“Yeah, what’s up with that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m not questioning it.”
We sip in silence for a moment, which gives me a chance to observe Tricia. Even with a smudge of mascara under her eyes and the rat’s nest hair, she’s glowing.
“Where were you the other night?”
“Hmmm?”
“Night before last.” I narrow my eyes. “Did you have a date?”
“I had a business meeting.”
“With who?”
“Whom,” she corrects, lips pursing. “You’re going to be teaching, so you should set a good example.”
“You’re evading.”
She pushes up from the table. “What time does Michael need to be at the bus station?”
“It was Dylan, wasn’t it?”
She doesn’t answer. It was Dylan.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I quench the whoop of joy that climbs up my throat. No sense waking Michael.
She retrieves the coffee pot and refills our mugs. “It wasn’t a date, Cor.”
“You had a business meeting with Dylan? What kind of business?” I give her a smirk and she threatens to upend the coffee pot on my head.
“Ideas for community outreaches.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
Sitting back in her chair, she takes my hand. “Don’t make more of it than it is.” There’s a furrow between her eyebrows. She’s serious.
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
“I’m happy with my life. I don’t need anything to come along and change that.”
“You like him.”
She drops her chin into her hands. “Yes. I like him. But I don’t want to.”
“It’s your own fault, you know.”
“How do you figure?”
“You did say if Jonas had a son—”
“I was kidding.”
“Guess God didn’t get the joke.” I look at the microwave clock. “Hey, I gotta jump in the shower. I told my dad I’d take him to the airport this morning. Is Taylor going in with you, or should I get her up?”
“I’ve got Taylor.”
“Thanks.” I start to head out but turn back to Trish. “Do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t close yourself off to possibilities.”
She waves me away.
“No, Trish. I’m serious. Trust that God has a handle on it. He knows your heart.”
“Wise words, my friend. When are you going to start believing them for yourself?”
* * *
Paul
Second day of Vacation Bible School is crazy. Two hundred kids, some we’ve never seen before, packing the church, classroom, and grounds. High energy Bible stories, kids’ worship music and crafts. It’ll take days for the staff and volunteers to recover, but it’s worth it. This is the first year since Taylor was thirteen that she isn’t part of it.
Mark drops onto the carpeted church floor and flops back. “What a zoo. We’ll be scraping glue off the floor for weeks.” His voice is raspy. Strained vocal cords, no doubt.
I continue picking up scraps of construction paper and popsicle sticks and things I can’t identify. Don’t want to identify. “You don’t fool me. You love it.”
“Do you think Taylor will want to help next year? The Collins girl is good, but Taylor’s gifted with the kids.”
“I don’t know.” Will we even be here next year?
Mark sits up but makes no move to help. “I saw Jenna McCarty pick up her son. How’re they doing?”
“Two months ago, I’d have taken bets on a divorce date. But they’re making headway. They would have done better with a marriage counselor.”
“I saw the Pendletons in church on Sunday. John’s looking good.”
I gather the ends of the garbage bag and pull it from the can. “Guess God isn’t done with him yet.”
“Membership’s going back up. Dorothy tells me collections are on the rise, too.”
Slinging the sack over my shoulder, I look at Mark. Legs crossed, leaning back on his hands, he’s the picture of relaxed. But I’m not buying it.
“What’s with the inventory?” I drop the trash bag in the corner for pickup.
“You seem detached lately.”
“Not detached. Busy.” I check my watch. “In fact, I have to pick Michael up at the Greyhound station in half an hour.”
“I thought you’d be thrilled over Simpson’s concession.”
“So did I.”
Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s the deal?”
“It just doesn’t seem all that important. At least, not as important as I made it out to be.”
“No? So, what do you want?”
I drop onto the chair nearest Mark. “I want to know that what I’m doing makes a difference.”
Mark pushes off from the floor and sits on the chair next to me. “Of course, it makes a difference. You’re preaching God’s Word, counseling couples in trouble, bringing the Bible to life for kids. This is important stuff.”
“The work’s not enough if the motivation behind it isn’t pure.”
“Come on,” Mark scoffs. “You’re just overwhelmed with family stuff. Give it a few weeks and things’ll be back to normal.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I shift in my seat. “For a long time now, I’ve been doing the work without feeling the Spirit. I’ve been disconnected. Detached, like you said, I suppose. It’s infected my family, Mark. Don’t you see that?”
Concern mars his brow. “No. What I see is a group of dissenters causing an uproar.”
I shake my head. “They had a list of concerns, most of which were valid. It doesn’t matter that it started with a lie. The rest, it was all true. I’ve been so busy trying to look good for them, I forgot who I was answering to.”
“So, what’re you saying?”
“I’m not sure. But I can’t hold my wife back because the body feels she shouldn’t work outside the home. I can’t be hard on my boy because I fear how people will judge me when he messes up. And I can’t see every past mistake as an end to my career.” I rake a hand through my hair. “How’s that teaching anybody about God’s grace?”
“It didn’t start out this way, you know?” I look at Mark, but he doesn’t get it. “What made you want to be a pastor?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I love God and His Word. It stands to reason I’d want to share it.”
“You have a mission statement?”
“A mission statement?” He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I’m beginning to think you were in that accident with Taylor.”
I throw my hands up. “What’s keeping you on track? How do you know you’re still fulfilling God’s purpose for your life?”
“I…I don’t know. I guess I just feel it.”
“But I don’t. Don’t you get it? I don’t feel it anymore. All I feel is the stress of trying to keep everyone happy. This guy wants the music louder, that one not so loud. The message isn’t biblical enough or it’s too biblical. Too many services, not enough services. It never ends. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I allowed my ego to get the best of me. To actually believe that this church is about me when it’s about everything but.”
Mark sits back, shakes his head. “Then where do you go from here? I mean, what else is there? You going to chuck it all and see if you can get a job as a garbage collector? Maybe go back to school and find a new career?”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
“I’m kidding,” Mark says, leaning toward me. “You’re not seriously going to tell me you want a real do-over, are you?”
Starting from scratch never sounded so good.
Chapter 40
Corey
Life has been on hold for too long, and I’m reminded of that when Tess Holland calls to set up a meeting to plan out the next school year. I used the need-to-check-my-calendar excuse. What else could I say? The reality is that school star
ts in eight short weeks—and not just for me, but for Taylor, too. She’ll need an Individual Education Plan, a new speech therapist, and an attitude adjustment if this is going to work.
And I need to find out where my marriage stands.
I call Paul’s cell phone, but it goes to voicemail. “We need to talk. Can you call me back when you get this message?” I leave the same message on our home phone. Vague, maybe, but if Michael intercepts, I don’t want him to worry.
I use the same line on Taylor as I pass the turn-off for Tricia’s.
“About what?” Boredom infuses her tone. It’s as if there’s nothing I could say that would hold any appeal for her.
“Lots of things. But I don’t want to do it in the car.”
She swings her head around to look behind us. “You missed the off thingy.”
“It’s such a beautiful day, I thought we’d park off the highway by the beach and take a walk.”
She slumps back in her seat. I can feel her glare, even though I’m not looking at her. “I don’t want to take a walk.”
“It’ll be good for you. Fresh air to build those neurons.”
Her only response is a grunt.
A few miles of her silence and I find a parking space off the highway. The tide is out and the sun shimmers off the shallow waters and the wet, rippling sand several hundred feet out.
“Let’s go.”
We pull off our sandals before working down the bank and onto the white sand beach dotted with tourists and locals alike. Or at least I imagine those walking in a meditative state in worn beachwear are locals. Seagulls swoop and glide with an occasional squawk.
I reach for Taylor’s hand, but she pulls away like a spoiled toddler. Enough is enough. “Do you intend to punish me forever? Because I have to say, it’s getting old.”
“You’re a hypocrite.” She slaps her sandals against her thigh, sand spraying from the soles, and stares ahead.
“In what way?”
“You’ve been telling me forever that I’m supposed to be good. You know, pure. But you weren’t.”
So true. “And I’m paying the price for it.”
“So now I’m, like, your punishment?”
“It’s not you, Taylor. It’s the entire situation. I’ve hurt you and your dad and me. Granted, if I’d remained pure, you wouldn’t be here right now. I can’t regret that. But the rest of it?” I shake my head.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?” A lame attempt at a stall tactic.
“Cheat on Dad. Did you, like, do that before?”
“Never. It was my intention to wait until I was married.”
An unladylike snort escapes her mouth.
“It was. Then I got scared.”
“Yeah? Of what?”
“Your dad—he was a good man. Is a good man. But there were times that he’d say something to me, and it was like I was looking at my own father. Judgmental, immoveable.”
Taylor stops, her mouth opening in an O, eyes wide. “Like he is with Michael?”
Can she understand? “Yes. Just like with Michael. A week away from the wedding, I considered calling it off.”
“Seriously?” She pushes a strand of purple hair from her face and leaves a smudge of sand behind.
“Just the thought of facing hi,”—I blow out a breath— “scared me to death. And facing my father after he’d paid for everything. The gifts were coming in, the honeymoon was paid for. Lame reasons, I know,” I rush to say when she starts to interrupt.
“Did you even love him?”
I smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I loved him. But I was so torn and confused. One minute I’d decided to call it off and the next, I knew I couldn’t.”
“So, you slept with someone else?”
“That’s not quite how it happened. Tricia saw I was upset and talked me into going to a party with her. Let it all go for one night. And I started drinking.”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s another lecture you guys give us.”
“For good reason. Anyway, it felt good to forget. The more I drank, the more I forgot.”
“Then what happened?”
I throw my hands up and shrug. “To be honest, Tay, I don’t remember much else. It’s like when you wake up remembering a dream, but after a while, all the details fade away until all that’s left are illusive images.”
“So, does Dad know all this?”
“Pretty much. Although, as angry as he was, I don’t know what stuck. He was hurt. And he had every right to be.”
“He didn’t seem upset with you the other day. He could hardly take his eyes off you.”
I stare out at the waves rolling up onto the sand. “Probably trying to figure what happened to the wife he’s always known.”
“I don’t think so,” she sing-songs, then giggles. “Maybe you should get a few more outfits from Tricia before we go home.”
Home. How could I have forgotten? “Oh, Tay. That’s why I brought you out here. To talk to you about going home.”
“When?” Her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Because Josh called yesterday and wants to know if I can go to a party with him.”
I scrunch my nose up and shake my head. “Sorry, Charlie, but no parties for you. I know what can happen.”
“Very funny.” She giggles again, and I laugh in response.
“Seriously, though. We’re going to have to figure a few things out.”
“You are going back to Dad, aren’t you?”
That’s the million-dollar question. “I guess that depends on him.”
* * *
Paul
“I don’t get it.” Michael looks out the window at Community Church. “Why’re we here again?”
I roll the window down and breath in the warm, summer-scented air. “You said you wanted pizza for dinner.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’re getting pizza here.”
“I have to meet with someone first.” I check the rear-view mirror as Kent parks behind me. Then I look at Michael. “I told you before that when I know, you’ll know.”
He throws up his hands, rolls his eyes. “Know what?”
I climb out of the car and turn to greet Kent. “Appreciate you coming out here.”
“Glad to do it.” His eyes narrow. “You look beat.”
“Last day of VBS.”
“Ah.” He nods. “That’ll be me next week. Who do we have here?” He extends his hand when Michael comes up beside me.
“Oh, that’s right. You’ve never met my son. Pastor Kent, Michael.”
“Good to meet you, Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Michael flashes his crooked smile. “That can’t be good.”
Kent chuckles. “I assure you, it’s all good.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“So.” Kent eyes me. “Are you ready to meet the board?”
I check my watch. “We have ten minutes before the meeting. Would you mind if I take that time to fill Michael in?”
“Not at all.” He waves a hand at his car. “I’ll be here working on Sunday’s sermon. Let me know when you’re ready.”
With a hand on Michael’s shoulder, I guide him across the street. Traffic is almost non-existent, and the old homes in the neighborhood are reminiscent of a simpler time. Just what we need. “Let’s walk.”
“What’s going on, Dad?”
I tuck my hands in my pockets as we navigate the tree root-cracked sidewalk. “Do you know why God hates the sin of pride?”
Scrunching up his nose, he gives me a sideways look. “Huh?”
“Pride? You know?”
“Yeah, I know what pride is.”
“In Proverbs sixteen seven, it’s referred to as ‘haughty eyes,’ but it’s the same as pride or arrogance. One of the seven things that are an abomination to Him. And He hates it because it comes when we put ourselves above others. When we forget why we’re here in the first place.”
“Okay…” He draws the word out. Must think I’ve lost it.
“I’ve been guilty of that. Pride. For quite a while now. I feel like I’ve let so many things become more important than my family, more important than God, even.”
“Is this about that thing with Josh’s mom? ʼCause I talked to Mom about it last weekend, and she said she never believed that you did anything wrong.”
“Oh, but I did.”
His head snaps up. “You mean—”
“No.” I grasp his upper arm. “I don’t mean I did anything with Ms. Andrews. But I’ve been guilty of other things, worse in some ways.”
“Like?”
Confession is good for the soul, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. Michael deserves the truth. “I wanted accolades from the members of the church. You know what accolades are?”
“That was one of last year’s vocab words, Dad.”
“Yeah, okay. Well, I put that desire above everything else, including my relationship with God. I let it rule how I dealt with Ms. Andrews, how I dealt with the vandalism situation. Your mom, she’s always wanted to teach, but I wouldn’t allow it because members of the church thought she should focus on women’s ministry.”
“Which she doesn’t like to do.”
“No. And I owe her an apology. I owe her about ten apologies. But not just her, Michael. I owe you a few, too. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”
“It’s done, Dad.” The kid’s much better at forgiveness than I’ve ever been. Smarter than I’ve given him credit for, too.
“I just want to be sure everything’s cleared up.”
“Okay.” He swings his head around, as if to take in the scenery. “But I don’t get what that has to do with us being here.”
I rub my hand over my face and take a deep breath. “I don’t think, after everything that’s happened at Crossroads, I can stay there. People there, well, they have expectations.”
Shock registers on his face. “So, what’re you going to do?”
We round the corner and are back on Church Street. “That church?” I point to Community. “They need a new pastor. It’s a lot smaller than Crossroads, but they’re looking for leadership.”
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