10

The following day, instead of mentally planning a video for her intern application, or looking forward to final courses, Izzy battled her meandering mind. She wandered along the rim of the creek bank, lost in thought. Brock overshadowed almost everything. She’d never gone gaga over a boy in middle or high school, and a guy had no part in her college equation. She’d always been grounded and stuck to her goals. This, whatever “this” was called, she couldn’t get a handle on. And every time she pictured him or remembered their times together, her heart quickened. She drew shallow breaths rather than the way she’d trained to breathe deep.

He had calmed her fears and given his time to her in the front seat of her wrecked car, at the hospital, in the wee hours. Brock had poured out selfless love.

One moment she freaked because she didn’t have a car parked outside, and the next she wondered if she were crazy to consider relenting and accepting Brock’s offer.

What did a woman do with all the emotion the mere mention of his name flooded through her soul? The only thing she could compare it to was absorbing an operatic aria, filling her pores, and lifting off on the winged notes of the orchestra.

An outlet. She needed an outlet.

Her feet crunched over the snow where drifted ripples lay on top of the dried grasses of autumn. A fence stood in her way. She didn’t feel like stepping into drifts where she’d sink to her thighs. She opted to retrace her tracks, and teetered into the indentations she’d already made.

Name these feelings. Get in touch with them. Soar with them.

How did one sort out all those emotions without a way of expression? All she had to do was hear the mention of Brock’s name, picture his face, and she remembered the passion of their kisses. Those thoughts increased her awareness, her heart rate, her breathlessness, that panting sensation that stole over her and wanted to make her weep for loss of making any sense of it all. Mere words evaporated. Should she go with the flow and discover where she landed?

This crazy mixed-up disconnection must be love. She had it bad.

“Lord, I’m outside where I often get in touch with You and what I’m feeling. Open my eyes to what’s around me and please help me sort through this mess I’m dealing with.”

The damp, overcast day set the scene for contemplation. Cloud cover hid the sun.

Thankful she could summon a sunny disposition, Izzy refused to give in to a threatening, gray day. She considered Brock. Her heartbeat raced. She wanted to give in to her awakening feelings and fully experience all a relationship could bring.

The tap of a beeping horn pulled her out of her reverie. She rushed to meet Brock. Her heart tumbled and her feet stumbled.

He leaped out of the truck and swung her in his arms. They circled as he warmed her lips. Even outdoors, her head swam from lack of oxygen, or so she imagined, as they pulled apart.

She licked the creamy coffee taste of him on her lips while he shut his door. He lifted his arm with the intent of putting on his stocking cap. But she stayed the motion, took the knit bowl from him and set it over his longish hair.

He moved to adjust the fit.

She shook her head. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled off her gloves and jammed them in her pockets. Then she held on to the ends of the cap, relishing the texture of his hair, she played with the ends and settled the fabric over his earlobes.

Brock covered her hands, drew them to his mouth and caressed her fingertips with his lips. His breath, warm and moist, brought tears to her eyes.

“I know, love, what we’re feeling here is too strong for words, isn’t it? I’m so full of you, I could cry, too.” He pulled her gloves from her pocket and slid them on, making sure each finger fit exactly as purposed. He guided her in, holding on to her gloved hand. “Why does that bird feeder look odd?”

Glad to have something else to think about, she squinted. Then she picked up their pace. When they were six feet away from the feeder, she didn’t know if she should laugh or what exactly to do. But it was her turn to go to the rescue.

“Do you think Chance did this?” Brock’s voice held humor.

“I have no idea, but I doubt it. I don’t think he’s been out yet today. My guess is the wind or a squirrel. I suppose it is possible Mom didn’t get it closed after filling them. Crazy to think the bird got in while it was open and then the lid closed. Help me get the finch out, please.”

The goldfinch teetered on top of the sunflower seeds. Occasionally, it picked up a seed, cracked it open, and spit out the shell.

“What do you think?” Brock’s voice tickled her ear.

“Watch.” Izzy opened the hole at the top of the feeder and tipped the container. Brock caught the spilling seed from the feeding tray.

The bird blinked. Little by little, it wobbled along with the newly formed hill of seed until it reached the hole and flew to freedom.

Brock dropped the seed from his hand through the open lid.

Izzy closed it. “It’s a freakish odd thing, and yet I can’t help but wonder why God allowed the bird to be trapped with us here to free her.”

“We’ll laugh about it later. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first.”

“Me either, but there’s a message here somehow. I know how that poor little bird felt. I’ve had that same feeling of entrapment three times now. I have no doubt the bird flew in or hopped through that open lid, and trapped itself. Initially, my incidents of being trapped were none of my own doing. But by reliving what happened to me, I’ve become trapped within my own wrong thinking.” Was she trapping herself now with the idea of loving Brock after knowing him such a short time?

“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting cold. Is there something warm to drink inside?”

“Any manner of things. I need to hold on to a warm mug myself.” And sort out what this new insight might mean.

Suddenly aware of the way her body tensed, it was time to take some sort of action. She wasn’t easily riled, but she recognized the signs and needed to arrest the building stress before it grabbed hold. What should she do next? Take a chance and trust Brock to get her to Denver? Trust the insurance agent and Dad to work things out? Without her own wheels here in Nebraska, how could Dad take care of getting her a car once she was back in Colorado?

No matter the steps, she needed to plan and do it herself.

~*~

“You don’t need a car yet.” Brock blew a gust of frustrated air. His leg bounced against the table leg in triple time. “You have me. I can stay a day or two and help locate a vehicle. God, your dad, and I. We all have your back.”

“Please stop bouncing. You’re spilling my hot chocolate. You don’t understand. I have to do something to resolve this myself. I’m not one to sit back and let others do things for me.”

“I don’t really get what we’re fussing about. Izzy, I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how God orchestrates these things, but I’m fairly sure what I’m feeling for you is love. I believe it can happen at first sight.”

She set down her mug and stared out the window.

Her profile took his breath away.

“This is way too fast for me. I need the time to get in touch with my feelings. Such pressure makes me feel as trapped as the bird in that feeder.” She sucked in a gulp of air, and covered her mouth. “Forget I said that. Surely, you can understand. Just think about the pressure you must have felt when you thought your dad was insisting on a Bible college for you. Instead, you ignored the fact that such study may have allowed you to follow your dream of becoming a writer.”

“This isn’t the time to go into all that. I do believe that now, thanks to you, I can use my life experience. I can apply those to research in order to be a Bible study leader, as well as a writer.” He jounced his leg, realized it bounced on its own, and tapped his thigh with the outside edge of his fist. “Why do you fight the idea of me driving you back? Think of all those hours we can talk and work out the big issues of life and our respective futures?” I pray according to Your will, Father, regarding Your future for Izzy and me, apart or together.

He drank in her beautiful features, though she wore a frown, as she sipped from her mug.

“Please let me do something on my own first. I know a friend from school whose parents live in Omaha. I don’t know if she drove home for the holidays or flew. I need my freedom, Brock. I need lots of time to discover what I’m supposed to do in each life situation. That’s how I grow.”

“God will show you the way.”

“Deep down, I know that. But I feel a time crunch. With the demand of classwork, study time, and my job, I can’t do what I really want to do right now because of time restrictions.”

He covered her hand with his and rested it on his thigh. “What do you wish you had time to do right now in your life?”

“I want to be able to show Mom and Dad how much I love them for the sacrifices they’ve made for me. My initial school loans and my vehicle, even though it’s wrecked now.”

“Admirable. God’s in the timing of our lives, even when we mess up. Your parents love you and they expect nothing from you except to be who God wants you to be as you love Him.”

Her expression asked questions without the use of words. Emotions chased one another over her features as though a director gave her cues. She still held something back. What dark shadow of her heart was she hiding from him?

Chance stormed in from outside. “You two and your dimples. Must be in another basementy talk. When’re you going to bring Oscar out again, Brock?”

“Tomorrow, if you can keep him entertained while I take your sister to a movie.”

She tickled the top of his leg where he still held their hands. “As in a date?”

“As in a movie date, Ms. Kinesiology. You pick one out.”

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough to suit him.