Yes, I know this, but so what? If I can’t do what you want, what good does your strength do me?
Let your weakness magnify me.
Her eyes popped open. Huh? What didthatmean? That’s when she knew for sure she was really talking to God. If this was her emotions or her imagination at work, surely she wouldn’t have heard a message she didn’t understand.
An unexpected splash of fuel entered her veins, and she jumped up and hurried to the cupboard. She ripped the door open so hard that it banged into the cupboard behind it. She reached for the first bottle, yanked the cork out and tipped the bottle into the sink. The color of it enticed her; the smell of it made her mouth water. This was taking too long. She lifted the bottle two feet into the air and then brought it down onto the edge of the sink with a force she didn’t know she was capable of. The bottle shattered in her grip, and the wine splashed out into the sink and onto the coat she still wore. She turned the water on to make it go down the drain faster and then she reached for the next bottle.
She felt her momentum slipping as she wrestled with the corkscrew.Why am I trying to do it this way when the other way was so satisfying?She threw the corkscrew aside and brought the bottle up over her head, took a step back this time, and then brought it down hard and fast, part of her doubting it would work a second time.
The bottle exploded in her hand, and wine went everywhere—the wall, her chest, the counter, dribbling down the front of the cupboard beneath the sink. She gasped at the holy mess she was making and then reached for the final bottle.
This explosion was the most satisfying of all.
She took a step back and surveyed her work.
Wine all over her and her kitchen. A sink full of broken glass.
She’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Something trickled down her hand and assuming it was wine, went to wipe it on a dish towel only to see that it was blood.
She’d cut her hand open, but it didn’t hurt. She headed toward the bathroom for a band-aid.At least it’s my blood this time.
Chapter 14
Brent saw Pastor Adamcoming and tried to dodge him, but doing so ran him smack into Derek, the biggest weirdo he’d ever met.
“Would you like a candy cane?” Derek asked with wide, childlike eyes.
At first, Brent thought he was just taking a survey, that there was no candy cane. Where had the man gotten a candy cane in Carver Harbor in October? But then Derek pulled one from his pocket. At least, the thingusedto be a candy cane. The crook of it had broken and now flopped over sadly, cracking the wrapper open. A small chunk of what Brent hoped was pocket lint clung to the candy.
“No, thank you.”
Derek looked sincerely disappointed, and Brent felt guilty for seeming ungrateful.
“Where did you get candy canes this time of year?”