Potter Springs by Britta Coleman

Author:Britta Coleman [COLEMAN, BRITTA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781599953243
Publisher: Center Street
Published: 2009-09-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

welcome home

The hollow moon lay over Amanda. Unlit candles, freesia and vanilla, scented the darkened bedroom. Deep red roses on her dresser appeared black in the shadow. The buds, cut before full bloom, drew tight together like a kiss. The small card beside the vase, in Mark’s fluid handwriting, simply read, Welcome Home.

The sound of the water running stopped, bathroom drawers slid opened and shut. Quietly, with no banging or slamming. The silence of resignation. Not wanting to upset her while she slept, but she didn’t sleep at all.

Her suitcase, still packed, slumped in a corner full of dirty clothes and her folder. The letter was no longer tucked inside. She’d handed the sealed envelope to the session leader this morning, to be mailed back in one year. “You’ll see how far you’ve grown,” the elderly woman promised. “How your prayers have been answered.”

Leaving emotions of hidden hurt, which weighed a thousand pounds, Amanda flew home on wings. Yes, she’d left some heaviness behind, but what had she taken with her? Back in Potter Springs, the same difficulties, the repressed anger, had grabbed hold of her before she could breathe.

I want to get better.

She stared at her suitcase, the shape of leaving, until her eyes burned. She closed her eyes and saw the brilliant sun in Colorado, the bright blue sky. She’d felt so high and near to God, truly on a mountaintop, seeking answers for wisdom and direction and healing.

One morning, under the privacy of a towering tree, the poetry of the Psalms voiced a promise to her, clear as a lover’s song. Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

She grasped it and made it hers. She would see morning, she believed it. Her gifts from the retreat had been new friends, and a new perspective. That she might find hope, if only she kept going. She just didn’t know how long her night would last.

Mark slipped in the sheets beside her, damp from the shower. He settled his large frame, not disturbing her as she curled on her side away from him.

She heard loneliness from the curve of his back, and it called to her. He deserved so much more than she gave him. His heart was precious to her, even if his actions made her crazy.

She unwound and turned to him, smelling his neck, his body, the steam and the stillness. Sliding her arms around his chest, she kissed his bare shoulder, and wondered at the weight he carried there.

He’d been so strong for her, for so long.

I want to get better. Effort thickened her voice. “I’m sorry.” The hardest thing to say, but a place to start. “I hurt your feelings… about the van …” She would not say the words my car again.

“It doesn’t matter.” He spoke to the wall.

But it did, the straightness of his spine said. The links of his vertebrae arched together, lined up against her. She traced a finger along the bumps and felt his involuntary shiver.

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