She yanked from his touch. “But I left the window open on a drafty night! And the argument with my father—”
“Did you ask God for forgiveness?” With a swing of his legs, he settled back at her side.
“With every breath I still do.”
“Then you may stop now. The very first time you asked to be pardoned, you were. That is what grace is all about. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, as far as the east is from the west. Even when we’ve done wrong, God does not abandon us.”
Her lips twitched, wanting to smile, yet she wasn’t quite ready for that much happiness. She wasn’t completely convinced she deserved it. “I think you have muddled together several Scriptures, sir.”
A slow grin stretched across his lips. “I told you I was no theologian.”
True, but, oh, how his words resonated in her soul, lifting the weight that had pressed on her for so long. And buried beneath that weight was a fear she’d never faced, for she’d not been brave enough. But here, now, in Bram’s safe and secure presence, she might even admit she’d been terrified that at some point, God might abandon her too.
She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Perhaps I have never moved beyond thinking of the past like a twelve-year-old. Why, I may just be as rash as my sister.”
“We all have our moments of fear and doubt, Eva. It is part of being human. But I promise you, God’s love and grace are constant whether we falter or not.”
Tears stung her eyes as she drank in his words. “I have always felt like I needed to atone for my mistakes, to earn favor in God’s eyes because of my wrongdoings. But hearing what you say is like—” Her throat closed, and it took her several breaths before she could even whisper. “It is like a burden being lifted.”
“That is because it is,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “You do not have to carry that weight anymore. It was never meant for you to begin with.”
She squeezed his fingers, wanting—needing—to hold on to all the truth he’d imparted. For the first time in years, she felt a glimmer of hope. Of lightness. She could let go of her past and embrace the grace she’d always believed in yet never truly accepted. “Thank you, Bram. Your words mean more than you could ever know.”
“You are stronger than you think, Eva. And you are never alone. Not with God, and not with me.”
“You speak as if you have already dealt with the same demons I have been wrestling all these years.” She peered up at him. “How do you know so much about God’s mercy?”
“Hard-earned experience.” He chuckled.
“Is that so?” She lifted her chin. “Then I should like to hear of it.”
“Of what?”
“Your experience. It is, after all, only fair. I have shared with you my deep, dark secret.” She leaned close. “So tell me, Bram Webb, what is yours?”
18
Wind rattled the shutters against the house, howling through cracks in the walls, a violent echo of Eva’s demand to know his secrets. Bram pushed to his feet, plowing his fingers through his damp hair. He couldn’t sit anymore. He was too antsy. Too ... off-center. For years, he’d kept sentry over the ghosts of past wrongs that lurked in his heart’s shadows, for those specters refused to be laid to rest. And if he let them loose now, then what?
He crouched in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together, more of a stalling tactic than a true need. He certainly wasn’t cold anymore, not with the burn of shame firing in his gut. Ah, but it was a sticky residue, this fear and uncertainty. The prospect of exposing what he’d hidden for so long waged a silent war with a hunger for connection with Eva. After all, she’d bared her soul to him. Ought he not do the same?
Yet this was entirely different. He dropped his hands, allowing them to hang between his thighs like dead weights. Eva’s confession had been naught but the misguided thoughts of a girl who’d deeply mourned the loss of her parents. His mother’s situation was nothing so innocent. It was an all-too-real,undeniably ugly truth. His jaw clenched. No, it would be better not to voice such atrocities.
He flashed a smile over his shoulder, pretending for all the world that nothing ate at him from the inside out. “You have known me all my life. If I had any secrets, you would be well aware of them.”
“That is not completely true.”
Firelight flickered over Eva’s pale skin, an eerie illumination—or maybe a reflection of the dark mood that suddenly choked him.
She pursed her lips. “It was always a mystery to me why you moved away.”
“I told you.” He turned his face back to the hearth lest she read more on his face than he intended. “My mother was about to die. She did not wish for me to witness her decline. That is no secret.”
“No, not anymore.” Fabric rustled at his back. Floorboards creaked. A light touch rested on his shoulder. “Yet I cannot help but wonder what else you may have omitted in that story. It doesn’t quite make sense. No one likes to die alone.”
A bitter laugh strangled in his throat. “My mother was unlike other women. Most other women, at any rate.”
“Which could account for your distinctiveness.”
