Freedom

by Faith Potts

  Now, walking through the church foyer and avoiding as many handshakes and good-mornings as I can, I keep my eyes peeled for Alex. I shuffle along into the sanctuary behind Brian and Lester.

  Somehow I end up on the end of the pew, with Brian on my right and Lester’s wheelchair parked at the end of the row to my left.

  Brian leans back and crosses his arms across his chest. “Guess we’re stuck with you since you’re not exactly welcomed in the seat next to Miss Allie.”

  “Alex,” I shoot back.

  “Huh?”

  “You got her name wrong again.”

  “Whatever.” He picks up a slip of paper from the seat next to him.

  “And what do you mean—stuck with me?” I shift in my seat, scouring the area for Alex. She must not have arrived yet. “Here I thought y’all liked me.”

  “Eh, that was all put-on and little heart,” Brian mumbles, perusing the weekly bulletin like his life depends on it. “We were just trying to make you feel included.”

  Wait, what?

  “Just drop it, both of you.”

  I turn back to Lester. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Kind of.” Lester yanks on his earlobe, cocking his head to look at me. “I mean, c’mon James, you’ve got to admit you’ve been a bit ornery lately.”

  “Ornery?” I repeat, incapable of imagining the preposterous contortions taking place in my facial features right now.

  Lester shakes his head. “I’m not finished.”

  Let it never be said again that this guy is quiet and oblivious.

  “Just be real about it, man. She broke up with you—I get it. But life goes on. Either man-up, apologize to her, and try to win her back, or just get over yourself and quit whining.”

  Whining. He called me ornery and whiny within the space of a minute, tops. What does a guy say to that?

  “Um, okay.”

  “You’re welcome.’’ He leans back in his chair, eyes scoping out the room.

  I follow suit, scanning my surroundings for Alex to no avail, but inside I’m contemplating the guys’ words. I probably have been pretty awful to live with as I’ve been trying to sort out things between me and God and—on my end, anyway—between me and Alex.

  “Oh no, there she is.”

  Why does Lester care if Alex is here? I study the crowd in the direction he’s staring, but I don’t see her. “Where?”

  “See the girl in the peachy dress? Isn’t she pretty?”

  “Sure.” Actually, her head is turned, and someone is standing in front of her, and all I see is an elbow and a shoulder. How can an elbow be pretty? “What’s her name?”

  “Joy.” I didn’t even know Brian was still listening.

  “It’s Hope, doofus.” Lester shoots across my head and then turns back to me. “We met before service last week. She’s new.”

  I smirk. “And you like her?”

  Tingeing pink, he shrugs and glances in her direction again. “Any tips on how to approach her?”

  “Yeah, three. One, don’t call her by the wrong name like Brian would. Two, don’t say something stupid like I would. And three, just be yourself.”

  He grins, still watching her. “Thanks.” Just as quickly as she appeared, Miss Hope disappears into the nursery behind a slew of toddlers. “I guess I’ll have to catch her after church.”

  The service begins, and I stand for the opening hymn. As we enter the second verse, a familiar figure comes rushing in the side door and heads straight for Joe and Gloria’s pew. Obviously looking for someone, Alex’s eyes scan the room until locking gazes with me. Before I can lift my hand in greeting, she gives me a half smile and slides into the pew.

  What am I to make of that?

  On the way out of the church, I smile when I see Lester talking to Hope by the door to the nursery. They would be a good match. If I’m striking out for myself, maybe matchmaking wouldn’t be a bad profession to go into.

  On second thought, who would take advice from a guy who can’t keep his own affairs on the straight and narrow?

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || Alex

  After meeting Joe and Gloria for supper on Monday night, I decide to take a back road on the way home. It’s a bit out of my way, but the foggy rain over the lake will clear my head and bring peace to my heart. Which I’m in need of after seeing James in church yesterday.

  As I round the last bend before the river comes into view, my old truck gives an odd jolt. Grumbling under my breath, I slow down and edge toward the shoulder, just in case.

  The engine sputters for a few more minutes before dying entirely. Just dies. On a back road. Late at night. In the rain. I try the switch a time or two, but it won’t even turn over.

  “Stupid truck,” I mutter, slamming my palms into the steering wheel. “This is what I get for driving something so old and outdated.” A torn piece of the leather encasing the wheel pricks my palm as if to mock my complaints.

  Still growling to myself, I dig around in my bag for my phone. Might as well go ahead, fess up, and ask my miracle man to come and get me.

  Joe’s the only man I can call on at this hour. Kellon would come if I really needed him, though he wouldn’t enjoy messing up his perfect hair in this deluge.

  And James… I bite my lip, staring down at the brightness of my phone’s screen. It’s been almost two weeks since our break-up, but the ache is still as strong as yesterday. I unlock the device and slide to the second page of apps, where there are fewer icons and the background picture is more visible. A photo of the two of us at the theme park, Jordan perched on James’s shoulders. Maybe if I would let go of these small reminders I could move on.

  Some days I just wish we could go back to how we were before he asked me out. Before I let him hold my hand and buy me ice cream. Back to when we were just James and Alex. The wounded Marine struggling to get his life back, and the therapist with a secret crush on him. Things were so much simpler.

  But then… I think of all the times we’ve spent together. Having tasted something more, friendship wouldn’t be enough now. Even if it was an option.

  Tearing my eyes from his handsome face, I pull up Uncle Joe’s number and stick the ringing phone to my head.

  He answers on the second ring. “Hey, hon, how are you?”

  “Not so good, actually. The truck died on me out by River View. It won’t do anything.”

  His voice immediately changes from casual, polite questions to genuine concern for my well being. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It died in a perfect spot, and I’m mostly out the road. I can figure out what to do about the truck tomorrow.” I massage my head with my hand. “Will you be the awesome uncle I know you are and just come get me, please?”

  His laugh, happy and warm, travels through the phone connection. “I’ll be right there. Up by the overlook, you say?”

  “Yeah, if you drive out toward the picnic area, you can’t miss me.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way, Lexie. Stay dry.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Joe.” I hang up the phone and drop it to my lap, making sure I don’t see James’s picture this time. But he floods my thoughts, regardless. His grin, his laugh, the way he can joke about his injuries and fake limb. At least, on good days.

  “God, I feel like you brought him into my life,” I whisper into the darkness as the June thunderstorm gains fury all around me. “I know it was Your doing. So why didn’t our relationship last? Did You never intend for it to go further, to become something lifelong? If so, why do I still feel such an ache just over missing him?”

  Tears dribble down my cheeks, and I quickly brush them away. I don’t have time to cry over bygones. He hasn’t bothered to reach out to me since our word-dispute, so it’s obvious that our relationship meant more to me than it did to him. It’s the storm getting to me—that’s all. I hate the thunder.

  I lean my head against the seat back, aware of the passing of time since I talked to Uncle Joe
. He should be here any minute.

  A few moments later, just as I’m beginning to wonder if something happened to his truck, a rumbling alerts me to his presence. I twist in my seat and squint to make out the other vehicle, now parked behind me, through my water-speckled back glass.

  I’m about to open my door and make a dash through the rain when the driver’s door opens and Uncle Joe’s familiar build sprints towards me, dodging water puddles. A second figure emerges from the passenger’s side and follows, head down. With his loose, left sleeve tucked into the pocket of his rain jacket.

  I audibly groan. Why is he here?

  Uncle Joe taps on my window. I grab the crank and roll it down a crack.

  “Hey, honey. I’m going to go ahead and check a couple things that could be wrong, all right?”

  I nod in agreement, wondering if my eyes are sending fiery darts as I glance to the shadowy figure standing behind Joe.

  After my uncle and his ‘helper’ move around to the front of the truck, I roll the window back up and reach under the steering wheel to pop the hood. The hood lifts, and I can no longer see their shielded faces. And I’m glad. What was Uncle Joe thinking by bringing along James, the last person on earth I wanted to see tonight?

  I continue my fuming rampage as James and Uncle Joe beat around under the hood. By the sounds of them banging around and yelling back and forth, this isn’t going well.

  The hood creaks as Uncle Joe slams it shut. He rounds the fender and opens the passenger door, James following him like a stray dog. They both stick their heads in the door to escape the downpour.

  “You need a part,” Uncle Joe starts, “but I’m pretty sure it’s something I have at home. It’s only nine-thirty now, so I’ll just go ahead and go get it, and you’ll be ready to roll.”

  “Okay.” I glance over at James, who’s yet to make eye contact with me or say a word, staring at the floorboard. Just don’t leave him with me…

  Uncle Joe turns to face James. “Why don’t you stay here with Lexie? She’s terrified of thunderstorms, you know.”

  “Um, Joe, I don’t think that’s…” James tries in vain to object.

  If I didn’t know better, I would think Uncle Joe was laughing as he tosses a quick “Be right back!” over his shoulder and takes off toward his own truck. Within seconds, his headlights reflect off my rearview mirror as he drives away into the night.

  I blow out an exaggerated breath and turn my death glare onto the guy still standing outside the open door. We’ve totally been set up.

  “Will I get shot if I crawl into this cab?” He nearly has to yell to be heard over the storm.

  I twist away from him and watch the trees swaying this way and that through the windshield. A question as stupid as his doesn’t deserve an answer.

  Whether he thought I said no or he’s willing to take a chance, I may never know, but I hear James grumbling under his breath as he climbs into the cab and slams the door. I flinch with remorse, knowing it’s harder for him to get into a truck that lacks running boards.

  Despite the thundering sounds of rain pelting against the roof of the truck and the storm raging around us, silence consumes the space between me and the man I… The man you what, Alexandria Lorance? Love?

  I glance toward James out of the corner of my eye, unable to see more than a shadowy figure. Lightning flashes across the sky as I’m scrutinizing him, illuminating a profile that’s aimed my way.

  He blinks upon finding me watching him and looks away. I let my gaze linger a moment longer, noting the soaked t-shirt despite his rain jacket. Serves him right.

  “Is it true you’re afraid of storms?” he asks after I’ve turned away again.

  “No,” I lie. Hopefully he can’t see how badly my hands are shaking. I quickly stick them under my legs to aid my front of bravery.

  “Well, I am,” he proclaims. He jiggles his shoulders, setting rivulets of water to flowing down his back and sleeves.

  My brow pinches together as I growl in his general direction. “You’re getting my truck all wet.”

  He twists to survey the door paneling to his right. “We’re beyond wet now, going for saturated.”

  Ignoring him, I turn back to forward-facing and prop my chin on the steering wheel. Watching the lightning flash across the sky. Quite beautiful, really. Now if only the thunder would call it quits.

  “So…” James dares speak again. I really wouldn’t mind setting him out in the rain and watching him suffering for awhile. “How have you been?”

  I roll my eyes and don’t answer right away. What should I say to that? That I’m fairly certain he broke my heart? That I haven’t been able to get through a single day without thinking of him since that talk-gone-wrong almost two weeks ago?

  “Fine,” I finally mumble. “You?”

  He clears his throat, not speaking. “Well, since you’re interested, I’m terrible.”

  I’m not interested—am I?—but the dismal answer manages to flip my antenna on. “Why is that?” I mutter, dropping my forehead to the center of the wheel.

  The horn blares, causing me to jump and bang my head into the upper side of the steering wheel. Oh, this is just great.

  James chuckles beside me, and I work to calm my temper, flames climbing my face. The temptation to kick him out is growing.

  The steady silence resumes, broken only by the dips and swells of the storm outside this cab.

  Jame surprises me by speaking up, soft and gentle. Well, as soft as he can speak and still be heard over the storm. “Alex, I don’t expect you to talk to me.”

  Well, good, because I’m not going to. Not going to let your words get to me, or listen to your excuses, or…

  “But I know you can hear me, so just…just know that I’m sorry for everything I said. It was wrong of me to make a mockery of what you’ve been through. Of all people, I should understand what it’s like to feel less than.”

  I clamp my teeth into my lip, ducking my head farther. That’s not what I thought I was going to hear. He’s apologizing. Isn’t this what I wanted?

  “I’m also sorry for the way I’ve been acting lately. You were right—self-pity is not very attractive. I was dealing with a lot of stuff that day, but I never should’ve taken out my frustrations on you.”

  I swallow and wait to see if he’s finished speaking. Not that he could say anything more to convince me of his sincerity, but just the same… I stare at the rain splattering across the windshield. The wipers couldn’t keep up even if they were on.

  Where is Uncle Joe? Thinking of my MIA family member brings my thoughts to Aunt Gloria. And with James’s words fresh in my mind, my focus drifts to what she told me the night we broke up. “We’re not promised tomorrow… Don’t let pride and selfishness keep you apart…”

  I twist in my seat, drawing my leg up under me until I face James. Except, I don’t face him. I keep staring down at the faded, worn seat between us. It doesn’t serve as a very accurate metaphor. There’s a lot more than two feet of tattered cloth spanning the gap between us.

  And the ball is in my court now.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I whisper. There. That’s a good start, isn’t it? With my fingers linked together in my lap, I start to speak—start to say something else to him. What, I don’t know. But then, with a sudden swarm of courage, I let my shield fall and the words pour out of me. “I was wrong to say…what I said to you. I can’t begin to relate to what you go through everyday.” Soft and quivering, but they’re still words. I wasn’t even sure it was loud enough for him to hear until he replied.

  “Think it’s possible you can forgive me and we can move past all this?”

  That I did not expect. I jerk my head up, surprised by the gentle smile he sends my way. “I’d like that… If you can forgive me?”

  “Deal.”

  I find myself smiling back. Not a huge smile, but more than I’ve felt like lately. “No more self-pity?”

  By the shadows I can tell he’s looking
at me, though I still can’t see his face. “Yes, ma’am. No more downing yourself?”

  “Absolutely. No more putting our relationship ahead of yours with God.”

  “Yup. No more mornings without breakfast?”

  I laugh—really laugh. “Wait, what?”

  He joins in my laughter. “While we’re promising stuff, I might as well throw that in.”

  A grin stretches the muscles in my face. “Fair enough.”

  James’s gaze shifts to the windshield ahead of him; mine to my lap. We’ve made progress—got all of this out in the open. But at the same time, I’m not sure where we stand with each other right now.

  I’m contemplating the matter when a loud clap of thunder jolts me. I blush, knowing James saw the effect it had on me.

  “Mmhmm,” he mumbles, scooting across the seat toward me. “I figured that ‘not afraid’ line was probably a lie.”

  I duck my head and wiggle closer to him. His hand crosses and clasps mine in the darkness. Biting my lip, I wait for a few moments and then rest my head on his shoulder. So much for a dry truck—I’m not even dry now.

  “Making up is kind of fun, you know?”

  I smile, knowing full well he can’t see me. But the storm…thunder…my mind is too far gone to give a response.

  “I didn’t used to be afraid of storms. I can remember being four or five and sitting on the porch watching the lightning until Mom made me come inside. But…the night my dad left us, it was storming. I remember not even being able to hear his truck leaving over the thunder and the pouring rain. Storms always bring back those feelings back.”

  A crack of thunder wracks across the heavens and I squeeze my eyes shut. James’s steady grip on my hand is my reassurance.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  I wince at the pain in Alex’s voice as she speaks of her father. I know I should say something, but I don’t know what. She shivers, close to my side, and I wish she was on my right so I could wrap my arm around her. It’s not cold, but my guess is her shudders have little to do with the storm and much to do with the memories it has brought to the forefront of her mind.