Page 59 of Some Like It Hot
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,’” Riley said. “‘For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’”
The rod and staff. Guidance and discipline through the darkness.
Except he’d let his pride tell him he didn’t need either.
“‘Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…’” Larke’s words ended in a whimper as the wind raked over them again. “I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”
His arm tightened around her and he moved his mouth to her ear. “‘Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over…’”
Riley, say it again, with me.
He’d stared up into the dark, solemn eyes of his father, one of his early deployments.“If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you, except the will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’…”
Maybe the gap between who he was and who he wanted to be could be bridged by God. By letting the Almighty lead him through the valley of darkness to the banquet table. Letting Him pour blessings over him.
Riley let go of Larke’s hand under him and stretched out his arm beside hers, gritting his teeth, moving into the pain as he cupped his hand around hers. The heat seared his knuckles, but he bore down against her shaking arm.
And maybe he wasn’t broken. Maybe God had made him exactly who he was supposed to be…risky, but not reckless.
“‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…’”
The whoosh released high above him, and the sound of it gave a three-second warning, allowing Riley to tighten his body over hers as the water pummeled down over them. A waterfall of fresh, cold lake water that whisked away the heat and washed the fire from the places where it lapped into the shelter.
He took the hit like fists on his body, but beneath him, Larke lay safe.
And then, just like that, the cracking, the snapping, the sauna heat lifted. Dying embers hissed around them.
Riley released her hand, and she lifted the edge of the shelter.
Black encircled them, white smoke peeling off the burned ground. He flipped the shelter up and spotted through the haze the belly of a red and white Otter.
Gilly’s plane?
Larke lifted her head and turned over underneath him. Dirt and sweat grimed her face, pressed into her pores, and her eyes were cracked, red, still watery.
But she pressed her hand to his face and offered the slightest of smiles. “‘And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’”
Her house. He glanced behind him.
Oh, her house. It was still burning, the roof collapsed inside, the walls fallen, the beams charred. “Oh, Larke—”
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay. I…I don’t need the house anymore.”
He turned back to her, searching her eyes. “Why?”
She grinned. “Because I found more.”
Then she leaned up and kissed him. And sure, he was filthy, sweaty, and smelled like a locker room, but the sun shone down upon them and they were alive.
Very, very much alive.
So, he braced himself over her and let himself surrender to her touch, leaning in and loosing the good man—the hero—inside who deserved to kiss the woman he loved.
Yes, loved. Wow, he loved her, and the immensity of it nearly stopped his heart. Because she saw the man he wanted to be.
Had helped him believe it for himself.
She leaned back and met his eyes. “I’m in love with you, Riley McCord.”