29
SIX WEEKS LATER
Emily and Brady sat on the end of the dock while the other St. John siblings played a rousing game of Phase 10 on the glassed-in porch.
“You want to dive?” he asked.
“We can, but I’m content just to sit here and talk to you. The dry suit is keeping me warm.”
He slid an arm around her. “I hope being next to me has something to do with keeping you warm.”
She laughed. Over the past six weeks, they’d spent every spare minute together, working around their work schedules to get to know one another, dive, and repair their battle-weary souls. “I feel so awful Claire Beaumont was a victim of Paul’s. His evil touched—and hurt—so many people.” The woman had been found dead, wrapped in plastic and stuffed into the extra freezer she’d had in her balcony storage area. “I can’t help but think about her every so often.”
“Yeah. I know.”
They fell silent and Emily leaned into Brady’s embrace.
Snuggled against this man’s side had become her very favorite place in the world—even if she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And hated that she kept waiting.
“Can I ask you a question?” Brady asked. “It’s been bugging me for a while.”
“Of course.”
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “How could you do it? I mean it was amazing and exactly what you should have done, and I’m just having a hard time with it.”
She drew back and frowned at him. “Do what?”
“Basically lead that killer into heaven. He’s in heaven now, thanks to you.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Brady. This world is so messed up. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s any good left. And then God places people in my life that say there is. People matter. Even the ones who hurt others. I don’t deserve heaven and Nicholas Raimes certainly doesn’t, but I don’t wish him an eternity in hell, either.” She relaxed and rested her head back against him. “All I could see was the thief on the cross and Jesus forgiving him.” She sighed. “So many people died over the course of all of that craziness. People who I believe will spend eternity separated from God. I just didn’t want the devil to win another one.”
“And that’s why I’m falling in love with you, Emily Chastain,” he said softly. “If you can’t think back over what you just said and understand that, then you are way more hardheaded than I thought.”
She went still. “You asked me that question on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Because you already knew why I did it.”
“Yep. It’s a clear example of who you are. One of many examples of your true character. And I don’t have any trouble at all seeing them.”
“But you knew I needed to say it out loud and hear it for myself?”
“Uh-huh. Something like that.”
“Okay.”
“I think I have an inkling of what you’re getting at.” She smiled. “All my life I’ve let my weight define me. Well, up until about nine or ten years ago, but it’s a constant battle not to let it batter my self-esteem. And while I’ll probably never be happy with the number on the scale, it doesn’t mean I can’t find peace and happiness in other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like confirmation that God really does have a plan for me—mostly because I’m not dead and probably should be.”
“Well, you were pretty instrumental in bringing down that human trafficking ring. Thirty-seven people in all. And over a hundred rescued victims? That’s phenomenal.”
“Yeah. I do feel good about that.”
“So does Heather’s boss. He was really happy when you showed up to talk to him.”
“I did it for Heather. She deserved the credit for that story. I’m glad he gave it to her.”
“Amen.” He paused. “What else can you have peace and happiness about?”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m beginning to understand and really believe that I can trust you unconditionally. I don’t think I’ve ever truly had that with anyone but Heather.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to hear that for a while.” He cleared his throat. “And the Gilstraps? They’re okay?”
“They will be. Mrs. Gilstrap apologized for blaming me. She said she was really just mad at Heather and was projecting that on to me. She asked if she could still be a part of my life. Of course I said yes.”
“And your mother and sis—dau—sis—?”
“Sister. She’s my sister. And she’s happy. I want to get to know her, though, and once I reassured Mom that I had no intention of trying to take Sophia away from her, she was like another person. And,” she said, “she finally said she was sorry for blaming me for my father’s death. Apparently, my father was very jealous of me, and in order to keep him from beating her to death, she kept me at arm’s length.” Which explained why her mom felt free to express love to Sophia. Emily swiped a hand across her cheek and realized she was crying. Again. At least these were good tears. “We won’t have a relationship overnight, but I think it’s possible that, in the near future, we can at least be in the same room with each other without one of us doing or saying something to make the other one mad.”
“That’s progress.”
“For real.”
“So, when are you going on a date with me?”
All of the times they’d been together, he’d never classified them as an actual date. They’d hung out, eaten mostly healthy since they both leaned in that direction. She’d enjoyed the splurge of homemade pizza and a movie. But they’d never called any of it dating.
She laughed. “You’ve asked me out several times.”
“And you’ve said no every single time.”
“I’ve had some things to work through.”
“I know, and I can wait as long as you need.” He took her arm, pushed the sleeve up, and traced the white scars.
“What are you doing?” But she didn’t jerk away.
“I want to tell you what I see when I look at you. What I think these scars now represent.”
“O-okay.”
“I see the evidence of how strong you are. The proof that you don’t quit. I see a woman whose scars and other past baggage won’t define her because she refuses to let it.” He locked eyes with her. “I see someone who invests in others’ lives so they can see they have a hope and a future.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think she sees that.”
“I’m sure she does. I see someone who doesn’t understand how God could let her best friend die, but still believes he’s a good God and his plan is the best one.”
“Yeah,” she whispered past the growing lump in her throat. “That one’s hard, I won’t deny it.”
“But you believe it.”
“I really do. I don’t like that bad things happen. I won’t deny that I sometimes want to question God’s wisdom, but in the end, I know it’s far greater than my shortsightedness. I know that God doesn’t like the bad stuff either, but we’re not robots or puppets and he doesn’t pull the strings. We have free will. We all make our own choices. The bad stuff?” She sighed. “It’s this fallen world we live in. But God’s plan will redeem it all in the end and that’s what I have to hang on to.”
“You know what else I see?”
“What?”
“I see a woman who makes me want to be a better person. Someone who’s changed my life and my faith and made me realize that what I went through with Krystal was bad, but I don’t have to blame myself for being unable to help her. I tried. She made her choices. And while I wish things would have ended differently for her sake, the fact that it didn’t doesn’t have to dictate my future.”
Tears spilled over her lashes and he thumbed them away.
“You trust me not to turn to the painkillers?” she asked. “Like Krystal did?”
“Have you touched one since you quit?”
“No. Not one.”
“Then if you didn’t turn to painkillers when someone was trying to kill you, and your stress level was through the roof, I’d say you’ve got it beat.”
“Yeah.” She fell silent. Sighed. “I won’t say I don’t ever think about it.”
“I know. I get it. And I’ll help you.”
“And I’ll let you,” she said. He was right and she was letting time tick by when she could be doing life with this amazing man. “Ask again.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Ask me out. Again.”
His eyes brightened. “Emily, will you let me take you out to a fancy schmancy dinner and treat you like you deserve?”
She blinked back tears. “Yes.”
“Do you believe I can—and will—do that?”
“I do.”
“Good answer. Say it again.”
“What? I do?”
“Yes. Again.”
“Brady . . .”
“We’re practicing. Now again.”
“Practicing for—” She gasped. And knew her face went bright red if the temperature of her neck and cheeks was any indication. “Brady St. John!”
“What?”
She grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him down to kiss him. “I love that you make me laugh. I love . . . you.” There. She said it. And she didn’t die. Or have a panic attack. She simply felt . . . happy.
If the look on Brady’s face was any indication, his feelings were in agreement with hers.
Emily turned at a particularly loud shout from the porch. Linc had Ruthie in a bear hug while Derek tickled her ribs.
“Uh-oh,” Brady said.
“What?”
“Ruthie must have been caught cheating.”
“At Phase 10?” she asked.
“Oh yeah. We’re a very competitive group, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Ruthie’s shrieks had diminished to giggles while her husband, Isaac, watched and grinned.
“They don’t scare me,” she said softly. “They’re confirmation that God sometimes really does answer prayers just the way you want him to.”
He swept a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. He sure does.”
And he kissed her again. And again. And again.
Until Derek dumped the playing cards on top of their heads.