“I might have You,” he prayed aloud, just in case it was. “But honestly, it doesn’t feel like You’ve got me.”
There was no bolt of lightning, so maybe God was okay with raw prayers like that.
“Lord, I really need to feel You right now.” Oh, man he hated these tears. “I can’t keep it together. I don’t want Sarah to feel like I’m letting her down.”
Rest in Me.
Rest in God? What did that mean? They’d slept enough in Muskoka that his body had been itching to return.
He waited, but there wasn’t anything else that implied God might be speaking to him, so he rubbed his eyes, prayed his nose wasn’t red, and exited the vehicle.
Three minutes later he’d entered his apartment. It was quiet, but Sarah’s handbag on the dining table suggested she was home.
“Sar?”
No response. She was probably in her mini studio. He knocked gently, then opened the door. Huh. Still no Sarah. Where was she?
Another sound met his ears. He frowned. Moved to the bathroom. Opened the door.
Then saw his wife crouched on the bottom of the bathtub, her hands over her face, her sobs muffled by the overhead shower’s running water. He felt the urge to help her, but with what? Empty platitudes? Promises of God? Why would God give them such a miracle, only to take it away again so soon? What was with that? Wasn’t God supposed to be into giving good gifts to His children? So why had He allowed this to occur? It didn’t make sense.
He closed the door. He had no answers. God felt so far away.
CHAPTER6
Sarah shifted on the leather lounge, taking a moment to savor the apartment’s quiet, and the warmth this pool of sunlight bathed her in. Some of the agitation from past days eased. She glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until she could expect to see Dan again. Not that she had any certainty that he’d be rushing home to see her.
Her heart ached, as she wished she knew what to do. She hated this distance that seemed to be growing between them. What time they spent seemed to consist of silence, shortness, and unspoken words. She hadn’t talked to him about what the doctor had said. She hadn’t mentioned she’d emailed Tisha and the other Heartsong head honchos about the possibility of joining the upcoming tour. She hadn’t admitted how much she wanted to return to see her family in Australia. Those conversations felt too big, and hard, and raw, with potential for explosions she didn’t have the capacity to face. Once upon a time she’d reveled in the fact that she and Dan could tell each other anything. Now, the unspoken weighed between them, and her heart seemed to be collecting new aches by the day, a speckled place of damaged hopes and dreams.
How could she have ever thought she was getting better? It didn’t take much for something to trigger her back to grief. A teddy bear. A mother pushing a baby pram. A TV advertisement that showed a happy family.
Her heart clenched. “God, I know You’re faithful.” Even when her own faith felt feeble. “Lord, have Your way.”
The tension eased a fraction, as it did each time she tried to combat her pain by speaking out God’s truths, the words about God’s love cocooning her, wrapping her in reassurance like strips of linen around a mummy.
A mummy. The words lingered in her mind, flicking her thoughts from Egyptian tombs to those words recalled from her childhood. Oh, how she longed to be a mum, to hear the word “Mummy” spoken to her.
“Lord, help me trust You. Help Dan trust You.”
Her gaze fell to the huge black and white photograph that Sam’s photographer girlfriend—or former girlfriend, she no longer knew—had taken at their wedding. Back at their reception at the resort at Muskoka Shores, when Dan had kissed her hand and looked at her with eyes filled with intense love. Sorrow clanged. He hadn’t looked at her like that in weeks.
“Lord, bless him. Bless us. Help us find our way.”
Her prayer sparked more for his family, her family, for healing and reconciliation, at least on Dan’s side. Her own mum had called, and she’d finally managed some more conversations with her and Bek. But tiredness still swamped her. She’d used weariness as her excuse to miss Dan’s last two games of the season. He was clearing out his locker today, having been excused from end-of-season media availability, then they were heading back to Muskoka.
And while she was relieved to go—hopefully, Jackie and her baby would stay here—part of her wished she could return to Sydney. To be with her family at her real home.
She blinked. Really? She still thought that way? Dan was her family now. And home was where he was. It’d been a while since she’d returned to Australia, but she shouldn’t be missing it like this. It felt disloyal, a betrayal of their marriage vows to wish to be with her parents. But he’d been so distant lately, like he blamed her for the miscarriage. He might say he didn’t, but she couldn’t help but feel like he thought he’d made the wrong choice, in choosing someone who’d said she likely couldn’t have children. That was the reason why after dating for six months she’d broken up with him briefly and returned to Sydney on New Years’ Day. She’d been sure he could find someone who could give him what he truly wanted in life—a second chance at fatherhood. Until she’d finally believed he meant what he’d said in his emails and messages, and they’d reconciled—long distance—before he’d made his feelings obvious in April of that year.
And here they were, another April in, and she was feeling a sense of loss again. Except this time Dan was hardly speaking to her.
He was a quiet man. She knew that. Hers was a personality and temperament more inclined to big feelings and talking things through. But he had withdrawn, become even more introverted. And now with all these things she needed to say but somehow couldn’t, she didn’t know what to do. Some moments it felt like sadness had worn down their marriage until it was hanging by a thread.
The front door opened. She pasted a smile on her face and stood. “You’re back!”
His lips tweaked up, and he accepted her hug and kiss perfunctorily.
“How was your day?”
