Flint swallowed on these last words, realizing he was almost straining toward Wendy in his eagerness to hear more about Jessie. "What changed her?"
"She died," Wendy murmured, making Flint blink in shock. "A year ago, she was found in a filthy alley in the Inner City. Paramedics were able to revive her. She was brought back from the dead."
Tears had filled Wendy's eyes. "Dying must have changed Jessie when living hasn't all her life. And, I suppose, the biggest miracle is that she's a Christian now."
The words hit Flint with the force of an explosion. He reeled back from it. How could this be possible? How could he and Jessie have been through so many of the same things? Addictions to drugs, alcohol, sex, suicide. Sin.
While he hadn't died in the car accident he'd suffered two months ago, he'd been injured in ways even his doctor couldn't fully explain. Jodi's long years of talking to him about Christ had suddenly seemed the only course for his life. He'd been hemmed in on every side by his failures and the shockingly brutal actions that had driven him past the point of redemption. All signs pointed to accepting God's unwarranted grace or bust.
Now, hearing the course of Jessie's life--a course that seemed to match his, hairpin turn after hairpin turn--left Flint with no other conclusion but that God had planned a collision course for them. Whether the impact would destroy or save them, he couldn't guess, but he didn't have the slightest hope for a good outcome this time either.
They all heard the front door open, and a husky yet melodic voice called, "Anybody here?"
His body shook and the voice seemed to make the tremors that much worse. I've destroyed her, tried to... I've taken everything I could from her in the most insidiously, ruthless way possible.
Jessie's mother breezed out of the kitchen and across the dining room to them, calling, "We're in the living room, darling. Dinner's almost ready."
Unable to stop himself, Flint got to his feet in anticipation. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. An older woman entered the room, and his strangely clear memory kicked in--the Thomas's maid, Grace. Then Jessie was there behind the woman, equally the perfect, fresh-faced girl he remembered and the gut-wrenchingly gorgeous woman he'd seen in print. Her thick auburn hair hung in sexy waves that ended in ringlets at her waist. Even when she was young, Jessie had been the type of female who could never look right with short hair. And thankfully, she hasn't cut it.
Dressed in fashionable jeans and a top that emphasized her ideal--though contradictorily tiny--full figure, Jessie Nelson was the personification of femininity. More beautiful than I could have remembered or imagined. Flint forgot how to breathe as she looked at him, the only stranger in the room, with curiosity.
"Do you remember Flint, sweetheart?" her mother introduced him. "He was our neighbor across the street when you and Wendy were young."
"Flint..." Jessie faced him again, her dark eyes narrowed, lost in the search of her memories for him. He felt a moment's disappointment. "You disappeared," she said in dawning recollection. "You disappeared without a word. You left Milwaukee without telling me...anything."
Flint swallowed, not for an instant expecting the grin that spread across lips so plump, he couldn't stop remembering how it'd felt to kiss that amazing mouth.
"I don't think I've ever forgiven you for leaving without a word, Flint Jackson."
"You and me both," he muttered, sounding even to his own ears like he was a second away from passing out.
"I forgot it until this minute." She walked up to him and poked him, not hard but pointedly, in the center of his chest. "You owe me an explanation, mister."
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