Rejoice by Karen Kingsbury Read Free Book Online Page A

jacket.”
    Maddie remembered every detail, and Peter could only be grateful for one small aspect. She was too young to own any of the guilt, at least for now.
    After Maddie told Hayley she couldn’t swim yet, Hayley sat near the stairs and pouted. A few minutes passed, and Hayley said she had to go potty. Maybe she never intended to go and instead wanted a reason to head down to the pool. Or maybe she used the bathroom and then got distracted by the view to the outside.
    Whatever happened, she managed to get through the patio door without any parents noticing her. After a long time—fifteen minutes, maybe more—Maddie realized that Hayley had been gone too long. That’s when she raced downstairs, grabbed Hayley’s life jacket from the bathroom, and ran to find him.
    Peter had replayed the scene in his head a hundred times since this afternoon.
    How could he have possibly known Hayley would slip into the backyard without telling anyone? And even though he was in charge, even though Brooke had asked him to keep the girls’ life jackets on, wouldn’t she have done the same thing? Wouldn’t she have taken them off so the girls could eat cake without dripping water on Aletha’s kitchen floor?
    He’d gone to Brooke when he first entered Hayley’s hospital room. “Listen . . . I can explain what ha—”
    “Stop!” She held up her hand and hissed the word. “I should’ve been there.”
    Peter’s heart sank to his shoes. He’d been right; it had been guilt he’d seen in her eyes. He lowered his voice and made his way to her side. “Brooke, it isn’t your fault. Neither of us could’ve done anything to—”
    “You were there, Peter.” She pointed one angry finger at him. “You were there and you—” She stopped short and glared at him, her eyes narrow and angry.
    That’s when he knew she wasn’t only blaming herself. She was blaming him. And suddenly he had no excuses for her, no desire to explain what had happened while she was on her call. In the hours since, she still hadn’t asked him about the details, the moments that led up to Hayley’s drowning.
    Other than a few functional statements, he hadn’t spoken to her.
    He glanced at her now, the woman he’d fallen in love with back in med school. She hovered over Hayley, whispering to her, terror etched in the lines around her eyes.
    With everything in him, he wanted to pray for a miracle, beg God to let Hayley live, and not only that, but let her be well again. But he knew the statistics, knew the realities of drowning victims. The doctor was right; any minute now her brain would swell to the point that existence would be impossible. It was only a matter of time.
    Because of that, Peter had nothing to say to anyone, really. Not to the doctors, not to Brooke.
    And especially not to God.
    Rather than pray, he remembered something Ryan had told him once. In the past few months, the two of them had gotten together several times to study the Bible, something that helped make Peter’s faith feel real, despite the growing tension in his marriage.
    “People think prayers have to be memorized and perfectly spoken.” The two of them had been fishing off the pier at Lake Monroe. Ryan chuckled and stared out at the water. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He looked at Peter. “God already knows what we’re thinking. Our best, most intimate prayers happen when we’re simply honest with him. Feeling happy, thank him. Feeling lonely, cry out to him. Feeling afraid or angry or unsure, tell him. That’s the only way you’ll ever have a relationship with Jesus.”
    Peter had taken the words to heart. In the months since then, he had talked to God whenever he felt anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes the conversation felt forced and one-sided. But other times . . . other times he was certain God was there, listening to his thoughts, helping him believe. Sometimes he even felt a thought, an impression on his heart, as if God was actually