More Than We Can Tell (Letters to the Lost #2)

by Brigid Kemmerer

“Thank you.” “For what?” “For seeing me.”

“I’m sorry.” My voice breaks. I’m crying. “I’m sorry.” Geoff doesn’t let go of me. “It’s okay.” And then I’m crumpling, falling against him. He catches me. He holds on. Because he’s not my father. He’s my dad.

“A test implies that you alone are being challenged,” Dad says. “But that’s impossible when you’re surrounded by others whose actions affect your decisions. And do you really believe that there’s a God who specifically chooses people and assigns them with challenges? Based on what?”

He says the Internet makes too many people loud, and too many people silent, but the loud people are all we hear. We have to ask questions to hear the silent people.”

“Sometimes I have to remind myself that the world was different when those words were written down. And even though they’re supposedly inspired by God, they’re still being interpreted by humans—and humans can be wrong.

“You’re fearless.” I must be dreaming this conversation. “I’m what? No, I’m not.” “Yes. You are. You never hesitate.” He turns his head to look at me fully. “I think it’s what I like best about you. It’s why I thought of the verse about iron sharpening iron. Every time I’m around you, I want to be braver.”

His smile turns into a grin—but he rolls to the side to lie next to me. “Hold on. I’m having an existential moment.”

I think i love him

My fantasy does not happen. My father does not come to the hospital. I talk to him on the phone, and he tells me he’s trying to hang on to his job, and the worst thing he can do is step away right now.

Are u kidding me????

‘The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall.’