The verses had resonated strongly with Amelia, to the extent that earlier that day, when the counselor had asked how she was feeling, everything she’d pushed down for the past two years had broken free and risen to the surface.
The question hadn’t been probing, necessarily. It was something Mrs. Simmons had asked her at the start of each session.
However, in her current state of mind, the question had been like a sharp instrument, and Amelia’s emotions had been like an infected wound. The question had pierced her, and everything she’d carried for so long poured out in a mighty gush. The tighthold she’d kept on her emotions had finally loosened, spilling out in the privacy of Mrs. Simmons’ office.
The anger. The hurt. The embarrassment. The sense of failure. The confusion. The feelings of isolation. The pain… both physical and emotional.
It had all come spilling out, purging the ugliness that had invaded her soul for over two years. As the pastor’s wife had held her, Amelia had fallen apart and cried for God’s grace and mercy. For His forgiveness for her anger towards Him.
It had been frightening at first, to lose that sense of control. But after the storm of emotions had passed, a peace that she had never experienced before had blanketed her.
For the first time in years, she’d felt like she could breathe. The clouds in her thoughts had cleared, and she’d finally felt free of the emotional chains that had trapped her since she’d been forced to retire. And she was so grateful she’d taken Layla’s advice.
Initially, when Layla had suggested that she go for counseling, Amelia had resisted. But a month after she’d told Ben she needed time and space, she’d finally hit a moment when she’d acknowledged to herself that she needed help.
Just as she’d gone to a sports psychiatrist for help with her mental state when the pressures of competitive skating had gotten to her, Amelia had finally understood that she needed help with how overwhelmed she felt by everything surrounding her retirement and her health.
Her weekly sessions with the pastor’s wife had been difficult at first. However, the woman had been gentle with her, guiding Amelia through everything she was dealing with. And it had worked.
Amelia didn’t believe that she was healed or that she’d never have a bad day again. But her outlook had changed, and she no longer feared what the future might hold for her.
As she got to her feet to get her bag, Amelia’s thoughts went to Ben, as they so often did.
It had been nearly three months since she’d last seen him. And she missed him terribly. However, she knew she had done the right thing in sending him away.
Their time apart had given her the space she needed to focus fully on her emotional and physical state. It hadn’t meant that he was out of her life, however.
The day after that evening on his boat, he’d requested one thing. He had asked that she text him once a day with her pain and fatigue levels. In addition to rating the pain and fatigue, he’d also asked that she include a marker for her mental state.
She’d been reluctant initially, but it seemed a small thing to do for him. So each morning when she got up, Amelia would give herself about an hour, and then she’d send the text to Ben.
At first, she’d thought it would be his way of initiating a conversation each day. However, that hadn’t been the case.
In response to her daily texts, he would send back two emojis. The heart and the praying hands. Those two images gave her more encouragement than she had thought they would.
She hadn’t sent detailed descriptions with the numbers she gave him, and he hadn’t sent any lengthy responses. And yet that daily interaction had come to mean the world to her.
When the security buzzer broke the silence of the apartment, Amelia looked over her shoulder at the door. Pushing up from the couch, she made her way to the panel and pressed the button to open the door. There was no need to ask who it was. She knew.
Opening the door, she leaned against the door jamb and watched the stairs. Soon, the top of a curly head of hair appeared, followed shortly after by the lanky body of a teenage boy.
He lifted his hand when he spotted her. “Hey, Miss Amelia.”
“Hey there, Brandon.” She smiled at him as he approached her. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good.”
“How’s basketball practice going?”
The teenager’s face lit up. “Great! I’m so glad I went to the clinics this summer. Coach says I’ve really improved.”
“That’s great to hear.”
“Here’s your food,” he said, holding out a large paper bag.
Amelia took it carefully from him. “Thank you so much.”
She’d tried to tip him the first time he’d brought a delivery, but Brandon had told her that it had already been taken care of.
