Rekindled Hearts

“Don’t give up.” He said it with conviction and she was lost, because there were several things she could tag with that saying.

“Give up?”

“On Colt.”

She blew out a sigh and looked away. “We gave up two years ago, Michael.”

But she could admit to herself that in the crumbled remains of her house—that night in the basement—she had wondered if they could work things out. She had wanted him to stay with her that night.

And he had repeated history by sending her off in the ambulance alone. Alone.

She didn’t want that to be the epitaph of her life: She Loved a Man, But Was Always Alone. Yuck, how depressing. But looking around High Plains with crumbled buildings and shattered lives, she put her marriage in that category. Some things couldn’t be rebuilt. Like her marriage, they were beyond fixing.

“Where there’s faith, Lexi, there’s hope.” Michael still stood next to her, and his smile was soft but firm.

“Of course.” She remembered Michael’s sermon of two weeks ago. God doesn’t make mistakes. He isn’t taken by surprise, either.

Her marriage hadn’t been a mistake. She still believed that God had brought her and Colt together. The divorce was another matter altogether. But it hadn’t been her choice. She’d let Colt go, because she knew that she couldn’t force him to stay.

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