Page 69 of A Secret Heart
She didn’t know if she was strong enough for that.
“You can trust Him with your plans,” Merritt said. “He is a good God.”
The words settled inside Rebekah. Merritt was right. God was ultimately in control. All Rebekah’s striving had gotten her nowhere. It felt frightening, but right, to give control to the One who had created all things.
She knew it. She’d known it since childhood. But a new acceptance settled over her.
“I know you’ve been in love with Isaac for a long time?—”
“I’ve never been in love with Isaac.” Rebekah read the shock on Merritt’s face. “Anything I ever felt for Isaac pales in comparison to my feelings for Ed.”
“Ed?” Merritt’s surprise was obvious.
Rebekah had been too ashamed of having written under a pretense and hidden the other letters to tell Merritt what had really happened. Now everything was a mess.
“What if things can’t be patched up?”
Rebekah turned her head from her friend’s stare, unable to bear Merritt’s scrutiny in this moment. Fingering that place where the paper had been torn on the newspaper windows, she could not resist the urge to have one last look. Rebekah bent her knees until level with the peeled back bit of brown paper. She peered through the torn-out hole to take in the inside of the newspaper office. The empty shell of what had once been her whole life.
She scanned the office, but, no?—
Someone had been inside. There were tracks through the mess.
Ignoring Merritt, she lowered herself once more. This time she let her eyes slow to take in every detail. Amidst the mess, an area had been cleared out where someone had been working to repair the frame for the press. Her pulse pounded in her ears as tears threatened.
Rebekah jerked upright again, then started for the door.
“Wait.” Merritt pulled at her sleeve, but Rebekah shook her off.
“Please be open.” She whispered the words as she wiggled the knob just so. A trick she’d seen Mr. Sullivan use occasionally when the lock jammed, appearing locked when it wasn’t. A quick click and the door opened.
Merritt was close behind her.
With hurried steps, Rebekah moved to the frame. The frame for the printing press had been disassembled. The pieces lay in neat rows. There was a pile of new wood and tools organized on a table nearby. Even the metal letters had been swept up and placed in a bucket.
In the midst of the sawdust were footprints. She placed her foot inside one as her heart leaped. Silly, but some part of her knew, just knew, she was standing in the spot where Ed had been. It had to be him. Who else had the skills to repair the frame to the press?
A new hope sprang up inside her, washed over her with a renewed longing. A letter sat atop the frame, propped there with her name on the front. The familiar scrawl warmed her as she reached out a trembling hand to pick it up. Merritt’s footsteps tapped across the floor as she drew closer, but Rebekah didn’t care. Heart pounding, she tore open the envelope, then pulled out the letter. Her eyes drank in the familiar handwriting.
Dear Rebekah,
I write this letter to ask you to forgive me. These days without you near have been the loneliest ever. I never knew how much our friendship meant until it wasn’t there. I never knew how much you meant to me until you weren’t there.
I never should have written to you under a false pretense. Once I realized the letter writer was you, I had already fallen so in love with you I didn’t dare risk losing you. Please tell me I haven’t lost you now.
If you find this letter before I’m done fixing the frame, know that I’ll be back to finish what I started. Your printing press will run again. One way or another.
As always,
Your Wyoming Rancher
Ed McGraw
“Who is it from? Ed?”
She nodded, fearing to speak. If she did, her emotions might burst out. Every nerve tingled. She ran her hand along the wood. As she rushed to the door, she tucked the envelope in her skirt.
“I have to go.”
