Page 8 of SEAL of Valor

But can I? Can I do this?

Every hit I take feels like it could be the final blow. The one that knocks me off my feet, leaving me too exhausted to get back up.

“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” My Bible has been open to Psalm 30 since I got home. Not that I can see it through the tears constantly filling my eyes.

Leaning back against my headboard, wearing a large sweater to keep me warm, it’s all I can do not to curl into the fetal position and cry until my body can’t produce any more tears.

I have faith in the Lord.

I know that God is good even when life sucks.

I know that trials come and that our faith is forged in them.

Mine certainly was.

But knowing those things and remembering to cling to them when the shadows creep into my mind, when the demons scream twisted lies in my ears, is something entirely different.

The wooden box beside my Bible brings me another wave of pain as I reach forward and run my fingers over the top. W + R is carved into the top in elegant script, though the wood around it is worn from the years.

Everything I couldn’t bring myself to toss is inside, though I haven’t had the strength to open the box in a long, long time. Still, seeing it helps me confront as much of the pain as I can take. Because I know that my ragged emotions have little to do with being fired and everything to do with the date that is closer every day.

Nearly two decades.

That’s where we’re at.

Nineteen years since everything fell apart.

My cell rings, so I lift it from my bed. When I see my mom’s name on the screen, I take a few deep breaths and wipe my eyes before answering. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Sugar. Wait, what’s wrong?”

I should have known she’d still hear it in my voice. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. What is it?”

Closing my eyes, I get to my feet and head into the bathroom to look in the mirror. My face is splotchy, my eyes bloodshot, and the red hair I’d once had wrangled into a messy bun has fallen around my face.

I turn away from my reflection. “I got fired.” It’s so much easier than giving her the whole truth. One I haven’t shared with anyone since right after it happened.

“Oh, Sugar. Why?”

“Phil didn’t want to work with his ex anymore, apparently. Of course, that’s not the reasoning I got.”

“That is it. I’m coming to deal with him.”

“Mom.” I laugh. “It really is okay. Maybe this is a sign. A chance for a fresh start.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to be dealt with.”

“Mom. Seriously, please don’t come here.” But then it hits me. I haven’t been home in a long time; maybe this is the chance to return. To finally confront the place I ran from and never looked back. “Because I want to come see you. If that’s okay.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Of course that’s okay. You are welcome here whenever and for however long you want. You know that.”

I draw in a shaky breath. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. Are you sure you don’t want me to come there, though? I can be stern when I need to be.”

“I am well aware of that, Vivian Faye.”