7

 

When Nila walked into her landlords’ kitchen, Lydia was pulling a pot roast out of the oven.

“You made it. Good timing, sweetie. You go ahead and clean up. The table’s all set.”

Nila’s stomach rumbled. “That smells delicious. But you’re right, I’m pretty grubby.” She headed toward the basement door.

“By the way, that parcel I told you about is on your bed. It was on our porch when we got home.” Lydia’s eyes asked questions she wouldn’t voice. “I hope it’s something nice.”

Nila bit her lower lip. “Thanks. I think I’ll wait until after supper to open it.”

On her bed, just as Lydia said, was a package the size of a man’s shoebox wrapped in shiny red paper. Her name was written in black block letters, and there was no return address. She reached for it, but before she could touch it, an electric current raced up her arm. She snatched her hand back, half-expecting a welt to appear. She stared at the parcel for a moment and then deliberately turned and walked out of the room.

In the bathroom, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. That was too weird. What was going on? The pale face in the mirror stared back with wide eyes. She didn’t answer, and neither did God.

 

****

 

During supper Dave asked about her day.

The fork in Nila’s hand stalled in midair. She didn’t even notice the mashed potatoes slide off. For a moment, all she could see was the parcel waiting for her downstairs. She shook her head and concentrated on her workday. “It was fine, I guess.” She breathed a silent plea, and the dark cloud lifted a bit. “The kitchen in Warman is ready for the cabinet install tomorrow, and if everything goes as planned, we should finish ahead of schedule.”

“That’s great,” Dave said. “Some rest and relaxation would be good for you.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she grabbed the next thought that came to mind. “I’m glad Will asked me to help move Daniel’s project over to Melody’s. Have you seen what he made for her?”

Dave and Lydia both shook their heads and smiled at her enthusiasm.

“He built a bed of oak and stained it to match her dressers. It’s incredible. You should see what he did on the headboard.”

Dave raised his bushy eyebrows and remained silent, but Lydia’s wide eyes matched Nila’s in excitement. “Tell us.”

“Well, you know that Rose of Sharon is Melody’s favorite quilt design, right?”

Lydia nodded.

“Daniel used several wood veneers to create a Rose of Sharon design in the center of the headboard. All those curved lines—it’s absolutely stunning.”

“Oh my, she’s going to love that.” Lydia’s hand went to her heart. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve heard in a very long time. I can’t wait to see it.”

Dave waggled his eyebrows at his wife. “Just don’t expect anything like that from me, OK?”

“I’m perfectly content with the skills you possess, my dear.” Lydia reached over and patted his broad hand. “Remember what this kitchen used to look like?”

Nila had seen photos. Their remodel was impressive, and they had done much of the work themselves.

Dave chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. “I didn’t do the finish carpentry, but I admit I’m pretty handy with a sledgehammer.”

He caught Nila’s eye. “You’ve had a long work day, and I know you have a mysterious parcel waiting downstairs for you.”

She swallowed hard as her pleasure vanished. “Yes, I thought I’d read for a while and then go to bed. Is that all right?”

“Of course.” Her pastor tilted his head, one bushy eyebrow lifted. “I thought we’d gotten past asking permission for such things. You’re welcome to join us for evening devotions, but it’s not something we require. It’s completely up to you, always. You know that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.” She looked down. “I’m not used to your kind of freedom, though. I guess I keep expecting to cross a line somewhere, and you’ll get tired of my mistakes. And me.”

Lydia scooted her chair closer and covered Nila’s hand with her own. She waited until Nila met her eyes before speaking. “That may have happened in your past, Nila, but that’s not our way or God’s way. You are free. Jesus saved you for a life of freedom in him. Especially freedom from fear.”

Nila bit her lip. But they didn’t know…

 

****

 

Nila slid out of her chair and escaped down the stairs. When she entered her bedroom, the red parcel seemed to glow, pulling her toward it.

She sat on the bed and tentatively touched the box. No spark. No jolt up her arm. It was just a box. Someone thought of her and gave her a gift. Why was she such a chicken?

She picked it up and shook it. Something rattled inside. She tore the paper off and lifted the lid. Her throat tightened until she couldn’t breathe.

Nestled in white tissue paper lay a doll with braided brown hair. Slashes of red marker marred the doll’s mouth. A note in the same thick, red font was pinned to her dress.

CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET? YOUR FRIENDS ALL HOPE YOU CAN.

Nila covered a gasp with one trembling hand while the other pulled the doll out of the box. As she did, she saw something half-hidden in the tissue. She dropped the doll beside her and dug into the box. Heart pounding, she pulled out several photographs. All her closest friends: Melody and Daniel, Will, Dave and Lydia, Jason and Faith. Each was dressed in wedding finery, and each one had ragged X’s cut into their chests.

What secret? That he was out of prison? But why?

“God, where are You?”

Nila clamped down on her lower lip until she tasted blood. Gasping, she threw everything back into the box and replaced the lid. Frantic, she searched for a hiding place.

She slid off her bed onto the floor and shoved the shoebox under the bed. Just as quickly, she pulled it back out. No, not under the bed. She’d never be able to sleep. But she couldn’t let anyone see this—unless the unthinkable happened. She shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought.

The images were seared into her memory, and she felt as if the jagged cuts through the photos had sliced her own chest.

Her desperate gaze landed on her closet. Pushing herself onto shaky legs, she pulled her desk chair over to the closet and shoved the offending package into the corner of the top shelf.

She sank into the chair. That should work. Hidden, but not too hard to find if anything happened. If Nick fulfilled his threats. Because the “gift” was from him. She knew that without a doubt.

Boxes stacked on the closet floor caught her eye. When she’d left Nick she’d taken nothing but her clothes and personal items, so for the last year she’d spent part of each paycheck on things for her own home. The place she’d be safe and independent. She sighed as her shoulders drooped. Once again, he’d wrecked her dreams.

She shivered as panic threatened. She’d thought she was safe, but Nick had found her. Would she ever be free?

Nila waited until her breathing evened out before she picked up her Bible. “Dear God,” she whispered, “I know it’s been a while since I read Your word. But please give me something tonight, something to show me that You’re still with me.” She stroked the leather cover, remembering her joy when Dave and Lydia gave it to her.

“You will have questions,” they’d promised, “but we’ll do our best to help you understand.”

But she hadn’t asked, too embarrassed by her ignorance. So she’d read the gospels over and over, and sometimes she’d read the Psalms. She opened to that book now.

Her attention landed on Psalm 10, and with one hand covering her heart, she read aloud.

“Why, O Lord, do You stand far off? Why do You hide yourself in times of trouble?

In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises.”

That was Nick! Why was he in the Bible? And why was God hiding himself?

She skimmed the chapter, and her fists clenched as she read:

“His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength.

He says to himself, ‘God has forgotten; He covers His face and never sees.’”

Nila slammed the Bible shut and tossed it onto her desk. It landed open, pages crumpled, but she left it there. She curled up with her head against her knees.

Was this some kind of cruel joke? Did Jesus save her just to throw her away again? Everyone who cared for her was in danger. Why would God let this happen?

Even through her whimpers, she heard a quiet whisper in her heart. Read the rest of the psalm.

But she couldn’t.

Nila turned off the light and lay on top of her covers, fully clothed.

What should she do? If she didn’t tell anyone Nick was out of prison, would he leave them alone? Or would he still go after them? What kind of cruel game was he playing?

She didn’t hear a response, and a cold numbness settled into her heart. She curled into a fetal position and watched the glowing numbers on her alarm clock count the minutes until morning.

 

****

 

Will watched as Nila maneuvered her way to his truck. The steps looked as though someone had already shoveled them, but drifting snow made a mockery of those efforts.

She slipped as she opened the truck door.

“Careful.” Will stuck his hand out for her to grab, but she ignored it, head down and silent.

He tried again. “Good morning.”

No response. She hoisted herself into the truck, placed her lunch kit and thermos on the floor at her feet, and fastened her seatbelt.

What was her problem? He shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Could be a long day.

By the time they’d reached the turnoff to the highway to Warman, blowing snow obscured the roadway. Will eased off the accelerator and muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” Finally, Nila spoke into the darkness, but her voice sounded flat.

Will risked a glance at her. The dimness didn’t hide the dark shadows under her eyes and pale skin.

“Just that this isn’t looking good. I hope they don’t close the highway before we can get home again. Did you hear the forecast?”

“Sorry.”

“Me neither. Hey, are you OK?”

She just nodded, her gloved hand covering a huge yawn. “Sorry,” she said again.

“Well, if you’re too worn out to help install the cabinets, maybe you could start cleanup.”

He could feel her sudden tension.

“I’m fine. I’m a little tired, but I can do my job.”

Will held one hand up in surrender. “OK, OK. I’m just trying to be nice.”

The bundled-up figure beside him deflated. “I didn’t need to snap at you. I’m sorry. I’m not good company this morning. It was a rough night.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that.

His brow creased as he concentrated on the swirling snow in his headlights. “Man, I can’t wait for spring.”

Nila responded with a faint chuckle. “It’s not even Christmas. I’m afraid you’ve got a long wait.”

Will turned his head to smile at her when a strong gust of wind pushed the half-ton onto the shoulder of the road. He stomped on the brakes, fishtailed, and fought to regain control. His tires skidded on the ice.

“Hang on!”