Page 145 of Wasted
White blurs scattered in front of her vision. But beyond that was his handsome face. Cillian.
“Vicks.” He smiled, though his brows drew together over his coal-black eyes. Moisture seemed to glisten in those dark orbs. “I thought that might get you to wake up.”
She blinked slowly. They seemed to be outside in winter.
He was above her, cradling her head in one hand while the other felt like it was on her shoulder. Or was her head actually in his lap?
She couldn’t tell for sure. She felt so numb. “What?—”
“Warren shot you.”
Shock rolled through her at the statement. But perhaps she was already in a state of shock in the medical sense. That could account for the numbness. Though the cold was also likely inducing that symptom.
The boom of the gun as it fired jolted in her memory. She’d thought he had shot Cillian. But then, she’d felt the pain in her abdomen. Or perhaps more toward one side.
Relief had quieted any alarm she might have felt. Cillian was unharmed. That was all that mattered.
Cillian seemed to be pressing something against the area of the wound.
Her coat?
She tilted her chin downward to look. Yes, her coat and his leather jacket layered over the top of it. But that meant he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
She aimed her gaze up at his face. “You’ll freeze.” The words sounded weaker with her voice than they had in her head.
“Cold never bothers me, remember?” His mouth tugged up at one corner.
Always so stubborn, even to the end.
And this was the end. Her mind was fully awake now, with complete access to every detail that had brought them there.
Including the decimation of her family by her own hand, by her own mistakes. And that would be the last time she would ever see them all, at least in this life. They would be left with the division and dissension she’d created when she had abandoned peacemaking for confrontation, acquiescence and obedience for rebellion.
“Lord, please forgive me.” The prayer escaped as a whisper that was snatched and carried away on the wind. She would see Him soon, face to face. She knew He did forgive her. Christ had paid for all her sins when He died in her place on the cross. But oh, how she wished she could have left her family with the peace, love, and faith that their mother had passed on to her.
“Vicks, I promised God I would ask you if He let me find you.” Cillian’s low tone drew her focus to him. “How do I get right with God?”
She stared at him. Did he mean that? Perhaps her body’s shock had drawn her into another dream.
“You should see your face.” He grinned, but the curve of his mouth weakened quickly, the corners of his lips tucking as he watched her. “You’d better tell me quick, Vicks.”
He started to disappear, darkness moving in to hide him from view.
“Vicks, don’t you want me to go to heaven?” A shake brought Cillian back.
Or must have made her open her eyes. She hadn’t realized they were closing.
He moved his head side to side. “I can’t believe you, Vicks. Here you’ve always wanted me to come to Jesus, and now when I want to, you go to sleep.”
She blinked. “If you really mean that, I’ll stay awake.”
“That’s the spirit.” He smoothed her forehead with his hand. “Are you going to tell me how to get right with God?”
“Well,” her eyelids started to droop, but she forced them open, “you need to understand the problem. God made us, but then we sinned. And because we rebelled against Him, there’s enmity, a divide between us and God. We’re always against God and deserve only wrath from Him for our sin.”
She stopped, her breath falling behind her thoughts. “That’s why God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, who gave Himself up for us, died for our sins to make peace between us and God. The Bible says, ‘in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace.’”
He Himself is our peace. The Peacemaker above all peacemakers was Christ, would always be Christ. And people had killed Him for it.
