“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.