Crossing the Deep (25 page)

Despite herself, Rachel thought maybe Asher would be sitting on her front porch when they drove up. She didn’t know why. He’d never been there before, and it was twenty-five degrees outside. But still, part of her sat up just in case.

It didn’t take long for her to realize the only thing on her porch was snow.

Her heart sank, and she had to laugh at herself. It felt funny to feel something, and she caught herself smiling. Maybe she wasn’t as lost as she thought she was?

Her mom stopped to open the garage then jumped back in, shivering. She pulled the car in and shut the door. Rachel muttered to herself, “Home sweet home.”

The garage had always been her father’s space. His tools still hung up on the walls in the exact same places he’d placed them two years ago. Not even the calendar had been changed. It forever stayed on the day he died: her birthday, such a sad reminder.

Rachel opened her door and slid to the edge. Fighting with the crutches, she wrestled them from the floorboard and placed them on the ground. She hated crutches.

In fifth grade, she’d broken her foot playing soccer, so she already knew how to use crutches. Small favors and all. The difference was in the fifth grade, she’d known it was temporary. This was, too — well the doctors told her it was. With physical therapy, she would conceivably be able to learn how to balance again. It seemed a long way off though.

Her mom held the door open, and Rachel took her time getting up the three concrete steps that led into the kitchen. It was dark, but then again, it was six at night.

“I hope you aren’t disappointed. Carly wanted to be here, but she wanted to give you some space. She said to call her tonight if you felt up to it,” her mom said, putting her suitcase down next to the door. “We weren’t sure if you were up for a welcome home party, you know with the trip and the ordeal.”

“And my freak-out with Asher….”

“Well, yeah. We didn’t want to push you.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I wasn’t expecting anything.” Hoping, maybe? Part of her thought it would be nice to have one of those homecomings people always uploaded on the Internet. But her mom was right. She wasn’t ready. If she couldn’t deal with Asher, how could she deal with a lot of friends making over her, talking about Sid, asking about the mountain?

Her breathing picked up again, and she fought it. Here she thought the panic attacks had gone away. She fought it with everything she had, not wanting her mom to know how bad she felt.

Clutching the crutches tighter, she started toward the living room steps that led up to her room. “I think I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. It’ll feel good to be in my room again.”

“Okay”. Her mom smiled as if she knew something important and set her suitcase down next to the back door. “Do you need help up the stairs?” As if already anticipating her answer, she walked toward her.

“No, Mama. I’ll be fine.” Rachel motioned for her to stop. “I can do this. I promise. It’ll take time, but I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” she said. A worry line creased on her forehead. “There is a present on the bed for you. Just be careful going up the steps. I’d hate to have to drive you back to the hospital in this snowstorm.”

“Har. Love you, Mama.”

“Love you to, baby. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” Rachel started the long ascent up the twelve stairs to her room.

After one final hop onto the landing, Rachel leaned on a wall to rest. The familiar walls comforted her: pictures of her, her mom, and her dad. All in happier times. It seemed a lifetime ago. She wondered if she could ever be that happy again.

She stopped at her door and pulled the hair tie out, making her hair hang in loose curls down her back. The band hurt her head… well, everything hurt her head thanks to the concussion she’d suffered from the rocks — or so the doctor said was the reason. It wasn’t as if she remembered any of it.

The cream-colored door to her bedroom creaked as she opened it, and she jumped. She was too tired to scream, but if she hadn’t been, she would have.

“Asher?” she said, not believing it.

“Yeah, it’s me. Welcome home.” He scooted off her bed and walked over to hug her.

Her head wouldn’t work, and all she could do was hug him back. It felt so good to be back in his arms. Enjoying his presence, she didn’t know whether to be excited to see him or mad that he hadn’t contacted her for a week. She chose the former.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.

“Seems that way.” Her skin became very hot and the room started to spin around her. This was the longest she’d stood since the woods, and her body was reminding her of it.

“Here, sit down. You’re getting pale. You and pale don’t mix.” He placed his hand on her back and guided her to the bed covered with her cream-and-purple patchwork quilt. The ivory iron headboard creaked when she sat, a nice familiar sound. Then, he took her crutches and propped them up on the wall before he sat down beside her.

The first thing she noticed was how much better Asher looked than the last time she’d seen him in her hospital room. His hair was cut above his ears. It still flopped, but not as much. On his face, his bruises had almost disappeared. And his leather jacket was gone, of course. He had on a black pullover under a charcoal gray winter coat. She wondered if he had as much trouble staying warm as she did. He had on black jogging pants and red and gray sneakers. With dry clothes and a clean shave, he looked different from the boy she’d grown to love on the mountain. But his smile hadn’t changed a bit.

Everything in the room was just the same as she remembered. It had the same light, lavender-colored walls she’d picked out when she was eight. A few of her favorite stuffed animals sat on ivory shelves around her corner television. Next to them sat her soccer trophies. Another reminder of something she would never do again. The white closet door was cracked a little, and her first instinct was to go shut it. She hated it open. A quirk she’d had since she was a kid and was afraid that Mitch the Monster would jump out at her.

Then she remembered she couldn’t shut it. Getting up and doing something simple would require much more energy now — until she got the hang of it, anyway.

“How are you?” he asked, saving her from her thoughts.

“Peachy,” she said, coining his own phrase.

“Rachel, really. How are you? You look—”

“Pale?”

“Pale.”

She shrugged, favoring her hurt ribs. “I’m fine. I’m grateful to be alive and mobile. The doctor said I was lucky. He said that by the bruises on my back, if I’d hit the rock any closer, I might be paralyzed, but I think he was just trying to make me feel better for losing my toes.”

“I think he said it because he meant it. You are lucky.”

“I know that.” And she did, most of the time.

He looked her over and raised a brow. “What else did the doctor say?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

She didn’t want to tell him, but she could tell by the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t going to give up. “The doctor thinks I have post-traumatic stress or depression or something like that.”

“Do you?”

“How should I know? I mean, I guess I’ve been down, but that’s understandable, right?”

“I don’t know.” He lowered his head. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you through this.”

“That’s fine. It’s not as if we're attached at the hip.”

“I know but — I wanted to see you, but the nurses wouldn’t let me. Said I upset you too much.”

“Yeah,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He took her hand and squeezed. “You,” he emphasized, “have nothing to be sorry about. I wish you’d believe that.”

“Oh, I have plenty to be sorry for. How’s David?” she added before he could say anything else.

“Fine. He misses Sid, of course. We all do. His mom and dad are pretty wrecked, but David thinks they will be all right. He’s praying for them. So am I.”

She couldn’t look at him. What a strange world. Asher was praying, and she couldn’t.

“What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

How much did she want to tell him? She’d already told him she was depressed. Could she actually admit to him how hard it was for her to pray? What would he think?

“Rachel, tell me.”

Fine, she thought angrily. “I can’t pray.”

He raised a brow at her, and his forehead wrinkled. “I’ve heard you pray for days on the mountain. I know you can pray.”

“Not anymore. I can’t make the words come out.”

“Prayer’s block?”

She laughed, surprising herself. It felt good to laugh. “If there is such a thing. I try to pray, and the words just won’t come out. I’ve tried everything.”

“I’m sure it will come back soon. You're pretty shell-shocked right now, and God knows your heart. He knows what you want to say, and He won’t fault you for not being able to get the words out.”

“What happened to you?” she asked, studying him for the first time. Something was different about him. His eyes had a light in them she hadn’t seen before. A light she once had and desperately missed.

“I found God.” He shrugged.

“On the mountain?”

“
Cliché
isn’t it?”

“Well… no. I’m glad something good came out of it.”

“That’s what David said. I went to church with him yesterday for the first time since my grandpa died. I’m going again next week. I really liked it. Who knew?”

“That’s…” what would a good word be? “Awesome.”

“Yeah.” He laughed, running his fingers through hers. “And I’m living with David now. Just moved in. My aunt doesn’t care. And,” he took a deep breath, “I had it out with Jason.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I was on my best behavior. You would have been proud. I told him I didn’t like him, but I would pray for him.”

“Wow, that took a lot of guts.”

“Not really. He laughed at me. Called me a Bible-thumper and lots of other… um… colorful words I won’t repeat to you and tried to push me out the door.”

“And?”

“And I pushed him back, slammed him against the wall and told him if he ever put a hand on me again I’d go to the police. He didn’t flinch but didn’t stop me from leaving, either. I don’t know what he’ll do to my aunt without me there to protect her. Protecting her had been the one reason I’ve stayed this long. But I can’t worry about that. I just have to put it in God’s hands.”

“Seems like a mature thing to do.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. Mature.”

“And Sid’s funeral?”

His smile faded, and he looked down at their intertwined hands. “There were a lot of people there. Lots of people from school. Carly was there, of course. She told me to tell you she loved you, and she’d talk to you soon. David preached. And it was sad.”

“I wish I could have gone.”

“You were missed.” His jaw set, and she knew that though he would talk about it, it still hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore than she already had, plus her leg was throbbing.

“The doctor said I should keep my foot elevated,” she said, turning her body on the bed and throwing her leg on the mattress. The soft mattress hugged her leg, and it felt great to be in her own bed again.

Asher stood and helped her lay back on her pillows. He sat at the bottom of her bed and propped her leg on his lap. Rachel wished he wouldn’t. It was an ugly thing to see. A thing wrapped up like a mummy. She tried to wiggle away, but he held on gently. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Sure.” She didn’t believe him.

“It doesn’t. It’s just a leg. It will heal. And your toes. Who cares? I never liked your toes anyway.”

“Thanks.” She laughed. She didn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. “But there is a blanket you can fold up and prop it on. As nice as it is, your leg isn’t very soft.”

“Break my heart,” he said, getting up and doing what she asked. He found a blanket and put it under her leg.

The softness felt good to Rachel, and she closed her eyes to let herself relax. When she felt the bed lower next to her, it startled her.

“Sorry,” he said, sliding into bed next to her.

“Um… You can’t lay here.” A boy in her bed didn’t seem right.

“Why?” He grinned. “It’s not as if we haven’t lain together before, non-biblically speaking of course.”

“Of course, but my mom is here.”

“She knows I’m here. It’s not like I snuck in or anything.”

“You were the present she told me about?”

“I’m a present?” He sounded flattered.

“It’s just…” What would be the right way to say,
“Having a guy in my bed isn’t something I’m used to?”

“At least your cheeks have some color in them now.” Asher rubbed his fingers over them.

“Well, there’s that.” She swallowed hard. It might not be appropriate, but she didn’t want him to leave.

“Come here. I promise to be on my best behavior,” he said, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t fight it. It felt too good to fight. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” She snuggled closer, feeling the familiar call of sleep falling over her. “Back when I could pray, I prayed for our hiking trip to change someone’s life.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know my prayers would be answered the way they were though.”

“David says we don’t understand God’s ways all the time. We just accept them and move on.”

“Be nice if it were that easy.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his fingers over her shoulder lazily. “But at least one good thing happened on that mountain.”

“You got saved.” She smiled.

“That, and… you promised to go out on a date with me.”

“There is that.” She closed her eyes, glad to be home. Maybe it would be what she needed to heal emotionally…

“Everything will be okay, Rachel. You’ll see.” He hugged her tighter, and his lips touched her hair.

She smiled at his touch and relaxed into arms.
”Thank
You, Lord,”
she thought, hopeful her words made it to Heaven.

About the Author

Kelly Martin
is a southern girl who lives with her husband and three rowdy, angelic daughters. By day, she is a special education preschool teacher. By night, she is a crazy-haired, multi-tasker who writes with a two year old standing on her shoulder while watching PBS Kids.