Thirteen

"Glad you're amused." Kyle's grip was tight on the steering wheel, but I could tell he was fighting a smile. "This isn't how I want to meet your dad."

We were inside his truck, pulling out of the lot after we'd been let go with a warning. Truthfully, I was shaken but Kyle was upset and I didn't want him to worry about me. "He has a sense of humor."

"Yeah, sure, I enjoyed the lecture on public displays of affection." Intense blue eyes grabbed mine.

I laughed softly. "I meant my dad. He has a sense of humor."

"He's going to wonder if I'm good enough for his daughter. I'd like to not be in the back of a cop car at the time."

"I'm not sure what's up with Travis. He's usually pretty laid back. I've never seen him have such an attitude."

"He thinks I'm taking advantage of you." One brow cocked. "Or he's jealous."

I blinked, surprised. Travis had never shown the slightest interest in me. "No, he's not. Are you jealous, Kyle?" I teased.

He gripped the back of his neck. "I'm calculating the odds of your dad wanting to shoot me."

"He will love you."

Kyle glanced over. "You think so?"

I could tell my answer was important to him. "Yes, especially when he sees how much I love you."

He made a sound of disbelief. "Right. Because dads usually love the guys trying to steal their baby girls."

Reaching out I touched his arm and felt him tense. "I'll explain tonight was a misunderstanding. It was only a kiss. We didn't do anything wrong."

I expected him to agree with me, but instead he asked, "Did he like your other boyfriends?"

Glancing down at my ragged thumbnail, the one I had a bad habit of biting, I considered my response. He was waiting, genuinely curious.

My gaze lifted hesitantly to his. "You're my only boyfriend."

His expression was doubtful. "I'm serious."

"So am I. I told you I've loved you since high school." I fiddled nervously with the little ichthys around my neck. "You're looking at me like I'm a stalker."

His deep chuckle sent a shivery sensation down my spine. "That's not how I'm looking at you," he said, pulling into my apartment complex.

"No? Would you like to come inside and see the 371 pictures I have of you?" I asked playfully because humor was my go-to coping mechanism when things got sticky.

He let out deep, heartfelt laughter.

It was several moments before he spoke, and when he did he took my breath away. "I must have done something wonderful to deserve you."

"It's because I'm funny, right?"

"You make me smile, laugh, and feel good even in the worst situations." He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. "You love the God."

It was exactly how I felt about him and I told him so. A puzzle piece clicked neatly into place. "Loving God is most important."

"Yeah, it is," he answered quietly.

"My dad met Brandon once and didn't like him."

"The guy marrying your cousin?"

"I went out with him twice."

"I'm with your dad on that one," he said, changing the stereo to a Christian station. "Was it because he wasn't a believer?"

"No. Dad never asked about his beliefs."

Hearing the sadness in my voice, he gave my hand a light squeeze. "I'll keep praying for your dad. Your mother married him. He must have been a believer once."

"He was. I hope he's like the one sheep that wandered off and Jesus leaves the herd to find him."

"Keep praying and believing that, Lucy."

A beat of silence followed. Then another. His hand still held mine. The music put my feelings into a manageable box, reminding me of what was most important and it wasn't the desire humming inside. I wondered if that's why he put it on.

"I should have told Izabelle about us."

"Hey," he said softly. "What happened wasn't your fault. I should have told her."

"She's one of my best friends. Women share stuff like that. Keeping it from her was wrong."

"I don't want to keep us a secret, Lucy."

"I don't either."

"In another week I'll have my last surgery and this thing will be off my leg. Izabelle will have calmed down. We can tell her then."

"You're right. That sounds like a good plan." I pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I can't stop thinking about how upset she was."

"My sister was upset about something that had nothing to do with you." I felt him tense.

I braced for what he was about to say.

"Our mom made Izabelle promise to take care of me if something ever happened to her. Maybe she knew then she wasn't going to be around to raise us. I don't think she meant it as literally as Izabelle took it, but ever since then my sister has been overprotective and has blamed herself for every bad thing that's happened to me."

I was devastated when my mom died, but I'd had my dad who'd managed to wade through his own river of grief to help pull me from mine. Kyle and Izabelle hadn't been as fortunate.

"Lucy? Are you crying?" He took my hand, but I wanted to comfort him not the other way around.

"Izabelle told me."

"She told you what?" he asked carefully.

"Everything." I felt him stiffen like I'd delivered a blow. I almost regretted telling him, but I wanted no more secrets between us.

"You know about Mrs. Robins." He sank against the seat.

"Kyle—"

"I wanted to tell you." Raking his hand over his jaw, he shook his head and released a weary sigh. "I know it's bad, but I didn't know what else to do then." His voice had an uncharacteristic edge of desperation.

"You were just a kid. It wasn't your fault."

"I knew what I was doing." His tone dared me to defend him.

Another tear rolled down my cheek and slipped from my chin. "She took advantage."

Reaching over he brushed the tears from my cheeks, and my anguish soothed at the light touch.

"I'm not a victim. I needed the money, and I made a choice. I knew it was wrong." His gaze seared mine. "I wanted to tell you." He let out a deep, ragged breath. "I hoped, no prayed, you'd want me despite this."

The earnest admission tugged at my heart. "I want you. I always will, nothing will ever change that."

"I don't deserve you." His thumb slid over my lips. "But I'm not letting you go. I've been praying for us."

"I've prayed too. You're as strong as King David."

"I'm as flawed too." Kyle's slow smile tightened my chest. "David always turned to God and repented of sin when he messed up. I try to follow his example. I asked him to forgive me for what I did."

"God did forgive you." I wanted him to know that he didn't have to always be strong. "My mom once told me I didn't have to pretend with her. You don't have to pretend. If you want to talk or pray or need someone to listen, I'm here."

"I know, Lucy I'm here for you too." Our eyes met and I saw the truth in his words. "I've had some bad things happen. We all have." He spoke matter-of-factly. "It didn't break me. Despite what Izabelle thinks, I'm not traumatized by my past. Not anymore. God saved me."

His smile melted my heart. "He did."

"One of the best things he did for me, Lucy, is you."

This time when a tear fell it was from joy. "Oh, Kyle that is exactly how I feel about you."

He pulled me into a hug, and I felt like I'd never felt more blessed.

***

The next day Izabelle and I were working together at the cancer wing of the hospital.

"Hey, Izzy! Do you know what happens when my dog stays out in the sun too long?"

Izabelle scrunched her face into an exaggerated frown and clasped her chin with her purple-gloved hands as she pretended to think really hard. "I dunno Lucy, What happens when your dog stays out in the sun too long?"

I paused a moment for effect, watching the excitement on the kids' faces as they hung on our every word. "He turns into a hot dog!"

The kids burst out laughing and I loved the sound.

"We have to decide what to give our friend Dr. Hotchkiss for his birthday. Does anyone have any ideas?" I asked, planting one fist on my hip and scratching my pink head with the other hand.

A dozen small hands flew into the air.

"A stethoscope!"

"A motorcycle!"

"An Xbox!

"A swimming pool!"

"A horse!"

It took several enthusiastic replies before we got one that would actually work, but finally a seven-year-old girl named Jessica smiled and said, "A red balloon. Red is his favorite color."

"But we don't have any red balloons," a little boy said frowning.

"Why don't we look inside my bag?" suggested Izabelle. "Maybe I brought one."

"Great idea, Izzy."

Together we looked inside the large-flowered bag, and then we glanced at each other and frowned. Turning the bag upside down, we showed the empty inside to the kids, who were clearly disappointed.

"There's no balloon!" Sounds of disappointment followed.

"What are we going to do?"

"Izzy," I called excitedly as if I'd come up with the most brilliant idea. "You forgot the clown dust!"

"You're right, Lucy. We can't make magic without it. Now, where did I leave that clown dust?"

Izabelle turned in a wide circle, her back to the kids who were laughing hysterically because the clown dust was stuck to the seat of Izzy's hot pink, polka-dotted pants.

Plucking the clown dust from her pants, I opened the little bag and sprinkled some glitter inside. The kids watched expectantly, while Izabelle and I waited for the clown dust to work.

Reaching into the bag, Izzy pulled out three big red balloons, and all of the children cheered and clapped.

Jessica stood and cupped her hands over my ear and whispered, "Was it really magic, Lucy?"

"It was Jesus," I whispered back and saw the smile reach her eyes.

Half an hour later Izabelle, and I sat in the hospital cafeteria drinking strong black coffee.

"I've had a chance to think about the other night," Izabelle told me, staring down at her cup. "I might have overreacted. Just a little bit. I'm sorry you had to witness that."

"No apology needed." I reached out and put my hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "You love your brother. I get it."

"Ava was shocked when I asked her if she thought Kyle was seeing someone else."

"Oh." The single word was all I could manage.

Izabelle nodded, appearing not to notice my distress. "They have a freakishly close bond I'll never understand. She knows him best. Whatever he's dealing with I know he still loves Ava."

I had no words.

"I went to see him this morning to apologize. I don't think he's dealt with the abuse, but he says I'm wrong. He never talks about it and always acts like it's no big deal. I can't believe anyone could possibly be that strong. Am I wrong?"

"People deal with life differently. Kyle turns to Jesus. I know how much you're worried, but he's going to be ok."

Her gaze narrowed. "How do you know about my brother and Jesus?"

"He told me."

"That worries me too. No offense, but the whole religion thing is cultish." She sighed. "There's a ton of people in the world. A loving God wouldn't sentence them to Hell because they don't worship a hippie with sandals who couldn't save himself from the cross."

The words were delivered with anger and bitterness. I sent a quick prayer for her. I wanted desperately to tell Izabelle that Jesus did it for us. He paid the price for our sins, but as Kyle said, she wasn't ready.

It wasn't wise to argue, so I delivered the only thing that mattered. "Jesus loves you, Izabelle."

"Thanks, Lucy." Sarcasm dripped from the words. "Anyway, I really am sorry about yesterday." Her tentative gaze flicked to mine. "I'm sorry about my Jesus comment. I know you believe in him. Forgive me?"

"Of course. I love you." Just like Jesus does.

"That's what I like about you. You're quick to forgive and you tell the truth."

I felt a lump of guilt in my throat, and I wanted to shout, "I'm in love with your brother!" But I couldn't. Not yet.

She was fixated on Kyle dealing with his past, but it seemed Izabelle hadn't confronted hers. I prayed time would heal her wounds. I wondered if she'd forgive me for the secrets.

I wondered if God would forgive me.