Chapter Fifty-One

The doctor said Tyler was a miracle. His left arm was broken in two places and had to be set with plates and screws, and he underwent surgery to repair bleeding on the brain. Other than that, he had bruises on almost every surface of his body, and his left kidney was so damaged, he might lose it.

But he would survive. He would eventually return home and carry on a healthy life.

But he would do it alone.

I had never considered Tyler’s loneliness until I sat in his lawyer’s office a week later. His family had always been surrounded by a whirl of people—ranch hands, businessmen, moochers—but when it came down to it, he only had Nathan. No wonder his father had been adamant he marry me. The lawyer said Byron Cruz had done everything within the limits of the law to force Tyler to marry me, even going so far as to withhold his inheritance until we married.

“So, will Tyler inherit anything?” I felt detached as I stared at the corner of his mahogany desk.

“Actually, yes.” The man leaned on his elbows. “Even unmarried, Mr. Cruz stands to inherit almost everything, but not until he’s forty years old. Until then, the estate will fall under the management of an executor, and Tyler will receive a substantial monthly income.” He interlocked his fingers. “But … concerning the wreck … I’m assuming you pressed charges?”

“No, but he’ll be arrested anyway, as soon as he’s released from the hospital, because of the DUI and endangering a child. How will that affect the legalities?”

“He’ll inherit either way, but there are concerned parties with the power to see he’s treated for alcoholism before he gets a dime. Not to mention the psychotic behavior.” He ran his palm quickly across his mouth, and I wondered if he was supposed to be telling me all that. He shook his head slightly. “But nothing Mr. Cruz does will affect Nathan’s college fund. It will be put in place now that I have your signature.”

My head hurt. From the discussion, from all that had happened, from the stress of it all.

As JohnScott and I walked to his truck, I couldn’t meet his eyes. Neither of us spoke. We slid into the dingy cab, buckled the car seat, and gazed at the baby.

“Where to?” JohnScott laid his arm across the back of the seat and fingered one of my curls.

“Somewhere there are no people.”

He stared out the windshield as his wrist lolled over the steering wheel, and only after he contemplated his options did he start the truck. The engine coughed a few times before sputtering to life, and then he revved it to keep it alive.

I sat in silence as he drove from Lubbock to Trapp, and my mind filled with thoughts of Tyler’s obsessive love for me. So painful and dangerous. Yet so passionate.

The truck pulled to a stop on the edge of town, and JohnScott slowly turned left.

My house.

I didn’t want to go back up there, but I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Instead, I stared at the mesquites streaming past the side window, and my mind drifted to hollow emptiness.

JohnScott crept down the road, slowing to a crawl at the curve near the cliff. A fresh mar in the sand reminded me of the sound of Nathan’s cries far below, and I clenched my eyes shut.

We pulled into the yard, but instead of parking, JohnScott shifted into reverse and did a three-point turn so the truck faced the cliff. Then he killed the ignition. My eyes focused on a random point miles across the mesa, giving my soul a blessed sense of uncluttered simplicity. My nerves relaxed as though all my stress had been poured out onto the rolling plains.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at this view.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He kept his gaze on me. “Yep.”

I smiled at his intended meaning but didn’t look at him. Not yet. “It’s not the beauty of this country that strikes me. It’s the openness. I used to sit out here, looking into the distance, and it made me feel small. It made my problems feel small.” I grasped the hem of my skirt, wadding the fabric until it wrinkled. Just like my wrinkled, imperfect life.

I jerked the truck door open and slid out, but I caught myself before slamming it. It would never do to waken Nathan. Instead, I left it open and leaned against the warm hood with my back to JohnScott.

He left me there for a good five minutes before he joined me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Tyler,” I whispered. “I’m thinking about sitting in that waiting room, not knowing what would happen to him.”

JohnScott’s dress boots kicked at a beetle.

“But then my brain began working through the options. What might happen, and how it would affect Nathan and me.”

I stared to the farthest point I could see. It would be so nice to go that far away and never come back, to escape from my wrinkled life, my upside-down world. But I would never be able to look JohnScott in the face if I didn’t confess the truth.

I steeled my heart. “I thought it might be easier if he didn’t recover.”

A cool breeze swept past, lifting one curl and blowing it across my face.

JohnScott tucked it behind my shoulder. “The same thing crossed my mind. I’m not proud of it, but it’s natural for our brains to go down that road. That doesn’t mean we wanted it to happen.”

“It feels like I wanted it.”

He pushed away from the truck and faced me. “You acknowledged that Tyler makes your life complicated, but that’s different than wanting him dead. It’s very different.” He squinted into the sun. “Half the town’s thinking the same thing.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“But how can God forgive me for thinking something like that? It’s repulsive.”

“Are you talking about God forgiving you or you forgiving yourself?”

I turned away, exposed, but JohnScott didn’t offer comfort. He didn’t even move. The sun tingled the skin on my arms as I pondered his question. “Both, I guess.”

He left the silence alone for a while and then said, “The two aren’t interchangeable. God wants our best, and He’s patient while we work on it, but we’re never going to be perfect Christians. He doesn’t want or expect that. If we were perfect, we would have no need for Him.”

My eyes wandered from the top button of JohnScott’s shirt to the bend in the road near the cliff. “Why do I do that? I’ve finally gotten to know God on my own, but I still have trouble believing His promises. He forgave me for my sins with Tyler. He forgave me for rebelling against my parents. He forgave me for turning away from Him.”

“He’ll forgive you for whatever you’ve done. He’s cool that way.”

“I know He will, but sometimes it’s so hard to feel Him, and to know for sure He’s there, and that He’ll keep forgiving me.”

JohnScott grinned.

“What?” I asked.

Without answering, he turned toward the expanse beyond the edge of the Caprock as his smile created happy lines across his cheeks.

I followed his gaze, perplexed. But then I heard the whisper of wind purring through the cedars, I saw the reflection of the sun bouncing off sandstone, and I smelled the earthy compost of nature itself. And I knew.

I had been feeling God’s love all along.

“He’s pretty big, isn’t He?” asked JohnScott.

“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s incredibly, amazingly, perfectly big.”