A Love Like Ours (34 page)

And then he let everything else fall. His unbearable guilt. The blame he’d put on himself. His self-hatred. His endless fear for Lyndie’s safety. His fury toward God. His outrage that he had lived when his men had died. His wounds.

Jake worked to bring it all up and in turn to release it all.

In answer he could almost . . . almost
feel
God’s readiness to take his burdens from him.

Gradually, Jake’s shaking stilled. His stomach unknotted. His tiredness began to pull back. For the first time since the day of the IED, he felt as though his past had been lifted from him.

Slowly, like mist moving into a valley, peace began to come over him. Thin strands at first, then more and more. It had been
so long since he’d experienced the stillness of true inner peace that he began to sob. Silent sobs without tears racked his chest.

He didn’t know how God might help him. He’d been changed the day that Panzetti, Barnes, and Scott had died. He’d never be who he’d been before. He’d carry scars and fight PTSD and struggle. But maybe . . . maybe God
could
help him.

His battered hope gathered itself and began to rise.

T
he very next night, Lyndie sighed as she came from sleep into drowsy semi-consciousness. She pried her eyes open a millimeter and saw the surroundings of Mollie’s hospital room. It was her turn to sleep in the chair next to her sister’s bed through the night. The room’s darkness assured her that dawn would be a long time coming.

She’d been dreaming about Jake.
Oh, Jake
. She closed her eyes and willed herself to return to the dream. In it, he’d loved her. They’d been standing side by side at the track at Lone Star, and his lovely horses had been galloping by, their manes and tails rippling. She’d been telling him in great detail about a new story idea that included a cast of friendly giants fighting to retain their kingdom of plums against an army of ogres bent on making plum jam. He’d been teasing her and smiling, and there’d been the most wonderful look of tenderness in his eyes. . . .

She didn’t want reality. She wanted more of
that
. So she tried to grasp the dream back. Only . . . something tickled at her brain. Something that wanted her notice.

She let her hearing stretch out and extend. She heard nothing. No wheezing. She sprang upward as her attention swung to Mollie. Her sister slept comfortably, her chest rising and falling smoothly.
The machines that watched over Mollie had not let down their guard. The quiet wasn’t a bad sign. It was a good one.

Relief poured through Lyndie from head to toe. Praise God! Praise God, praise God, praise God. Mollie had turned the corner toward recovery.

Smiling tearfully, Lyndie placed a hand on Mollie’s shoulder and prayed over her, thanking the God who’d healed her sister yet again.

You are good, God
. Which would have been true even if He’d taken Mollie to heaven. Just as true if He’d returned Jake to her. She desperately wanted Him to return Jake to her. He hadn’t. But He had spared Mollie’s life. Lyndie would have more time with the sweetest person she knew, her one and only sister. More time to love her and read to her and care for her. She and her mom and her dad would still have their Mollie.

Praise you, God! Thank you. You are good
.

Lyndie arranged the flowers she’d just bought while craning her neck to listen to her mom’s voice coming from the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder. “Uh-huh.” Her mom was explaining how hard it had been to part from one of the nurses on Mollie’s wing. The nurse, who had a husband with sleep apnea and a son with ADHD, had forged a deep friendship with Lyndie’s mother.

Lyndie added two stems of hydrangea to the glass bowl on her antique farm table.

More than two days had passed since she’d first noticed Mollie’s improvement, and today the James family had brought Mollie home. Once they’d gotten Mollie tucked in her own bed, bathed in sunshine and the sounds of her outdoor birdfeeder, Lyndie had hit the grocery store in order to restock both her parents’ shelves and her own. While there, she’d splurged on a large bouquet of pink roses, white hydrangea, lavender stock, and yellow tulips.

The flowers had seemed like a good way to celebrate Mollie’s homecoming, and a semi-decent way to brighten an apartment—
and heart—that had been shrouded in gray ever since Jake had broken up with her.

Grandpa Harold had taken to asking Lyndie about Jake every time she saw him. Grandpa missed Jake. So did her parents. Had Mollie a voice, Lyndie was quite certain she, too, would be inquiring as to Jake’s whereabouts. Even her dogs and cat had been giving her questioning looks.

She wanted to tell them all that Jake had acted like a colossal jerk to her. She hadn’t, though, because she couldn’t convince herself that he
was
a colossal jerk underneath that spiky exterior. Her foolish heart kept expecting him to call or come by to check on her and Mollie.

Three different trainers, all of whom had horses currently racing at Lone Star, had contacted her and asked if she’d be interested in riding for them. She wasn’t interested as of yet. Her heart needed more time to put away her hopes for Jake and Silver Leaf before she’d be able to consider a position with another stable. The income from her books gave her the financial freedom to wait for a little while before she’d need to make a decision.

“Have you seen the weather report?” Karen now asked.

“Nope.”

“Big storms are coming.”

“Really?” Lyndie adjusted one of the roses.

“There’s a tornado warning over Holley for the next three hours, until 7 p.m. Do you want to drive back over to our house?”

“No, that’s okay. I can’t leave the animals here alone.” Storms tended to set them on edge.

“I’d feel better if you were here with us. You’re welcome to bring the animals.”

“Mom, it’s fine. Texans overreact to the weather.” Several spring storms had barreled over them in the past months. Each time, the local weathermen seemed to enjoy superseding network programming to show radar diagrams and talk at length about sustained wind speeds. The worst thing Lyndie had seen so far? A few good old-fashioned downpours accompanied by lightning displays.

“If you’re sure . . .”

“I am.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, honey.”

They disconnected, and Lyndie glanced out the nearest window. The afternoon sky spread outward, a faintly overcast dove gray. Not a speck of rain in sight.

How bad could the weather get?

Around six o’clock, Jake’s head came up at the sound of a siren. Every kid raised in north Texas recognized the whine of a tornado siren when they heard it.

He’d just finished pulling on jeans after a workout and shower. Tugging a shirt over his head, he walked into his living room to flip on the TV. Jake always paid attention to forecasts, because weather could impact his horses. This morning he’d noticed the possibility of storms. He and Bo had gone back over their preparedness plans with their employees this afternoon before leaving the barns. He hadn’t worried about the weather since.

He stood in his living room in his bare feet, watching the news coverage, while anxiety for Lyndie gathered in his chest. He’d lived through too many tornado seasons to count. He knew a dangerous storm front when he saw one. Twisters had been spotted on the ground in counties to the south and west. Within the next forty-five minutes, the front would take aim at Holley.

Where was Lyndie taking shelter?

He’d given up the right to know that information. He could call her—no. He shouldn’t.

He paced and texted Bo about the horses.
I’m already on it
, Bo responded.
They’re being taken care of. Just stay inside and stay safe.

Jake continued to pace, watching the ominous weather coverage out of the corner of his eye, holding his phone in his hand. Over the past few days he’d been trying to get his head sorted out. His prayer in the hospital stairwell had changed him in a fundamental
way. He wasn’t cured or even half as normal as he wished he were. But guilt no longer had him in its fist, and for him, that was big.

He’d been working to accept the radical idea of grace. It wasn’t easy for him. It required a big mental shift and the changing of thought patterns that had become old habit. But slowly, he was coming around.

His faith and his prayers might be weak, but Lyndie’s God was not. He wanted to tell her she’d been right about that. She’d be pleased about that piece of their situation, he knew. It was all the other pieces of their breakup that held him back.

He wouldn’t let her ride for him again. That hadn’t changed and wouldn’t change. Which meant that he was the guy who’d stolen her dream from her. She’d ridden Silver Leaf beautifully, and it could be that she might have ridden him straight to the top of horse racing, if it hadn’t been for Jake.

The sirens fell silent.

The trainers in California hadn’t seen her potential and hadn’t given her the chance she’d needed. He’d seen her potential, but he, too, had stripped the opportunity from her. It made him sick to his stomach when he thought about it. And yet he would not risk her.

He couldn’t.

She might not be able to forgive him for that. He wouldn’t blame her if she couldn’t. Nor did he expect her to forgive him for the cutting things he’d said to her the day he’d fired her. Over the past months she’d been nothing but kind, decent, and loyal to him. And in return, he’d shoved her away.

He wanted to see her again, and he definitely wanted to apologize. Of those two things he’d grown sure. But before he spoke with her, he needed more time to figure out how to ask for her forgiveness and also how and if he could bring himself to trust her with the details of his past and the details of his mental illness.

The siren sounded again, growing louder and quieter as it spun.

He needed more time before he saw Lyndie, but he wasn’t going to get more time. The storm was closing in on them, and he couldn’t stand not knowing where she was and that she was safe.

He shouldn’t call her. But even before he finished the thought, his finger punched in her number. He listened to her phone ring. It went to voice mail. He waited a few more minutes. The weatherman reported that another tornado had touched down. His urgency grew. He called again. And again.

He stuffed his phone into his back pocket as he went for his keys. Why wasn’t she answering her phone? Probably because it was him calling. Chances were, she was at her parents’ house or at the hospital. She was probably fine.

He jerked on socks and boots, not stopping to grab a jacket or his hat, too worried to do anything but run for his truck. Before the worst hit, he’d confirm for himself that she wasn’t home alone, then return to his loft.

Low ashy clouds raced above him as he drove, darkening what was left of the day’s light. The sirens cut off, then came back on again. The people on the radio advised taking shelter. Wind rocked his truck.

He saw exactly what he’d hoped not to see when he pulled up in front of Lyndie’s building. Lights blazed from the second floor, Lyndie’s floor. He rushed from his truck, the first fat raindrops blowing sideways into him. A third of the way up the exterior staircase, he spotted her in the middle of her backyard.

She was in
the middle of the backyard
. Outside and unprotected, hunched over something on the ground. Terrified, he turned and took the stairs two at a time on his way down.

When he’d neared to within a few feet of her, her face angled sharply toward him. He came to a stop beside her, his heart thudding fast.

Lyndie stared at him with confusion and distrust. The hostility in her expression knocked into him, filling him with regret.

In her arms she held things that looked like they belonged in a dollhouse. Tiny chairs, a ladder, a table. The wind tossed her hair around the shoulders of the black sweatshirt she wore.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He hadn’t seen her in days and days. He struggled to adjust
to the reality of her again. Her nearness. Her dislike of him. His crippling love for her. “I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The rain increased.

He knelt, bringing him closer to her level. Wetness soaked into his jeans.

“You fired me,” she said. “Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Whether or not I’m okay isn’t your concern anymore.”

Her words hurt him. Him, who’d been an expert at using sharp words to keep people, including her, away. “Tornados are headed this way.”

“I’m aware of that. I’m almost done. Once I have everything, I’ll head inside.”

“I need to get you inside now.”

Her brown eyes snapped with anger. “You don’t get your way at this house. Here, I’m the one who decides.”

She’d turned one of the things he’d said to her at Lone Star back on him. He set his teeth and fought his growing desperation.

She gathered up more items. “I can’t let anything happen to Jayden’s hero house. It means a lot to him. He and Amber are at Will’s. They aren’t here to bring it inside.”

Thunder boomed in the distance. Jake considered picking her up and carrying her to her apartment. He cared nothing for Jayden’s playhouse in relation to her safety, but the determined tilt of her chin told him that Lyndie cared.