Let It Be Me, Becky Wade [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

with you in that basement in El Salvador? Did He hold up a wall in order to defend you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did He open every single door for you so that you could attend college and medical school free of charge?”

“That’s enough. I get the point.”

“Then try it,” Ben said. “Try remembering through that lens.”

Frustrated, Sebastian rubbed his forehead.

“I can’t count the number of people who’ve tried to convince you to let them in,” Ben said. “You pushed them all away. Then you turned around and blamed God for your aloneness.”

Ben’s words cut through to the center of him with such accuracy that he couldn’t move.

The cars dashing past on the freeway became moving smudges of color as he forced himself to do what Ben had challenged him to do. To confront his history.

After the earthquake, God had given him the best gift Sebastian had ever received—the Colemans. A thousand times, God had shown Himself to Sebastian through their commitment, words, and love.

The day Sebastian wrecked his car, God had brought Leah into his life.

God had been there during every surgery Sebastian performed, faithfully healing the sickest children again and again and again.

In case he needed additional proof of God’s nearness, here was Ben, beside him today in this cemetery. Inarguable proof that even now, God hadn’t deserted him.

Sebastian could powerfully sense God in this moment. But it could be that God had been with him in all the moments.

Some of the events of his life had been bad. But some had been amazingly good. If he could roll with the blessings God had extended to him, why had it been so impossible for him to roll with the hard?

Because he’d taken his mother’s death as evidence that God either wasn’t sovereign, wasn’t good, wasn’t powerful, or wasn’t involved.

Could he accept a more complex truth? That the God who’d let his mother die was still sovereign, good, powerful, and involved?

If he could accept that, then he could quit trying so incredibly hard to protect himself all the time.

He was tired. . . .

He was so very tired of protecting himself.

Ben knelt and placed his palm on the gravestone. He bent his head to pray.

Sebastian followed his lead. He went to one knee, which caused dizziness to scramble his senses. He hadn’t had enough sleep or food. Cold radiated from her marker into his hand.

He prayed for long minutes, doing his best to forgive God.

I forgive you, he repeated numerous times.

At some point, he finally started to mean it.

You could have saved my mom, but I forgive you for taking her.

He pushed the knuckle of his free hand across his eyes because he was crying.

Can you forgive me? he asked God.

Yes, came the immediate answer.

When he finally stood, his chest felt hollowed out, his body shaky. Yet something stable had taken root within him in the place where his anger and insecurity had been living.

Ben pressed to his feet. “What motivated you to come here today?”

“Leah and I broke up.”

“I figured,” Ben said. “Who broke up with whom?”

“I broke up with her.”

“Because?”

“Because I couldn’t . . . handle it.”

Ben took his measure, his face grim. “Remember when I gave you the go-ahead to date Leah, and I told you not to insult her or me by keeping her at arm’s length?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“She broke a promise to me.”

“You’re going to have to accept that no human being is going to be perfect enough to heal your scars.”

Sebastian set his teeth together.

“How much do you want Leah in your life?” Ben asked.

“More than I’ve wanted anything.”

“Then open yourself up to her.”

Sebastian didn’t answer.

“We all have to risk ourselves if we’re going to earn the reward of a genuine relationship,” Ben said. “You’re not the only one.”

“If I love her and lose her, it will gut me.”

“If you love her? If?” Ben asked, incredulous. “You already love her, you idiot.”

Ben’s words hit him twice as hard as Claire’s dad had yesterday.

Because of course he did.

He loved her.

And had for a long time.

“Since the ship that would enable you not to love her has already sailed,” Ben continued, “all you can do now to save yourself from being gutted is convince her to give you a second chance. Then channel all that famous determination of yours into putting her interests and her well-being ahead of your own.”

Sebastian’s brain spun.

“Show her how you feel and tell her how you feel every day,” Ben said. “For the rest of your life.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

An hour later, Leah arrived at Tess and Rudy’s cabin.

Tess greeted her warmly, and Leah entered an interior she knew well. Walls of honey-colored wood complemented Southwest-style area rugs inspired by the Native American history of the region.

Today, neither the familiar environment nor the familiar woman soothed her. When she’d called Tess to ask if she could swing by, Leah had hoped she’d be able to conduct herself normally during this confrontation. Now she doubted that possibility. Tension had turned her stomach to stone. Moving oxygen into her lungs required effort.

“I made cookies.” Tess moved toward the breakfast nook, where they’d shared many, many cookies and conversations.

Leah remained still. “This isn’t a social call.”

“Oh?” Tess halted.

“I know that you switched me with another baby the day of my birth.”

Sadness lit inside Tess’s eyes. Otherwise, she remained dignified and still. “I see.”

Rustling sounded from the hallway just before Rudy appeared, beaming. “Leah!”

“Leah and I need to speak about something privately,” Tess said to her husband. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“That’ll be fine, but . . . are those oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I smell?”

Tess fetched two cookies and handed them to him.

“How ’bout one more?” he asked.

“No,” Tess answered crisply. “I wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite for dinner. Now head back and watch TV for a bit.”

He winked at Leah. “Good to see you, hon.”

“Good to see you, too.”

He trundled down the hallway.

Tess motioned to the breakfast nook. “Shall we?”

Leah hesitated. Cookies were cozy, and she wasn’t feeling cozy.

“I expect that you have questions for me,” Tess said.