Page 56 of Betsy
Betsy
There it was. Right where Tricia had said it would be.
I stared at the moleskin notebook lying beside Asher’s leather-covered Bible. The same one he was nearly constantly scribbling in—equal parts writing, staring off into space, and then erasing and writing again. Guilt already started to weigh me down, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. Wasn’t even sure if I would. If not for Tricia, I wouldn’t be standing there, looming like a bandit over treasure I planned to steal. But she’d begged me to find this notebook. To open it and read the page an old receipt kept bookmarked. Had argued that Asher was planning on sharing what was inside, but by then, it might be too late. Said if I cared about—no,for—Asher at all, I’d read what was written there. Then I’d know what to do next. No amount of questioning led Tricia to reveal either what I’d find or what she thought I should do. Just that I wouldknow.
My fingers itched, the feeling traveling up my arms to scratch at the corners of my brain. I chewed on the inside edge of my bottom lip. Should I or shouldn’t I?
I glanced around me, then grabbed the small book, hurrying to find the receipt being used as a placeholder. I quickly scanned the page.
It was a song.
Gravity pulled my body down to the seat behind me, and my eyes moved back up to the top of the page to read the lyrics.
In the deepest, in the quiet places
I can hear you, a song waiting to be written
You sing to me, a symphony, we’d be in perfect harmony
Our hearts beating as one
I close my eyes and listen
To you calling out to me
And pray that God grant you every blessing
And hope that someday I’ll be counted as one,
A part of your destiny
So sing out, sing out
Let your heart ring out, ring out
Don’t hold back, darling
Shine your light into the darkness
My shining star, you know who you are
I’ll shine with you, if you want me to
Just say the word, I’m waiting to be heard
You sing to me, a symphony, we’d be in perfect harmony
Our hearts beating as one.
My eyes swam. The words floated in and out of focus as tears built then cascaded over the edge of my lids. I brushed the waterfall of moisture, like droplets clinging to a window in the rain, from my cheeks.
A strangled laugh pushed its way past my lips. Stupid, beautiful man.
How had we gotten here? From off limits to the precipice of yearning for unrestricted access? It felt like I’d been looking at him in a dimly lit room and someone had finally decided to turn a light on. How had I missed the depth of his gaze or the beautiful symmetry of his mind and spirit?
Maybe I was the stupid one. Too blinded by my misconceptions to see what was right in front of my face. To reach out and grab ahold of someone who saw more of me than I ever saw of myself.
I closed the notebook and tucked it under my arm.
