Page 174 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Well, I honestly need something.”

“Oh sure, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just—I need to get away for awhile, and I was hoping the cabin was free.”

“Didn’t you just get back, Bea?”

“Yes. Something came up.” My eyes flittedaround the room, until they landed on Glory—neglected and gathering dust in the corner. I blurted. “I need to write some songs.”

“Oh! That sounds like good news. Cal told me you were struggling with the song writing stuff right now. Will you be recording your next album as planned then?”

I was supposed to record a week from now and I had nothing to sing. Absolutely no songs at all. I just gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I’m not sure. Maybe.”

Truth was, I’d probably cancel the session.

“Well, the cabin is empty at the moment, but our WiFi is down. The club house still has it, but there is no connection in the house at all. And you know the service up there is worthless. It’ll be like you’re off grid.” She laughed.

Off grid? No service? No WiFi?Perfect.

Twenty minutes later, I had my pink duffle over my left shoulder, and Glory’s strap across my chest. I waited for the Rockies to hit a good ball and slipped out the door while everyone was riveted to the TV.

FORTY-SIX

Bea

At the cabin, I took a long deep breath. The almost two hours drive had left me on pins and needles. The entire time I thought of the black book and wondered what story filled its pages. It was hard to wait, but beingalonewould be worth it.

I checked my phone. True to what Aunt Judith said, I had zero bars and thirty seconds proved the WiFi was in fact out of commission. When I had stopped to fill up my car with gas, I texted my family and said I was staying at the cabin until I could sort out some things. They seemed to understand.

The sun was gone now, and shadows stretched across every room of the dark cabin. I flipped on lights as I walked through the house, relishing in the dusty pine smell that permeated this place. My family had spent many wonderful vacations here. A stone’s throw from Estes Park, the cabin was perfect for getaways.

Always a creature of habit, I didn’t take the master bedroom. I went to the room Jackie, Hollie, and I always shared. In the back corner of the cabin, a queen bed and single bed cramped a tiny room. Old fashioned, folk quilts were tossed over the mattresses and grizzly bears decorated the room in every direction. The curtains, the lampstand, even one on the adjoining bathroom shower curtain. I loved this room. I quickly unpacked my things, threw the food I’d bought in the fridge, made myself a glass of tea, and bumped the heat up a few degrees.

Finally, I sat down and held the book on my legs.

Fear raced through my veins. And hope—beautiful, blessed hope.

He loved me.

I loved him.

And his heart was in my hands, across my lap.

I opened the cover. On the first pagepart onewas scrawled in Tag’s unruly handwriting.

Right beneath was a four-lined poem.

I find myself in smudges

between warm skin and paper.

Ink whispers all my secrets

when shame’s hand grips my tongue.

I blinked then read it four more times. It was deep—haunting. Did Tagwritethis? Or quote this? I had no idea he was into poetry.

I read it again, even more slowly, letting my heart attach to the meaning built into the words.

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