28

Sitting in a beach chair with her heels dug in the sand, Tara stared out at the sandbar and sea. Darryl’s rock warmed her hand, and she rubbed her thumb over it again and again. Since her suitcase had arrived on the island two days ago, she’d kept the rock with her at all times, and somehow this small, lifeless thing—no bigger than a stack of five half-dollar coins—helped her feel an ounce closer to the life she once had.

A blanket lay next to her, keeping her Bible and the study guide she’d been going through with her home group relatively sand-free. She couldn’t concentrate for even a full minute at a time. Her mind zipped and clanged like a wobbly pinball machine.

It seemed that every religious saying she’d ever heard was being said to her on Facebook: God took Sean and Darryl because He needed them. God is testing you. God caused this to happen for a reason.

What did those things even mean? That God killed her brothers? That He did this so she could become a better person? That God is so impatient, unkind, and weak that He had to take her brothers immediately?

Anger churned. But whom was she angry with? God? Or the twisted, empty sayings that tormented her? Or herself for being unable to hold on to hope and love and trust?

Most people who wrote to her on Facebook were trying to encourage her and help her. But what was said usually just confused her and added to her grief. Coworkers, church friends, her home group, Sean’s and Darryl’s schoolmates, and strangers by the thousands all had an opinion about why this happened. Their desire to comfort her was undeniable. But too many of their posts were actually hurtful. The more confusion that entered, the less she felt capable of surviving. Her anger and grief seemed to grow stronger each day. If she could stop those emotions from growing, maybe she could stop feeling as though she were free-falling into the abyss. That wouldn’t be much, but it would be a start, wouldn’t it?

“Tara?” Gavin’s calm voice was undeniable. Why did it grate on her nerves?

She turned, trying to see around the broad brim of her hat.

He stood some five feet away, a large brown bag in his hand. “Sorry. You didn’t answer the last five texts, and since I had to leave the house to look for you, Mom sent food.”

Clearly she was also capable of feeling extremely annoyed. Did he have to talk to her as if she were a child? But even in her ongoing ire and stupor, she knew he’d been kind and gracious when he didn’t have to be. He owed her nothing.

“Thanks.” She nodded and turned her focus back to the openness of the sandbars and ocean. That was about all she was good for these days—sitting and staring. The island made that easy, whether she was at the dock over the marsh or here in Gould’s Inlet or on the beach near the lighthouse. These spots were where she came to breathe, as breathing didn’t seem to come naturally anymore.

But maybe she was expecting too much. Sean and Darryl had left this life for the next one four weeks ago. Had she awakened in the hospital with this rock in her hand? Or had she dreamed all of that, including waking and asking Hadley and Elliott about the rock? If she’d asked them then, she didn’t dare ask again. Tara needed to believe that Sean and Darryl had been allowed to visit with her, that she’d actually seen them in the next life, happy and having fun.

“It’s nice here.”

She jolted at the sound of Gavin’s voice, having completely forgotten about him. He’d taken a seat on the blanket next to her beach chair, and he’d put the bag of food between them.

She swallowed the desire to ask him to leave. What difference did it make if he was here or not? Evidently she could tune him out. He picked up her Bible and gently ran his palm across the old leather cover.

The verse that stood out the most came to her again. She hadn’t memorized it verbatim, but the words she did recall came to her over and over: Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eye is wasted from grief; my soul and my body also. My life is spent with sorrow, and my years are now with heavy sighing; my strength fails, and my bones waste away.

Would God help her? Or would she waste away like the psalmist? She had loved her brothers so very much, but now her love for them had nowhere to go, no outlet. She was caught in a logjam and didn’t know how to unjam it. Maybe she needed to see someone, a professional, because it was evident that her emotions were too heavy to carry on her own.

“You doing decently okay?” Gavin set the Bible back in its place.

She bit her tongue, refusing to ask if he had a different tone he could use. “Well enough to know I owe you a lot of gratitude.”

His expression didn’t change at all as he stared toward the ocean. “You’re welcome. Anything you need, just let me know.”

He seemed to be going out of his way to be kind, or maybe this was just who he was, still…“Could you stop talking to me like this?”

His blue eyes opened wide. “What? I didn’t realize…”

“That it’s annoying?” The evening wind picked up, and she tugged her hat tighter on her head. “I know your business voice now and the beleaguered son voice you use with the Glynn Girls at times. I’d prefer something neutral. But really anything that’s not EMT-to-trapped-child voice would be appreciated.”

He stretched his arms out behind him and planted his palms on the blanket. “You should eat something.”

She wasn’t hungry, but her trembling fingers and throbbing head assured her she needed to eat. Still, she couldn’t imagine opening the bag and eating. The smell would turn her stomach.

Gavin stayed in place, looking out at the ocean. He’d done nothing but be kind since she landed in his life, and as the minutes ticked by, some hint of remorse worked its way past everything else.

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. “It’s okay, Tara. You’re way past being able to cope. And I do have a tendency to sound condescending without meaning to.”

“One might think your uninvited guest wouldn’t nitpick.”

“But one would be wrong, right?” He smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“Anyone would mind. I would if the tables were turned, so why not you?”

He shrugged. “I get it. I’m impressed you’re able to get out of bed and dress. You’re up and on that bike every morning.”

“Only because I want to get out of your mom’s house as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, somehow I resemble that statement.” His soft laughter indicated he had a sense of humor about the trials life brought.

“See”—she pointed at him—“that’s an acceptable tone. Real. Honest. Not patronizing.”

He had a room at Julep’s, but he’d been staying at Sapphira’s. Was he staying elsewhere because Tara was living at his mom’s place or because he wanted to keep thieves from stealing anything else? His mom had told her that before his dad died eighteen months ago, Gavin had lived in his own house in the next town across the causeway.

He picked a piece of beach grass off the sand and fidgeted with it. “I’ll work on the tone.”

“Thank you,” she sighed as if he were driving her nuts.

A subdued smile crossed his lips as he stared out into the vastness. They sat there in silence as dusk settled and the voices of families faded. He reached into the bag, opened a bottle of water, and passed it to her.

She took it, and once the water touched her lips, she could hardly stop drinking. “Do the people you’ve rescued who’ve lost loved ones ever recover?”

“I think so. I’m not on that end of things much, but we get letters, and sometimes people come by the station years later, bringing food and thank-you notes. It’s a long haul. I know that.”

She liked his honesty.

He tore the grass into two pieces. “Those who do best seem to be the ones who find a cause and do it in honor of the ones they’ve lost.”

“A cause?”

“Yeah, you know, a worthy thing to honor the one who died. I went to school with a girl who was a few grades ahead of me, and she died in a car wreck on her way to school during her senior year. She’d been a track runner with a college scholarship due to her skill. About six months after she passed, her parents organized an annual 5K run. People paid a fee to enter, and local businesses donated money too. Her parents created a nonprofit, and they use every penny of that money for a college scholarship program.”

Something stirred inside her, as though a tiny shaft of light had entered the endless caverns. “That’s an interesting thought.”

“But the scholarship is only a tiny piece of the difference it’s made in people’s lives. I’m one example. Everything about my life has been altered because of that one thing.”

“Yours?”

“My dad and mom and I all had—or have—addictive personalities. For Dad and Mom it was smoking. For me it was sugar. I was a normal size toddler, but by first grade I was overweight. By middle school I was obese, only a few pounds away from being morbidly obese.”

She pinched his biceps. “You’re muscle and bone.” After she’d taken the liberty, she realized it wasn’t appropriate, but he didn’t seem to think anything of it.

“Now. Not then.”

“And one girl’s death motivated you?”

“No, but it was a piece of it. Jenny had been one of the few girls in my life who was nice to me, and—”

“I doubt that’s an issue for you anymore, present company excluded.” She hadn’t known how starved she was for some type of normal conversation.

He grinned, nodding his head. “Single women being nice to me?” He chuckled. “True.”

“Looking back at the last few weeks, I’m guessing you are between girlfriends.”

“Between would be the wrong word, but, yeah, no girlfriend.” He pulled a plastic container out of the bag. “Am I telling you this story or not?”

“You are.”

He opened the container and got out a fried chicken wing. “So a year after she died, her parents had the first 5K run organized in her honor. I’d wanted to be in that race from the moment I heard about it, but I could hardly walk around a block, let alone run it.” He broke off the drumette and held it out to her. “If you want to hear more, you’ll eat.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed, but she took it and bit off a hunk. “Go on.”

A barely-there smile crossed his lips. “I’ll wait.”

She finished the drumette, and her hands trembled a little less. He offered her more, but she shook her head. He pulled out another plastic storage container from the bag, and when he opened it, she saw an array of fresh fruit.

He ate a grape. “From the moment I heard what her parents were planning, months before the 5K, I began walking a little farther every day. That first race I walked every inch of it and finished hours after everyone else. The Glynn Girls and Jenny’s mom were there clapping for me. It was embarrassing…and wonderful. Jenny’s mom was so proud of me, and she made me promise I’d do it again the next year. I took it as a challenge to be in better shape, hoping not to be last by several hours. And here I am, physically chasing off my addiction every single day of life.” He held the container toward her.

She’d eaten all she could tolerate for now, and she shooed it away with her hand.

He picked out another grape. “After I lost a decent amount of weight, I wanted to make a difference in other people’s lives, so I became a volunteer at Boys and Girls Club of America. It’s an after-school program, and typically I’m there working with kids two afternoons a week. We do a lot of physical things: running, sailing, and various sports.”

“I like running…or used to, hiking, and rock climbing. I could rattle off two dozen things of who I once was. But all I’m capable of doing now is asking God a thousand times an hour why? I’m not sure I’ll ever be me again if I can’t get an answer. Why leave me here? Why take them? Why did I let them sleep in the loft? Why didn’t I think to have that stupid tree removed? Why didn’t God cause Sean or Darryl to hear the cell phone ringing?” She broke into sobs.

Gavin passed her several paper towels from the bag, and then he rubbed her back, offering no answers to her questions. She must’ve wept hard for ten minutes before she could gain control. She wiped her face, took a deep breath, and then she drank the rest of her water.

Gavin removed his hand. “God is love, and anything we think He did outside of how love would behave, we’re mistaken. He didn’t take them, Tara.”

“The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away.”

“The context of that verse is different than that sound bite, but let’s assume it means exactly that. For every verse like that, there is another one that presents a different perspective, saying He gives and He protects. The clearest thing we know about God is Jesus, and He came to give life abundantly. He came to show us the way, and Jesus refused to rain down fire—or trees—on anyone. The other thing I know to be true is that if God considers it a sin for you to do something, there is no way to justify Him doing that same thing. Do you think the God who does all He can to get you to walk in love and forgiveness and kindness would murder your brothers?”

“Murder, no, but He had to allow it. How else could it happen?”

“That’s the tough question, isn’t it? I wish I knew what to tell you. I know our world is a fallen place.”

“You should read my Facebook feed or private messages. Clearly half of everyone who’s leaving a message has some sort of ‘this is why’ answer.”

“Too many people think they can figure out the God equation.”

“I’m in no mood to guess what that is. Care to clarify?”

“When the Word addresses a topic, it gives us partial understanding, but people’s brains are quick to kick into gear, coming up with an equation so they can solve it. They may not be able to do earthly math or science, but they’re convinced they’ve figured out all of God’s equations.”

“I’m being told a lot of things, but a clear favorite is that all things work together for good to those that love God. So what are they saying? That Sean’s and Darryl’s deaths will work out for my good more than if they’d lived? Are they confident God meant for that verse to be taken literally in every circumstance?”

“People want to be comforting, and in their minds that’s an encouraging, hopeful thought.”

“But it’s not. It’s equal to saying God did this, but—wink, wink, smile—He’s got a plan for something better that He wouldn’t have given you without this loss. What?” She thrust out her hands and screamed. “What?” She sat back. “It’s so wrong to preach that to me right now that I don’t even know where to begin.”

“If it helps, it’s not intended to increase your grief. People want to encourage, and they’re trying to sum up God and the universe in simplistic terms that are helpful.”

“And you? What do you believe?”

“I shared the most important part when I said who Jesus is, but I believe God is love and we should walk in love. Oh, and when it comes to explaining the God equation to a hurting soul, never miss a good chance to shut up.”

She laughed, and it echoed across the hot, humid inlet. “Not that you have an opinion or anything.”

He chuckled, holding his index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Uh, maybe just a little.”

She tapped the sides of the empty water bottle. They sat in silence until his phone rang. He ended the call and sent a text. She had no doubts that he was telling the Glynn Girls he’d connected with her. He just sat there with her, saying nothing else, and it seemed as if she could breathe again.

“Why would God ask me to drop my life at eighteen and pick up theirs if He knew all my years of trying to fill them with love and hope and every type of learning and healthy foods and such wasn’t going to matter anyway? Their lives ended before they really began.”

“It matters what condition a person lived and died in. Every crumb of love matters, and I’d dare say you gave a feast.”

She could recall a thousand times she needed to be more patient, more understanding, more aware that life could end, and she couldn’t will her way out of it. “I was also picky and demanding and—”

“And they died knowing you loved them, knowing you believed in them, knowing you wanted the best for them. They died with happiness, hope, and thankfulness in their hearts. Love did that, and you were love’s vessel.”

Love’s vessel.

She’d never thought of anyone like that, but she liked it. “Then they were a vessel to me too.”

“No doubt.”

“You believe in love a lot.”

“I do. It’s the most real thing we come in contact with every day. I see it all the time. If love would not do anything cruel, Tara, God would not do it. God is love. It doesn’t have to be syrupy or sentimental, but it’s kind and patient. It protects and preserves, and it doesn’t fail.”

“My love didn’t protect or preserve, and it clearly failed.”

“No. Your love protected and preserved for as long as it was in your hands to do so. I saw the clip of Darryl’s valedictorian speech, and it’s clear that your love did not fail. The moment they went from this life to the next, God’s love met them without the necessary aid of a human vessel.”

Could she at some point, maybe months from now, become a vessel of love again? The world was hurting, and it made sense why people did their best to come up with a God equation, whether it was fully right or not. But if people got the one big thing right—love—everything else was unimportant by comparison.

No wonder grief overwhelmed her. She was a shattered vessel, and her love had poured out onto the sand. But she didn’t have to stay that way forever. Love was a living, growing, renewing thing. God was a potter, and she was here on earth, able to be a vessel again…someday.