at peace, safe.
She felt safe with Noah, too. He had always accepted her, respected her, and made her feel loved and worthwhile. Well, Beth amended quickly, not quite as loved as she had wished he would love her, when she had finally grown into young womanhood, but that hadn’t been his fault. To the best of his ability, Noah had always been honest with her. That was better than most men had treated her ever since.
She shot him a sideways glance. He smiled as he drove along, his gaze riveted straight ahead, one foot braced against the front panel, his arm resting on his slightly raised leg. The lines of tension that so frequently tightened his face had softened a bit. He appeared to be enjoying this ride as much as she. Did he, as well, enjoy her presence as much as she was enjoying his?
With a grimace of disgust, Beth flung that foolish question aside. It was beginning to border on the ridiculous how often and easily her mind turned to romantic notions, notions she had long ago rejected. Medicine was her only love, her life–long calling.
But even that wasn’t going well. Doc had all but told her she was an inadequate physician. Though for entirely different reasons, his comments cut as deeply as had those of her fellow medical students and instructors during the years of her training. Would she never measure up in the eyes of her male colleagues?
Beth told herself that it shouldn’t matter what others thought, that it only mattered what she thought. Yet peace and self-acceptance eluded her, and she couldn’t understand why.
Does Noah, Beth wondered, ever encounter such questions in his own life? She supposed he had all he needed in God and the Bible. But Noah had suffered greatly when he lost Alice. He’d continue to suffer, too, all the days of Emily’s life, knowing she’d never be able to run and play like other children or even live an independent life. How, indeed, did his faith sustain him anymore?
Beth had seen too much needless pain and suffering, had encountered too much cruelty and hypocrisy, to believe in a merciful God. How could Noah continue to believe?
She turned to him. “Would you mind if I asked . . . asked a rather personal question?”
A smile quirked the corner of Noah’s mouth. “Depends. If I answer it, do I get to ask you one in turn?”
Beth thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Never mind. I withdraw my question. It’s not fair for me to ask you and not be willing to have you do the same. And I’m not.”
“Oh, Beth.” Noah sighed. “What happened to you back East to change you from that trusting, open, happy girl you used to be? None of us here purposely have done anything to hurt you, yet your fear of us is all but palpable.”
Beth didn’t know how to answer without sharing more than she cared to reveal. She looked away, all the old, angry emotions rising again. “I told you. I withdraw my question. Can we let it go at that?”
“What’s your question, Beth?” he asked softly, gently. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer you the best I know how.”
“No.” Fiercely, she shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it. You’re hurting. I can see that. You’re suspicious and afraid. Well, if it takes me baring my soul to break down those walls of yours, then I’m willing to risk it.”
“Why?” She turned back to Noah, tears of confusion blurring her vision. She furiously blinked them away. “Why would you do that?”
“Why else?” His brown eyes shone with love. “Because maybe, just maybe, if I take the first step toward you, then you’ll someday take one back to me. Back to me and all the people who’ve always loved you.”
She looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “It was nothing really anyway. My question, I mean. I was just thinking about all you’d suffered in losing Alice, then what’s happened to Emily. And I wondered how you keep your faith so strong.”
With a tug on
She felt safe with Noah, too. He had always accepted her, respected her, and made her feel loved and worthwhile. Well, Beth amended quickly, not quite as loved as she had wished he would love her, when she had finally grown into young womanhood, but that hadn’t been his fault. To the best of his ability, Noah had always been honest with her. That was better than most men had treated her ever since.
She shot him a sideways glance. He smiled as he drove along, his gaze riveted straight ahead, one foot braced against the front panel, his arm resting on his slightly raised leg. The lines of tension that so frequently tightened his face had softened a bit. He appeared to be enjoying this ride as much as she. Did he, as well, enjoy her presence as much as she was enjoying his?
With a grimace of disgust, Beth flung that foolish question aside. It was beginning to border on the ridiculous how often and easily her mind turned to romantic notions, notions she had long ago rejected. Medicine was her only love, her life–long calling.
But even that wasn’t going well. Doc had all but told her she was an inadequate physician. Though for entirely different reasons, his comments cut as deeply as had those of her fellow medical students and instructors during the years of her training. Would she never measure up in the eyes of her male colleagues?
Beth told herself that it shouldn’t matter what others thought, that it only mattered what she thought. Yet peace and self-acceptance eluded her, and she couldn’t understand why.
Does Noah, Beth wondered, ever encounter such questions in his own life? She supposed he had all he needed in God and the Bible. But Noah had suffered greatly when he lost Alice. He’d continue to suffer, too, all the days of Emily’s life, knowing she’d never be able to run and play like other children or even live an independent life. How, indeed, did his faith sustain him anymore?
Beth had seen too much needless pain and suffering, had encountered too much cruelty and hypocrisy, to believe in a merciful God. How could Noah continue to believe?
She turned to him. “Would you mind if I asked . . . asked a rather personal question?”
A smile quirked the corner of Noah’s mouth. “Depends. If I answer it, do I get to ask you one in turn?”
Beth thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Never mind. I withdraw my question. It’s not fair for me to ask you and not be willing to have you do the same. And I’m not.”
“Oh, Beth.” Noah sighed. “What happened to you back East to change you from that trusting, open, happy girl you used to be? None of us here purposely have done anything to hurt you, yet your fear of us is all but palpable.”
Beth didn’t know how to answer without sharing more than she cared to reveal. She looked away, all the old, angry emotions rising again. “I told you. I withdraw my question. Can we let it go at that?”
“What’s your question, Beth?” he asked softly, gently. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer you the best I know how.”
“No.” Fiercely, she shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it. You’re hurting. I can see that. You’re suspicious and afraid. Well, if it takes me baring my soul to break down those walls of yours, then I’m willing to risk it.”
“Why?” She turned back to Noah, tears of confusion blurring her vision. She furiously blinked them away. “Why would you do that?”
“Why else?” His brown eyes shone with love. “Because maybe, just maybe, if I take the first step toward you, then you’ll someday take one back to me. Back to me and all the people who’ve always loved you.”
She looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “It was nothing really anyway. My question, I mean. I was just thinking about all you’d suffered in losing Alice, then what’s happened to Emily. And I wondered how you keep your faith so strong.”
With a tug on
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