“Why is that person riding a horse on the side of the road?”

John’s question was sharp, skeptical, causing Betsy to jump in surprise. She’d thought he’d dozed off in the passenger seat as she drove, but he clearly wasn’t asleep now.

She’d just pulled over into the oncoming traffic lane to steer clear of a woman on a black mare, walking peacefully down the road. She glanced into the rearview mirror to get another glimpse of the horse. “I guess she has somewhere to go.”

“So she rides a horse on a busy road.”

“Horses are big here. There are wild horses up in Corolla. You can’t get there to see them without a four-wheel drive.”

“That wasn’t a wild horse.”

“I know. I’m just saying. People like horses here.”

John shook his head and muttered, “Silly.”

Betsy had heard that curt word muttered countless times in the years she’d known John. It was his all-encompassing judgement on anything he found trivial, anything he saw as unproductive.

Usually, she found it kind of funny. He often said it in half-jest. He didn’t seem to be joking this time, though, and she didn’t find it amusing. “I’m sure she enjoys it,” she said lightly.

“So where exactly are we going?” John demanded.

“I told you,” she said quietly, trying to keep her eyes wide and her expression innocent. “It’s a place on the Outer Banks. We should be there in twenty or twenty-five minutes now.”

“What place?”

John Davenport was the leader of a crisis response team with a Christian international relief organization. Betsy had worked for the organization for eight years, and she’d been part of John’s team for four. He was her boss—which was one of the reasons her present mission was so awkward.

There were a lot of reasons. She’d been dreading it for weeks.

John was used to being in charge, being active, having people do as he said. He wasn’t used to downtime or to being driven to places he didn’t know.

“It’s a place on the beach. Chuck and Curtis arranged it for you.”

Chuck was John’s boss, and Curtis was Chuck’s boss. Betsy was prepared to use their authority to ensure that John followed the plans they’d made.

She’d rehearsed this conversation many times for the past several weeks, but at the moment, she couldn’t remember what she’d practiced. Her heart was beating so loud she thought John might be able to hear it.

Both John and Betsy were on a month-long sabbatical—John having been forced into the required break with much argument. Betsy was going to spend time with her mother in Buxton, her hometown. John was going somewhere else.

“What place is it, Betsy? Something isn’t feeling right about it.”

“It is right.”

“You said it was a resort.”

“It is—of a kind.”

“Of what kind?”

She sighed. She’d volunteered to break this news to him because she thought he’d take it better from her, but now she was starting to regret it. “It’s a rest and retreat center.” Might as well just say it outright. There wasn’t much time left to delay, since they weren’t very far away. They’d reached the coast and were headed south along the Outer Banks. They’d be to their destination soon.

He was silent for a moment. “And everyone is going to be there?”

She cleared her throat. “N-no. Just you.”

“What?” John tended to be a blunt man with a loud voice. His soft, hoarse tone was very uncharacteristic.

It caused Betsy’s stomach to twist. “It’s a really great place—right on the beach. You’ll like it.”

“I will not like it.”

“You have no idea whether you’ll like it or not. You have to give it a chance.” Leave it to John to put the pieces together in a few seconds and know exactly what was happening and why it was happening. He’d always been the quickest thinker she’d ever known.

“I don’t have to do anything. When you said they’d arranged a retreat, I assumed it would be for everyone. I’m not sick or damaged or psychologically troubled. I don’t need a damn—”

“No one is saying you are. But Chuck and Curtis think—”

“This place is right near your hometown?”

“Yes. Fairly close. Several miles north.”

“And you’re saying this was Chuck and Curtis’s idea?”

Betsy swallowed. Of course, he would realize this particular retreat center had been her suggestion. “It was their decision,” she said firmly. “It’s a really nice place.”

“Why does everyone suddenly think I’ve lost it?” He was scowling and staring ahead of them at the busy two-lane road lined with beach shops, fishing stores, and quirky restaurants. The road ran the length of the Outer Banks, a string of peninsulas and barrier islands on the coast of North Carolina. He looked bad-tempered, but Betsy knew it was more than that.

He was upset. He didn’t want anyone to think he was weak or damaged. He’d always been that way. She was that way too—to a lesser extent—so she could understand how he felt.

“No one thinks you’ve lost it,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as she could, although she was feeling upset now too. “This isn’t a mental health facility, although there would be nothing wrong with that. It’s a rest and retreat center, and that means exactly what it sounds like. You’re tired. You won’t admit, but everyone knows it’s true. You’re on the edge of being burned out, and if you keep it up, you won’t be able to do your work.”

“I am not that—”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been snapping at people and picking arguments and working sixteen hours a day. We’ve worked crisis after crisis—every one of them horrifying and heartbreaking—and you didn’t take the break two years ago that you were supposed to. Not to mention all the trauma with your brother you’ve had to deal with.”

John’s brother, Mark, had been a journalist working in the Middle East when he was taken hostage by a Syrian rebel group. He’d been held by the group for two years and had only been released eighteen months ago. Although his story had had a happy ending, and John had never revealed his feelings to her, Betsy knew the fear and grief over the years had eaten him up.

“Mark’s thing is over now,” John muttered.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t wear on you. You’re exhausted, John. All of us can see it.”

“That’s why I took the sabbatical. I don’t need to go to some place for counseling and coddling.”

“No one is going to coddle you—or counsel you, if you don’t want it. You need rest. You only took the sabbatical because you were forced into it, and there’s no way to ensure you’ll actually get the rest you need.”

“Damn it, Bets.”

Betsy had been raised by an old-fashioned mother and had come to faith in a very conservative church. It wasn’t until she was an adult that she’d met sincere Christians who talked like John and had wine with dinner and could talk about sex without blushing. But even John didn’t use damn several times in one conversation very often, so she knew his mood was declining quickly.

He continued, “I don’t want—”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” she interrupted sharply, about to lose it herself. She’d known this discussion would be hard, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. “It doesn’t matter. This is straight from Chuck and Curtis. You’re to spend two weeks at this place. Then you’re to spend the next two weeks visiting your brother. If you don’t do it, you’re not coming back after the sabbatical.”

John stared at her, his vivid blue eyes almost dazed—like he’d just suffered a crushing blow.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I know it sounds terrible, but we know you and we love you, and you’ve refused to take days off and vacations for too long. You have to really rest or you’re going to break. Just do this. Just do it. Please.”

He didn’t answer for a long time, and Betsy had to turn back to look at the road. She was close to tears now—her eyes and throat burning.

Then he finally asked gruffly, “So what is this place?”

She sighed in relief, realizing he’d accepted the inevitable.

John loved his work as much as she did—and he was driven in a way she’d never been. He wasn’t prepared to give it all up just to be stubborn.

“It’s called Balm in Gilead.”

He groaned.

“Stop it. It’s a great place. It’s like a resort, and it’s right on the beach.”

“Am I going to be stuck in there with a bunch of spoiled rich people?”

“No. I don’t think so. It serves a lot of people in the ministry. There will probably be a lot of folks there like you.”

“Am I going to have to sit through endless counseling sessions and group-share times?”

She chuckled at his dry words. “No. They do offer one-on-one counseling, but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want. And I don’t think there are any group sessions you’ll be required to attend.”

“So what do I do?”

“You rest. You take it easy. You walk on the beach. You participate in some of the activities they offer—you can pick and choose which ones, although I think there’s a minimum number required each week. You try to relax.”

He sighed loudly. “Fine. I don’t know why I can’t just relax in Willow Park with my brother, though.”

“Because there will be no accountability there. There is here.”

“So I’m going to have to rest, even if it kills me.”

She smiled, relieved that he was sounding more like himself. “Yes. Exactly.”

“And you won’t be far away?”

She felt a slight flush warm her cheeks at the implication of the words. “My mom’s place is about ten miles away. I can come visit you if you want.”

“You’ll come every day?”

She blinked, trying to control the flush on her cheeks. She’d always been fair-skinned, though, and there was no way to stop herself from blushing. “Sure. I’ll come if you want.”

“You better. If I’m going to be stuck there for two weeks, I’ll need someone I know to complain to.”

She let out a breath.

Of course that was why he wanted her to visit.

They worked together, so they knew each other well. He was her boss, and he relied on her a lot for the administrative tasks and communication.  She was pretty sure that most of the time John considered her a friend.

He’d never looked at her as anything else, and she knew he never would.

She’d never been the kind of woman men looked at romantically anyway.

***

The Balm in Gideon Center for Rest was located about halfway down the Outer Banks. It consisted of thirty acres of property and included a private beach. The main building was three stories and sided in weathered cedar, and the front lawns and side garden were obviously well tended because the grass was richly green and as smooth as velvet.

Betsy had often gone by the property when she was a kid and it had been an exclusive hotel resort—one of the nicest on the Outer Banks—and she’d daydreamed about being rich enough to stay there. Now nearly everyone rented the vacation houses that lined the coast, so the hotel had closed ten years ago.

Eight years ago, Cecily Evans had opened this retreat center. Betsy felt strange, pulling on to the long driveway. For a minute, she felt like a little girl again.

A little girl who didn’t belong here at all.

Then John demanded, “How much does this place cost?”

“It doesn’t matter. Chuck and Curtis are taking care of it.”

“I don’t want them to be wasting a lot of money on me that could be used—”

“We got a discount.”

John’s blue eyes were questioning, always intelligent. “How did we finagle a discount?”

“I... I know Cecily, who runs the place. I kind of know her. We went to the same school, although she was several years older than me. She gave us a discount.”

“You didn’t make me into some kind of pity-case, did you?”

“No, no. Of course not. I just touched base with her and explained what we needed. She offered the discount. I think she does that a lot with people in ministry. She must make enough money charging rich folks high prices so she can afford to help. Like I said, I know her. She was trying to be nice.”

John nodded and reached into the backseat to grab the beat-up leather saddle bag he used as a briefcase.

She felt a little flutter of nerves when she saw the bag and knew his laptop was inside, but she decided not to broach the topic quite yet.

They needed to get in the door first.

She was opening the trunk for John to grab his suitcase when they became aware of a presence behind them.

Turning to look, her eyes widened when she saw a big, dark-haired, glowering man with an untrimmed beard. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt of a surprisingly bright melon color. He didn’t say a word. Just took the suitcase out of John’s hand and made a wordless gesture toward the front door.

He must work here, although this hadn’t been much of a greeting or a welcome.

John rolled his eyes slightly and started toward the front door.

Betsy’s stomach twisted again. This wasn’t an auspicious beginning.

John was already in a bad mood.

They walked up the steps to a wide deck on the main floor of the building, and John opened one of the double doors of what was clearly the main entrance.

The lobby was big and airy with a beautifully tiled floor and a wall of windows in the back, looking out onto the patio and pool.

The bearded man had followed them and gave a kind of grunt as he nodded toward the elevators.

“We appreciate your hospitality,” John said, a dry edge of irony in his tone that was impossible to mistake.

“Please don’t mind Zeke,” a polished female voice came from the other side of them.

Betsy turned her head to see Cecily Evans stepping out of what looked to be an office. She looked exactly as she had always looked—tall, slim, beautiful, and perfect with ash brown hair pulled into a low bun, subtle makeup, heels, and small glasses that gave her an almost prim look.

She smiled at both of them graciously. “Zeke has his own way about him, and that way is not charming. But he’s worked here since we opened, and he can help you with anything you need. Just try to overlook his bear-like qualities.”

Zeke was standing next to the elevators—not very far away—so he must have heard her words. But obviously they didn’t surprise or offend him, since he didn’t even turn his head to look in their direction.

“I’m Cecily,” she added with another smile, extending a hand, complete with perfect French manicure, to John. “You must be John Davenport.”

His face relaxed slightly, and Betsy could tell he liked Cecily a lot more than Zeke. “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Your room is on the third floor.” She handed him a key and a folder in which was obviously information about the center. “Zeke will show you. I’ll let you get settled, but when you feel like it, come on down and I’ll show you around.”

Betsy was relieved Cecily wasn’t going to join them on the trip up to the room, mostly because she didn’t want the other woman around when John found out a few details of his stay here.

They ascended the elevator with a silent, unsmiling Zeke—Betsy noticed his eyes were as blue as John’s—and they followed him down a hallway.

Betsy gasped in pleasure as they walked into a big, sunny room. It was decorated in an attractive, simple way in shades of green and beige, but the furniture was of good quality and the artwork was original. There was a glass door that led out onto a balcony large enough to fit a chaise and two chairs.

“This is amazing,” she said.

“This doesn’t look like a discount room to me,” John said. He clearly thought it was nice too.

“We’re not full,” Zeke grunted, parking the luggage next to the bed. Then he just walked out the door.

“Nice,” John muttered, clearly annoyed by the other man.

“Don’t worry about him,” Betsy said, hoping the pleasantness of the room would make up for his reluctance to be here. “Isn’t this a great room?”

“Yeah. It’s something.”

“Please, John,” she said softly. “You’ve got to stay here. Can’t you try to make the best of it?”

She could see a brief struggle on his face until his features finally smoothed out. “Okay. Fine.”

The tension in her chest relaxed slightly. “It’s really a nice place, and I don’t think you’ll find it too annoying. The information is probably in that folder, but basically you can do what you want, as long as you participate in five physical activities a week and five creative activities a week.”

He would have no trouble with the physical activities—he’d always stayed in great shape—but she wasn’t surprised by the way his brows arched. “Creative?”

“It won’t be that bad. Most of the time, you can do what you want.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. Then jerked when the door to the room swung open again and Zeke made another appearance.

He held out his hand. “Electronics.”

John stared at the other man. “What?”

“He wants your electronic devices,” Betsy said, knowing the time had finally come. “They’re not allowed here.”

John’s mouth dropped open slightly. “They’re not allowed?”

“No. Sorry. That’s part of the way you get rest. No phones or tablets or… or…”

“I can’t have my laptop?”

Betsy shook her head.

“Forget it.”

“John—”

“That’s ridiculous. What will I do when people need to reach me?”

“You set up an away message on your email, didn’t you?”

“Sure. Of course. But I was still planning to check in sometimes. What if there’s an emergency?”

“We’ve got people covering for emergencies. Sabbatical means a real break.”

“And I really can’t have my phone?”

She shook her head. “You can use the landline here if you need to call out, but it can’t be anything work related. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but it really works to take a break from it. You can leave a voice message to deal with calls, or I can cover them for you, if you want.”

He wasn’t convinced. He was still planning to object.

She added, “John, it’s the rule here. You have to do it.”

He let out a breath, more of a groan. “Damn it, Bets. How could you do this to me?”

She jerked slightly, feeling like she’d been slapped, although she knew she couldn’t take it personally.

This had been dumped on John without warning. He’d had no time to prepare himself. She, Chuck, and Curtis had decided it was better to do it this way, so he wouldn’t be able to worm his way out of it, but there were consequences to their decision.

One of the consequences was that John was going to resent her for it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pleased when her voice sounded mostly natural. “But you don’t have a choice in this.”

He was frowning as he dug into his saddle bag, pulled out his laptop, and handed it to Zeke. He took his phone from his pocket and handed it to Betsy.

She saw his hand on another device he’d pulled out of his bag.

“He doesn’t have to give up his Kindle, does he? It’s the only way he reads books.”

When Zeke studied the e-reader suspiciously, Betsy added, “It doesn’t have web browsing capabilities. It’s just for reading.”

Zeke gave a brief nod, and Betsy let out a breath of relief.

When Zeke left the room, John slumped into a chair. “I’m going to hate this.”

“Give it a chance. Maybe you won’t.”

“I’m not the kind of person who takes it easy.”

“I know. That’s why you ended up here.”

He gave her a little scowl, but there wasn’t much animosity in it.

He wasn’t happy, but he didn’t seem to hate her.

That was something.

***

An hour later, Betsy had left John and driven the fifteen minutes to her mother’s house.

Her mother had lived here most of her life, long before it had become a popular tourist destination. Betsy had never known her father, since her mother had not been married when she got pregnant and her father had just taken off. Betsy had tried to convince her mother to move to a nicer and more convenient place, but her mother had refused to leave the little house Betsy had been raised in, on the outskirts of Buxton, one of the little towns that dotted the Outer Banks.

The neat yard, old house, and cheerful welcome mat were all exactly as she remembered. As was the hug her mother gave her and the tea she made.

They sat at the kitchen table, drinking the tea as Betsy told her mother about the plan for John and his reaction.

“I don’t blame him for being annoyed,” Betsy added. “We really did spring it on him.”

“But it sounds like it’s for the best. The break will be good for him.”

“Yeah.” Betsy felt a little glum, despite her pleasure at seeing her mother again. She didn’t see her mother nearly as much as she wanted because her job required so much travel.

“It will be good for you too,” her mother added, as if she’d read some of her thoughts. “Maybe it will be a good time for you to reevaluate.”

“What does that mean?”

Her mother gave an innocent shrug. “Nothing bad. Just that it might be a good time to think through what you want for the future.”

“Mom, we’ve talked about this. I love my job. I want to keep doing it.”

“I know you do, honey. And I’ve always supported you. But you’ve just turned thirty. And you travel all the time, you haven’t put down any roots, and you don’t even have a home except that tiny studio apartment in Charlotte. There’s almost no chance of you finding a man to marry and settle down with given the life you lead. Are you saying you don’t want that?”

“Sure, I’d like to get married, but it just hasn’t happened yet. Right now, my job is the priority. I’m telling you, I’m perfectly happy.”

She meant it. She absolutely meant it. She tried not to lie to her mother.

“I believe you. But maybe you can think about how you’ll feel when John finds a woman he wants to marry. Would things still be the same then? Would you still be perfectly happy?”

Betsy swallowed hard, strangely stunned by the question.

She wanted to automatically defend herself, prove her mother wrong, but she couldn’t do it.

The truth was nothing would be the same if John was married.

They’d always been more like partners than boss and team-member. His companionship was one of the things she loved about her life, along with the community of the rest of the team. She never felt lonely because she was always surrounded by people she knew and loved.

But it wouldn’t be the same if John was married.

It wouldn’t be the same at all.

“I’m not nursing some kind of hopeless crush on him,” she said at last. “I’ve never been that silly.”

She’d realized soon after meeting him that John would never look at her romantically. He was incredibly attractive and charismatic in a loud, opinionated way. Women were always looking at him longingly. She could see it, even if he appeared oblivious to it.

Betsy had dated occasionally, but the only guys who asked her out were the needy sort—not the kind she was interested in. There was nothing in her capable of attracting a guy like John. Besides, he was utterly consumed by his work, to the exclusion of anything else in his life.

“I know you’ve never really let yourself think in that direction. But the heart doesn’t always do what it’s told. And for a long time, you two have been acting like a couple.”

“We have not—”

“I’m not saying anything inappropriate has happened between you. I’m just saying that you work together so closely that you’ve relied on each other for emotional support. Like a couple. And I can’t help but worry about how you’ll feel when—five or ten years from now—John finally decides to settle down and marry. He’ll be able to do that. He’s a man. He’ll be able to find someone easily enough, no matter how old he is. But you might be over forty by then. What if you want to have children? What if it’s too late for you to have your chance?”

Betsy was shaking slightly now, and she raised a hand to cover her eyes. She was usually a composed, matter-of-fact person—in fact, she was known for it—but at the moment she felt like crying.

Her mother was right.

She was perfectly happy in her job right now, but she did have other things she wanted in life.

Marriage and family were two of them.

She wasn’t likely to ever find that if she continued living the way she was.

“I don’t want to give up my work.”

“I don’t want you to give it up either. But maybe you can find a different work situation—one that will allow you to have a full life.”

“I… I don’t know.”

Her mother nodded and reached out to cover one of her hands on the table. “Just think about it, dear. You don’t have to figure it out right now. You have a month off. You need the break as much as John does. Maybe by the end of it, you’ll have a clearer idea of what you want.”

This morning, Betsy would never have believed that she’d be questioning her job in any way.

But she was now.

It was heartbreaking to consider leaving a position she loved so much, but most people didn’t last very long in the job she did. It was hard on people psychologically, and it was hard in terms of lifestyle.  Maybe it had always only been temporary for her too.

She loved working with John, but it had been clear from the beginning that he couldn’t offer her everything she wanted.