A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (3 page)

“Don’t think so. I’ll put a Steri-strip on it after I clean it up. That should do.” His whole demeanor carried professional authority. “You had a tetanus shot in the last ten years?”

Had she? “Yes.” What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and the sooner she got him out of here the better.

“Got any water?”

“Bottled.”

An exasperated sigh escaped from him. “You
are
a crazy lady. Sometime you’re gonna have to explain to me why you decided to stay out here without electricity or running water.”

Maybe, and then again, maybe not. She opted not to respond.

“Where’s the water?”

“Living room.”

“I’ll be right back.” His footsteps echoed in the empty house. A few seconds later he returned. “You’re sleeping on the cold, hard floor.”

A statement, not a question. “The sleeping bag softens the blow.”

“Not much.” Chance knelt and poured water on the wound, then reached around for his bag. He opened it and withdrew a white bottle.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She yanked her leg away from him.

“Amy, give me your leg.”

“No alcohol.”

“I have to make sure the wound is disinfected.”

“Good grief, it’s just a little scratch.”

“A little scratch in a very dirty house. Now stick your leg back over here.”

She ignored his command.

“Okay, two can play this game.” He lowered himself to a sitting position, crossed his ankles, and drew his knees up under crossed arms. “I’ll just stay here until you decide to follow my instructions.”

Of all the obstinate, pig-headed people! “Oh, all right!” She extended her injured leg back his direction, intentionally kicking him in the process.

“Ow! Cut it out, Amy!” He groused the words as he opened the bottle. “Maybe you haven’t changed as much I thought. Still have that Irish temper, I see.” Chance drizzled alcohol on her leg.

“Ay-yi-yi!” She immediately lowered her head down and huffed out short bursts of air. Once the burning stopped, she peered up at him through narrowed eyes. “You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“More than I expected.” He followed the sarcastic words with a laugh.

She punched his arm with all the force she could muster. The flashlight clattered to the floor and spun around a few times before the beam landed on his face.

Her throat grew thick and lumpy, and a gasp fell from her opened mouth. Red spidery scars crisscrossed the left side of his face. “What happened?” Her entire being flooded with compassion, and she reached tentative fingers toward his face.

He flinched, his bluish-gray eyes surprisingly dark in spite of the light shining on his face, but said not a word. A muscle pulsed in his jaw. As her fingers made contact with his face, he grabbed her wrist and forced her hand away, his eyes searching hers. An agonizing groan growled from his throat and he jumped to his feet. Now his voice came in short, angry bursts. “I told you people change, Amy." He pointed to his face. "This is one way of many that I’ve changed since you decided to skip out on me.” Without another word, he grabbed his bag and stomped out the back door, accentuating his angry words with a door slam.

* * *

Chance sped down the dirt road, not caring that the truck bounced all over the road because of the ruts, or that his once-shiny black pickup was now covered with powdery white dust. All he cared about was getting away from Amy as fast as he could. Obviously she’d been in contact with his grandfather, because she'd questioned whether J.C. had told him she was in town. His eyes narrowed, and his teeth clenched. The ghastly scenario that had just taken place had interfering-old-grandfather written all over it.

Chance pounded the steering wheel with his fist then immediately let off the gas pedal and tried to make sense of the gamut of emotions surging throughout his body. Why was he so angry? Was it because she’d seen his scars? Or was it the sympathy in her tone? Or could it be a sense of betrayal from his grandfather, who of all people should understand his desire to find someone to love him for who he was, not because they felt sorry for him?

The sky, now bathed in the myriad colors of dawn, captured his attention. He braked to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, immediately aware of the presence of God.

Oh, Lord, I thought I was over her. Help me know what to do. Help me get past all these painful feelings.

Forgive as you’ve been forgiven.

Forgive? But he’d already done that years ago. He’d picked up the pieces and moved on with his life. Hadn’t he? Chance tried to answer the question in his heart and head, but the more he mulled it over, the more confused he felt. Obviously he needed some godly counsel, and someone different than his grandfather. Grampa was just too close to the situation. He loved Amy, too.

One glance at the clock let him know he at least had time to stop by Mama Beth’s house on his way to work.

Five minutes later he pulled into the gravel driveway beside the pristine white picket fence. Once he moved to Miller’s Creek fulltime to attend nursing school in Morganville, it hadn’t taken long to discover the wisdom of the mother figure of the community. Though Mama Beth had lost her husband to cancer back in the spring, she was still a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and the dispenser of godly medicine. She'd surely be able to confirm his belief that he’d forgiven Amy a long time ago.

He hurried across the cobblestone walkway, up the immaculate steps and porch of the two-story Victorian house, and rapped on the screen door.

From inside, he could make out her shuffling footsteps and heard her call out: “Coming!” A second later the door opened, and her round face lit up like downtown Miller’s Creek at Christmas. “Well, my goodness, you’re the last person I expected to see this early in the morning, but I’m glad you’re here. Come in, come in. How’s J.C.?” 

“He’s been better. Dizzy spells are getting worse, so please keep him in your prayers.”

“Always.”

Chance smiled. In addition to be the wise lady everyone in town turned to for advice, she was known about town as a prayer warrior. “Hope I’m not disturbing you, Mama Beth. Only have a few minutes before I have to be at work, but I could use some of your wisdom this morning.” The smell of bacon, eggs, and homemade biscuits drifted to his nose, setting off rumbles in his stomach.

“Well, it’s not exactly my wisdom. Any smidgen I have comes from God, but I’m always happy to help however I can.” She bustled toward the kitchen, motioning for him to follow. “I just finished fixing breakfast for me and Steve, but he called to say he’s taking Dani and Elizabeth out for breakfast. I have extra. Want some?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Please.”

Within a couple of minutes, they both sat at the country farm table with full plates. Mama Beth took his hand. “I’ll ask the blessing.” She lowered her head. “Dear Lord, thank You for this food you’ve provided and for the one You’ve given to share it with. Grant me wisdom and guide my words that I might help him clearly see Your answer to his questions. Amen.”

A frown crossed his forehead. He already knew what God wanted, and he’d done it. Chance grabbed his fork and stuffed in a mouthful of fluffy scrambled eggs.

“So how can I help you?” Mama Beth peered at him with her piercing clear blue eyes.

“Well, there’s this girl.”

Mama Beth’s lips tried to wiggle into a smile. She held them in check momentarily before they blossomed into a full-blown grin. “There usually is, but that’s my favorite kind of problem.” Her cackling laugh followed.

Heat climbed up his back and landed in the tips of his ears. “It’s not like that. At least, not anymore.”

She swallowed her bite of food and chased it with a sip of coffee. “Ah, a girl from the past. Intriguing. So what’s the problem with this girl from the past?”

He shifted uncomfortably, searching for words. “Well, at one time I thought I loved her.”

“You
thought
you loved her? In my experience, love's something you either do or you don't do.”

“Okay. I loved her.”

Mama Beth nodded her approval, as if to encourage him to state the facts accurately. “Does she live in the area?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly. To be honest, I don’t really know.” Why hadn’t he thought to ask Amy if she was just in town for a while or moving here permanently? “She’s staying on her grandfather’s farm. You might have known him. Levi Kelly?”

She nodded. “I knew him well. A wonderful man, and one of your Grampa’s best friends.” Mama Beth’s eyes took on a distant look. “I met one of Levi’s granddaughters last spring, right before Bo passed. She came over with Trish and had an unusual name as I recall.”

“Amy.”

Mama Beth shook her head. “No, must be a different granddaughter. This girl had long red curly hair and the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s her, all right.” Why had she dyed her hair red when she looked gorgeous as a blond? And why had she used a different name? “Anyway, we became close during the summer after our senior year in high school. We both spent that summer with our grandparents, and we worked with Levi in his construction business.”

Mama Beth nodded encouragingly as she loaded one of the steamy biscuits with some of her homemade plum jelly. “Go on.”

Chance inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. How much should he tell her? He chewed the inside of his jaw as he considered the question, and in the end decided to keep it simple. “Like I said, we were really, really close.”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed perceptively. “I think I know what you mean.”

The heat in his ears worked its way to his face. His scars were probably flaming red. “S-something happened that shouldn’t have, and I think we both had problems dealing with it. She eventually left town, and I haven’t seen her since, until a few minutes ago.”

“Do you still love her?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“I was really angry when I left the farm. I stopped to watch the sunrise and pray, and I sensed God telling me to forgive her.”

“That’s usually a good place to start.”

“But I’ve already forgiven her years ago. I had to forgive her so I could move on with my life.”

Mama Beth’s face took on compassion. “Forgiveness can be difficult because we get all tangled up in our emotions. Truthfully, forgiveness is an act of the will that comes out in our actions. Sometimes we think we’ve forgiven people when we really haven’t. What we do instead is stuff our angry feelings in our souls and lock the door, assuming we’ve done our part. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about here. I’ve lived it.”

Something inside him hardened, like clay in the fire. “Maybe that’s true for you, but not me.”

Her eyebrows rose. She lowered her head a minute and stared into her coffee. “Perhaps.” Mama Beth raised her steady gaze to his. “But you’d be wise to do a heart check. Especially if you have any hopes of restoring your relationship with this woman.”

Was that what he wanted? Why should he take her back in his life, after the way she’d waltzed out on him as if the whole scenario were his fault?

“I can see your wheels turning there, Chance. Don’t forget it takes two to tango. She’s probably had to do her own share of forgiving.” She paused momentarily. “The biggest hurdle is spiritual pride. That only leads to judgmental attitudes and more pain for everyone involved.”

Chance nodded, but didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he munched on a crunchy piece of bacon and finished off his coffee. Obviously, Mama Beth was wrong in this case. She hadn’t been there, hadn’t walked in his shoes. He
had
forgiven Amy—or whatever her name was now—and had moved on. And after thinking it through, there was no way he intended on letting her back in his life, when all she'd do was break his heart and run away just like she'd done the last time.

Chapter Three

D
akota carried the white paper sacks of food up the front porch of J.C.’s craftsman bungalow, praying the entire time that Chance wasn't at home. She’d come close to losing her resolve about keeping her distance from him earlier that morning when the flashlight revealed his scarred face. It hurt to know he’d been so badly injured, but apparently her compassion had sent him into a rage.

Though she’d done all she could to convince herself to not let her soft side loose, it would always be a part of who she was. She’d proved it time and time again with the same old results. Meet a guy. Feel sorry for him. Let him get too close. Get burned. Well, not this time, and not ever again.

She rang the doorbell, suddenly eager to see J.C. How she'd missed him. Shuffling steps and something being rolled or scooted across the creaky floors sounded from within. The door squeaked open slowly. His shoulders bent a little lower, and his hair was thinner and whiter than when she’d seen him at Pawpaw’s funeral. J.C. peered at her from the same wise blue-gray eyes she remembered so vividly—eyes that reminded her so much of Chance.

“Can I help you, miss?” The same kind voice, the same humble smile.