her, curving his arms protectively. He felt so solid, so warm, so like heaven in a hug. Every place he touched came alive, especially in her soul.
He held her like that. The tender moment couldn’t last long enough if it stretched past forever. Yet she’d never been more scared in her life. He pulled her closer until there wasn’t a breath between them possible. She did the craziest thing imaginable.
Meadow let herself, and all her stress, lean completely into the strength of Colin McGrath.
His arms overpowered her deadlines, her cave-in, worry over Del. He absorbed her overdrawn agenda, her overdue to-dos, her insecurities, and her inability to discern his motives and trust. She was scared. But he was harbor. He was hope. He was haven.
She was safe.
After a moment his velvet voice threaded through the benevolent fog of bliss that cocooned her within his arms. She felt stronger and sounder than she had in years. She sensed him pray as he held her, and she knew credit for her peace and strength belonged to God. But she was thankful for Colin too.