Rivers in the Wilderness

22~God is with us

Mark stared at Grace's note, scowled, and continued to pace.

"You're going to wear a hole in the tile," Rose warned, wishing she could say something to help. "Leo will protect her."

He knew that much was true. "I don't doubt it, but Leo had no idea she planned to crash the party. Grace is sweet but she doesn't think things through, especially when she feels like someone needs her."

"I got that about her. She's loyal." Rose sat on the edge of Mark's bed. Realizing what she'd done, she sprung to her feet, cheeks coloring.

The pacing paused and his brows lifted. "Something wrong?"

"Just thinking about Grace." Rose forced a smile, hoping he didn't notice her unease. Not that it was a bad feeling. Truthfully, she was aware of Mark in a way that she probably shouldn't be. He was hot and a nice guy, a rare find.

"I've prayed about it." He offered a sheepish smile. "I need to have faith."

"Faith," Rose repeated, her expression thoughtful. "God doesn't always fix everything."

Mark considered his next words carefully. "Trusting God when everything is good is easy. When tough times strike, faith is harder."

"What happens when God doesn't come through?" Rose persisted. "If you prayed and had faith in God, but you lost a loved one then what? How can you still believe?

"Grace could answer that." He waited until Rose's beautiful brown eyes connected with his. "She lost her parents, but her faith in God is stronger than any other person I know."

Her lips parted, her eyes closed and thick, dark lashes brushed her cheeks. "If God is perfect, why didn't he make us be perfect too? You say we're all sinners, but God made us that way."

Mark didn't miss a beat. "He could have made us perfect, Rose, but God didn't want robots that did everything he wanted because they had no other choice. He created us with free will and he wants us to choose him. Choose righteousness."

"How does Jesus fit with God?"

"Jesus was also called Immanuel, which means God is with us. He came to earth to save us from our sins because we couldn't."

Rose thought about that. She wanted to believe, but something held her back. Believe in yourself. You are enough, Rose. She stiffened. It was the same voice that spoke to her when she felt like she could not go on. Surely, it was telling her the truth. Everyone needed to believe in themselves.

A few beats of silence passed.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" As soon as the question was out, her eyes widened at the bold question but if Mark thought anything of it he didn't show it.

"No, I don't."

"Oh—"

"We got company!" Colton called from the other room.

Mark hustled and Rose followed to where the others were. "Heads up, toilet dad is back." Dean somehow managed to deliver the news with a straight face.

"Wonder what he wants to borrow this time," Janessa said, sliding strands of hair behind her ears. Her expression was anxious.

Peter glanced around nervously. "What do we do?"

"Pretend no one is home," Colton whispered just as a knock sounded.

"It's weird. Leo told the guy we had another plunger. Why bring this one back?"

Dean dipped his head. "Baby, I hear you but don't worry. I'd never let anything happen to you."

"What about us?" Colton smirked. "You gonna save us or just Janessa?"

"Funny. I'll protect you too, Colton."

"How do you know he has a plunger?" Mark asked.

Dean glanced at the window curtain. "It's either that or a chainsaw making that shadow."

Peter closed his eyes. "Lord Jesus, let it be a plunger."

Another knock.

"Maybe he'll go away."

"I've got a plan," Dean stated five knocks later. "Bring me a towel, hurry!"

While Janessa went for the towel, Dean opened the pantry, grabbed a jar of mayonnaise, and began to slather it over his face.

Colton's jaw dropped. "I am not even going to ask."

"It's better you don't," Dean shot back, taking the towel Janessa had brought and wrapped it around his head. "I'm about the same height and build as Leo, right?"

"You look like my grandma." Mark's statement was dry.

Another knock, this one sounding like he meant business. Dean cracked the door open and stepped outside. "Hey, Harry," Dean said as they listened from the window. "Thanks for the plunger. We sure are glad to get this bad boy back."

Harry's keen gaze slid past Dean to the cabin. "Everything ok here?"

"Absolutely," Dean drawled, grinning.

Harry didn't look too sure. "Son, what in the world do you have on your face?"

Dean gestured to his face. "It's a homemade masque for purifying stubborn pores."

"Looks like mayo."

"I'm not giving away secret ingredients. You can't pry them out of me," Dean quipped, his voice raising an octave.

"Hmm." Harry rubbed his jaw, seeming amused. "Why's that towel on your head?"

"So the mask doesn't accidentally purify my hair." Dean's voice held the slightest note of frustration. "How 'bout I make you one to put on your face. Looks like you could use some pore expulsion," he told Harry with a smile.

"No thanks, kid. Just came to return the plunger." Harry turned to go, stopped, and threw over his shoulder, "You kids need anything, holler."

Something about the way the guy said it sent a shiver of alarm along his spine, but Dean didn't show it. "Sure, mister."

Harry walked back and handed him a card, clapped him on the shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "Here's my info in case there's a need."

Their gazes held a moment before Harry turned and left.

Dean glanced at the card and his eyes widened. With a deep breath, he went back in to tell the others.

"Harry is a florist?" Colton flicked the card. "He doesn't give off florist vibes."

"You mean he's not a woman," Rose said indignantly.

Peter scoffed. "It could be a fake."

"Looks legit," Mark said, examining the card Colton handed him.

"We'll have to keep watch on that guy."

"Hopefully, he won't try to kill us in our sleep," Peter grumbled.

Dean emerged from the bathroom, his face washed clean. "He could have done that the other night."

"Maybe he's trying to gain our trust before he takes us out," Rose said.

"I don't think hired killers spend that much time thinking. They're more efficient. Wham-bam, done." Janessa clapped her hands for emphasis.

"How much do you know about hired killers, baby?"

"About as much as you know about face masks," Colton tossed at Dean.

Laughter filled the room.

Dean raked a hand through his hair. "You think he knew I was faking?"

Colton smirked. "I didn't know you were faking and I've known you since kindergarten."

"Hey, who knows, maybe Dean secretly goes to spas for facials and mani/pedis," Peter added, humor flickering in his eyes.

More laughter. They were having too much fun. The light mood lulled them into a false sense of security, and they forgot their troubles.

For a moment anyway.