Page 8 of Grace Notes
Guilt settles in my chest like an old friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. My words are a whisper against the top of her head.
Emryn opens her eyes and looks up at me. I love it when she looks at me. It makes me feel like the luckiest man on Earth because she sees through all the ways I try to hide—from the people I love and myself.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. Those insecurities are on me, and they are mine to deal with. You’ve proven again and again that you want our marriage to work. Tonight was just hard.”
Our bedroom door is cracked, so I nudge it with my foot, never losing my grip on my wife, and open it the rest of the way. Walking in, I kick the door close behind us. I’m to our bed in a few seconds, gently laying her down and climbing in behind her. Her back is to my chest, and my arms wind around her waist, pulling her close. It’s only then that I respond.
“Tell me what happened tonight to make it so bad for you.”
My hand finds her hip, and I swipe my thumb over it, offering her comfort as I wait.
“Avery knows about your dad being sick.”
That’s not what I expected. My whole body tenses. “How does she know?”
Emryn turns in my arms, rolling over to face me. The sorrow on her face is palpable. “She overheard you and Grayson talking at the cookout.”
I sigh, the sound long and harsh against the silence of the night. “Of course she did. She’s the nosiest kid I’ve ever met.” That earns a small smile from Emryn, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “How did she take the news?”
Her eyes turn glassy, and she avoids my gaze for a second before returning them to mine. “Not very well. She doesn’t understand why God can’t just make him better if she prays for it, and I don’t know how to explain that to a four year old. I feel like this will steal some of her innocence.”
A headache starts to form behind my eyes as the thought of my daughter suffering heartbreak at this age weighs down on my shoulders. As her dad, I want to protect her from the hard things in life, but I also know that I can’t always do that—even if it kills me.
“But that’s life, Emryn. As much as we might want to, we can’t put her in a bubble and protect her from all the bad things that happen. We also don’t know what this is with Dad. Maybe it will be nothing—I hope it’s nothing.”
Emryn chews on her lip, and I reach up, dragging my thumb against the edge to get her to release it. “What else is bothering you?”
“When I tried to explain why prayer doesn’t always bring the results we want, she said she didn’t want to pray anymore, and I get that she’s four, Brooks, I really do. But I am so scared offailing her in her faith. What if this is the thing that tips the scale for the rest of her life?”
“Hey,” I say, pulling her tighter to me, “we won’t let that happen. We have her whole life to teach her what faith looks like. It’s up to us to show her that faith perseveres despite everything else. We lead by example, and she will follow. I understand that what she said tonight worries you, but I think those are the words of a hurting four year old, not a determinant of anything else.”
Emryn’s face is pressed into my chest, and she nods against me.
“I need you to be right.”
I grin into her hair. “I usually am.”
She pinches my side, and it’s my laughter that breaks through to her. She chuckles, and the vibration of laughter reverberates into my chest. I squeeze her tighter to feel it longer.
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“These things make me feel like a monkey in a suit,” I grumble, walking into the fitting for my tux with my brother behind me.
“Quit being such a whiner.” Grayson flicks the back of my ear, and I hiss, grabbing the spot.
“I’m telling, Dad,” I sing-song, and when I look at him over my shoulder, he’s rolling his eyes.
“Having a little brother is a pain in the butt,” he grumbles.
I shoot him a grin before turning my attention back to the store we just walked into.
The interior is sleek and sophisticated. Grayson fits in with his business suit and expensive loafers, but I look out of place. My boots are dirty from being outside on a job site today, and my clothes have seen better days. I don’t see the point in wearing nice things when I know I’ll be on site. I’ll just ruin them anyway,but now that I’m walking into this place, I feel like I should have at least brought a change of clothes.
“How may I help you?” A sales lady asks, approaching us. There’s a scrunch of distaste on her nose as she looks me up and down, but when her eyes turn to Grayson, they light up like a Christmas tree.
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
