Page 58 of The Unbound Bookshop
For a moment, Abby merely stared at the opaque stone, marveling at its rounded edges. How could something as jagged and razor-sharp as broken glass become so perfectly smooth?
She wasn’t sure if it was the unexpected beauty of the sea glass that moved her or the emotions of the day overwhelming her once again, but tears sprang to her eyes. She let them gather on her lashes, magnifying the stone’s ruddy hue.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Verna’s voice carried over her shoulder, startling Abby from her thoughts. “And orange! That’s a rare find.”
Verna let Bing off his leash to waddle in the surf and sat on the log beside her. The sun sank lower in the sky, staining the water lavender and pink.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Verna asked when she noticed Abby’s tears.
“No,” Abby sniffled. “Sadly, it’s not. And I don’t know if it will ever be all right again.” She unburdened her sorrow, sharing everything that transpired earlier that afternoon.
Verna listened silently, except for the occasional murmurs of sympathy and surprise.
By the time Abby finally finished her sordid tale, Verna was dabbing her own tears with the edge of her purple scarf. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’d prayed it wasn’t true.”
“Me, too.” Abby lifted her gaze from the sea glass to glimpse the sunset splashed across the ocean waves. So many vibrant colors, like a painter’s canvas, interspersed with streaks of liquid gold. The striking beauty contrasted so harshly against the ugliness in her heart, tears sprang anew.
“I’m so angry, Verna,” she confessed in a hoarse whisper. “I’m angry at Donnie for what he did. And I’m even angrier that he’s not here to take the brunt of my anger, which probably makes no sense at all.” She roughly wiped her damp cheeks with her clenched fist, her fingers still wound tightly around the sea glass. “And I’m angry with myself. Because I want to forgive him so badly, but I don’t know if I should. I don’t want to be weak.”
Verna sat beside her in silence for a long moment before saying softly, “In my experience, forgiveness isn’t a weakness. It’s a sign of great strength. But then, forgiveness isn’t what some people think. It isn’t denial. And it isn’t being a doormat. Forgiveness isn’t some passive thing. It’s active. And powerful. And it impacts the forgiver a lot more than the offender.”
“If I forgive him, will all this pain go away?”Please, please tell me it will go away.
“Probably not. Not at first. The wound will feel raw for a while, sharp and ragged around the edges. Much like that piece of glass once did.” She nodded toward Abby’s tightly coiled fist.
Abby slowly unfurled her fingers, bathing the frosted glass in soft, ethereal light.
“It takes years for the sea and sand to work its magic, polishing and refining to produce such a stunning transformation.”
“Years?” Abby whimpered. She wanted relief right this second, not years from now.
“No one can say exactly how long heartache or hardship will last. But you know what sea glass always reminds me of?” Verna didn’t wait for a response before answering her own question. “Isaiah 43:2, when the Lord says to His people, ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.’ That’s a promise. To me and to you.”
Abby watched the waves slip back to sea, and thanks to Verna’s reassuring words, some of her grief and anger vanished with it. She leaned her head against the older woman’s shoulder, savoring the way her softly scented perfume mingled with the salty ocean air. Somewhere along the way, this woman had become as much a mother to her as her own. “Thank you, Verna.”
“My pleasure, dear one.” Verna patted her hand that held the sea glass. “Now, don’t you lose that. It’s very special.”
“I won’t.” Abby slipped it into her pocket.
The sea glass would serve as a sign. A sign to forgive. And a sign for the future.
Thanks to Verna, she knew exactly what she needed to do next.
She needed to call Victor.
Chapter 33
SAGE
Sage tookin her elegant surroundings with an air of disbelief. The Cahill gardens resembled a magical fairyland, with lush, fragrant flowers and twinkling lights everywhere.
She’d expected her presence to provoke some snide comments or passive-aggressive remarks from Cordelia or, at the very least, some withering glances. But Flynn’s mother had been perfectly civil, bordering on pleasant.
In fact, the entire evening had passed like a dream. Dancing, incredible food, and stunning views of the sunset from the clifftop estate.
Flynn hadn’t left her side all evening, except to fetch them a fresh glass of champagne.
She smiled, her heart soaring with unbridled bliss, as he wove through the gathering of impeccably dressed guests, wielding two crystal flutes.
