The Breaking Point by Karen Ball Page A

terror.
    How would she survive out here? What if she dropped the rope? What if she ended up lost? It wouldn’t be long before the temperature plummeted to the low twenties or even lower. Even if she didn’t get lost, she could freeze to death with very little trouble.
    On and on it went, a litany of doom that dropped layer after layer of anxiety over her until she grabbed at the door handle, ready to jerk it open and jump back inside. To hide there. No, it wouldn’t be any warmer, but at least it was safe. Familiar. And she wouldn’t be alone. Gabe was there …
    Gabe.
    She stopped, fingers trembling on the door handle. Gabe. He needed her to be strong. To find help. Renee let her fingers relax, let go of the handle. She had to do this. She had to.
    She pushed away from the truck, failure a heavy weight within her. Why did she keep fighting the same battles over and over? She was so tired of finding herself here, torn between fear and resolve. She didn’t remember inviting anxiety in, asking it to take up residence within her. And yet there it was, like a yapping little dog vexing her every step. Even when she knew that what she was doing was right, it was there. Nipping at her. Scraping her resolve raw with tiny, needle-sharp teeth.
    Nothing she did helped. No amount of preparation or prayer. No number of reminders that God would be true to His promises.
    She knew it was true. It just didn’t seem to make a difference.
    Why?
Renee gritted her teeth and gripped the rope.
I just want to know why. Why am I always so afraid?
    She didn’t expect an answer. Not really. Because she already knew it. Knew the crux of the problem wasn’t preparation, wasn’t prayer, wasn’t knowing what was right or wrong. It was deeper … simpler …
    And much more difficult.

Only trust allows the soul room to breathe.
    W OLFHART P ANNENBERG
    A doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave
of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.
    J AMES 1:6
    S PRING 1974
    RENEE LAY IN BED, LISTENING AS HER FATHER’S LAUGHTER drifted up to her from the living room. How she loved the sound of his laughter! It usually made her feel safe and warm. But tonight it just made her stomach clench.
    She had come home tonight after their softball team victory celebration—they beat the school rivals for the first time in two years!—dragged herself in the door, and told her parents they’d won and that she was going to bed.
    “My, my, that must have been some celebration,” her dad joked from his recliner. “I can’t remember the last time you went to bed this early on a Friday night.”
    Renee just gave what she hoped was a convincing laugh and headed up to her room. She’d been lying here for at least an hour now, her stomach churning, staring at the ceiling. Finally sheflopped an arm over her eyes and surrendered to the truth that had been gnawing at her all night.
    I
lied to my dad.
    Before she’d headed out for the game, he made one request of her. He knew it was Friday night—cruising night. And he knew her friends liked to go cruising, especially if they were jazzed from winning a game. So as he gave her a hug, he said to her, “Just do me a favor, hon. Don’t go cruising. If your friends want to go, just have them drop you at home, okay?”
    Dad didn’t ask her things like that often. But some kids had been hurt recently when cruising had turned to racing, and he was concerned. She’d smiled at him. “Sure, Dad, no problem.”
    If only that had been true. No sooner had she and the gang finished pizza than they hopped in the cars and headed to join the cruisers. Renee knew she should tell them to take her home, but she hadn’t wanted to spoil their fun. No one liked a wet blanket.
    So she sat there, miserable, pretending she was enjoying herself. And then, when they finally dropped her off at home, she came to her room to hide.
    She knew her friends would think she was nuts for letting it bother her. They talked all the time about how they