Page 44 of With All My Heart, Joy

It was a huge difference.

He bowed his head, shoulders dropping in defeat. “I understand.”

Her lips trembled. She reached blindly for the doorknob, her hand flailing before it connected. “I’m sorry, Isaac. So sorry.” Then she disappeared in a blast of frigid air.

* * * * *

Sixteen years.

Joy gripped the steering wheel so tightly her hands began to cramp.

Isaac was sixteen years older than her.

It wasn’t big. It wasenormous. Staggering. She’d nearly fainted when he told her, and she wasn’t a woozy, faints-at-the-sight-of-blood girl.

Isaac was a wonderful man. She’d known it the moment she met him, and she knew it more so now. He was kind, intelligent, and subtly funny. He was a sincere Christian who lived out his faith in action. Despite his lackluster culinary skills, he was a devoted father who would do anything for Paisley. It didn’t take two minutes in the presence of father and daughter to sense that. He was strikingly handsome. If forced to guess, she would have said low thirties, maximum thirty-four, like Victor. Not…thirty-eight.

If a sixteen-year age difference wasn’t insurmountable enough, his profession finished the job. She couldn’t spend every waking hour under the microscope of a trained psychologist who would try to fix her at every turn. She would never feel adequate. She wouldn’t feel wanted for who she was, crappy moods and all. And that’s what she needed more than anything.

Did she even have feelings for Isaac? If she were brutally honest with herself, she had to admit that, yes, maybe she had formed a small attraction to him during counseling that she hadn’t been fully aware of. His personality had the most cathartic effect on her out of everyone she knew. She loved the way she felt around him. Couple that with the fact that he and Zak were one and the same, and she felt understood and appreciated by him.

There wasso muchto admire about Isaac Miller. And tonight he’d stated without a filter how much he admired her.

Heat swamped her head all over again as she remembered the way he’d looked at her, the way his voice sounded like a tentative caress when he said those words. He’d known she would reject him. He had to. And yet, he’d told her anyway. Because he wanted her to know.

None of it mattered anyway. None of it was enough for a successful relationship. Becauseshewould never be enough. She would neverfeellike she was enough.

She parked in her designated spot in the small apartment lot, then let her head freefall forward until it smashed into the cold steering wheel. Why did this have to happen? She should have listened to that darn receptionist the day she called to schedule with Isaac.

She checked her mailbox as she headed toward her door and found an envelope. The handwriting was the same as she expected, but the sender’s name above the return address was Isaac Miller, not Zak. She tore it open in her kitchen, a tremble thrumming through her hand.

Dear JJ,

I hope this letter finds you well. You mentioned your love of Christmas several times. I imagine you must be gearing up for the holidays by now. I need to get on that particular train, at least for the sake of Paisley.

I ran out of space in my last letter to tell you about my job. I am a certified counselor. I co-own a Christian counseling center, Living Hope Counseling. Have you heard of it? I love my work. Helping people manage their stress is my passion. I guess I look at it as the ministry I was called to. I specialize in depression, anxiety, and trauma recovery. We have six counselors on board, and they specialize in various areas, like addiction, abuse, family and marriage, etc. It’s hard to juggle the work, community board commitments, and parenting, but it’s worth it.

I feel that we know enough about each other to be more honest. I’d really love to know more about your PR work. You didn’t say much about it in your last letter. You should know that my name isn’t actually Zak. Long story, but it’s a nickname from my mom. My legal name is Isaac. I hope you’ll address me as such from now on. Being called Zak makes me feel twelve years old again. Not a great thing.

I can’t learn enough about you to satisfy me. Would you ever consider meeting in a safe, neutral location? Or setting up a video call? No pressure, but I’d love your thoughts about it.

Have a wonderful evening!

Thinking of you,

Isaac

Joy plopped into the chair at her desk and buried her face in her hands. At least she hadn’t been blindsided by this letter. If she had to choose between Isaac telling her face-to-face that he was Zak or learning by letter, she wouldn’t change the way it had happened.

She began to crumple the letter, then stopped and smoothed it out.

Just because she wasn’t interested in Isaac the way he was in her didn’t mean she had to turn a cold shoulder on him. She would see him often enough thanks to Lucy and Silas that she valued their ability to interact without discomfort. Plus, she really liked Paisley.

God, why did this have to happen?

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do without Isaac’s counseling. Just when she was starting to believe she might really conquer her depression—or at the very least, stop feeling like one big glaring failure as a Christian—he was gone, and with it, her hope.

Help me, God. I need you. I know you care. Isaac showed me that you do.

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