KENDRA WRESTLED THROUGH THE NIGHT WITH SHOOTING PAINS in her breast—her dimpled, hard, reddish-pink breast. Sleep was hard every night, impossible on the swollen side. But the pain last night drove her mad. Mad at her breast. Mad at cancer. Mad at Derek. Mad that she wasn’t in Paris. And mad that she had to be mad in bed alone.
Sometime around seven she woke again, mad still when she saw her camera across the room and had no energy to use it. And mad when she realized it was the Fourth of July, and she couldn’t enjoy it. Eight days out from her first chemo treatment, and it had to be really working—because parts of her felt on fire.
Tears slid down the sides of her face. I can’t do this. God, I can’t do this. I’ve never been in this much pain. I’ve never felt so alone. I’m supposed to be married right now, and it still hurts that I’m not. Everything is wrong.
Kendra reached for a tissue, and her hand hit against something. Shifting a little, she opened her eyes and squinted at it. A Bible? She brought it near and, in the soft light of morning, saw a sticky note on the cover.
Got you this gift. Three a.m. seemed the perfect time to give it.
She’d texted Lance in the night, when the pain had become unbearable, asking him to pray. But she didn’t think he’d get her message until morning. She stared at his handwriting. He’d not only gotten it but sneaked this in without her knowing. It was pretty, too, with a soft cover of olive-green leather.
Moving from her back to her good side, she propped herself on an elbow and flipped through. When had she last opened a Bible? She’d Googled popular wedding verses and read them online as she planned the ceremony. But Bible in hand . . . It had been so long.
A pain shot through her breast, and she curled up, wincing. She kept turning pages until she got to the Psalms. Then she skimmed and stopped at the beginning of Psalm 5.
Give ear to my words, O LORD,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O LORD, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
She could cry to God for help. That’s what struck her. Would He hear her, though?
Kendra kept reading, of souls dismayed, of the need for refuge, of grief and distress. She saw herself, her pain, in the pages.
Psalm 18 stopped her next.
“I love You, O LORD, my strength.”
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;
My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised,
And I am saved from my enemies.
The words reached to her core. She closed her eyes, suddenly aware of how far she was from God. She didn’t know Him like this—as her strength and rock and fortress and deliverer. What did it even mean? What did that look like?
She read those three verses again, and words jumped out at her: . . . the horn of my salvation . . . my stronghold . . . and I am saved . . .
She read the entire psalm, seeing those words repeated, and words like blameless and pure and this—For I have kept the ways of the LORD . . .
Kendra’s heart was pounding. She hadn’t kept God’s ways. She hadn’t even thought much about Him. Was she saved? She’d grown up in church, but suddenly she wasn’t sure what that meant.
So many questions pressed through her mind. On impulse, she grabbed her phone and texted Lance.
R U UP?
Seconds later she read his reply.
YEP.
Her thumb typed again.
U MIND COMING UP?
A moment later Kendra heard his footsteps. He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she said, pulling the covers up gently. It hurt when they rubbed against her breast.
Lance entered her room in long gym shorts and a faded Cardinals World Series Champs tee. “I thought you might need help this morning,” he said. “Sounded like the pain got really bad.”
“It did,” she said, “but that’s not why I texted.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, I must look a complete mess.”
“I know.” She sighed. It was hard being needy and vulnerable . . . and messy.
He came closer, waiting.
“First, thank you.” She lifted the Bible from under the covers. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this until I started reading.” She glanced down at it. “It really hit me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It does that. And you’re welcome.”
“You can sit down.” She moved over in the queen-size bed, giving him space. “So . . . I feel really stupid right now.”
“Why?”
“I feel like there’s so much I should know, but don’t . . . about the Bible, I mean.” She stared at the page, still opened to Psalm 18. “And I feel like you could probably answer every question I have.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said.
Kendra curled inward again, groaning at the pain, then took a breath when it passed.
“I’m almost sure you can,” she said. “It’s about salvation.”
Kendra sat in the living area of the lower level, laughing at photos with Lance. He’d pushed the chair over so she could sit beside him at the computer in comfort as she learned to edit.
“I see you,” Kendra said, “thinking you got swag. Look at that pose.”
They’d taken that one by the water yesterday.
“That’s how you told me to pose.”
“Yeah, but you threw a little extra in there.”
“And what do you mean, ‘thinking you got swag’? Don’t get confused. I gots swag.”
Kendra laughed. “Oh, it’s a fact, is it?” She cut him a side-glance. “Okay. I didn’t know.”
Lance was laughing with her. “I got that getting-old-thirtysomething swag.”
She shook her head at him as she played with the tools in Lightroom, the software Lance was training her on. By early afternoon she’d grown sick of her room and needed a change of scenery. This way, she could rest and indulge in photography at the same time.
Lance’s phone rang, and he answered it.
“Darrin, what’s up? . . . Y’all are over there now? . . . Yeah, she invited me . . .”
Kendra lessened the exposure on a photo of Lance, then cropped it a little.
“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to see . . . I know. I know . . . All right, later.”
Kendra kept her gaze on the screen, testing levels of sharpness. “Go.”
“Huh?” Lance said.
“Go to the cookout.”
“How do you know there’s a cookout?”
“It doesn’t take rocket science. It’s the Fourth.” She looked at him. “Lance, seriously, you shouldn’t be stuck in the house on a holiday. You need to be outside in the sunshine with friends, having a good time.”
“I’m not stuck,” he said. “And I thought I was already having a good time.”
Kendra twirled a finger. “Woo, what a party. Doing what you can do in your sleep, with a woman who’s too sick to stand.” She looked back at the screen. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I keep telling you—live your life.”
She moved the mouse, maneuvering another tool, and he covered her hand with his.
“Did it occur to you that I might be living my life right here . . . right now?”
An unexpected flurry of . . . something . . . shot through her. They held each other’s gaze, then she looked back at the screen, silently exhaling.
“Hey, where is everybody?”
Footsteps bounded downstairs.
“Trey and Molly, with grocery bags?” Lance asked.
“When I called and y’all weren’t doing anything,” Trey said, “I figured, hey, we can have a cookout.”
Kendra was smiling. “Aw, I haven’t had a cookout at home in forever.”
“You said we,” Lance said. “Does that mean you’ll be grilling?”
“By we, I meant you.” Trey laughed. “But I can get the grill ready.”
“That’s good stuff, man,” Lance said. “Let’s get it going.”
The guys went upstairs, but Molly stayed behind. She looked over Kendra’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“I’ve been bitten by the photography bug,” Kendra said. “Learning how to edit photos.”
“You took these?”
“Well. Yeah. It was my first location shoot, so I’ve got a lot more to learn.”
“They’re cool, though.” Molly took Lance’s seat. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Not at all.”
Molly dug into a grocery bag she had with her. “I made you something,” she said, pulling out a pan covered with foil. “Brownies.”
Kendra turned to her. “Really? Why?”
“Trey said chocolate helps you, so . . .” She shrugged.
Kendra looked at the girl she’d never really focused on, beyond her clothes and hair, which today was purple and spiky. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” She eyed the pan. “Can I taste one?”
“Absolutely!” Molly rolled back the foil.
Kendra picked one and tasted it. “Oh my gosh, so good.” She took another bite, a big one.
Molly did a head bow. “Why, thank you.”
Kendra paused before her next bite. “Molly, for what it’s worth at this point, I apologize for saying Trey couldn’t bring you to the wedding.”
Molly shrugged. “No big deal. I get it. I don’t fit in most places.” She paused. “And sometimes I try too hard to fit in, and I get myself in trouble.”
Kendra looked long at her. “I want to get to know you, Molly. Just as you are.”