Page 133 of Sunday Morning

Gravel pierced my hands and bruised my knees, dirtying my jeans.

“Are you okay? What are you doing?” Isaac asked, reaching for me with one hand while he held my hat in his other hand.

“Don’t touch me!” I rolled onto my butt and kicked at the dirt to get away from him so I could stand and keep running. But my hands stung, and they were bleeding in a few places as I hugged them to my chest and fought the tears.

“She’s my cousin. Well, second cousin. She lives here in Springfield,” Isaac said, eyes wide and unblinking as if I were a spooked animal.

I swallowed past the sob in my throat because my hand hurt, and so did my pride.

He squatted in front of me, holding my hat between his spread knees. “Are you hurt?”

With a quivering lower lip, I nodded.

“Let me see.”

I held out my hands, wincing from the pain.

“Baby,” he squinted, “you have a piece of broken glass wedged into your palm.”

I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I released a sob. “Ithurts. And I left everything and everyone to be with you, and then I thought you were …”

“I’m not cheating on you,” he said, setting my hat on my head and lifting me into his arms. “Let’s get you fixed up.” Isaac carried me to his truck, where his cousin was waiting.

“Nicole, this is Sarah. She tripped. Can you grab the first aid kit under my seat?”

“Sure.” Nicole retrieved the kit before moving so he could lift me into the passenger’s seat.

I felt stupid for assuming he was cheating on me. Stupid for running. Stupid for tripping. And stupid because his cousin was meeting me for the first time when I was having a breakdown.

“This is going to hurt,” Isaac said, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto my hands.

“Ouch!” I seethed.

“Sorry.” He looked up at me for a second before removing the glass and gravel.

“Can I get you anything else?” Nicole asked.

“We’re good. Thanks.” Isaac looked back at her with a kind smile.

“Okay. Well, I’m meeting a few friends. Are you staying at the house again? You’re both welcome.”

“Not tonight,” he murmured, returning his focus to my hands.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning when you pick up your horse,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Sarah. Sorry about your hands.”

I sniffled and murmured a tight “thanks” because every time Isaac removed something from my hand, it hurt. After he got the rocks and glass out of it, he applied an ointment and wrapped gauze around them. I looked like a boxer.

Then he looked up at me again. “Sunday Morning,” he whispered, taking my face in his hands and wiping my tears before kissing me.

I was such a fool in love.

A young woman with so many painful lessons to learn.

But all that mattered was Isaac’s lips were on mine.

He pulled back an inch and smiled. “Hi.”

I laughed despite an extra round of unshed tears waiting to be released. “Hi.”