Song of the Brokenhearted
A
CCLAIM FOR
S
HEILA
W
ALSH AND
C
INDY
M
ARTINUSEN
C
OLOMA
“Rich with symbolism and picturesque Texas landscape,
Song of the Brokenhearted
is a reminder that our plan for our life is often not in sync with God's. Readers will enjoy walking alongside Ava on her journey of self-discovery. Sometimes in the most broken places of life comes true transformation, setting us on the path that can only be seen through God's eyes. Highly recommended.”
âB
ETH
W
ISEMAN, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF
N
EED
Y
OU
N
OW
AND THE
L
AND OF
C
ANAAN SERIES
“Lessons in grace abound in this heart-tugging story of broken pasts and futures filled with unexpected hope. In Ava's struggle to trust and in her eventual triumph, many readers will find pieces of their own stories.”
âL
ISA
W
INGATE
, N
ATIONAL
B
ESTSELLING AND
A
WARD
-W
INNING
AUTHOR OF
D
ANDELION
S
UMMER
AND
B
LUE
M
OON
B
AY
“This heartwarming tale comes from a talented duo. Cindy's gift of lush storytelling is an ideal match for Sheila's lovely insights into enduring relationships.
Sweet Sanctuary
beautifully portrays the complexities of a mother's heart.”
âR
OBIN
J
ONES GUNN, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE
S
ISTERCHICKS' NOVELS
“As a child I assumed that some families (not mine) were perfect. Eventually I grew up and figured out how wrong I was. That's probably why I appreciate
Sweet Sanctuary
. Peeling back layers of heartbreaks and secrets, Wren struggles to understand her family's old wounds and how they impact her own life . . . an important story of forgiveness, healing and hope.”
âM
ELODY
C
ARLSON, AUTHOR OF
H
ERE'S TO
F
RIENDS
AND
R
IVER'S
S
ONG
Other Novels by
Sheila Walsh
Angel Song
with Kathryn Cushman
Sweet Sanctuary
with Cindy Martinusen Coloma
Other Novels by
Cindy Martinusen Coloma
Eventide
The Salt Garden
Orchid House
Y
OUNG
A
DULT
N
OVELS
Ruby Unscripted
Beautiful
Caleb + Kate
Song
OF THE
BROKENHEARTED
S
HEILA
W
ALSH
A
ND
C
INDY
M
ARTINUSEN
C
OLOMA
© 2012 by Sheila Walsh and Cindy Martinusen Coloma
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâ electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
www.alivecommunications.com
.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from
The Living Bible.
© 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
Publishers Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Walsh, Sheila, 1956-
   Song of the brokenhearted / Sheila Walsh and Cindy Martinusen Coloma.
      p. cm.
   ISBN 978-1-59554-687-6 (trade paper)
1. Life change events--Fiction. I. Coloma, Cindy, 1970- II. Title.
   PS3623.A36615S56 2012
  813'.6--dc23
2012017522
Printed in the United States of America
12 13 14 15 16 QG 5 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to those like me who thought our lives were over only to discover that when we offer our brokenness to God, we have only just begun.
âSheila
To Jenna Jane Bentonâfor your frendship, inspiration, and creativity that never fails to amaze me. And for making me pray out loud, often.
âCindy
Contents
“Y
OU NEED TO WAKE UP
,” A
VA TOLD HERSELF AS SHE GRIPPED THE
steering wheel between quick gulps of the coffee she'd grabbed at an all-night gas station.
She turned onto Walnut Street and the directions to the Gibson residence became unnecessary. Her destination was obvious by the cars parked at awkward angles around the two-story stucco house.
Tonight was not the night for casseroles, sympathy cards, or flowers. That would come tomorrow, and in the days that followed. This was the time to arrive empty-handed and with as few words as possible.
She rose from her car into a warm autumn night, pausing to watch gray puffs of clouds drift across the nearly full moon. The moment gave her the strength to go toward the front door and to become the helpful stranger in a house of deep grief.
A bouquet of silver balloons hung unmoving from the lamppost at the end of the walkway. Jars lit by candles lined the path to the house; most had already burned themselves out. A large banner hung over the front door:
Congratulations, Joshua and Jessica!
Ava wondered if she should suggest taking down the reminder that hours earlier this had been a house of celebration and joy. Perhaps she could do it herself a little later.
An older man answered her knock wearing rumpled clothing and a deep frown drawn in the corners of his mouth.
“Are you a friend of the family?” he said, studying her in her designer jeans and beige sweater.
“No, I'm Ava. Hannah called and asked me to come.”
His frown softened slightly. “Come in. We had the media stop by already. Sharks. I don't know how they heard so fast. Most of the family is in the formal living room. I'm their neighbor across the street there. I've known Jessica since she was nine . . .” His voice trailed off.
“I'm sorry. It's very painful.”
“It is,” he muttered.
Ava followed the man beyond the foyer and sweeping staircase and toward a silent gathering of people who stood at different places around the room. A half-eaten cake rested on the table.
“Hannah? This lady said you called her.”
The woman from her Bible study stared at Ava a moment, then recognition dawned on her face. She rose quickly from the chair.
“Ava. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” she said. As they embraced, Ava felt the woman lean heavily against her. For a moment, she feared Hannah would collapse.
“She was my only niece, and more like a daughter to me,” Hannah said within the sobs that shook her. “Such a beautiful girl, and such a lovely heart. They were so happy . . . How can they be gone, just like that?”
Ava offered no answers as she held the middle-aged woman while she cried. Ava felt the pain echo in her own heart. Though she often was around tragedies since starting the ministry at church, Ava had yet to become desensitized to the grief.
“I can't believe you came out this late at night,” Hannah said, wiping the tears from her face. “I'd heard you talk about the Broken Hearts, but I had no idea . . . Do you come out in the night like this all the time? Your husband must hate it.”
“It's not just me. Our team takes turns being on call. But nighttime seems to be when most people need help,” Ava said, picking up several of the tissues that Hannah dropped on the floor. “Is there anything specific you need right now?”
“I don't know.” Hannah stared at her with a blank look as many did when Ava asked the question. Still, she asked instead of taking overâthat, too, would come later.
“My sister is upstairs, but she wanted to be alone. Joe, my brother-in-law, was trying to drive to the . . . the site.”