Page 23 of Muskoka Miracle (Muskoka Shores #7)

D inner that night was a funny affair, Dan and Boyd trying to conduct something of a camp debrief, while they all tiptoed around the bombshell that Sam had announced that he was attending a Jehovah’s Witness study.

Boyd had tried to argue, to no avail. Sarah had murmured to Dan to “just love him,” but she wasn’t sure if that was enough.

He’d been so excited when his little brother had accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior and started following Him, so to see him veer from the path as he had was concerning.

The way Boyd was carrying on suggested he wouldn’t stop. Dog with a bone, was he. But Sam’s face suggested he was getting agitated, and that a change of subject was necessary.

“So, Sam, how are things going with Alexa?” she asked.

But judging from the tightness in his face, this line of questioning wasn’t much better. “She wanted me to commit, but I wasn’t ready, so we’re on another break.”

“You’re nearly thirty, Sam. When are you going to be ready?” Dan asked.

Sam shot him a look. “You didn’t even date until my age.”

“Because I was waiting for perfection,” Dan said, kissing her hand.

“And then when he didn’t find it, he settled for me,” Sarah joked, which scored a laugh from the others.

“Nobody is perfect, only God,” Boyd said.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dan smothered a smile.

Sarah bit back one of her own and nodded. “That’s very true. Oh well. It’s a good thing God loves us anyway, isn’t it?”

Boyd grunted, which she took as an affirmation. “So, what do you think next year’s camp will look like?”

“Next year?” Dan groaned. “Come on, Princess. My body is so sore from this year I’m going to need twelve months to forget how much pain I’m in.”

Concern panged. “You’re that sore?” He certainly hadn’t seemed that way when he’d first arrived home.

He sighed, and she suddenly saw new little lines in his face. Had the camp put those there? Or had the trials of the past few years been responsible for this added ‘character’?

“You are getting older now,” Boyd said. “And I have to agree that it’s not quite the same at thirty-five as when we were ten years younger.”

“Thirty-five?” Dan protested. “Speak for yourself, man.”

“Look, I’m just saying that none of us are getting any younger. And, look, I didn’t want to say this now, but I suppose I should, Jo and I are expecting a little bundle of joy this Christmas—”

Her heart cramped.

“—and I don’t know if I can commit to doing next year.”

“Congratulations,” Dan said.

She echoed it, stealing a glance at Dan. He was pale, but seemed determined to not let anything of their frustrations spoil Boyd’s moment. So, neither would she.

But as Boyd went on and on about it, it grew harder to pretend not to care. She tried to remind herself to be thankful, that God loved her, which helped somewhat. But still, he kept talking.

She peeked at Dan, saw his arms folded and brow puckered. She half-smiled at him, he half-smiled back, but the pain in his eyes reflected that living in her heart.

Then finally Boyd turned to Dan and said, “So, when are you two going to get on with starting a family?”

Grief slashed her chest, and she pressed her lips together.

Boyd lifted his chin at Sarah. “I suppose you’re too busy with all your Heartsong things to want to give that up any time soon.”

Oh, if only that were the case. She’d give it up in a heartbeat if she could. She blinked back tears. Saw through blurry eyes that Dan’s jaw was clenched, and that Sam kept glancing between them.

She fake-coughed. Stitched a smile to her dial and stood. “Can I get anyone some dessert?”

“I’ll help you.” Dan got up, and they moved to the kitchen, then wrapped their arms around each other.

She closed her eyes as the heartache from earlier faded in Dan’s arms. He might be in pain, but his arms remained strong, his chest was sturdy, his heart was sure.

Moments like this felt like they were Team Walton, Dan and Sar against the world.

Not that they were against the world, or the world was against them, but just being together, understanding, standing together, was a real blessing.

“You two okay in here?” Sam asked.

“Yep.” She let go of Dan, found a smile, and aimed it at his brother. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded, and exited.

“Does he know?” she asked Dan.

“About the miscarriage?”

She nodded.

“I think so. Mom said she’d mention it to him.”

They gathered the ice cream and berries and took bowls and spoons out so people could serve themselves. But her steps paused, as the sound of a hushed argument came to their ears.

“—have you thought what it’s like for them to hear someone carrying on like that?” Sam swore. “I always knew you were self-absorbed, but man, can’t you have a bit of compassion?”

Oh no. She glanced between them, then at Dan.

Boyd’s face held shock. “Is what he said true?” he pointed at Sam.

“Depends on what he said.” Dan’s voice held a growl.

Boyd glanced at Sarah. “Did you have a miscarriage?”

She pressed her lips together. Nodded.

“Oh, man.” He looked at Dan. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we didn’t want people to know,” Dan gritted out.

“But… but I’m your friend.” Boyd’s face wore hurt. “Jo and I, we love you guys. I can’t believe we didn’t know.”

She ducked her head. Jo was her friend. And hurting others like this was one of the unfortunate consequences of not telling people about their loss.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Boyd said again.

“Says the man who didn’t tell them his wife was pregnant until now,” Sam sniped.

“But—oh.” Boyd winced.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, man. Dan, Sarah, I’m sorry. I, uh, I feel really bad for going on about it all. If I’d known, I never would have said anything.”

“Don’t go making this about you again,” Sam warned.

“I’m not.”

“Can’t you see that they’re upset and too polite to tell you to stop? Good thing I’m not.”

That was for sure. “Sam,” she began.

“No, don’t tell me to shut up,” Sam said, eyes lasered on Boyd. “Mister Holier-than-thou, Mister I’m-such-a-great-Christian has the insensitivity of a bear. You really need to learn to read the room, buddy.”

Boyd’s face held chagrin. “I didn’t know.” He lifted his hands helplessly. “Dan, Sarah, I’m sorry.”

Dan shook his head. “I didn’t want people to know. I thought it was better to wait, rather than have to deal with all the sympathy if it didn’t work out.”

Boyd glanced between them. “And how did that work out for you?”

Ouch. A peek at Dan showed clamped lips, like he too was struggling to find words that held an ounce of grace. Sam had his head in his hands, elbows on knees and was shaking his head.

Wonderful. So apparently this was her moment to be the bigger person. “Actually, I don’t think there’s any right or wrong way,” she said. She glanced again at Dan, but his face remained averted. “This was actually our third miscarriage—”

“Third?”

She ignored Sam’s gasp, focusing on Boyd.

“And it hasn’t been easy. So trying to manage our emotions, to not upset others, to support each other, and still trust God through it all, has been incredibly hard.

And you know what? We probably could have done things better.

But this is us, imperfect us, doing the best we can. ”

Tears clogged her nose, her throat. She sniffed them back, swallowed. “And I’m sorry if us not telling you makes you feel left out, but like I said, we’re imperfect people just trying to figure this out and live in God’s love and His promises. And that means it sometimes gets messy along the way.”

Dan’s jaw tilted, then he swiftly wiped his eyes.

Sam swiped his eyes too, then turned to his brother and hugged him.

Her heart wrenched and she blinked back her own tears, savoring the moment, as Dan slowly wrapped his brother in a hug. Then Sam pounded him on the back and released him, and hugged Sarah, while Boyd took his own turn at hugging Dan.

“I’m so sorry you’ve gone through this,” Sam murmured.

“It’s okay.” She rubbed his back. “Like I said, I know that God still loves us, and has good plans for us. We just need to keep trusting Him.”

He crouched in a little closer, and just when she thought his hug was going on a little too long, she felt his tears wet her hair.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He sniffed.

Oh, she wished Dan could help, but a peek across the table showed he and Boyd were caught in sober conversation. “Sam? You can tell me.”

“I wish I could trust Him,” he murmured.

Oh, Lord. Touch his heart. “You can.”

She pulled back, studying him, this man who might look like Dan, but was a boy still in many ways. “Sam, you know that God loves you. You’ve felt His love before. Actually, you’ve known God’s love before. Because faith isn’t about how you’re feeling.”

His lips pressed together.

Lord, help me say this right. “This past year I’ve cried so much, I’ve struggled—I still struggle—with questions, and frustration, and envy, and doubt, but deep down I still know that God loves me.

It’s like a full stop—oops, another Australianism there—it’s like a period at the end of a sentence.

God loves me. God ,” she pointed to the night sky, “loves me. God loves me.” She clenched her hand over her heart. “God loves me .”

How wondrous and impossible and awe-filling and humbling that was. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know that God loves me. And I know that God loves you, Sam. Period.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she shook her head.

“It’s not about how good you are, or how much you have it together.

Being perfect doesn’t impress God because He knows none of us are.

All God wants is for us to repent from doing things our own way, and let Jesus be the Lord of our lives and for us to follow Him.

He’s not asking for much.” Her lips tweaked up. “Just your life.”

His lips flickered into a smile that quickly faded. “But I walked away.”