11

Izzy swallowed the lump in her throat. It was time. Almost time for Brock to bring their drinks to the table. And most important, way past time for her to divulge what pushed her through life, the past that came to mind most every day. Brock had bared his soul to her concerning angst with his father. She had something to unload she’d even kept from the therapist.

She sensed his presence and turned from the window to catch him standing still and staring. She spread her hands wide, using them to ask what.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? I’ve never had the desire to paint, but what a picture you make.”

“I’m touched you think so, but please sit. I need to tell you something.” She could almost hear him think it’s about time.

He slithered out of his coat and took her hand. “Lord, before we enjoy these delicious milky tea drinks, thank You for gracing us with the viewing of a good, clean movie. Thank You for having us meet. Thank You for knowing the paths for our lives. And now I ask that You help Izzy. I can tell by the look on her face what she wants to say won’t come easy for her. Please bless the rest of our time together this evening and all the future times we will be together. Amen.”

“You are something else. I’m always saying thanks to you. I needed that prayer.”

“I believe we need each other. Taste your chai, I asked for an extra shot of zing, and I’m guessing we won’t discuss that movie we just watched.” He sobered and released her hand. Then testing his drink, he licked off the froth from the corner of his mouth. “Take your time.”

“Bossy.” She said it with a smile and blew into the spicy froth. Two sips later, she reached for the strength of his hand where it still rested on the table top. “I have dealt with more than being locked in a shed, fighting for my virtue in the backseat of a car, and the car accident. My dearest friend died when we were seniors in high school. I’ll always believe I could have done something to prevent it. Because of what happened I’ve always wanted, always needed, to put things that touch my life into motion myself.”

He squeezed her hand. “A form of control, understandable. But much of life is out of our control.”

“I’m seeing that more and more.” She enjoyed more of her hot drink.

“Tell me what happened when you’re ready. We aren’t in a hurry.”

“I knew about the drug use. I talked her down from committing suicide twice when she wanted to end her life. I should have stepped in and gone to the high school counselor, or brought up my concern to her parents.” Izzy swiped a tear and hated wrinkling her whole face to prevent another crying jag over this subject.

Brock reached out and smoothed her brow.

She latched onto his hand, lacing her fingers between his. “She texted me for help the night she died. She was at a party and took something that scared her. It wasn’t intentional, yet I believed she’d put herself in harm’s way. I didn’t answer.”

“I’m so sorry. You loved her. I get how you felt responsible. But sweet, you weren’t responsible for her actions.”

“My head knows that, but my heart couldn’t deal with the guilt. I stayed home from school for a whole week. I selfishly took the blame. And sometime during that week, I became obsessed with becoming a success. I’ve always felt I can control my destiny. With God’s help.”

He pulled back his hand, leaned into the corner of the booth seat, and studied her. Now he wore the frown.

“You don’t have to say it.” Could they really be so in tune as to read each other’s thoughts? “I know God is in control of my destiny. But I can’t help but think I need to be doing something to bring about success, to help Him out. I ask myself, what does success mean in today’s world? Life is hard. I want security.”

“I agree; life is hard. The Bible never quotes God as saying life is easy. We’re sinners. Our attitudes can release the hard stuff if we remember our security for the long haul is all wrapped up in faith and trust that God has our backs.”

“I can’t help but picture life as a dream or fantasy. It should be easy instead of hard, but I think I’ll have an out if I fail after college, I could always start over, somehow with magical wealth in an exotic locale.” She attempted a smile that fell flat.

“Sounds like you’ve had too much time to think during this break from school.” He showed his dimple and his eyes crinkled. “Unless you’ve been thinking about me and all those hours we’ll have traveling west…”

Izzy smiled into the dregs of her cup, swirling dots of cinnamon. Maybe it was nutmeg. No matter. “I believe you’d be a really good Bible counselor. I’ve realized tonight, saying these things out loud, that I’ve kept myself busy living moment-to-moment as a diversion to prevent facing a future where I could miss someone else’s cry for help, and ultimately let them down. Another friend could die.”

“Only God knows about the counseling thing in my future. And He alone knows the people who will come into your life in the future. But you’ve drawn deep basementy, as Chance would say, buried stuff out of my past to make me a better person. We’re good for each other, Iz.”

“It’s not easy for me to accept help. I’ve always believed that I can do it, whatever that may be. I still hope I can accomplish what I need to, with God’s help.”

“Have you tried asking Him first before you attempt things on your own?”

“I’m learning.” She broke their hand-hold, left her seat to slide in next to him. For the first time tonight, she gave him a quick kiss, keeping eye contact. “All right. I give. My friend from school flew to Omaha over break. I finally prayed as the last resort. No answer came. That said, I’m sure I’m meant to accept a ride from you. We’ll leave early New Year’s Day.”

“We have a couple days. Let’s go rescue Chance from Oscar and make plans for New Year’s Eve, unless you have another hot date.”

~*~

Brock opened his truck door and held her elbow while Izzy climbed up, thankful she was his hot date. He liked her shapely legs, even if they were covered in black tights or whatever they were called. “I hope you don’t think it’s dorky going to a movie on New Year’s Eve. We’ve been with family. We don’t go out and party, so our choice comes down to a movie. You look as beautiful as Christmas, by the way.”

“Thanks. Hope you don’t mind me wearing the same dress as on Christmas Eve, but it’s the only dress I packed.”

He climbed in his side and put the truck in gear.

“Thanks for the heat. I’m always saying thanks. It’s so cold I’m glad you left it running.”

“Welcome. As for your dress, I love you in red. I haven’t met a guy yet whose motor didn’t rev over a beautiful woman in red.”

“Any more talk like that and I’ll wonder how safe I am with you.”

“You better know by now how safe your virtue is with me.”

“I do know. As Dad reminded me, if any one of my family members didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be riding back to Colorado with you tomorrow.”

“Seems to me you’ve had wise guidance from your parents.”

“Oh yes. Mom reminded me of Romans 5:3-4, how I am to rejoice in my sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. Even if most of my suffering has been within and fighting any prospect of feeling trapped by circumstance. I can’t call being without a car to drive suffering, but inconvenient.”

He grunted. He searched his thoughts first before he responded. He needed to look up Revelation 14 for the exact place that said patient endurance counted in the end. If he was to write wise words to help others see God’s intent, he needed to start carrying around a notepad or use some kind of easy technology to keep notes. Technology. He laughed.

“What?”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate computers? I’ll have to get over that if I start writing out Sunday school studies and eventually books. But you know, there’s only one Book that really matters. I love the idea that the Bible is considered the Living Word because different passages take on a different personal meaning according to whatever we’re dealing with at the time.”

They talked about biblical gems all the way to downtown Lincoln. They watched people on the sidewalks hurry due to the cold.

Did Izzy wonder, like him, how many knew Jesus? He turned off the street and stopped for a ticket in the parking garage. In silence, he watched the arm raise and drove up two ramps to an empty stall. He decided not to wait until after the movie. “Would you mind opening the glove box?”

“Sure.”

“I know this is New Year’s Eve instead of Christmas Eve”—he accepted the box—“but this is a little something I got for you. I knew it was meant for you the second I saw it.”

“Brock, you have done so much for me. I don’t need anything else.”

“Whether you need it or not, I want to give you a gift to help you remember this Christmas vacation.” He ran a thumb over the black velvet bow on the small box in the palm of his hand. Maybe someday he’d confess it came from a grocery store sale.

Her attention remained fixed on his face. Wasn’t she curious?

“As for rescuing people. I no longer think of myself as saving you on a white-out night. I give you credit for saving me from a life of resentment toward Dad. I was hurting myself rather than him by those feelings. He may not know how I looked at myself, or the way I imagined he saw me. Maybe it was all my imagination that he was disappointed in me. Wow, did that sound convoluted. I think you know what I mean, sweet touchy-feeling lady.”

“It doesn’t matter. As long as you believe your dream is God’s wish for your life.”

“Do you hear what you’re saying? It sounds to me as if God is changing the way we both think. We aren’t quite ready to spend each day together, but from a distance I wish for us to enjoy life together.” He laughed and kissed her. “Open this, please. It reminded me of the snowflakes you all made for me.”

She ran a finger over the bow much as he had, and lifted the lid. She made a kittenish sound in the back of her throat that hit him in the chest.

Her reaction tickled him so much he gave her a squeeze. “You’re welcome and all that. It’s for you to remember me by, and everything we’ve gone through over the past few days during your Christmas break.”

~*~

Izzy held the ornament in her palm, a fragile snowflake within a clear glass heart. A perfect fit. She closed her eyes and memorized the shape, all the while feeling his attention on her face as if his lips touched her. She raised her gaze to his, and didn’t care that her eyes filled with tears. “Even though it looks as if the snowflake is trapped within this heart, I vow to never feel trapped again!”

“I want this ornament to be a promise that if at all possible, I will spend the rest of my Christmases with you.”

“That perseverance we talked about earlier. First Corinthians 13 tells us love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

“Good reference. You, my Izrael, carry my love. And my heart, though it still feels bruised because you put up such a fight over letting me drive you back to Colorado.”

“Oh, Brock. You have my heart too. You’ve helped me find freedom in your love and in the love from our heavenly Father. I am going on that long ride with you because the Lord has convinced me I need you to complete something that is missing in me. No more talk about it. Dad will bring me to your place in the morning to save you some miles.”

“I would have gladly gone to your parents’ home to pick you up, even if it is east before we go west. I need to thank your dad. I don’t know what it is about my make-up, but I need to feel necessary to you. Come here, I need you in my arms.”

Don’t think. Feel.

Izzy heeded the inner Voice and succumbed to Brock’s embrace.

There was no reason to feel trapped by his love and eagerness to help her, without restricting her independence. Though she knew herself well enough that she’d still feel pressured at times, Brock had helped her see who she was meant to be in God’s eyes.

God’s eyes. She couldn’t do anything in life without a struggle until she succumbed to God’s control. And that meant freedom. She thought having her own vehicle gave her freedom—the opposite of feeling trapped. But she’d been wrong.

“We’re going to freeze out here, even if we’re snuggling. I know we’ll talk about a lot of things in the future, but something else has come to me tonight. Life isn’t based on performance, good personality, or a pretty smile. But on God’s design. Look at the way He designs a snowflake. And I thank you so much for this man-made one. I cherish it. I want to leave it with you so you can pack it away with your tree ornaments. We’ll unpack it together next year.”

“Now that’s a plan I approve of.”

Their lips met.

She swam with the fuzzy whoosh of his igniting kiss. Then she swayed. Fuzzy whoosh, all right.

He pulled back. “Fuzzy whoosh what?”

She’d said it out loud? “Fuzzy whoosh is what you do to my head.”

“So is that a bad thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s a very good thing.”

He chortle-snorted that warm sound she loved.

“Staying in touch with me feels like the right thing to do.”

“So if I asked you to promise yourself to me for the foreseeable future, and beyond, would that feel like the right way to stay in touch?”

“Yes, Brock. I say yes!”

“And I say done and doner.” He didn’t have to capture her lips.

She surrendered without a second thought.

“I was afraid you’d object. Maybe not an outright no, but I did expect a maybe. Or that you’d have to think about it. Or…”

“You need to have more faith in yourself.”

“I don’t need faith in myself. All I need is faith in God. And I thank Him for you, Izzy. You’ve helped me see how God sees me. I don’t have to continually work out my salvation by doing good works with my old attitude. If God called me to study the Bible and minister through writing, then I’ll do it. The way I see it, God gave me that desire, so God will give me the ability to finish the task.”

“I follow your drift and I feel what you’re saying, my Brock. God sees us as important or He wouldn’t have chosen us to be born or had us meet one another. Now what I want to feel, mister, is another kiss.”

“If we keep up this kissing thing, we’ll miss the beginning of the movie. Or an officer will knock on the window. I want to say I’ll go anywhere your future may take you. That is, if you want me to follow along. Because a writer can write from anywhere.”

“You could follow me to the ends of the earth, to the moon and beyond, but I’d prefer we go side by side.”

“Let’s go then, my Izzy. Take me to the moon with your sweet fuzzy whoosh lips. We can always go to a movie.”