Page 67 of Redeem

Everything had fallen away, and all I heard was the rush of blood through my veins, pounding at a speed that was probably unhealthy. I drifted closer to her truck, moving without thought, the draw to be close to her something I couldn’t push away. Reason told me that I should leave, spare her this, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

I stood there watching as the doors opened and closed, told myself that I would leave before she emerged.

I didn’t.

The doors opened, and Dana came out, again pushing a cart laden with wood, her face set in that same stubborn expression that it had been in the first time I’d found her like this. She didn’t seem to notice me, so I watched as she got closer to the truck. When she reached for one of the sheets, I sprang into action.

She inhaled sharply and then jumped back when I reached for the wood. I thought she might yell, tell me to get away, but she didn’t. Instead she watched as I moved the wood to the back of the truck. My heart was pounding, both from my proximity to her and the question of what she would do now that I was so close.

It took me far longer than it ordinarily would to complete the task, but when I finished, I looked at her, searched her face for any sign of what she was thinking.

I saw nothing, and again, I told myself to leave. Yet I stayed.

Walking away from her had been nearly impossible, and I couldn’t do it again, not yet. I blinked, focused on her face, took a deep breath.

“Do you need help unloading it?” I asked.

I had no right to say those words, ask her either question, the one I’d spoken or the one I’d left silent. But I had, and as I did, I waited, knowing that in this moment, Dana would again change my life.

She pushed the cart to its pen and then walked back to the truck. She stopped, wiped her hands on her jeans as I’d seen her do so many times before. Then she circled the truck without looking at me, but I kept my eyes on her as I jumped to the ground and then waited. She pulled the door open and then slipped inside. As her body disappeared into the truck, it took my hope with it, my heart sinking as she passed from view.

But then something happened.

She kept her hand on the door handle, her small fingers holding it so tightly that the skin around her knuckles pulled taut. A moment passed, another, and then after several more long seconds, she looked at me. There was still a remnant of hurt in her eyes, but even more, there was hope.

“Yeah,” she finally said, her eyes locked on mine. “I could use a hand.”