Rescued by John Bevere

Author:John Bevere [John Bevere]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781441202383
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

“What have I done?” Jenny screamed.

On her knees, she tried to cradle his head, which lolled about. She checked his pulse. Thankfully he was breathing, his heart still beating. While caressing his cheek she allowed full vent to her anguish. “God, please, I pray he’s not hurt badly,” she pleaded to the hallway’s ceiling. “I couldn’t bear it. I just couldn’t . . .” She looked down and saw that his eyelids were struggling to open.

“Oh, Alan! I’m so sorry. I thought you were—”

His eyes opened completely, then his whole face wrenched into a grimace of delayed pain.

“What did you do to me?”

“Uh . . . that was a scissors kick,” she said, cringing.

“What—were you trying to kill me?” he said through a mouthful of crimson.

“I’m so sorry. I thought someone was stalking me. You should know better than to shadow a vulnerable single woman.”

“Vulnerable, my foot,” he said, holding his jaw.

“Well, why didn’t you just call me or something? Never mind—let me help you up.”

She half carried him down the hall to her door. Once inside, she led him to the sofa, where she lowered him on one end.

“Is this because I haven’t called?” he finally asked, the corner of one eye squinting at her.

“No. It’s because I was raped.”

Alan froze, his eyes wide. Then his fingers rose slowly to where hers were wiping blood from his chin with a tissue she got from her purse. He grasped her hand and squeezed tightly.

“Years ago, I mean,” she said. “Actually, it was nine years, four months, and seven days ago. It’s the thing I alluded to in Cairo. I . . . I didn’t mean to tell you like this.”

“And I didn’t mean not to call.”

“It’s been almost two weeks since Cairo, and you’re back to giving me the same old treatment. The averted glances, turning away, the awkward silences when I walk in—”

“I tried, but I failed.”

“Tried what?”

“Tried to forget about what happened between us. Tried to live without you. Tried to return to my sorry marriage and my unhappy, second-rate life. Remember our decision? That if God really wanted us together, He’d make returning to our old ways impossible. Well, I gave it my best. The cost of this is so high; I had to be sure.”

“And the best way you could think to convey this good news was stalking me through my apartment building?”

“I’m sorry. But think about it, Jenny. I’m the pastor of the third largest church in Colorado. There’s not a place we could meet that’s out of the way enough to ensure some church member—somebody we would never recognize, yet who’d recognize me in a heartbeat—wouldn’t see us. Unless you count, maybe, the summit of Mount Evans. And even there, all bets are off.”

“Why didn’t you identify yourself in the stairwell?”

“I tried to, but you were talking so loudly on your cell phone, you couldn’t hear me.”

“So. You’re here.” Her nervous rush was starting to wear off, with a certain glum bluntness taking its place.

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