Page 151 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
“Huh.” Dante leaned back in his chair, struck by the sudden revelation her words had sparked. “That’s something I haven’t really considered. Maybe the Jesus I’ve been so angry with isn’t the real Jesus at all, just the version of him I made up in my head. A Jesus who cares more about my happiness than allowing me to go through trials that make me more like him, that draw me closer to him. A Santa Claus God who exists solely to give me everything I ask for, even though, given his infinite perspective and wisdom, he knows it isn’t what is best for me. I’ve believed for so long that God abandoned me when I needed him the most. Now I wonder if that absence I’ve felt since Carina died isn’t the absence of the true God but the complete disintegration of the one I created myself.”
Jules’ shimmering eyes locked on his as she touched her fingers to her chest. “I feel the truth of that here, so I think you could be right.”
“Then, Jules.” Dante reached for her hands and held them in his. “Maybe it’s time for both of us to let go of that fake God and all our anger toward him and turn to the real one. The one who does want what’s best for us, even when it means that we have to stumble blindly through a deep, dark valley of heartbreak and grief. The one who never has left but has always been there, walking alongside us.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Maybe it is.”
Dante squeezed her fingers. “I’ll pray that you are able to.”
She managed a tremulous smile. “I’ll pray that for you as well.”
He held her fingers a few seconds longer before letting go and gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “So. Ice cream?”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Their third dayat the cottage dawned bright and sunny. Still no word from Dante’s colleagues about the killer, so Jules braced herself for the fact that they might not be able to return home for a while yet. Not that it was a hardship to be here in this gorgeous cottage with a man who continued to surprise her, a man she was more and more drawn to, despite her best intentions. Still, she worried about her mother and her friends and couldn’t wait until all of this was over and she knew they were safe.
She stared out the window at the glittering swimming pool as she unloaded their breakfast and lunch dishes from the dishwasher. If she’d brought a swimsuit, it would have been fun to go for a dip.
Dante came up to stand next to her, his gaze following hers. “Feel like a swim?”
“I might, but I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
He set a glass on the top rack. “Don’t worry about that. My mom is always prepared for guests. She has several new bathing suits in the pool house in various sizes. You’ll be able to find something to wear. There are towels out there as well. And I cangrab one of those big raft things so you can float around for a while. It’s extremely relaxing.”
Okay, that did sound pretty good. When was the last time she’d been able to truly relax? Since she couldn’t remember, it was likely long overdue. Jules closed the dishwasher door. “Sounds great.”
Dante touched a finger to her arm, just above her left wrist, still bandaged from the hospital. “Think your wrist is healed enough to get wet?”
She turned her arm over to gaze at the white gauze. “Good question. I haven’t checked it since I left the hospital.”
He inclined his head toward it. “Mind if I take a look?”
That was not a good idea. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check the wound before she went into the pool. Jules leaned back against the counter and held out her arm.
Dante unhooked the clasp holding the end of the bandage in place and slowly unwound it. When he finished, he stepped on the pedal of the trash can to lift the lid. “We have more gauze in the First-Aid kit if you need it.”
She nodded.
Sliding his hand beneath hers to hold it steady, Dante ran his left index finger across her wrist, above the spot where the cuff had rubbed it raw. Thankfully, it appeared to be well on the way to being fully healed, and only a small scar with a bit of redness around it remained.
When he brushed his thumb below the scar, Jules swallowed. “What do you think?”
Still holding his hand beneath hers, Dante looked up. “I think you’re good.” His thumb made one more lazy pass across her wrist before he released her.
“Great.” Yep. Definitely a bad idea. Hopefully he’d believe the slight rasp in her voice was a holdover from the smoke inhalation.
His lips quirked. “Go get ready. I’ll grab the floatie from the garage.”
Jules nodded. On slightly weak legs, she pushed away from the counter and went out through the sliding glass patio doors to stroll along the winding cobblestone path to the pool gate. At the far end of the enclosure stood a small, white building that looked like a miniature cottage. The pool house, no doubt. When she stepped inside, the aroma of chlorine drifted on the air. Jules closed her eyes and pressed a palm to the cool wall next to a row of towel hooks, the memory catching her off-guard. She’d always been an avid swimmer and had been the one to take Louisa to swimming lessons, holding her little sister under her arms as Lou floated on her tummy and learned to kick and splash. The smell of chlorine, one Jules had always loved, would forever bring those moments to her mind.
With no visual memories to hold close and perpetually draw upon, when the sight or aroma or sound of something carried a remembrance to her conscious mind, it catapulted into her body every emotion she had ever felt over the person or experience, often blindsiding her, knocking her off-kilter for days.
Now, after her conversation with Dante the day before, this memory trailed after it only joy and a warmth that spread through her entire body. Smiling, she crossed the cement floor to a wall of cubbies, each of which held a swimsuit still in its package, a cover-up, and a clean, folded towel. Baskets on the floor held flip flops in various sizes and colors. Dante’s mother was either extremely controlling or the most thoughtful person and host on the planet. Now that Jules had gotten to know Dante better, she suspected the latter.
Jules perused the offerings before choosing a modest, royal-blue one-piece. She changed in a cubicle and slipped on the flowy white cover-up and a pink pair of flip-flops before heading back to the pool area, clutching a fluffy, lemon-yellow towel.
