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Always his argument whenever she wanted to share personal stuff on the podcast. He’d refused to let her say anything about this latest pregnancy.

And even though she was a twenty-first century woman, she was also trying to be a God-honoring husband-respecting one, so she hadn’t shared, even though every atom in her being had wanted to share this most wonderful news.

Until their wonderful news was destroyed.

She glanced at him. He kept his gaze averted. She bit back a sigh. If they were arguing about this, then imagine what he’d say about some of the bigger things. “People can’t relate if we don’t say anything,” she said carefully.

He finally looked at her, his chocolate eyes, usually so warm, were glittery and cold. “I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.”

“They won’t.” They might. They probably would. In a flash she could see their apartment littered with flowers, cards, and tiny bears. She pushed it aside. “They will feel listened to, related with, seen.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” He shook his head. “It sounds like you just want more followers.”

* * *

As soon as the ugly words escaped, he felt sick. “Princess, no, I didn’t mean that.” He peeked across.

She’d inched back, her face pale. “Do you really think that’s why I do this?”

“Of course not.” She was nothing like those influencers who would do anything for a quick buck. “I’m sorry.”

She faced out the car window, as if she didn’t believe him.

And fair enough. He’d already apologized several times today. He wouldn’t believe him either.

“Sarah, you know I didn’t mean that.”

She shook her head, her face averted. “I don’t know that.

Not really. I feel like you’re blaming me for all this.

” She sniffled. “And yes, I understand why you would, because no matter what that blood test you had today says, we both know that I’m the reason why I can’t stay pregnant. But you knew that when you married me.”

“I know. And I truly didn’t mean to imply that I blame you.”

“Do you blame me?” She faced him then, and he caught a glimpse of her eyes, sparkling with sorrow.

His heart wrenched. “Princess, I—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Tell the truth. Do you blame me? Is there a tiny pocket of your heart that is blaming me for this?”

He concentrated on the road. He couldn’t face her. “No.” Was that a lie? No. He didn’t blame her. Instead, “I blame God.”

She exhaled. “I knew it.”

“How?”

“You’ve just seemed so distant lately. You’re not yourself. I can remember the time when you would’ve been ecstatic to hear that Brendan was praying, and now you don’t even seem to care.”

“Because I don’t. Not when it’s at our expense.”

“But what if it’s our expense that is the thing that gets him saved? Doesn’t that make this whole awful experience worthwhile?”

No. Nothing could make this worthwhile.

Ever.

He wasn’t used to driving to Muskoka with a silent Sarah. But this made two times in the space of ten days. But unlike last time, illness wasn’t the excuse he could use. She was mad at him, and he didn’t like it. At all.

The afternoon sun was glinting off the lake as he pulled in. It felt weird to be here, less than a week since the last time they’d stayed. Usually when he came it was for weeks on end in the summer. He could only manage the occasional day here and there during the season.

He parked, and she exited and moved to the back.

“Let me get the bags,” he said, as she moved to collect hers.

She tugged, and he grasped her hand.

“I said, let me.”

She shook his hand off, then reached in, then winced.

“Sar.”

She shuddered in a breath, then shook her head, and spun away from his reach, leaving the suitcases while she collected the eco-bag of perishable food items.

Great. This was exactly how he wanted his time here to go. Sarah angry at him, and it was all his fault.

He hefted the bags from the garage up the stairs, unsurprised to see she’d switched the kettle on and was opening the curtains.

“Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Her insistence drew his lips up. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, so it’s funny now, is it?”

Any hope of breaking this tension with humor faded. “I just didn’t want you straining yourself. You need to be careful.”

“Thank you, Dr. Dan.”

He bit back a sigh and carried the bags up to their bedroom. He hoped she’d still regard it as their bedroom. He wouldn’t blame her for wanting to sleep somewhere else. Maybe he should be a gentleman and ask if that’s what she would prefer.

He deposited their bags inside, then returned. The orange light of the coffee machine indicated Sarah had switched it on. But she already held a mug of tea as she leaned over the wooden railing of the deck.

Irritation flared. So he’d have to make his own beverage then.

He pressed his lips together and did just that, using the excuse of the coffee machine’s whine to pretend not to hear her.

Mature, he wasn’t. But right now he barely cared.

He needed to do something to work off this tension, and the thing he loved to do since getting married was no longer available to him, not for another month at least. Which meant he probably needed to work off some of his pent-up energy in the basement gym, and hope that his frustrations would be burned off before he said something else that they would both regret.

It was getting dark by the time he returned. The house was cool, dim. He could smell his sweat, but no trace of her fragrance. “Sar?”

No reply.

He glanced out on the deck. Nope. No sign of her.

Man, this was growing old, playing hide and seek, looking for her.

Maybe she was asleep. Or maybe she wasn’t here.

She’d probably gone to her Aunt Angela’s next door and was complaining about him.

Not that he could blame her. Because while he might be able to lift impressive weights, she was the one who was really strong.

He was weak, definitely the weaker Christian right now.

“Sarah?”

He went up the stairs. After that workout he really needed a shower.

But when he opened the door to the bathroom, he discovered through the steam that Sarah was once more crouched on the bottom of the bathtub, her sobs muffled by the running water of the shower overhead.

“Sar?”

She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him. Oh no, something must be really wrong.

“Sarah?”

He reached in, turning off the shower taps, getting his sleeve wet. “Princess?”

He grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her as the sobs continued. “Princess, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t face him, didn’t answer for the longest time.

Had she gotten more bad news? A call from the doctor? Lord, help her , he prayed.

She sucked in a shuddery breath, then her breathing steadied, like she was trying to get it under control.

He tucked the towel around her and gently scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. He tugged free another towel to keep her warm, and moved to the low, sturdy chair in the bathroom as he cradled her close.

Her wet hair trickled water down his shirt. He barely noticed, too intent on this beautiful, sad woman who was his wife. “Sweetheart, I love you.”

She turned then, pressing her damp face into his neck.

Moisture slid down his skin, but it felt hot, like tears. How could he have thought her strong? She was as good as him at playing pretend. When she started shivering, he gently rubbed her back. “Sar, I love you so much. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

The wet tendrils of her hair swung as she shook her head.

His heart wrenched. He could barely remember a time when Sarah hadn’t wanted to talk to him. “Sar, I’m sorry. Please tell me what I can do.”

She gulped, then lifted her head. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed.

His heart grew sore. Oh, he hated her feeling this way.

She studied him, searchingly, until he felt he could no longer hide.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Dan, I can’t do this.” Her breath shuddered. “I love you, but it feels like you don’t love me anymore. You might say it now, but you haven’t been treating me like you do.”

His gut wrenched. Yeah, he could understand why she’d think that.

“I can’t take this coldness from you anymore. What is it? What have I done that makes you dislike me so much?”

Huh? He didn’t dislike her at all! “Sar—”

“No.” She shook her head. “Here we are, coming up to our third wedding anniversary and you don’t even act like you want me around. You don’t even seem to want me anymore.”

Yeah, their sex life had certainly taken a beating in the past year.

From the bliss of being newly married, the pregnancies and losses meant she’d gotten so sick and tired she couldn’t.

Her work also made her tired, which coupled with his busy schedule of late games and away matches and his depression in recent months had meant he hadn’t wanted to.

Their pre-marriage counselling had suggested that maintaining a healthy sex life was important, as it worked like glue to keep them together. They certainly needed more glue.

“I know you’re still sad about the baby, but honestly, what did I do wrong?”

Nothing. That was the problem. He sighed. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

The eyes were sparkling now with angry tears. “No, that can’t be true. You think I have. So what is it?”

He didn’t even really know anymore. He shrugged.

She leaned closer. “Talk to me, Dan. I hate this silence.”

So did he, if truth were told. “It’s just been a lot tougher than I imagined.”

“What has? Our marriage?”

He shrugged again. “The past couple of years have been tough.” Three miscarriages in eighteen months would do that.

The hard, green gaze softened slightly. “It has.”

He lowered his gaze, unable to look at her anymore. Just nodded.

“So the miscarriages, the uncertainty about your career, I get that all these things add up to frustrations, but that’s not enough to cause this much misery.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

He clamped his lips.

“No, tell me. I want to know. Is it the podcast thing?”

“What? No. I shouldn’t have said that about followers. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “If you want me to stop it I will. And I won’t tell anyone about what’s happened to us. Not if you don’t want me to.”

His heart broke a little more for her. “One day, maybe. I don’t want you to stop it.

Because I know that what you share has been really helpful to lots of people.

” He’d seen the comments, knew Sarah was ministering in a way through her words and music to a far bigger audience than even her missionary parents had ever dreamed. “You’re amazing.”

“Then what is it?”

“You never seemed to show much emotion after,” he swallowed, “after—”

“Are you seriously asking me whether I was sad about losing the baby?” She looked at him incredulously, pointing to the shower. “What did you think that was?”

A woman breaking down. And the second time he’d seen that. He pressed his lips together. How could he accuse her?

He knew how. He wasn’t coping with his emotions, didn’t know how to continue to be strong for her when it felt like all strength was lost. He didn’t know how to fake it long enough to make it.

Her emotions pulled on his, and tugged him to want to help her, yet drew shamed awareness that he couldn’t, that he was drier than a desert of forty years with no rain.

“Dan, did you ever think about how I might feel?” The flash was back.

“Part of my depression after Stephen’s death was knowing I’d never have kids—do you remember that?

How do you think I felt when I found out I was finally pregnant—with your child?

It was a dream come true! A miracle! I couldn’t believe it, it was so amazing.

Here I was, married to the man of my dreams, and going to have his child. ”

She swallowed, and reached out for his hand. “You saw me now, and you’ve seen me before. I’ve cried so much, especially when you weren’t here, because I didn’t want to be upsetting you even more.”

Just like he had. His grip tightened.

“I know in the past I have allowed grief to settle inside me until it became almost impossible to dislodge,” she continued.

“And I knew I couldn’t allow that again this time.

So I’ve tried to be conscious of connecting with God, and it’s not been easy, but it’s definitely helped, even if at times I feel like I’m dangling by a thread.

But you… you don’t seem to have tried to connect with God. ”

No. That was so true. “He’s been far away.”

She shook her head. “No, you have. I know, because that’s how I lived for way too long when Stephen died, blaming God for stuff.”

What could he say? It was true. He looked up, into her beautiful green eyes, tinged with a violet rim around the iris.

“Daniel, I love you so much. Please don’t shut me out.” She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him like she used to.

His arms automatically went around her. “I love you too, Princess.” He tucked the towel around her closer. “I’m really sorry,” he murmured into her damp hair. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I forgive you. And just so you know, I’m sorry too.”

He hugged her, and the room filled with a new sense of peace.

They might not have it all together, but God was with them, His grace and forgiveness wrapping around them like the faintest perfume.

And somehow in Muskoka he was going to trust God to bring them together.

And help them find a future, even if it seemed destined to be without a child.