Picket Fence Promises

“I thought the Christian life was supposed to be peaceful,” I said, hearing the faint whine creep into my voice. I never whine. I blamed Alex. “You know, like a nice scenic riverboat ride.”

“A riverboat ride.” Esther tipped her head thoughtfully and the knitting needles fell silent. “I think it’s more like…oh…bungee jumping off a bridge? Skydiving…?”

“I get the picture! Why didn’t someone tell me that?” Bungee jumping? She had to be kidding. I got dizzy if I ran up the stairs to my apartment too fast.

“This is what you have to remember, Bernice. Peace isn’t necessarily a warm, fuzzy feeling. It isn’t even something we can grab and hold on to. Peace is Him. It’s God Himself. So when you hit the rapids on your nice, scenic boat ride, you don’t run away, you run to.” The needles began to click again. She gave me a wide smile and a wink. “It’s an adventure, but you can trust Him.”

“You aren’t really going to leave me here, are you?”

When I pulled up in front of Charity’s B and B I didn’t even put the car into Park, I just put my foot on the brake to hold it steady for the two seconds Alex would need to open the door and get out. “Yup.”

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine…with Murphy for company.” I couldn’t resist.

“You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m not very good at it.”

Alex twisted around in the seat. “You were,” he said. “But you aren’t going to get away this time. You aren’t just passing through Prichett, you live here. I’ve got you cornered. See you tomorrow.”

He started humming again when he got out of the car and strolled up to the door, which Charity was holding open for him.

I slapped my hands against the steering wheel and howled silently. Why was he doing this? Being funny and charming and kind? It was killing me.

I had forgotten to leave a light on so I had to blindly bump my way up the outside staircase behind the Cut and Curl in the dark. When I flipped the light on, the first thing I felt was absolute, total relief that I hadn’t let Alex come up.

My apartment gave the term “shabby chic” a whole new meaning. I have a weakness for tag sales and it shows. I’ve convinced myself that one day I’m going to convince Lester Lee to sell me the little place he owns a few miles out of town. I will then take up my hobby of choice and refinish furniture in my spare time, which is why, over the past ten years, I’ve collected a staggering number of old wooden chairs, interesting side tables and an antique buffet that stretches the width of my living room. And happens to be covered with my collection of snow globes—another weakness. I tried to see my apartment through Alex’s eyes and what I saw was an odd assortment of furnishings that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me. And then I caught sight of my reflection in the antique mirror. It wasn’t even centered on the wall—I’d hung it on the only nail large enough to support it while it waited patiently for its true home. The one with the picket fence.

Then I tried to see me through Alex’s eyes. I leaned closer to the glass and peered at the lines fanning out from my eyes. Anchoring two fingers on each side of my cheekbones and my thumbs against my chin, I pulled back on the skin that had loosened over the years, like I was retucking a fitted sheet that was beginning to lose its shape. It didn’t help. Now I looked like I had at the age of six, when my mother braided my hair too tight. I let go and gravity prevailed once again. For a few seconds I wished I was aging as beautifully as Elise. But then, Elise had started out beautiful, so maybe that was the secret.

And though my parents had done their best to shake me off our branch of the family tree, there was no denying that I was their child. A mixed-up concoction of Strums and Corbins that ended up with me looking like the final product of a potluck casserole. My insecurities saw an opportunity and came rushing back but at the moment I was too tired to fight them off. I collapsed onto the sofa and felt something crinkle underneath me. One of my three-by-five cards.

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

My God is my rock in whom I take refuge.

My strength. My fortress. I wasn’t in this alone. The thought bloomed inside of me. Esther was right. He was the one I needed to run to. And Alex was wrong. He thought I was backed into a corner, but actually I’d taken refuge in the one who’d created me. Ha.

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