What she did know was that He had not saved her so she could work herself into an early grave attempting to pay Him back. He hadn’t saved her so she could perpetuate the illusion of perfection. He hadn’t saved her so she could build a life so demanding that she’d have to swallow Oxy to cope.
She could not pay God back for saving her. Goodness knows, she’d tried.
I cannot pay Him back.
And praise God for that.Praise God!Because that meant she could quit trying so very hard.
She’d rather be known as a woman who’d wrecked her life and was nonetheless loved by Him than as a woman who was good.
After today, she’d lose the respect of many. But she would still haveHim.
And He was everything.
Before she started taking Oxy, she’d thought she understood grace. But now that she’d failed in such a flagrant way and been so thoroughly humbled, she grasped grace—and just how much it was worth—far, far better than she had before.
“As of tomorrow,” she told her parents, after answering all their concerned questions, “I’ll have been clean for ninety days. That’s a pretty big milestone. But it’s not a milestone that means I’m cured. There’s no cure. I mean, I almost took Oxy a few nights ago after finding out what happened to Russell. So I’m always going to have to be vigilant and careful. As time goes on, though, I’ll continue to feel more and more like myself. Stronger. Healthier.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom gave her a look of melodramatic tenderness. “Thank the Lord that you’re all right.”
“I intend to stay clean,” Genevieve told them. “I also intend to be more transparent. I’ve decided to admit my struggle publicly. I wanted to tell you first, before I make the announcement, so that you can brace yourselves.”
“Way to go, Gen,” Natasha said.
“I understand why you feel the need to be transparent,” Dad said. “We support you.”
“Yes,” Mom added. “We do support you, of course. I’m glad that youfinallytold us this. We’re family.” She hesitated. “Do you...” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Do you really think, though,that it’s necessary to telleveryonethat you used opioids? Think of the damage that will do.” No one was more enamored with Genevieve’s career than Mom.
“I do think it’s necessary to tell everyone,” Genevieve answered, “because that’s what the Lord’s leading me to do. To be honest, I’m scared of the damage it will do. But I’m more scared of the damage that silence will do.”
“Gen—” Mom began.
“Mom,” Genevieve said firmly. “I know that your protectiveness of me stems from a good heart—”
“Of course! I want nothing but your very best.”
Genevieve dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “I believe that’s true. However, your protectiveness overwhelms me at times. A lot of the time, actually.”
Mom drew back as if she’d just been stung by a bee. “I’m only trying to help.”
“I know.”
“I...” Mom looked wounded. At a loss.
Genevieve had always known where her mother’s overprotectiveness had been born: in the wreckage of the earthquake. She, Natasha, Ben, Sebastian, Luke—they’d all experienced trauma. But they weren’t the only ones. The earthquake had inflicted trauma on their parents, too.
“Mom,” she said quietly, empathy welling inside her. As awful as it had been to be trapped underground, she’d choose what she’d gone through over what her mother had gone through. Her mom’s much-loved children—her only two children, the ones in which she’d invested her adult life—had been missing for days. The experts had told Mom she and Natasha would most likely die.
“We lived.” Genevieve held eye contact with her mom, willing her to let the words, the reality, soak into her soul. “Natasha and I survived the earthquake. It’s not an event any of us would have chosen. But it’s what happened, and we all came out of it alive.I’m thirty years old. Natasha’s thirty-two. We’re adult women. Independent. Able to support ourselves. Able toprotectourselves. We might make mistakes from time to time—”
Natasha cleared her throat.
“Well,” Genevieve amended, “Natasha never makes mistakes, but I sometimes do. Even so, overall, I think we’re doing really well.”
“You can afford to relax a little.” Natasha smiled at Mom to cushion her words. “Sit back. Enjoy the hard work you put in when you were raising us. There’s no need, anymore, to hold on quite so tight.”
Dad interlaced his fingers with Mom’s on the armrest of her chair. He wore the familiar I’m-the-luckiest-man-in-the-world expression. From behind his glasses, he shot her a reassuring wink.
Mom’s pretty mouth tightened.
