The Breaking Point by Karen Ball

Stay.”
    Renee watched the dog settle into the command, reluctant but nonetheless obedient. She loved the way Godworked. Well, most of the time, anyway. But she especially loved how He worked through this animal she and Gabe had come to love so much. They’d realized long ago that Bo was often a reflection of the two of them. More often than they liked to admit, they saw their own rebellious hearts, their resistance and willfulness, their stubborn determination to do things their way in the dog’s behavior and expressions. The realization had made them laugh—and it made them more patient when they worked with Bo.
    As God so often had to be patient with them.
    Renee gave Bo a final pat, told him once more to stay, and then slid toward the door. She reached for the handle and heard the echo of that quiet voice bidding her to wait.
    She bit her lip. No, obedience didn’t come easily to a strong-willed heart, whether it beat in the chest of a mischief-loving Siberian or that of a human. Renee had never taken well to obedience. Like Bo, she chafed when she felt restraint. She questioned everything, wanting to know why and how and when. She much preferred to do things her way.
    Thankfully, God worked with her until she could no longer resist His call. He didn’t force her; He just waited her out.
    For a moment she hesitated, considering. Maybe she should just stay where she was. Then she looked back at Gabe and knew she couldn’t.
    She needed to try to get help. It might be the wrong thing to do—probably was, considering what her heart had been telling her—but she had to try. Besides, even if it was the wrong thing to do, God would work it out. He always had.
    Of course, He doesn’t keep you from facing the consequences of your wrong choices …
    No, He didn’t do that. But all her life she’d seen Him take her willful, stubborn mistakes and turn them around and use them to help her see Him that much more clearly. He’d always been there, taking care of her. She had to believe He wasn’t going to stop now.
    Even if He has to work things out in spite of you?
    Renee lifted her chin. Yes, even then. Because more often than not, that was exactly what He’d done. In her childhood, in her growing up … in her marriage.
    She looked back at Gabe—wrapped as he was in the cocoon she’d made for him of blankets and clothing—watched the puffs of white as he breathed, and felt her breath catch in her throat.
    Would this be the last time she ever saw him?
    The thought sliced through her. What she wouldn’t give for those powerful arms to circle her, hold her close … to hear him tell her everything would be okay in that deep, confident voice that so often brought her a sense of reassurance, even in the worst of times.
    She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.” Even as the words slipped from her lips, a terrible realization hit her. When was the last time she’d told him that? When had she spoken those words out loud and really meant them? She couldn’t even remember. Her heart ached as though it were ripping itself free. Shaking her head against the inner recriminations straining to flood her, she pulled away from him. “I’m so sorry, Gabe. For everything.”
    She slid from the vehicle, shut the door behind her, and stood for a moment, one hand on the handle, the other pressed palm down against the door. “Please … please … take care of him.”
    The swirling snow snatched her prayer from her and enveloped her like some kind of macabre death shroud. A shiver darted across her spine, and Renee reacted almost without thinking. She turned from the blasting wind, from the white expanse that swallowed everything around her, and hid her face against the truck. Fingers clutching, she held fast to the rope—and to the fraying edges of her control.
    Step back. Just step back and start walking.
    She wanted to. She knew she needed to. But her feetseemed frozen in place, captured in a solid sheet of pure