Page 44 of When Forever Stays

She says, “I knew it. Speaking of Dana, are you going to try to talk to her soon?”

I shake my head. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me. What I did to her is unforgivable.”

All levity in her expression is gone. “Nothing is unforgivable.”

I give her a look that says I don’t believe her.

“Nothing,” she says with finality.

“Well, then it’s probably going to take a long time for her to get over it. And I can’t blame her. I had every opportunity to tell her who I am but didn’t.”

“You know I’m not happy about you lying to all of us.” Her tone is surprisingly not one of judgment. “But I can understand why you kept your identity a secret.”

“I wanted a fresh start. To be who I am and not who the world expects me to be.”

She smiles gently. “I can understand that. Dana will too. Just give her time.”

I release an exasperated sigh. “That seems to be the answer for everything—wait.”

Nancy pats my chest. “It often is, though God answers all our prayers. Sometimes His answer isn’t what we want. Sometimes it is. But we always learn His perfect answer in His perfect timing.” She pulls me into an embrace. “I’m praying for you. Keep leaning into God and you’ll get through this.”

“I know.” It’s something I do know and have known but still need to be reminded of. “Thank you.” I squeeze her back, and she holds me tight. Her hug reminds me so much of my mom that I squeeze her harder and send up a grateful prayer that God put another wonderful woman in my life to encourage me.

I’ve been praying for the last few days, trying to figure out if joining the church band is something God wants me to do. At first, I wasn’t sure if it’d be a good idea since my true identity is slowly spreading through the community. The people of Amber Island are private, but it doesn’t mean someone won’t turn on me and release my whereabouts to the media. But the more I pray about it, the more certain I am that God is calling me to do this. Step out in obedience and God will handle the consequences, right?

Dillon texted yesterday and asked if I’d want to do a trial run at youth group this week, and I told him I’d let him know by tonight. Apparently, he’s grown impatient with waiting on me. Even though I’m leery about going back on stage I keep reminding myself that this is for God’s glory. Not mine. Facing that fear will be worth it so I can go out there praising the Godwho saved me. The God who’s sovereign. The God who gives and takes away.

I’m searching the scriptures, trying to confirm I’m making the right decision while Nancy sits across from me working on a crossword puzzle.

“Do you think she’ll be at youth group?” I ask. Nancy looks up from the paper and gives me a mischievous smile. I don’t need to name who I’m asking about.

Since Nancy is in charge of the women’s ministry, which includes the girls’ youth group, she should know which of her volunteers will be present.

“That girl hasn’t missed a Wednesday since her first small group. She’ll be there.” Nancy rests her hands on her hips. “But if she’s not there, I’ll be dragging her little butt out of her house and through the doors of the church.”

I smile and shake my head, then excuse myself to my room to pray. This feels like the final confirmation I need to make my decision.

I call Dillon, and he answers after the first ring. “Did you decide?”

“I’ll be at youth group.”

“Awesome, thank you, Rhett.” His voice is full of relief.

After saying goodbyes, we hang up. I pray that this is the perfect place to start again.

SEVENTEEN

DANA

I stare at my empty notebook and then the blank lines in my study Bible. This block has become more pronounced than ever. I haven’t been able to understand a word of the Bible. When I stare at the black text against the cream-colored pages the words jumble together, tying themselves into indiscernible knots that I can’t untangle.

I grind my back molars, unable to release the tension that’s been growing inside of me.

Time away from Rhett was supposed to help me sort through these feelings. But all it’s done is make me more miserable.

I’ve accepted that Rhett has a child—a teenager. I’ve accepted that he ghosted me for a very legitimate reason. Do I wish he would have told me what was going on? Of course. But he had a lot dropped on him all at once, and he had a life-or-death situation he needed to handle. How could he tell a girl he just started dating that he has a son he didn’t know about who is dying and needs part of his liver?

I close my Bible and rest my forehead against the cover. Maybe if I stay here long enough the words will seep into my mind and untangle this web of emotions.

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