“No,” she laughed, still crying. “It’s these damn hormones. He told me something today and I just ran off.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m just-I’m having trouble with it.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel like I don’t deserve him, Spencer.”
“Oh, Bridge,” I said shaking my head. “How in the world could you possibly think that?”
“He’s such a good guy, Spence. And, I mean, the only reason I even know him is because I put us here,” she explained gesturing to her growing stomach.
“Bridge,” I said, emphatic. “We’re here because our father put us here.” She leaned back and looked up at me. “We’re here,” I continued, “because you couldn’t stand the idea of not having your baby, and you didn’t care that it meant you would have to live an entirely different life to do that. I think that is the bravest shit I have ever heard of, Bridget. That courage makes you worthier to Jonah, to me, to these people, than anyone. Your baby does not define you, but your courage to keep it does.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she nodded with backbone.
“I think you finally get it.”
“I have to go,” she said, tossing on her jacket and wrapping her scarf.
She ran out the door and I got up to see her head to the road from the window, but at the top of the lane I saw Jonah coming down the drive, wringing his hands and worrying his lip. When Bridge saw him, she started running to him, sprinting, her hair escaped its ponytail and the blonde mass spread out behind her.
Jonah stopped walking, looking stunned and opened his arms for her. She jumped into them and he hugged her tightly, making me want to cry a little, but if you repeat that to anyone I will personally come kick your ass.
o;What for?”
“I’m sorry that she was taken from you so early. It wasn’t fair.”
She reached her hand out on the cape we laid upon but didn’t quite touch my hand. She was just near enough for me to feel the heat of her fingers and my heart beat sadly for her.
“Spencer,” she said, studying both our hands then piercing my eyes with her bright blue ones. “Life on Earth is fleeting. It’s a gift, but when God wants you, He will take you. It’s not meant to be a punishment to you or to your loved ones. In fact, it’s truly an extra incentive for you to do His will, for you to serve Him so you can strive to be with Him as well as the ones you lose. There’s a peace in that, Spencer.”
She stunned me with that statement. Absolutely stunned me. Because I had never ever thought of death as anything other than a punishment. I feared it with utter dismay, with complete abhorrence, with despair and foreboding.
“And death,” she continued, “is a beautiful thing for those destined for God’s world. How could I possibly begrudge her that happiness?”
She considered my expression and laughed a little through the tears.
“It took me a long time to come to terms with that, but when I finally did, it clicked.” She smiled. “Now, that doesn’t mean I’m not selfish sometimes and miss her, but that’s okay because I’m human.” She smiled wider. “And I love being human. What a gift it is to be human.”
I stared at her in the candlelight. “You’re beautiful,” I said.
Her eyes closed tightly. “Spencer,” she breathed.
“I’m saying that as a co-worker, Cricket.”
She snorted. “Shut up,” she laughed.
“I’m serious. As a fellow ranch hand, I feel it within the realm of appropriate to tell you that I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”
“Spencer,” she said, her eyes going glassy.
“And as your co-worker, you should also know that I find you talented, smart as a whip, capable and sweet.”
“Spencer,” she whispered, the tears more evident now.
“And-and I don’t think it’s at all improper, as your co-worker, mind you, to tell you that, in my humble opinion, you’re settling for the life you have.”