The Heart of Grace

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

Actually, she didn’t.

“Why don’t you come to Italy with us? Oh, darling, it will be such fun. A nice vacation is exactly what you need. We’ll go to Venice and let some handsome Italian woo you in a gondola. Then we’ll go shopping for the most wonderful wardrobe of Italian leathers. And by the time we return all this unpleasantness will be over.”

“Mother.” Larissa’s anxiety level rose even higher. “I have to be here for Drew.”

Silence hummed through the wires. Larissa could imagine the flat line of disapproval on her mother’s collagen-injected lips.

“That’s ridiculous.” This time her mother’s tone had a bite to it. “Stop being a doormat to this man. He’s never been a husband. Traipsing all over the world and leaving you behind, embarrassed in society. Give him a divorce and move on with your life. Find a good man of our social standing and have a child. You’re not getting any younger you know.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Her biological clock was ticking loudly, and she hungered for children like a starving lioness. But she wanted Drew to be the father of those children, something he flatly refused to discuss. Children, he claimed, were not part of the package.

A headache threatened. She pressed a thumb and forefinger against her eyes. “I can’t talk to you about this. I’m sorry.” Lately, all she did was apologize.

“We used to talk about everything until you joined that religious group. I suppose they’re behind this insane idea of yours to bring Drew home, instead of cutting your losses while you can.”

Hoping to avoid a lecture, Larissa said, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone at church about this. It’s all too fresh. You’re my mother. I need you.” Boy, was that ever true. “I love you.”

“Well,” Marsha sniffed. “I love you, too, honey. You’re all that matters to me. I’m happy that you enjoy your church friends. Although in my opinion, you take this new religion fad far too seriously. Everybody gets divorced these days. Divorce isn’t a sin, you know.”

Larissa couldn’t agree. According to her Bible, Christians didn’t divorce even if they wanted to. And she most certainly did not want to.

But to the Stones, church was strictly a social institution, mostly used to better her father’s political career. Though they attended occasionally as a family, especially during election years, they had never discussed personal faith in their home. She hadn’t a clue what a relationship with Christ was about until her friend Jennifer had invited her to a Bible study last year after Drew had disappeared on one of his long treks to who-knew-where. Out of boredom and missing Drew so much she was willing to do anything, she’d gone. Within the month, she’d given her life to Christ and become a different person on the inside.

Her mother was still puzzled by her sudden devotion.

Though she’d tried discussing the topic with both her parents, the words had fallen on deaf ears. They said they were Christians “like everybody else” and that was that.

As much as she wanted to revisit the conversation, she didn’t want to offend. Mother’s sensibilities were so delicate.

“All I ask is that you think about it, Larissa,” her mother was saying. “Daddy knows the best divorce lawyers in Oklahoma. Everything can be taken care of while we’re in Italy. You won’t even have time to be stressed.”

“Drew is seriously injured. That’s my concern right now.”

“Daddy and I are not unfeeling beasts. If you are going to be stubborn about this, we will also arrange for the best rehab care available.”

“Just as long as I don’t bring Drew back to Tulsa. Right?”

There was a miniscule pause and then, “It’s for the best, honey. Let Daddy take care of everything.”

Mother made it sound so simple and bloodless. A vacation to Italy. She shook her head, depressed by her parents’ lack of understanding. They were wonderful parents, who thought they knew what was best for their child.

Only she wasn’t a child anymore.

Thoughts of Drew crowded in. Drew laughing and teasing. Drew charging into the ocean with her on his back. His expression intense when he spoke his love.

No matter what anyone said, she could not forget the beautiful parts of her marriage. They hovered inside her heart and mind like golden butterflies, too rare and special to release into the wild.

Somehow she managed to end the conversation, certain she hadn’t heard the end of the Italy cruise. Then she fixed a cup of tea in the hotel coffeemaker. It wasn’t her special blend of chamomile and raspberry, but the hot, sweetened drink warmed the chill in her bones.

Outside, a cold rain slashed the windows in incessant sheets. Inside, the hotel room was cozy. She climbed beneath the comforter, pillows propped behind her head, to drink tea and read the Bible.

In her haste, she’d left her own beautiful, Moroccan leather Bible at home. But the bedside table held the familiar Gideon version.

She flipped through the stiff book, finally settling on a page in Corinthians. Much of the Bible was still new to her and this was no different. She read out loud, hoping scripture would soothe her inner tumult. “Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

This was what real love was all about. God’s kind of love.

As if the ancient words were written just for her, Larissa read them again and again.

“Love is patient,” she murmured. “I can be patient with Drew.”

And she could also trust and hope and persevere. Because God promised that if she would, love would never fail. She closed her eyes and smiled, ready to sleep now as she hadn’t done in days. “Thank you, Lord.”

Deep down, she understood what God was telling her. Just keep on loving Drew the way Corinthians stated. Keep loving. Because love would not fail.

The next morning, Drew awakened as soon as the weak winter sun slanted through the gap in the ugly green drapes. He was nervous. Larissa was going to fight him, and right now he was weak. Last night he’d tried to get up and head for the shower on his own. He’d made it to the end of the bed before collapsing like a Slinky. The nurses had scolded until, chastised, he’d promised to stay put.

He wouldn’t necessarily keep that promise. He had to get out of here before he lost all courage.

A nurse arrived, and Drew went through the now familiar humiliation of being treated like a helpless infant. Ah, what was he saying? He was a helpless infant.

“Tell the doc I want to see him right away.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up first. I heard you had a pretty visitor yesterday.”

He gave her a look intended to shut her up, but she was a cheeky sort. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and grinned. Drew ignored the insinuation. “Call the doctor.”

“I heard you. The doctor will make his rounds soon. Right now he’s in surgery.”

“Great.” He needed to get the rehab arrangements made today and get out of here. His frustratingly weak body was not cooperating. All he could do was wait.

As the nurse administered his morning ablutions, he stared at a painting on the far wall. What was it? A seascape? Mountains?

He squinted, trying to bring the blues and greens into focus. He blinked several times to clear the fog, and just that quick, the picture faded to gray and then to black.

His heart lurched. Cold fear snaked through him. He blinked again and again. Nothing happened.

He dropped his head back onto the pillow, fighting the panic. A groan escaped him.

“Mr. Michaels?” The cheeky nurse’s voice held concern. “Did I hurt you? Are you in pain?”

Yes, though not the kind she meant.

For lack of a better excuse, he said, “My side,” and grabbed for it.

No way was he telling the nurses about the unpredictable state of his eyesight. They might tell Larissa and then he was done for. If she thought for one minute that he was going blind, she would insist on taking care of him. He wouldn’t saddle her with a cranky, worthless, blind photographer.