Chapter Twenty-Six

Zoë-Grace was exhausted. She drew in a deep, steadying breath before climbing down the steps to exit the bus that had taken her and several other conference attendees from the airport to their hotel. She had been awake since 2:30 that morning and it was now almost 8:00 p.m. Jamaica time. She had no idea what the local time was, although the sun had already set here. She knew she had changed at least one time zone, but she just wasn’t sure. Another thing she wasn’t sure about was whether she was having a headache in her eye or an eye ache in her head. Either way, she desperately needed to lie down.

Her flight had been scheduled to leave the airport in Kingston at 6:30 that morning, but she needed to arrive at the airport a full three hours early. The plane had left on schedule, but several flights arrived at Miami International at the same time, causing a huge bottleneck in Customs and Immigration. She stood in line for hours, sure she would miss her connecting flight. After running to the gate, she discovered that the flight to San José would leave two hours later than its slated 12:30 departure time.

She was amazed at how many people she saw in the airport in Miami. It seemed that now that travel restrictions were finally being lifted in a post-pandemic world, everyone wanted to travel, and everyone connected through MIA.

She had hoped she would have been able to sleep on the three-hour flight, but it was just her luck that she ended up beside a middle-aged woman who wanted to talk. Now that she was finally at the Hotel Floribundísima in Santo Domingo de Heredia, she just wanted to check in, take a quick shower, and fall into a comfortable bed.

The other Actuaries of the Americas Conference attendees on the bus had quickly befriended one another, but she had been too tired to engage in introductions. There would be time over the next few days for her to meet and greet everyone. Right now, she just wanted to get her luggage.

A team of bellhops was busy offloading the bags. She waited patiently for her two small suitcases and once she had identified them, she didn’t want to wait for anyone to carry them in. She had done enough waiting for one day. She pulled up the handle on one and was about to do the same with the other when a muscled forearm entered her line of sight from an angle slightly behind her and grasped the handle.

The voice was too familiar and too close for comfort. She could feel the man’s warm breath tickling her ear as he leaned in to extend the handle, the sensation sending shivers all the way down her spine. She instinctively took a step to the other side and found herself falling as she bumped into her other suitcase. The man grabbed her by the waist, preventing her from losing her balance completely, and she found herself thrown off-kilter both physically and emotionally as she twisted to look into the amused face of the man she had never managed to forget.

For a moment, Zoë-Grace forgot how to breathe. She felt light-headed and it seemed like all the sounds around her were muffled. What was happening to her? Was she going to faint? She forced herself to inhale and exhale as she tried to compose herself.

If this were a movie, this would be the point at which the long-separated couple would stare into each other’s eyes. The background would fade to a blur and a full orchestra would begin playing. The hero would tighten his grip on the heroine’s waist and hesitate for only a second before bringing his lips to hers at the moment the music hit a crescendo.

But this was not a movie; it was real life and the noise in the background was not instrumental music but the hum of everyone else trying to figure out where they needed to go in order to check in and collect their conference registration packages.

Zoë-Grace’s eyes sought out Isaiah’s and she was sure her heart came to a complete halt when she saw the longing in his stare. She hoped she was doing a better job of masking her shock than he was doing hiding his desire. Or maybe the look he was giving her was a calculated one born of a pre-existing awareness that they would meet in this way, on this day. Although he was the last person she expected to bump into here in Central America, Isaiah didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. She struggled to corral her thoughts as they scattered in one thousand directions, something they’d been doing since the moment she and Isaiah had made eye contact.

She had seen those eyes in her dreams. Had alternated between wanting to lose herself in them and never wanting to see them again. She didn’t know how to feel, much less what to say, so she reached deep and came up with what had once been her go-to defense mechanism when she felt out of her depth: sarcasm.

She righted herself and took a step back, carefully avoiding her suitcases and all the others. The last thing she wanted to do was fall, especially not here, and definitely not now.

“Isaiah.” She was proud of how completely unfazed she sounded. “What a coincidence running into you here. In a village. In the hills. In Costa Rica.” She deliberately added a dramatic silence after each phrase to give herself time to choose her next words carefully as she channeled her nervous energy into gripping the handle of the suitcase that now stood between them.

“Oh?” Her hands were beginning to feel numb as a result of the death grip she had on the luggage.

“Allow me to help you get checked in.” He moved his arm in an arc, indicating the wide front doors of the hotel lobby. Two check-in lines were already forming, and Zoë-Grace frowned. She really needed to lie down. She’d had the longest day ever, was battling a pounding headache, and now this. Isaiah. Here. After more than two years of radio silence... which she had to admit to herself was exactly what she’d asked for, what she’d... wanted? She wouldn’t go that far.

He led her past a large selection of potted orchids that framed the entrance to the hotel and towards a love seat on the far side of the lobby, away from the front desk.

“Passport?” He held out an open hand. She found it in her bag and handed it to him without question or argument. He offered a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Sinking into the plush seating, she followed him with her eyes as he knocked briefly before heading into an office with “Gerente General” marked on the door. She wasn’t quite sure if she was happy to see him or not, but she could admit to herself that she was happy to look at him. He looked fantastic. How could he appear more confident yet more humble at the same time? That didn’t make sense, did it? Either way, it seemed the last two and a half years had been good to him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would say the same about her.

Moments later, he emerged from the office with a paper folder and a tote bag and returned to stand beside her. She didn’t bother to ask if he worked there. That much was obvious.

“When I heard from our contact at the airport that all the guests expected today had arrived as scheduled, I took the liberty of checking you in.” He handed her the folder and she struggled to her feet, pointedly ignoring the hand he held out to her. She was still annoyed that he’d been expecting her, while she’d been caught so off-guard.

She opened the white folder with the conference logo printed on one side and the hotel’s logo embossed on the other and retrieved her key card, ignoring everything else for the moment. Her mind screamed that she should argue about this, but she simply didn’t have the energy. She didn’t like the fact that she’d essentially been bumped to the head of the line because someone on staff knew her, but she hated the thought of waiting for another half an hour even more.

She shrugged in surrender, her voice sharp as she said, “It’s not like I know what room I’m in.”

Isaiah retrieved her luggage and led her away from the lobby. She would be happy to be out of the din that was making her headache worse but took a moment to observe her surroundings. Straight ahead, through floor-to-ceiling glass walls and wide-open doors, she could see a lush garden characterized by large shade trees with string lights dripping from their branches, subtly highlighting countless flowering plants. There was a hallway to the right, but Isaiah led her down the one on the left. After passing several rooms on either side, Isaiah stopped in front of number 112. He extended his palm for the key, and she handed it over, exercising great care not to touch his hand.

She stepped into the large room, barely noticing the wall of glass windows and sliding glass door beyond the bed. A large ceiling fan was already spinning above the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. If she remembered correctly, there was no need for air conditioning units at this altitude. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. It really was quite cool. The bed looked inviting, and she wanted nothing more than to slip between the stark white sheets and rest her head on the fluffy pillows.

Isaiah placed her two suitcases on the wooden luggage rack just inside the door before returning to stand in the doorway.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. She needed to get a handle on her thoughts before attempting to ask him what was going on, and with the way her head felt, she would need some sleep before she could do that. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was being so cool with Isaiah. She had been the one to put their relationship on pause, not him, so she really didn’t have a reason to be so snippy. Her main issue was that she was completely blindsided by his presence.

“You probably want to take a shower and get some rest, but I could have them bring you some soup or some tea and toast.”

Her first instinct was to decline, but she knew she needed to eat so she could take the ibuprofen she always had with her. She managed a weak smile and said, “Some soup would be great, thanks.”

He raised his eyebrows as if surprised she had accepted, but offered a slight smile. “OK. Do you need half an hour?”

“OK.” He turned to leave and then stopped as if he had just remembered something. “If you don’t mind, Zoë-Grace, I’d like for us to talk while you’re here.”

As she opened her mouth to respond, he continued, which was good. She had no idea what she would have said.

“Not tonight, obviously, and I know you’re pretty much booked solid for the next five days with the conference, but maybe we could meet for breakfast in the morning?”

He relaxed a little. “Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby? Around seven-thirty?”

“Better make it eight-thirty.” Conference pre-registration activities began at ten, which would be a convenient excuse if she needed to get away. Hopefully by then, she would know how she felt about seeing Isaiah again.

He gave a single nod before turning and leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

She texted her mother, Maxwell, and the board of the actuarial association to let them know she had arrived safely before closing the blinds and what she hoped were blackout curtains. As she stood in a hot shower, she still couldn’t decide if she was excited or appalled at what was happening. She would, of course, have to choose one emotion over the other. And she would. Tomorrow.

The next morning, it took Zoë-Grace a moment to remember where she was and the astounding circumstances of the evening before. Isaiah was here. Here.

She stretched lazily and tried to decide whether she needed to get up or try to get another hour of sleep. The digital clock on the nightstand told her it was 5:30, which meant it was 6:30 in Kingston. She’d already have been up for an hour. She snuggled against the pillows and pulled the covers up to her neck as she reflected on the previous night.

A few minutes after she’d showered and dressed, a server had brought the soup. When she tried to tip him, he declined. “El capitán already took care of it,” he explained in accented English.

She was tempted to ask exactly what role el capitán played at the hotel. Hadn’t he gone into the office of the gerente general—general manager? The tantalizing aroma of the black bean soup had prevented her from asking, though, and she had told the server good night.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that first taste. She consumed every spoonful and was grateful that there were rolls on the side. A can of ginger ale from the minibar completed her meal.

It started to rain before she finished eating and the soothing sound of the light thunder and heavy downpour soon sent her off to a deep sleep. There was nothing like what Jamaicans called ‘night rain’ to help her rest, and rest she had! It had been a long time since she’d slept for more than nine hours!

Zoë-Grace brewed some strong coffee at the minibar. Still wearing her pajamas, she headed out onto the small private patio with her coffee, her Bible, and her journal, determined not to allow thoughts of Isaiah to overtake her mind... at least not yet. For the last two years or so, she had been seeking God first every day, and that meant praying and doing her Bible study before allowing anything else to intrude on her time. As a result, she felt closer to God and was more tuned in to His Spirit than ever before. Sometimes He spoke directly into her spirit and sometimes He used Scripture. She had learned more about the nature of God in those early-morning devotions than she ever had sitting in a pew. It was why she now habitually woke up at 5:30, which gave her a full hour and a half before she needed to start getting ready for work.

She made sure the patio chair was dry before settling in to talk to God. There was so much she had to say to Him, and somewhere along the way, she had also learned to listen to Him. She thanked Him for journeying mercies and her other blessings before going through the mental checklist of people for whom she had promised to pray. At home, she had a bulletin board on which she placed sticky notes reminding her who and what to pray for or about. She’d become something of an intercessor over the last two years, with friends referring to her as a prayer warrior who knew how to bombard Heaven on their behalf. Among the people she habitually mentioned were the Fairweathers and Aunt Ruby, with whom she had maintained a warm relationship. She hadn’t made a habit of praying for Isaiah; it hurt to think of him, so she’d decided it was best to leave him in God’s hands a few months after their last conversation.

This morning, having prayed for those on her prayer list, she finally allowed herself to think about Isaiah and how their relationship—such as it had been—had ended. She still remembered parts of the prayer she had said on her way to meet him at the beach on the morning of Joanna’s surgery. Hadn’t she asked God to remove Isaiah from her life or her from his if he was the wrong man or if it was the wrong time? Hadn’t she asked Him to open doors that needed to be opened and close doors that needed to be closed in order for her to walk in His perfect will for her life? When the government had closed the borders before Isaiah’s scheduled return date, she had accepted that God had indeed closed the doors on their relationship, but it hadn’t been easy to put Isaiah out of her heart or her mind.

For months, she found herself reaching for her phone to tell him of the latest developments concerning the community center, about the improvement in her relationship with Joanna, about moving back to Kingston and getting a new job with her old insurance company. But she had asked him not to reach out to her, and she had told him she wouldn’t reach out to him until it felt safe for her to do so. It had never felt safe. And when it was clear that he wasn’t going to contact her, she’d prayed for God to protect him and to give him a hunger and thirst after righteousness, and that His perfect will would be done in Isaiah’s life. And then she had taught her mind to switch to other thoughts whenever it strayed in his direction.

It wasn’t too difficult. She had so much going on at the time, and she was spending so much of her time doing other things, that she had never truly worked through her feelings for Isaiah. She hadn’t taken the time to get over him. And now he was here. Here.

“Lord, I know Isaiah being here doesn’t surprise You, but I never saw this coming. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do or say. Is this some kind of test of my commitment to follow You no matter what?”

She was silent for a while, sipping her coffee and waiting for a response. When she got to the bottom of the mug, she sighed and opened her Bible to one of the bookmarks Aunt Ruby had left for her, which Mr. Fairweather had been kind enough to bring to a board meeting at the community center. She had read through the Bible more than once, but having recently bought a chronological version, she was learning even more from seeing things unfold in the order in which they had actually happened. It never ceased to amaze her that she could read the same Scripture ten times in ten different seasons of her life and have it minister to her in ten different ways. God’s Word really was living and active, as she’d been hearing all her life.

“Lord, since You haven’t downloaded Your direction into my spirit this morning, please speak to me through Your Word as You’ve done so many times in the past.”

Today’s reading, which followed the schedule laid out in her new Bible, started with 1 Kings 17:

Now Elijah, who was from Tishbe in Gilead, told King Ahab, “As surely as the Lord, the God of Israel, lives—the God I serve—there will be no dew or rain during the next few years until I give the word!”

Then the Lord said to Elijah, “Go to the east and hide by Kerith Brook, near where it enters the Jordan River. Drink from the brook and eat what the ravens bring you, for I have commanded them to bring you food.”

So Elijah did as the Lord told him and camped beside Kerith Brook, east of the Jordan. The ravens brought him bread and meat each morning and evening, and he drank from the brook. But after a while the brook dried up, for there was no rainfall anywhere in the land.

She continued reading, learning about Elijah’s time with the widow of Zarephath and her son, as well as his contest with Baal’s prophets on Mount Carmel, until she noticed that she’d spent over an hour on her Bible study. She wanted to visit the hotel’s lap pool before breakfast, and it was already almost 7:00. No answers had immediately jumped out of her reading that day, so she whispered one last prayer for wisdom before getting ready to visit the pool. After returning to Kingston, she’d signed up for one-on-one swimming lessons and had finally conquered her fear of the water. Now, she enjoyed going swimming at the YMCA at least once every few weeks.

She dressed in a conservative one-piece navy swimsuit and covered it with a light gray track suit. Slipping her feet into a pair of comfortable leather slides, she stuffed a couple of large towels into her tote and pocketed her key card.

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh. She was glad she had worn a thick top. She knew she would need to walk through the garden to get to the indoor pool, so she headed that way, slipping her earphones in and selecting a worship playlist on her phone to listen as she walked. She was impressed by the wide array of flowers she could see in the early light. She could name bougainvillea, orchids, birds of paradise, and allamanda, but there were scores of varieties she couldn’t identify. She marveled at the birds flitting from one flower to another. It appeared God had chosen this garden to display the wonders of His creation.

As her eyes bounced from one breathtaking sight to another, she found herself almost on the verge of tears. How could a God who had taken the time to design each one of these flowers, each feather on these birds, still find time to commune with her? She’d made so many mistakes, fallen away from His perfect path so many times, but He had never let go of her. She could never express her gratitude to Him for His grace and mercy. And she also knew that His hand of favor was with her. Why else would she have been named to the executive committee of the Association of Actuaries in Jamaica only two years after re-entering the profession? Why else would the board have chosen her to represent them at this conference of actuaries from all over the Americas?

She found a concrete bench and placed one of her towels on the damp seat so she could sit for a few minutes. Relaxing against the towel, Israel and New Breed’s song “To Worship You I Live” penetrated her consciousness. She wished she had taken her Bible with her. This would be a good spot to have her devotion in the mornings. She quietly sang along. More than once, she found herself wiping away tears as she continued to commune with her Heavenly Father. When the song “You are Alpha and Omega” began to play, she had to fight the urge to get on her face in the garden, prostrating herself in the presence of God and worshipping Him in the beauty of holiness.

She had sensed His presence countless times over the past two years, but never had she felt this close to Him. As she poured out her love for Him in silent prayer, a strange tingling began at the top of her head and made its way down her entire body. It was as if she were experiencing a low-voltage electric shock. Waves of electricity moved through her entire body, and she was soon covered in goose pimples. She felt like the Holy Spirit was giving her a warm, extended hug. Sitting upright on the bench, her spirit seemed to be ascending to a place of worship outside of her very body. Time stood still.

When she finally began to register her surroundings, her face was awash with tears. She had no idea if she had been praying and worshipping for five minutes or five hours. Reluctant to leave the worshipful state in which she had found herself, she sat there for a few more minutes and waited to see what would happen. When nothing did, she reached for her phone and checked the time. There was still enough time for a quick dip in the pool, so she gathered up the towel and followed the wooden signs to the enclosure.

Although their breakfast meeting wasn’t until 8:30, Isaiah was ready by 7:00. He had barely slept a wink the night before. Almost every night for more than two years, he had gone to bed fully aware that there was little he could do to bridge the physical divide between him and Zoë-Grace. Now she was not only in the same country, but on the same premises. How could he sleep? The rainstorm that came that night had kept his company as he’d paced his room and waited for the sun to rise.

The staff housing was located on the far side of the property. To get to the guest accommodation and central facilities, Isaiah had to walk through the gardens, past the outdoor pool, and past the enclosure that housed the indoor pool some guests preferred. He was just approaching the enclosure when he noticed Zoë-Grace entering the building. Zoë-Grace? At a pool? he asked himself.

He made his way toward the door and ducked inside. Curious, but not wanting to disturb her, he stood beside the latticework wall covered in green vines so he could observe the woman who had never been very far from his mind since they had become friends.

Her back to him, Zoë-Grace removed a pair of wireless earbuds from her ears and placed them into a small case she dropped into her tote. Isaiah tried not to ogle her as she pulled off her track top and stepped out of her pants. Reaching toward the ceiling of the conservatory-style building, she stretched first one side of her neck and then the other before approaching the deep end and diving smoothly into the water. Isaiah couldn’t help but grin. Not only had Zoë-Grace apparently gotten over her fear of drowning, but she’d become quite an accomplished swimmer since he’d last seen her.

As she completed several laps, he stood there mesmerized, his heart brimming with pride and another emotion he wasn’t afraid to name anymore. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they had seen each other in Jamaica. Looking back, he was a little ashamed of his behavior that day. Of how, if he had succeeded in wooing her, he’d have caused her to turn her back on the principles that guided her life—principles by which he now lived, as well. He needed to talk to her, to explain how her words that day had ended up changing his life. Leaving the enclosure as quietly as he had entered it, he headed toward the labyrinth in the gardens to pass some time. He’d waited more than two years to see her again; he could wait until 8:30.

When Zoë-Grace got to the open-air restaurant a few minutes late, Isaiah greeted her and led her to the buffet, where he guided her as she chose a mix of local fruit and familiar favorites. She’d decided to try to be warmer today than she’d been the day before. Now that she had taken some time to pray and settle her thoughts, she could admit that she was happy to see him. She still wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen between them—there was still too much she didn’t know—but they had been friends before developing feelings for each other, and surely, they could be friends again. And a friend would want to know what had been happening in a friend’s life in the years and months since their last meeting.

After loading their plates, they sat at a square table under a trellis that was covered with a green vine that filtered the sunlight. There were several of them on the patio just outside of a seating area covered by a roof but not enclosed by walls. Zoë-Grace had noticed similar setups in restaurants across Jamaica as management had adapted their facilities to accommodate the physical distancing requirements at the height of the pandemic.

Before sitting, he poured her a cup of coffee, which she accepted with a smile. After saying her grace silently, she sampled a little bit of everything she had taken. The mangoes, pineapples, and papayas were familiar, but she had never heard of sapote before. The orange fruit tasted like a cross between sugar cane and a sweet potato, and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it.

While she ate, Isaiah explained what he was doing at a resort in the hills of Costa Rica.

“The property was part of the Nizani chain. They didn’t even have time to recover from the earthquake before the pandemic hit, and they decided to close the hotel indefinitely. Some of the staff got relocated here, since they had just bought this property.”

She vaguely remembered him telling everyone this at the Fairweathers’ house. She slid her fruit plate away and replaced it with her mushroom, vegetable, and cheese omelet.

“Fast-forward to the chaos that ensued when COVID really started spreading, and people were trying to get back home. I went with Aunt Ruby to Florida, but they closed the borders before I got back, and that was that. With the airports closed, operations at the hotel ground to a halt. They ended up laying people off for several months, and the few administrative staff who kept their jobs had to agree to a reduced salary and work from home where possible. We mutually decided to end my contract early, with an option to revisit the terms once the hotels were back up and running.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d never been so happy to have won the lottery. I could stop working on a dime without worrying about whether I could meet all my financial obligations. I also had a nest egg available if my family needed it. That money gave me a sense of security—a false one, as I later learned.

“I’d never been a man of leisure, so I found things to occupy my time. I did a couple of professional development courses online, volunteered with some local organizations, and basically tried to meet whatever needs I could, considering the limitations.”

He took a deep breath, topped up his cup of coffee, and took a large swallow. “I did what I could,” he repeated, “and I learned that there was a lot I simply couldn’t do.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Surely you don’t intend to stop there.”

“I don’t.” He smiled. “During the pandemic, I learned the hard way that there’s only so much I can do. I saw firsthand that money can’t buy peace of mind. It can’t insulate us from everything.

“It was close to the end of twenty-twenty, and I was exposed to someone who had COVID. My test turned up positive though I wasn’t showing any symptoms. I’d been following all the protocols, wearing a mask, keeping up with hand hygiene, all that stuff. Thankfully, by that point, I was renting an apartment in Jacksonville, and I hadn’t been to Alistair Bay for a couple of weeks, so I didn’t expose anyone there.

“At first, I quarantined at home. The only symptoms I had at that point were fatigue and back pain, which I could easily have chalked up to being tired. And then one morning around a week after the test results, I woke up and couldn’t smell the coffee, literally!” He raised his mug. “I couldn’t taste it, either.

“Things deteriorated rapidly after that. I went from having no sense of smell or taste to having difficulty breathing. I was planning to tough it out, but one day Maya called me, and when I could barely catch my breath to talk, she called an ambulance.”

Zoë-Grace felt her own breathing becoming shallow as she listened to Isaiah, but she forced herself to take deep, measured breaths and focus on the fact that he was sitting right in front of her. No matter what he’d been through, he certainly seemed OK now. More than OK, if she were to judge based on his physical appearance alone. Focus, Zoë-Grace, focus! she commanded herself.

Isaiah continued his story. “I went from testing positive with no symptoms to being in serious trouble in a couple of weeks. I was hospitalized, and they were using words like ‘intubation’ and ‘medically-induced coma.’ But it was when they asked who I’d authorize to make the decision to pull the plug if it came down to it that I realized I could actually die.

“It’s kind of funny, looking back at it. I’d been in active combat more than once. I had people next to me who died after being shot by snipers. One more foot to the left and that bullet could have ended my life instead of theirs. I held my colleagues’ hands while they breathed their last. But I, after living for decades as if death was just a fact of life, was lying in a hospital bed, scared to die.

“It’s one thing to have the person next to you die in combat, and another thing to hear how many people died of the disease you’re battling in the last twenty-four hours or see them wheeling covered bodies past you day after day. It does something to your spirit. It’s like you die a little every single time.

“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t have visitors. There was no physical interaction with anyone except the medical staff. Phone and video calls aren’t the same as having a loved one holding your hand or stroking your cheek. I would have given anything for Maya or Aunt Ruby to be able to visit me, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

“One hard truth was that I’m not an island. I wasn’t created to be by myself. I always figured I’d be OK alone, that I was not built for family life, but in that hospital bed, I was alone, and I wasn’t doing well. In fact, at times I felt like I was going out of my mind. I just wanted someone to be there with me, to tell me everything was going to be OK, even if it wasn’t. And there were times I didn’t think it’d be OK. I didn’t think I’d be OK.”

“I had all this money, and with it, I’d developed an even greater sense of control over my circumstances than I always had. And yet when it came down to it, all that money was worth absolutely nothing. I had millions in the bank but couldn’t buy myself my next breath.

“And when you’re all alone like that, you kind of come to the end of yourself. You’re humbled beyond belief. And you can’t do anything, really, but think. And when you’re at that point where you’ve gone over your entire life and overanalyzed every mistake you’ve ever made, and you’ve asked yourself every what if that you can think of, you have to face some hard truths about yourself and make some serious decisions.

“But when I came to the end of myself... that was when I started to feel the presence of God hovering over me, assuring me that I wasn’t alone. And I started to pray. Not the desperate prayers of a man at the end of his life, but the kind of questioning prayer of someone who wants to know if God is there and if He’s thinking of me. One time I was praying, and I asked in my mind, ‘Lord, are You really there?’ and I kind of felt the answer, a voice saying in my spirit, ‘I’m always with you. I’ll stay right beside you until the end of time.’

“And before it even occurred to me that I could pray for healing, I prayed for forgiveness. Not for all the sins I’d committed—that came later, but for spending so much of my life convincing myself that God didn’t care about us here below as much as I’d been taught to believe before I went to war.

“And here I was in a hospital room with an oxygen mask on my face and all I wanted to do was breathe properly. One night, I remembered the Scripture ‘Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.’ My mom had it on a fridge magnet when we were growing up, and for some reason, it just came to me. Then a still, small voice asked me, ‘What are you doing with your breath, Isaiah?’

“And in that moment, I knew that I wanted my breath to mean something. I knew that if I lived, I wanted to make a difference in the world. The very next morning, they said my oxygen saturation was improving, and from that point on, my lungs started to function better and better. That was truly the start of my recovery, and they eventually decided to send me home.

“I wasn’t ready to be on my own, and since I could pay for round-the-clock care, three home health aides spent eight-hour shifts with me for a couple more weeks, until I was at the point where I could take care of myself.”

Zoë-Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but Isaiah wasn’t finished talking.

“I had the money to pay for care, but I learned in that season, with death all around me, that money can’t buy eternal life. There I was with enough cash to go anywhere I wanted and do anything, and all I wanted was for my family to be safe from this virus. For those I loved to be healthy and strong. For my life to have been worth something.

“I remember you telling me one afternoon in the Fairweathers’ backyard that there’s a peace in knowing that when you didn’t know what to do, you knew Who to ask. I finally began to understand what you meant, because short of building a bunker and moving everyone down there—which I’m not ashamed to say I actually considered—I genuinely didn’t know what to do.

“It took a whole pandemic and the deaths of millions of people worldwide for me to realize that I control nothing. When it came down to it, I couldn’t even make myself breathe on my own if a minuscule virus decided I couldn’t. You can’t imagine what that does to a control freak like me!

“So I had to take a long, hard look at my life, and I began to really, really take stock of the fact that eternity is real. It had to be. I mean, all we heard on the news for months on end was how many thousands of people were dying each day. It was the end of the line for a lot of people, some of whom I knew personally. Their lives ended in such difficult circumstances... all their plans, all their hopes, all their dreams turned out to be only that—plans and hopes and dreams.

“People from every walk of life were being struck down. People whose longevity had amazed me, were gone in a matter of days or weeks. Old people, young people, sick people, people with no known medical conditions... and I could have been one of those statistics. This was different from open conflict, where death is truly a way of life. This was people going about their business, talking to an infected person, touching an infected surface, contracting a virus, and ending up six feet under.

“And I just knew this couldn’t be all there was. There had to be something beyond this realm.

“Growing up with parents who took us to church, I had ‘head knowledge’ that eternity exists, but I became extremely hungry to know what to expect. What was happening to the people I knew who had died? What would happen to me if I was next? So I dusted off my Bible and started to read. It’s just like you were saying that last day when I taught you how to float.”

“You compared giving your life to Christ to learning how to float. Essentially, it requires an understanding that God is in control, and you can either fight against His will for you and drown, or you can learn what it takes to stay afloat—surrendering to Christ—and letting Him lead.

“When COVID hit, I saw that all I was doing was floundering. I thought I was in control, but the pandemic showed me I was fooling myself. I mean, look at me—”

“And a tiny virus brought me to my knees.” He shook his head as if he found what he was saying difficult to believe. Then he repeated himself. “I was fooling myself, and it finally became clear.”

“I started watching church services and Bible studies online. I pestered Aunt Ruby and her pastor, who’s a family friend. It was like I couldn’t get enough of the Word. I craved it. I hungered and thirsted for it. And one day I was reading the very last Psalm and I came across that same Scripture, ‘Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.’ And the question I’d heard in my spirit that night in the hospital came back to me, too. So I asked myself, ‘What are you doing with your breath?’ And I surrendered not only my breath but my entire life to Christ right there in my apartment that afternoon.”

Tears came to Zoë-Grace’s eyes and threatened to spill over. She remembered the times she prayed that Isaiah would develop a hunger and thirst for righteousness. In fact, that had been the last thing she had prayed before leaving him in God’s care.

She closed her eyes and silently lifted thanks to God for the work He had been doing in Isaiah.

She nodded. If she spoke, she might end up weeping, something she refused to do in front of him, friend or no friend.

She nodded again. In all the time she had known Isaiah, she had never heard him speak so many words in one week, much less one hour.

“It wasn’t easy for me to learn to trust God. I’d seen a lot... been through a lot... and there was some stuff I needed to work through. There was the huge question of why a good God allowed so many horrors to exist in the world. That was what had been holding me back all those years. I mean... when I tell you I saw some things... did some things... some violent things... and all in the name of peace. I needed some clarity on that. I needed to forgive others and I needed to forgive myself.

“Thankfully, our pastor Robert Marsden in Alistair Bay has a good balance between academic study and divine leading. He’s not only a great preacher and Bible study teacher, but he’s studied pastoral counseling. Robert met with me every week until I worked through these issues and really came to understand that as long as imperfect man, conceived in sin and born in iniquity, has dominion over this realm, horrible things will continue to happen. And instead of allowing those things to separate us from God, the wise among us will turn toward Him in spite of them. The fear of the Lord truly is the beginning of wisdom.”

He drank some water before continuing. “Over time, my prayer started to be different. I felt different. I felt at peace. I came to a place where I was able to let go of the anger, let go of the guilt, let go of the resentment toward those who chose war, and embrace my identity in Christ. I came to the place where He became the be-all and end-all of my existence, where my salvation is the main thing that matters, and any other blessing is just icing on the cake.”

Zoë-Grace wanted to leap in the air. She wanted to shout “Hallelujah!” and thank God for saving Isaiah. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee and said, “I must confess, it seems strange to hear you talk about blessings. The very word sounds odd coming out of your mouth.”

He grinned. “These days, the very air I breathe is a blessing to me. It became very clear during the pandemic that I’d been taking the ability to breathe for granted. Now, as they say, I consider every day above ground to be a good day. Instead of looking for reasons to question God, I look for reasons to thank Him and praise Him. I really believe that anyone who wants to see God will see Him in this season we’re still going through. He’s there. We just have to look for Him. And as one of my favorite songs says, I’m a walking, talking hallelujah.”

Zoë-Grace’s breath caught in her throat. She knew he was referring to David and Nicole Binion’s song with Steffany Gretzinger, “Living Proof,” which had become a favorite of hers over the last two years.

She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around this new version of Isaiah. There were questions she wanted to ask, but she knew she needed to process the new information first.

Her smile was genuine. “That’s awesome, Isaiah. Just wonderful.” She inhaled deeply and settled herself. She might appear calm on the outside, but her spirit was leaping within her. Needing to do something to mask her excitement, she picked up her phone and glanced at the time, then jumped to her feet. It was a few minutes after 10:00 and she was late! How had the time flown by so quickly?

“Oh, my goodness!” she said as Isaiah stood. “I didn’t realize it was so late. They’ve already started registration. I’ve got to register, then bring greetings from the Jamaican contingent. I’m sorry...” She gathered her things and gave him a tight smile.

He nodded in acknowledgement. “No worries. As security manager, I have a copy of the conference agenda. I know every minute over the next few days is accounted for, but I’ll see you when... if... I can.” He gently grasped her elbow and led her away from the table and out of the restaurant. It felt like sparks of electricity were radiating outward from the point of contact, and Zoë-Grace couldn’t help but remember that morning on the beach.

Isaiah escorted her to the large room where conference registration was taking place, releasing her elbow at the door. She said a quick goodbye as she tried to switch her focus to what she needed to do.

Yet throughout the day, her mind kept wandering back to Isaiah and what he had told her. If their conversation hadn’t been cut short, would he have said anything about her... about them? That morning more than two years ago, she had prayed that God would close the door if Isaiah was the wrong person. But she’d also prayed that God would close the door if it were the wrong time. Is that what He had done? Was He reopening it now? And if He was, would she be brave enough to walk through it?

Later that evening, as she got ready for the dinner all conference participants were expected to attend, she prayed out loud, “Isaiah is saved, Lord. Hallelujah! But what does that mean for me? For us? I need Your guidance, Father. Your Word tells me in Proverbs three to trust in You with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding, which is good, because my thoughts are so chaotic, I understand nothing right now. Help me to remember to acknowledge You in all my ways. I need You to direct my path. I need some clear direction from You, Lord. Please.”