Page 125 of It's Always Been You
I hesitate. “Not exactly. I’m giving you notice.”
Her jaw works back and forth. “Giving me notice of the fact that you’refiringme.” Her arms drop to her sides as she glances around the room incredulously. “I don’t get it. We work well together.”
“We do, but . . .”
Her eyes dim with realization. “You’re done.”
“Done?”
“With me. With . . .this.” She gestures between us, her head tilting. “Am I right?”
My mouth pops open and closed, but no words form. No words would do this moment justice anyway. She’d never believe my reasons. She doesn’t need to believe me, though. This is obedience. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, it hurts. Sometimes, you want to rage at God and demand answers.
Sometimes you lose people for it.
“I had a hunch,” she says quietly, swallowing as she looks down. “You’ve been distant lately.”
My chest fills with pressure. “I love you, Evie. But I believe this is His will.”
Her eyes flash with hurt. “He’s asked you to fire me?”
“No. Not exactly. To let you go.” I’m still not sure why. Or what it means.
Her eyes well up, and fresh tears rain down her cheeks in rapid procession. The agony on her face is almost too much for me to bear. Somehow, I remain rooted where I am, knowing that any comfort I bring her will be fleeting andmake things that much harder for us when I pull away again. But I can’t deny that I’m doubting my own convictions.
Is this really Your will, Lord? Or have I just convinced myself it is?
“Why?” she chokes out.
“I don’t know why, but I trust Him.”
She sniffles, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands.“And here I thought . . .” She pauses, closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply through her nose. Her eyes are hard when she opens them again. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Evie—”
“Look,” she starts. “If this isreallyGod’s will, then who am I to argue?”
I swallow uneasily. Take a step toward her. My resolve is crumbling around me as she draws back. I’m seconds away from backtracking on the whole thing. This doesn’t feel right. Something is off.
Lord? Have I gotten this all wrong?
She turns away. “But I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I assure her quickly, reaching for her.
“I know.” She evades my grasp and beelines toward the door. Her head ticks in my direction as she cracks it open. “But for some reason, that never seems to be enough for you.”
“Evie, wait—”
She slips out, slamming the door behind her.
I look frantically around the room.Lord, should I go after her? Make sure she doesn’t do something stupid? Or give her space?
My eyes snag on the small, wooden escritoire beneath the front window. I never sit there, considering I have a home office. But I keep it stocked with paper, envelopes, and stamps in case I want to pay bills or send a letter in a pinch. Evie’s letter springs to mind as I stare at the legal pad resting on top of the desk. That simple, sweet letter still brings me hope and encouragement—even in my darkest hours. There’s something uniquely powerful about a letter. You can convey your thoughts succinctly and completely, without the threats of misspeaking, interruptions, or misinterpretations.
I get the urge to write Evie a letter of my own.
My feet carry me toward the pad of paper like they have a mind of their own. Dropping into the chair, I grab a pen and scratch the stubble forming along my jaw as I stare at the page, mulling over all the things I’ve wanted to say to Evie but never have.
