Into the Fire

Part of Chapter 32 from Seeing . . . 

He pulled into the parking space at the motel where they’d spent their last visit. He turned off his rig and undid his seat belt, lifting up the arm rest so he could angle toward her easily. “So, you want to talk about it?”

     Silence crept into the cab until she finally spoke. “I have a way of ruining everything, don’t I?”

     He heard the regret in the softness of her voice. “Sometimes you do. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you prefer conflict—that things don’t feel right when they’re going well for you.” He didn’t condemn her but he worked to make a point.

     She turned to face him. “I shouldn’t be with you, Micah.” Tears shoved their way into her eyes. “I always find a way to darken anything good you do for me. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and I’ve been so . . . awful.”

     “You haven’t been ‘awful’, but you definitely seem compelled to nix all the good things in your path—or at least you put up roadblocks to enjoying them.”

     She searched the floor for his small box of Kleenex and snatched a couple to wipe her nose. She sat back and exhaled hard. He climbed into the sleeper to ready things to take in the room.

     “I’m jealous, you know.”

     All he heard was jealous, so he shifted around and sat in the middle of the bed. “What?”

     “I’m jealous of your dead wife.”

     His lips parted, the prelude to his jaw dropping, but he caught his reaction and shut his mouth.

     She turned in her seat, tears overrunning their boundaries like floodwaters. “I know you’ll always love her. I know I’m as opposite from her as anyone could possibly be. I can’t be her.” She blew her nose. “As much as I wish I could be, I can’t.” The hands came up to cover her face as severe sobbing took control.

     The quick picture of a little girl in the same position snapped in Micah’s mind. He leaned forward and pushed up her armrest, gently pulling her back to him. He slid her to the back wall with him and held her close as her cries wrenched his soul.

     When she stopped, she sat up. “I’m sorry, Micah.” Her tissues were saturated so he got up to find her the box.

     “I know, Bonita. But couldn’t we just try to have a good time?” He handed her the Kleenex. “I’m going to go book your room. Be right back.”

Father, thank you for these characters, the words, the love story. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.