041:

Melia rode quickly at first, letting the undulations of the horse's back, and her own tension bear her further away up the hillside. Her tension... yes, it was hitting the unbearable mark. Her shoulders ached with rigidity, her hands shook, her legs felt achy and cramped. My whole body is reacting to this conundrum.

Ryan... Ryan!

The build came and went inside Red's galloping body. His speed, his freedom! She wanted to feel as carefree as he did. She patted him as they slowed to a walk, her hair falling back into place, against her neck and shoulders. "Maybe you aren't free either... free of Jared? How can anyone be free of Jared?"

The horse snorted and tossed his mane at the vocal mention of his master's name. "You want him too, don't you?"

There was no reply and Melia felt drained, utterly drained.

There had been those awful thoughts in the Bishop's office. Shame and guilt coursed through her in wave after wave of angry revolutions. She couldn't reconcile them. Betrayal of Ryan with Jared. Betrayal of religious promises, betrayal of Hannah by conceiving her out of wedlock. Ahhhh!!!! No matter how she'd come to terms with it then...

She thought of herself back then, ashamed, terrified of what this meant to her family, to herself, and to her church membership and God. She'd denied it. She told herself she and Jared had been meant to be, and she was indeed in her heart married to him, even before they were actually married. And she'd kept up that illusion-- letting the truth stew somewhere deep inside.

Some might not agree with her. Some might think that love meant they were committed to each other even in God's eyes simply by wanting it. Jared had once believed that. But Melia had deeper convictions than that.

Robert DeMarco's face swam in her vision. Oh yes, Robert!

How could she share anything about the gospel with him, how could she brazenly sit there and lecture him about atheism or any form of religion when she herself didn't live up to her own beliefs? At least he was true to what he was convinced of. She had thrown her religion out the window, as if she had no convictions at all!

Melia choked uncomfortably as if she'd swallowed a vile bug. Her hand rose to her throat, her eyes focused outward on the purple shadows near the trail, the pine trees, the buzzing of bees.

Her thoughts were still swirling... she realized in an angry haze. She wasn't in control. Not in control of herself? And I haven't been for a very long time!

That throat choke came again, and she felt like gagging. The baby inside her squirmed uncomfortably and she thought vaguely that she shouldn't be riding this late in the pregnancy. No doctor or midwife in the world would think that riding right now was healthy.

She held the reigns and slid to the ground, as if complying with some inner edict only she could hear, and felt better as her feet landed hard, the jolt, a physical jolt of awareness that she had just told herself to do something and had done it. She was in control!

And that thought brought a very ugly laugh. Shouldn't have been up on the horse, then got down and now you feel better, Melia?

There was a large rock in the trail to the right side, huge, monolithic, a cliff overlooking the valley below. There would be a view of the lake in the distance. Um hm. Like having a rocky bench on a cliff overlooking the Alaskan ocean...

There was such irritation in her at that thought.

Why?

Why?

Her father's eyes came into her mind. Just minutes ago he had been full of compassion. She studied his face in her memory and saw no recriminations, even though it was obvious he saw something in her... something she was trying to hide. He had talked of the Savior's love, talked of his life and his atonement... these things were good... reminders, but what was she missing?

Jesus is disappointed in me.

That throat choke caused her to catch her breath as she climbed onto the rock. The thought that Jesus was disappointed in her was somehow far away. She pictured Jesus... a thousand images people had painted came to mind... his face was loving, compassionate... but his eyes didn't meet hers. He was disappointed in her.

Instantly another image assailed her. The one of Jesus, bending over a rock like the one she sat on. She let both hands fall to her side, the reigns dangled and then slid away, as Red stood quietly nearby. The rock was solid, cold, gritty... Jesus had gone to a garden to pray, and he had knelt beside a rock, a huge rock, like this one... and he had prayed and taken upon him all the sins of the world. All the sins. He'd wanted to do it, he'd done it willingly... for her.... for me!

He gave me in that instant the power to repent and be clean. Words of a scripture she'd once learned came back to her... perhaps out of context, but still... she paid attention now, feeling the spirit urging her to make the connection... 'and upon this rock I will build my church', this rock. Melia looked down at the rock she was sitting on and felt all at once as if it was the rock Jesus had knelt on, pounding his fists into in agony as he suffered for her sins so that she wouldn't have to if she would repent. The rock was repentance! Solid, cold, hard, gritty... it was there, it was real... it held her up, and gave her hope.

Jesus isn't disappointed in me for what I did, only that I won't make use of his sacrifice, his pain and suffering for me! He worked through my poor decisions and gave me blessings anyway, Jared's love, Hannah, the baby inside, and now... Ryan! He is giving me a chance to make it up to Ryan! If... if I will humble myself and repent.

A wave of overwhelming love washed over her. She almost felt as if Jesus himself were sitting beside her, an arm around her in understanding. He loved her! He wanted her to make better decisions. She needed to go back to her Dad and try to... talk it out.

*****