changing.” Angela wiped away the moisture dripping from her eyes. “I’m so afraid of getting stuck again, though.”
“You don’t have to do it alone, you know. Let God help you.” Simon leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Let me help you.”
Angela closed her eyes. If only. Even if she could bring herself to try again with a new relationship, Simon lived halfway around the world—and that seemed to set them up for the biggest disappointment of all. “I . . .”
“It doesn’t have to be a big decision right now, eh? Finish this race if possible, then go home, settle back in, write me, call.” Simon smoothed her hair back. “We’ll suss it out from there.”
She didn’t know whether it was possible to work things out, but right now hope nestled in. “I can’t believe you aren’t running the other direction.”
The incredulous look that passed over his face would have been comical if it didn’t sear her in the gut. “Not even close.”
He leaned toward her—and she finally gave in to her impulse to hook her arms around his neck and pull him near.
Then Simon surprised her by kissing her cheek where the tears had been. “Not.” Then the other cheek. “Even.” Finally, he pulled his face back just slightly so their noses touched. “Close.”
He stayed there, watching her, waiting. For what?
Oh.
For her.
He was giving her a choice.
Angela wound her fingers into Simon’s hair, shut her eyes, and allowed him to kiss her. It was soft and sweet—a gentle pressing of their souls together as she lifted a prayer for the strength to dream again.
The kiss ended, and Simon nudged her, pointing outside the cave. “Look. The rain. It’s stopped.”
40
When Angela came to Eva’s tent around 10 a.m. and told her the race was back on, Eva slumped against her pillow.
Her sister-in-law was clearly excited, and something else—the worry lines around her eyes had relaxed, and a smile took up a large portion of her face. Peace. That was it. She looked at peace.
Would Eva ever feel that way again?
“That’s great.” It was the expected response, right? She should be as thrilled as Angela. More, in fact, considering this whole thing had been her idea.
But the thought of facing Marc after last night’s debacle . . .
Ugh.
“Eva?” Angela crawled into the tent. “You seem a million miles away. What’s going on?”
“My ankle. It hurts.” That and everything else—her heart most of all.
Angela helped Eva unzip her sleeping bag and pulled the cover aside. A blast of cold air hit Eva’s whole body as Angela examined her ankle. “It’s pretty bad today. Do you really want to do this?”
“Yes.” Maybe everything would be better if she could just finish this race. It’s what she’d told herself when she’d dreamed of it months ago, and she couldn’t give up now when the potential payoff was so close. Whatever was happening with Marc, she couldn’t let herself down.
It would take the very last shred of resolve she had. But what else could she do?
Eva bit back a yelp as Angela worked on placing fresh tape on her ankle. “Didn’t you mention that Simon could get me some crutches or something?”
“Yes.” Angela finished taping and started helping Eva on with her shoes. “And hopefully they’ll help more than the trekking poles since you can actually place your full weight on them.”
Eva worked up the courage to ask the question she’d been mulling all morning. “How’s Marc?”
“I haven’t seen much of him, but he’ll be okay. You guys will get past this.”
“How? He thinks I haven’t moved on.” She loved Marc. But she loved Brent, too, and she always would. Could she ever reconcile the two?
“I’ve come to hate that phrase. Move on. As if we leave our husbands behind and the people we were before.” Angela patted Eva’s leg. “But all of it becomes part of us, right? I don’t think we ever move on. Like Sherry said, we just keep moving. One step at a time. And eventually the hurt isn’t so bad. The past doesn’t hold us back from our future. Yes, there will always be moments that trigger us, when we feel like the pain might drown us again. But I’m hoping those moments become fewer and further between the more time that elapses.”
“I hope so too. Although I never want to forget Brent and what he meant to me.”
“You won’t. You just might not feel completely gutted whenever you think of him. And you can’t compare your grief with other