He hesitated, and turned, leaning an arm on one leg. “Just to clarify, you can’t because you don’t have feelings for me. Is that correct?”
His words hung in the air, and I was tempted to agree, but that would have been deceitful. Somehow, I had to get through this conversation without lying. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying exactly?”
“I like you, but I already know in my gut this won’t work.”
He opened his mouth and looked as if he might argue, but then he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I won’t push myself on you. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
“Can we be friends?”
He swallowed hard and glanced away. “Of course.”
At the realization that we’d had the talk and the potential for more than friendship had been severed, my eyes teared up, but I turned so he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t like this any more than he did, but it was necessary for both of us.
“Great.” I stood and felt a little light-headed as I did. “I should get back to Sabrina. Make sure she’s not having any pre-wedding jitters.”
“Okay. We’ll talk later.” His brown eyes filled with sadness, and I wanted to draw him in for a hug, but I resisted the urge.
I walked out of his office and let out a heavy breath, feeling tired and numb and like a hypocrite. Here I was a therapist, able to help people express their true feelings, yet I couldn’t even tell Clay how I really felt because that would open up a whole can of worms I wasn’t ready to deal with.
I hated myself for being like this, but the alternative was worse. If I invested in this relationship, I would have to open up about my infertility.
And I just couldn’t do that.
Chapter 4
Jazmin
The next day was a Sunday, and even though we were all tired from traveling, we decided to go to Clay and Hunter’s church in Anchor Point. The plan was to have lunch in town afterward and then drop by Hunter’s home so he could loan me his truck.
The church was called Gospel Hope, and it was a pale-yellow building with a brown roof and a steeple on top. There was room for about a hundred and fifty people, but about half that many were in attendance as we strode through the double doors into the small space. Our family took up a couple of pews, and as we settled in before the service started, the locals greeted us and asked where we were from.
Sabrina and her sisters spoke to a couple sitting in front of us, and I scanned the room for Clay. He was staying in his cabin so we didn’t drive over together. I knew I shouldn’t look for him, but I couldn’t help myself. When the pianist played an opening hymn, we all stood and sang along with the congregation. Clay was still nowhere to be seen, and I felt the weight of disappointment on my shoulders. We’d just talked yesterday, so it was hard to explain why I needed to see his face again…hear his deep voice. It was like this consuming desire that took over, and I was powerless to resist its clutches. It was ridiculous since I shouldn’t concern myself with where he was, but there was a restless feeling inside me that wouldn’t go away until I saw him.
While everyone sang Great is Thy Faithfulness, I closed my eyes and prayed silently. Lord, help me to move past these feelings for Clay. Help me to be content with the life you’ve given me.
I blew out a breath, a heaviness weighing on my heart I couldn’t explain. I wanted circumstances to be different from what they were, but I also understood that fighting God’s will was pointless. He had given me a life of singleness, and there were so many things to be thankful for in regard to that particular journey. Marriage and kids were not the only rewarding path. Plenty of people lived very fulfilling lives without ever getting married or having children. I just had to remember that.
Someone squeezed my shoulder, and I turned to find Clay standing in the pew behind me. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and there was a sadness there that tugged at my heartstrings. He seemed a little down, his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders rounded forward, expression weary as if he hadn’t slept well. He’d pulled his hair back into a ponytail and trimmed his beard. The result was striking, and I couldn’t look away. I waved and returned his smiled with one of my own, feeling a measure of relief that he was here. There was an energy from his presence that calmed me down and gave me a sense that everything was right in the world even though it definitely wasn’t.
I turned around and closed my eyes. This is so hard. I wanted to stand next to him, to be a regular part of his life. I sensed that he wanted that too which only made it harder.
We sang a few more songs and then the pastor, a man appearing to be in his late fifties, opened the word to Romans 12:1-2 and began reading out loud.
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
He talked about those verses in detail, explaining how understanding God’s mercy led us to present ourselves to Him. He spoke
