Page 84 of Look for Me

Her hair was longer now, and tied up in a pony tail.

Martin’s eyes stung.

His knees wobbled. He leaned against the Corvette for support.

Lord Jesus, give me strength.

“Who’s that?” Dad got out of the car.

When Martin and Corinne broke up six years before, it was only shortly after Dad had returned to his life. Dad probably didn’t remember how Corinne looked.

“Someone we know?” Dad asked.

“The love of my life whom I couldn’t have,” Martin blurted.

“Corinne.” Dad closed the car door. “Isn’t that good news? If she’s here, out in the open, it means she’s out of WITSEC.”

Yeah, Dad and Damaris knew about Corinne. Tina had told them as much as she knew. That way, she said they could be supportive of Martin.

He didn’t need support. He needed…

Corinne.

And there she was, within reach. Martin wanted to sprint toward her, but his feet felt like they were cemented to the garage floor.

He swallowed.

Blinked again.

Lord, help me not to make a fool of myself.

“Hello! Who do we have here?” Dad said loudly as he approached Pete.

It was just as well that Dad made the first greeting because thirty-three-year-old Martin felt like an awkward teenager on his first date.

Corinne smiled to him. It was a warm and worry-free smile, as if the storms of her life were over.

Martin recalled the verse that Corinne had left with him on the beach that long-ago Saturday.

Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.

He had committed Psalm 57:1 to memory for her sake.

The fact that she was standing there testified that her calamities were over. God had indeed protected all of them for Himself.

Slowly, Martin made his way to the small group.

Not my will be done, Lord. Only Yours. That’s all I ask. Help me to let her go if that’s best for us.

“Corinne.” Martin could barely speak.

Somewhere in the background, he heard Pete introducing Dad to Dahlia. “Tell Mr. MacFarland your name.”

“Dahlia.” She said softly, almost in a whisper, and quickly buried her face in Pete’s shoulder.

“Hello, Dahlia,” Dad said. “How old are you?”

Dahlia lifted four fingers.

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