Page 102 of Of Love and Treason
Iris shivered at the thought, but Valentine did not stop there.
“We are told that all things work together for good—we’ve talked about that before—but whether we will see that good in our lifetime or not, who can know?”
Iris nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she fully understood. Couldn’t God step in against these evil forces if He was as all-powerful as Valentine said? Yet even as the thought entered her mind, she recalled how God had gifted His creation with the dangerous ability to do as they pleased: to love freely, to do good. And free will that allowed for the purity of good acts also meant there was a second, darker option. People did not always choose well. God did not terrorize people one moment and heal them the next. Godwasthe healer, but the free will of people caused the pain.
“God is trustworthy, even when we struggle to trust Him,” Valentine said when she did not speak. “You say that you aren’t strong like us, but I am far from fearless.”
Her eyes snapped to his face, surprised by his admission.
Gaze downcast, he rubbed circles on the side of his cup with his thumb. “When I was thrown in the Tullianum, I—” His voicedropped. “In the space of an hour I’d gone from leading a group of believers, encouraging them to stand strong in their faith, to... to cowering in fear as my own faith was tested.”
“What did you do? You were singing when I saw you.”
“I sat there in the cold dark. Hades kept asking if I wanted him to end my life. And then I started to recall the goodness of God. The faithfulness and mercy He’s always shown. He saw me in the pit, was there with me, waiting for me to look up and realize I was not alone.” His gaze flickered upward and met hers. “Your pater is not alone either, and neither are you.”
She tried to smile, feeling the warmth of that truth beginning to unfurl inside, yet she wondered, if Valentine had felt such fear, what must her pater feel?
He is Mine.
Again, that Voice came, speaking silently and yet rumbling with raw power as it spread a cloak of comfort over her. She shut her eyes, breathing it in, praying her pater would be granted it as well. When she opened her eyes, Valentine held her gaze for a moment before looking away. Iris took a tentative sip of the steaming calda. The warmth spread through her.
“How are you drinking that already? I burned my mouth.”
“Pater’s a soldier.” She shrugged. “We ate everything either cold or scalding hot, no in between.” She smiled and gave a conceding tilt of her head. “We also ate everything charred, but that was my fault.”
He grinned. “You worked at Paulina’s, so I know you couldn’t have burnedeverything.”
“Ah, but I never did the baking.”
“What did you do? I came in nearly every day for a raisin pastry and never saw you but for that one week when you were up front.”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “You came in faithfully every morning and never once thought to pray for the poor blind girl kneading dough in the back?” She took a slow drink, watching him over the rim of her cup. He stared back, the crestfallen look on his face changing as one eye twitched.
“In my defense...” He paused. “Have you ever had one ofPaulina’s raisin buns? I mean, they’regood. You can taste the love in every bite.”
Iris laughed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that wasn’t love you were tasting. Epimandos baked them and he doesn’t love anyone.”
“Must have been your kneading then.”
Iris took another drink, then tapped her chin. “What happened here?”
Valentine touched the redness on his chin and winced at the tenderness. “It’s a long story.” He sighed. “And rather embarrassing.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” She settled back with a mischievous grin. “Those are my favorite kind.”
Valentine groaned and blew on his tea. “Sometimes I go with Cato on his house calls. Usually while he’s working, I distract children with stories, or fetch water or groceries, or restring clotheslines. I don’t actually helphim.”
She nodded.
“Well, once, he called me over to help. ‘Stand by his head and hold his shoulders down,’ he says. I do, but then Cato pulls out a pair of shears and snips off the man’s infected finger.” He set down his cup and made a snipping motion with his fingers on the index finger of his other hand.
Iris pressed a hand over her stomach.
Valentine lifted his cup again. “And I just... fell over.” He ran a hand through his hair and avoided her eyes, but she had no intention of teasing him over his queasiness. Not when she felt the same. “Then tonight a scaffold of bricks tumbled down on a mason’s assistant and crushed his foot. Cato asked me to go along. I should have known better, but I thought perhaps he would warn me if things were going in that direction again. But no. He gives the man some poppy juice and pulls out a saw and then—” He pressed his lips together.
Iris clamped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say it. I can imagine.”
He took a tentative sip from his mug, which no longer steamed.
