Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,49

night.”

Lark looked at him, wanting so badly to help him.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t need to talk this through.” Everett shoved his food aside. “You’re bursting to say something. Please, go ahead.”

“I’ve gone through this,” she said. “Not quite the same, as you know, but similar circumstances. I was forced to forgive someone.”

Lark looked at Everett; his eyes were full of pain. She waited for him to speak, but he just gripped the table as if he couldn’t let go.

“I didn’t have to blame myself or any of my relatives for my parents’ accident. That was the easy part.” Lark moved her plate away. She’d lost her appetite, as well. “But I allowed the offender to write me from prison. He asked for forgiveness. I didn’t want to do it. I fought it for about six months. And then I couldn’t stand it any longer. Every single day I chose not to forgive him, I hurt inside. It kept extending the grieving period as it ate away at my spirit. So I asked God to help me.”

“And He did it?” Everett asked. “Just like that?”

Lark shook her head. “No. I had to do it over and over until I really meant it, but God seemed to honor even my simple efforts to do the right thing.”

“The right thing,” Everett repeated. “You don’t know the whole story. My brother and sister had a pattern of this behavior.” He folded his arms. “My sister Greta was an artist like you, but she had a penchant for all things outlandish. And sometimes her tastes leaned toward the reckless. She took my parents hiking down in west Texas, and my father nearly died of heat exhaustion. I warned her, but she refused to take advice from her older brother. She was determined to do things her way even if it could hurt someone.”

Everett stared off toward the front door. “My brother and sister were always alike. So wild and passionate about everything. They couldn’t just smell the air before a rain. They had to go up in a plane during a thunderstorm and experience the source of the rain. So Greta could paint the rain with more realism and Marty could compose words about storms with more passion. How exasperatingly maniacal.” He let his balled-up hand fall on the table, making a loud thud. “It’s like I knew it would all end this way somehow, but no one would listen. No one. Now is that easy to forgive and flippantly dismiss?”

Lark looked at him intently. “Just because a person forgives someone doesn’t mean it’s done easily or flippantly. It’s an act of courage.” She paused and then felt an urge to continue. “And. . . the icy road Marty talked about. It sounds like he and Greta just didn’t know. I mean, was the accident really their fault?”

Everett shook his head. “I’m sure you’re trying to help me, but I’m just going to have to work this one out alone.” He rose in his chair.

Lark took the cue and started cleaning up.

He took her hand. “No. I don’t want you to do that. I’ll get it.”

Somehow his look pierced her heart. Everett was closing her out. She could sense it in every word and action. “Okay.” Lark looked up into his handsome but sad eyes. “Is everything okay. . .you know. . .between us?” Her hands shook as she reached over to finger his collar. “I mean, I know I’m kind of spontaneous. And, well, artsy. But I hope you’ll see it in your heart to—” She couldn’t go on with her appeal since she felt close to tears. Lark licked her lips and fought to keep her chin from trembling.

Everett touched her hair. “I just need some time to work through this.”

Is that true? Or are you trying to say good-bye? Lark put her hand over her mouth to steady her emotions. “Okay.”

He kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you pray for me? I’m sure I can use it.”

“I will.” As he walked her to the door, Lark looked around. She hadn’t paid much attention before, but his house looked so empty. “You know, we haven’t known each other long,” Lark said. “But, well, I know this is putting my feelings sort of out there. But I think I’m—”

Everett gently placed his finger over her lips. “Are you sure you want to say this?”

Lark nodded. “I’m sure, even though I guess what I’m about to say will come off too