Sophie heard nothing about either of the job possibilities for the next three days.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to hear, but she assumed she’d hear results from at least one of her calls.

But she didn’t get a call from either Roger or Milton Bucket, and Mark didn’t mention receiving a call from either of them.

So, on Christmas Eve morning, she was starting to assume that nothing was going to happen after all. Milton had said he was going to look into some options and then figure out if he was ready to make a big change for the newspaper—one that would make Mark’s experience in journalism an asset to him. Maybe he’d decided he wasn’t ready, that he wanted the local paper to basically stay as it always had and mostly provide folks obituaries and coupons for the grocery store.

Maybe there really was no place for Mark here in Willow Park. Maybe Sophie was being selfish to want to keep him here, when his career would naturally lead him to a bigger city.

Maybe Willow Park wasn’t really as good for them as she believed it would be.

She thought and she prayed and she worried about it as she sat behind the cash register at the bookstore at ten o’clock in the morning. A few people had come in right at nine to buy last minute gifts, and she was keeping the store open until noon, in case there were any other stragglers. She’d volunteered to take this shift herself, since she and Mark weren’t planning to do anything until the afternoon.

She’d suggested they go to the Christmas fair going on a few towns away, and Mark had seemed agreeable to the idea. Then, this evening, they were going to the Christmas Eve service at the church, and they were going to have a quiet evening with just the two of them afterwards.

She was trying to be excited about it, but she was so emotionally exhausted—so stressed about his mental state and apathy regarding his future—that she couldn’t really look forward to it the way she otherwise would have. He’d been back in the country for almost two months now. And she had absolutely no idea how long it would take him to really get back into life.

At a little after eleven, she hadn’t had a customer in an hour, and she was thinking she might as well close up for the day. Then her telephone rang, and she fumbled it slightly when she saw it was Roger calling.

“Hi, Roger,” she said, feeling a little breathless.

“Hey, Sophie. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m doing really well. How about you? How are Carol and the kids?”

“Everyone is doing great on my end. Hey, I just hung up the phone with Mark.”

Sophie swallowed. “You did? On Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah. I’ve called him a couple of times, and he didn’t return my messages, so I figured I’d try to catch him today, just in case.”

She felt a little sick at the way Mark had ignored Roger’s calls like that. She understood that the idea of his job situation would create angst for him, but he had to do something. He couldn’t keep stringing the station along forever, when they’d already been incredibly generous about giving him whatever time he needed. “I’m sorry he’s been hard to catch. We’ve been…well, it’s been a hard transition.”

“I know it has. I understand. I just wanted to touch base with you, since you seemed worried when we talked on Monday. It doesn’t sound like he wants the New York job. I looked into some other options, but he doesn’t sound too excited about those either.”

She closed her eyes, unsure of whether to be even more concerned or hopeful that he was seriously considering staying in Willow Park. “Okay. He’s been conflicted about it, and it was hard for him to make a decision.”

“Well, we’ll be sorry to lose him if he decides in a different way, but sometimes that’s for the best. After what he went through, maybe it’s easiest for him to have a clean break.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Maybe it is.” She opened her mouth to ask Roger how Mark had sounded on the phone, but then she thought again. She didn’t want it to seem like she was checking up on her own husband. “I really appreciate you making an effort.”

“Of course. He’s going to give me a final answer after the holidays, but either way we’ll have to keep in touch.”

“Definitely. Merry Christmas, Roger.”

“You too. If anyone deserves to have a good Christmas, it’s you and Mark.”

Sophie was almost crying as she disconnected the call, and she wasn’t even sure why.

She just wanted a moment of peace, and she hadn’t had one in so long—almost three years now, it seemed.

She prayed for peace, and for wisdom, and for answers, and for the ability to love Mark the way he deserved. But it felt like she’d been praying forever, and nothing ever got fixed.

Sometimes it felt like things were getting better, but then another trail would appear out of nowhere.

She wasn’t sure how strong she could be in the face of the endless road in front of her.

She took a few shaky breaths and gathered her strength, and then she started to close up the bookstore.

Mark was waiting upstairs. They were going to have Christmas together. They were closer now than they’d been at first. They’d definitely made some progress. Things were getting better. She shouldn’t expect everything to be fixed all at once.

She kept giving herself a mental pep talk as she made her way upstairs.

The apartment had a strange vibe to it when she opened the door and set down her purse, phone, and keys. She looked around as she slid off her coat, trying to figure out what felt so strange.

Everything looked normal—pretty much picked up, all their furniture in the normal places. Mark wasn’t visible, but it didn’t take long for her to figure out where he was.

He was in the shower. He’d slept in late this morning. Maybe he’d just now taken his shower.

That wasn’t really like him, but maybe she simply didn’t know what was like him anymore.

She shook away her strange vibes and sat down to call her parents, since she might not get the chance later today. She and Mark were supposed to go down to Florida to visit them next week.

She chatted with them for twenty minutes, and Mark still didn’t come out of the shower.

He hadn’t taken showers this long since he’d first gotten out of the hospital.

Maybe there was a reason for the strange vibes she’d felt on entering the apartment. Maybe something was wrong with him.

She waited a few more minutes, and then went to knock on the bathroom door. “Mark?”

The shower turned off. “Yeah.”

“Just letting you know I’m back.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she didn’t want him to think she was so worried about him.

He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. He didn’t want her to think he was weak.

“Okay.”

She sighed and went to sit on the bed, kicking off her shoes and lying back on the mattress, with her legs hanging over the side. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up to a different world, one where Mark had gotten over the worst of the healing process, one where she knew what to do, how to love him for real.

Mark came out of the shower with a towel around his waist. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, sitting up. “Just sitting here waiting for you. That was a long shower.”

“When did you get back?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his beard.

She gave a half-shrug. “Twenty minutes or so. I closed the store early, since no one was coming in.”

“You all did pretty well in the last few weeks, though, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. It was a pretty good year. Definitely better than last year.” She wanted to bring up Roger’s phone call but didn’t know how to do so. “Anything happening here?”

Mark gave her a sharp look. “No. Not really.”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Do you still want to go to that Christmas fair this afternoon?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I was just asking.” She didn’t know why he seemed so prickly. She didn’t know why she felt rather prickly herself.

“I’m ready as soon as I put on my clothes.”

She watched him as he got dressed, realizing he’d finally started gaining some weight back. He’d been walking and running on the treadmill a lot too, so he’d built back up some of his muscle tone. His limbs were long and strong, and his body was masculine, attractive, solid.

She loved him. All of him. His body and his heart and his mind and his spirit. She didn’t care if he was still damaged, if he never got back into a career. She loved him anyway.

He pulled on a pair of jeans over his underwear and then pulled a clean black T-shirt out of a drawer and pulled it on over his head. It was cold outside, but he almost never wore long sleeves. He’d just put a coat on over the T-shirt.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked, looking over at her as he pulled on his socks.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“Well, if you’re worrying about me, I’d appreciate it if you stopped.”

She sucked in a quick breath at the curt tone. She usually didn’t react with temper, but she was tired and confused and in a strangely glum mood today, and she didn’t appreciate his tone. “What makes you think I’m even thinking about you?”

“Of course you’re thinking about me. You’re watching me like I’m some sort of lost puppy that you’ll never get back.”

She didn’t usually get angry very easily, but she felt a surge of it rush through her. What the hell was his problem, anyway? She’d tied herself into knots trying to help him, trying to be there for him. And all he could do was snap at her. She clenched her jaw as she said, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not looking at you that way at all, and there’s no reason to be so mean about it.”

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” He appeared angry too. It was evident from the tension in his shoulders, in the muscles of his cheeks. “For God’s sake, even if I couldn’t see it in your face, how many phone calls do I need to expect, from all these people you’ve been nagging to give me a job?”

She stood up, since she didn’t like how he was towering over her. He still towered over her, but a little bit less so than when she was sitting. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve evidently been calling everyone you can possibly think of who might be able to give your poor, pathetic, charity-case of a husband some sort of a job.” His dark eyes were flashing, but his expression was cold, the way it only was when he was very, very angry.

She was angry now too. All her work and worry, and he was just throwing it back in her face. “I notice you haven’t bothered to even mention to me that you’ve gotten any calls. How many job possibilities do you have now that you haven’t said a word to me about? Do you think it doesn’t matter to me? Do you think you’re the only person who’s involved in that decision?”

“Of course, I know it affects you! Why do you think it’s been so hard for me? How could I not know that it matters to you?”

“Well, you sure haven’t been acting like you know that. You won’t even talk to me about it. It’s not just your decision to make, you know.”

“It’s not just your decision either, and I don’t appreciate your trying to bully me into doing something.”

“Bully? Bully?” She could barely breathe over her astonishment and outrage. “You think I’m bullying you? Tell me exactly when I’ve pressured you. I haven’t even said anything.”

“And you think that’s a good thing?’ He’d raised his voice, something he hadn’t done since they’d been reunited. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d raised his voice to her. “You think it’s better to go behind my back and try to engineer things on your own?”

“I was trying to help! How can you not see that? I care about you, and I want things to be good for you. And I’m sure you’ll be happier when you get back into a job. I’m trying to help!” Her hands were clenched at her sides.

He made a rough sound and turned away from her, evidently to control his expression. When he turned back, he said coolly, “I don’t know how to be any clearer about this. I don’t want your help. I don’t always want to need your help. That’s not what I want. That’s never been what I want. I don’t want your help.”

His words had been perfectly clear. She’d heard them without mistake. And they hurt so much she couldn’t possibly keep her composure.

It felt like they were ripping her apart.

She turned her back to him, fighting to hold onto her control, at least long enough to end this conversation. “If you don’t want my help,” she managed to say, “then what are we even doing in this marriage?”

He didn’t answer for what felt like an endless stretch of time. She was too distracted in holding herself together—not crying, not being weak when it mattered the most—that she completely lost track of time.

Then finally he said, in a strange hoarse voice, “I don’t know.”

That was the answer she’d been afraid of hearing since he’d come home. If he didn’t love her anymore, if he didn’t need her anymore, if he didn’t want her to help him, to share his life anymore, then why would he want to stay in this marriage?

All those moments of hope, of closeness, had only been clouding the real issue—based on memories of the people they used to be.

But it was clear now.

If he didn’t want her, she wasn’t going to beg him to stay.

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning over to pick up her shoes. “Okay, then.”

“What are you doing?” Mark asked, as she slid on her shoes. He sounded weird, but she was too upset to look at him or figure out his tone of voice.

“I’m leaving.”

She’d fought as much as she was capable of fighting. She’d been as strong as she could be. Evidently, it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

Maybe, one day, Mark would fully heal, but she wasn’t the one to help him do so.

She had to get out of here before she broke down and sobbed. She went into the main room to grab her coat and purse.

She heard Mark follow her, but he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t try to stop her as she opened the door and walked out.

As she stumbled down the stairs, she realized she had nowhere to go. It was Christmas Eve. All of her friends would be busy with their families. She couldn’t show up on their doors, bawling like a baby because her husband didn’t want her anymore.

She went to her car and got behind the wheel. She had absolutely no idea where to go.

So she just started to drive, relieved that—now she was alone—she was at least allowed to cry.

***

She didn’t head to anywhere in particular. She drove through the downtown streets and then through a couple of neighborhoods. She passed Micah and Alice’s house, and she saw them outside in the front yard. Their daughter Cara was peddling what was obviously a new, pretty pink tricycle down the sidewalk.

They all looked so happy. Plus, they had another baby on the way. Some people were able to come together in love, build families, share all the ups and downs of life.

But some people weren’t.

Some people ended up alone, even in their own marriage.

She drove by, hoping Micah and Alice wouldn’t recognize her car. They didn’t appear to notice her at all, and soon they were out of sight.

She ended up at the church. The parking lot was empty. It was far too early for anyone to have arrived yet for the candlelight service this evening.

She was crying so hard now that she pulled into the lot and parked her car, her whole body shaking as the sobs overwhelmed her.

She wondered what Mark was doing.

She wondered if he’d expected this to happen when he woke up this morning.

She wondered if he was relieved that finally it was all out in the open.

She’d raised her hands to cover her face, crying into her palms, when there was suddenly a knock on the window of her car.

She actually jumped, she was so startled. When she’d wiped away enough tears, she saw that Daniel was standing beside her driver’s door, leaning over to peer in at her. He looked worried.

Of course, he was worried. She was a member of his congregation, and she was crying in her car in the parking lot on Christmas Eve.

She opened the window.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked, still bending slightly at the waist to see in on her.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She found a napkin in a pocket of her car and used it to mop up her face. “I didn’t know where to go, so I just parked here.”

“I see.” Daniel’s expression was mild. “Then you better tell me about it. Can I come sit down?” He gestured toward the passenger seat.

She nodded. She was embarrassed at being caught sobbing like that, but she desperately needed to talk to someone. Daniel was her pastor. Whatever she told him, he wouldn’t tell anyone. She didn’t want to do anything that would breach the privacy of her marriage, but she thought this would be okay.

She felt all alone, but she wasn’t—not really. There were people who cared about her, and Daniel was one of them.

He came around to sit in the passenger seat of her car.

“I didn’t see your car,” she said, feeling awkward and needing something easy to say.

“Jessica dropped me off. I had a little prep work to do for the service tonight, and she was taking Nathan over to visit her mother.”

“Oh.” Sophie blinked, momentarily distracted from her own situation. “I didn’t realize her mother was nearby.”

“She’s in a nursing home,” Daniel said quietly. “She doesn’t know who Jessica is most of the time.”

Sophie started crying again, her chest aching at the thought of her own mother in a similar situation.

“You better tell me what’s going on,” Daniel said. “Where’s Mark?”

With a halting explanation, occasionally interrupted by more tears, Sophie told Daniel what had happened that afternoon. She’d kept the explanation fairly general, mostly focusing on her own feelings.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” she concluded, when she finally reached the end. “I’ve tried so hard to be strong for him, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to help him through this after all. I don’t know what to do. I think it might be over.”

Daniel didn’t reply immediately. He’d listened carefully, and now he appeared to be mulling over what she’d said. After a while, he murmured, “If marriages were always over when we didn’t know what else to do, then I don’t think any of them would last.”

She sniffed and tried to wipe her face with the napkin, but it was so wet now it didn’t do much good. “Maybe. But it sounded to me like it was really over.”

“I get that. I get that it sounded that way. And I know how hard it’s been for you these last couple of years, these last couple of months. I’ve seen you stay strong and faithful and committed in unimaginably difficult circumstances, when so many people would have just given up. I’ve seen it, Sophie.”

She was crying again. Helplessly crying. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Mark has seen it too,” Daniel continued. “I’m sure he has. He’s seen you be strong, when all he feels is weak.”

The words surprised Sophie, and she stared at Daniel, wondering how he’d known that.

Daniel paused again, turning away from Sophie and staring out at the cross on the front of the church building. Finally, he said, as if he were just reflecting to himself, “You know the Gospel is never what we assume it should be. It’s counter-intuitive in absolutely every way. He didn’t come to earth as the conquering hero whom everyone expected. He came as a baby. Have you ever thought about how strange that is, how wrong it feels—that the world would be fixed through that?”

Sophie shook her head, trying to understand, trying to keep up.

Daniel turned his head and smiled at her. “The Gospel has never been about coming with how good we are or how devout we are or how strong we are. It’s coming as we really are—in all our brokenness, in all our weakness. And being loved anyway. And being loved because of it.”

And that she understood.

She cried into her hands for another minute before she was finally able to wipe away her tears. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I understand.”

Daniel gave her a whimsical smile. “Do you? Because I’m not sure I always understand it myself.”

“I’d like to…” She cleared her throat. “I’d like to go back to Mark now.”

“I guess that’s your way of kicking me out of your car.” Daniel reached over to pat her hand. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. Just ask Jessica. But I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong about this. Mark is sitting there now, praying that you’ll come back to him. In fact, he might be out looking for you.”

Sophie took a ragged breath, praying and hoping and terrified, but desperately eager to talk to Mark again. “Thank you,” she said again.

When Daniel was out of the car, he leaned over again before he closed the door. “Maybe he won’t have to run all the way home in the middle of the night to get to you. That’s what I did to get to Jessica.” He was grinning as he closed the car door.

Sophie took a moment to wonder if that was true, that Daniel had run all the way to reach his wife.

She really liked the image. As she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, she had the silly, random wish that she could run all the way home from the church to get to Mark.

Even that, wouldn’t come close to embodying how much she loved him.