Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  CHAPTER 11

  My heart thuds hard against my chest as my eyes drop to our clasped hands. Jonathan isn’t loosening his grip. His chiseled resolve tells it all; he’s determined to hold tight until the end of the service. I shudder as the congregation rises to their feet to sing. Thrust into a past I’ve been running from, I follow the lead of my husband.

  But he’s not my husband anymore! He’s not! I blink several times, desperate to pull away from his grip. I could just leave—he wouldn’t follow me. I could get in my car and drive off, he doesn’t even know what my new car looks like. But wait. What if he hid in the parking lot before the service to see what I’m driving? What if he feels entitled to know what I drive now because he paid for it? Jonathan’s always been a schemer. He plays this sort of twisted mind game only to prove he’s one step ahead…is he? The sickening smell of a Davidoff Yamasa cigar wafting from his clothes is unmistakable. I clutch my stomach. This distinct smell is so closely linked to Jonathan and all he’s done. My fingers move in slow circles around the scar he left all those years ago.

  Focus! I can’t drag myself down that road. My body tightens as my ears prick up. The worship music can serve as a distraction—it has to, I force it to. I steal a quick glance at Jonathan who is fixated on the stage. He is silent beside me, unfamiliar with the song we all know so well. My eyes travel down our arms to my imprisoned hand and my knees grow weak. He has complete control over me—I’m trapped.

  My head drops in defeat as the battle inside me rages. This year, Hallie is going to be a fighter. I have to be a fighter. I must fight against this.But I can’t. If I walk out now, the congregation standing behind me would realize there was something wrong. Everyone would wonder why I left my husband’s side during church, especially after all these years of sitting alone, wishing he would make church and God a priority. It wouldn’t take long for people to start whispering about us. Ugh! Then there’s Rita, somewhere back there, eager to tell everyone that I was the one who left. That I want a divorce. My feet shuffle slightly, as if I’m ready to make a dash for it, but my body refuses to move. Without knowing my story, without knowing what this monster has done to me, the church would judge me. This is where I’ll remain … frozen by his side. I can’t wriggle my clammy hand out of his grip. I can’t make a scene. I’m stuck.

  I pick my head up, take a long breath, and fix my stare on the worship team. In that instant, my distracted gaze meets Chip’s, who continues singing and playing his guitar, despite his tightly knit brow. Ahh! If he keeps staring at me like that, the whole congregation will look over here. I cower as my eyes dart to Ainsley. Her gaze flits between me and the crowd. She rubs at her chin as our eyes lock for a moment, and the urge to burst into tears consumes me.

  After what seems like an eternity, the worship finally comes to a close. Pastor Noah walks across the stage and asks us to take a seat as he begins to pray. I lower my body, but I’m unable to close my eyes. Is Jonathan wearing new clothes? He is. His golf polo fits his thinning frame, his slim, khaki pants are neatly ironed, and his loafers are un-scuffed. His appearance is designed to communicate his collective behavior, as if he has a handle on his life, his marriage, and his relationship with God. My stomach lurches. He has gone to great lengths to impress his audience, and it’s going to work.

  My eyes drift back to Pastor Noah as the singers exit the stage. Silently, Chip claims Ainsley’s seat beside me as his wife stops, mid-stride, wrinkles her forehead, then slowly redirects in order to sit on the other side of him. Ainsley slides into the seat at the end of the row, leaning forward to look down at me, her eyes wide and nostrils flared, then strains to lower her head in prayer.

  Pastor Noah ends his prayer and asks the congregation to turn to Luke, chapter eight. My window of opportunity presents itself as I tug my hand out of Jonathan’s relaxing grasp and reach for my Bible placed at my feet. Jonathan falters, then clenches his empty fist. I lean back with my Bible in my lap, stealing a glimpse at Jonathan’s face. My heart races at the sight of his clenched jaw, pulsing with anger, and a sickening dread threatens to engulf me. With a resolve that only God can give, I force myself to focus on the message that has begun.

  Pastor Noah reads, “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on and the birds ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.” He scans the congregation as he asks which example resonates with us most.

  He reads on to explain Jesus’s words, and I follow along starting at verse eleven, “This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God. Those along the path are the ones who hear, and then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts so that they may not believe and be saved. Those on the rocky ground are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away. The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature. But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop.”

  As Pastor Noah comes to the end of the passage, I witness Jonathan nodding his head in agreement, aligning himself with the good soil. My mouth gapes. Is this just a part of his show, or is he delusional enough to believe this is true of him? I close my mouth and gulp—he’s anything but good soil. And my heart screams this truth with every fiber of my being.

  The sermon continues as I roll out my shoulders, aching with the tension brought on by my surroundings. Jonathan is continuing to play the part, nodding at all the right times to show he’s engaged. Chip periodically looks over at me, his rigid form seems to question what this might mean about my presence on the worship team. Ainsley’s knee is bouncing, and Becca’s fingertips are drumming. The front row is pulsating like a brewing storm.

  My breath catches short as Pastor Noah finally finishes his sermon with a prayer. Thank God—it’s over. I begin to collect my belongings, avoiding all eye contact like the plague. Yikes. Becca’s darting eyes meet mine. Her head tilts as she surveys the bodies on the row, then stops on her husband. Her face tightens. I can’t watch this—Becca’s piecing the puzzle together. But what puzzle does she think this is? I lean closer to Jonathan and whisper tightly, “What are you doing here?”

  He glares down at me with a plastic grin in place, like a snake ready to strike. “I’m going to church, just like you said I should the other day.”

  My brain rattles. “I said you should go back to your church,” I hiss. “I deliberately told you not to come here.”

  Jonathan’s eyes narrow, “But this is my church. I haven’t been to my family’s church in a very long time. And besides, you want to see God’s word sown, don’t you? Well, that’s only going to happen here.”

  My lips part in disbelief. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but he’s making his case and defending it with scripture. “Everything okay over here, Hallie?” Chip questions from behind.

  No, everything is not okay! I rage, but before I can respond, Jonathan leans past me and asks with a domineering smile, “What’s your name again, man?”

  “Uh, it’s Chip.”

  “Chip, thanks for checking on my wife, but everything’s fine.” Then facing me, he lowers his voice and adds, “I guess I’ll see you here next week.” Coldness permeates the room and settles in my chest as he stands and walks out.

  Next week? He can’t come back here next week. All I want to do is turn and scream nooo across the auditorium, but I stare vacantly at the blank, auditorium wall instead. Somewhere behind me, Chip clears his throat then says, “I hope this doesn’t mean that he’s back in your life, Hallie.” I lean forwar
d in my seat and plop my elbows on my knees while I shake my head, unable to offer a verbal reply. “Good, because I still need you to be the lead female singer for Team B.”

  My head swivels as if to shoot a warning glare at him. Oh dear. Becca leans into view, her posture stiffening as her tongue pokes against her cheek. Chip flinches and slowly closes his eyes. With his back still turned, he’s reminded his wife is seated next to him. I gulp against my constricting throat and refocus my eyes on the floor. Becca’s lowered voice asks Chip to speak with him in his office. As their footsteps echo in my head, Chip’s presence is replaced with an embrace from my best friend. I lean in to her as she says, “What the heck’s Jonathan doing here?” Ugh! Jonathan. The reality of his presence here slams to the forefront of my brain. Don’t cry—he’s not worth the tears. I can’t keep giving into him like this anymore. This is what he wants me to do, to cave to his will, to sit back and let him terrify me, just as he did while we were married. I form my hands into a steeple. I may not have been able to fight against him during the service, but I’m going to fight now.

  “He told me he would see me here again next week, so I guess he’s trying to make this his church again.” I spit. How dare he. “This is my church, not his. He made that clear all those times I begged him to come to the service with me. And now he shows up, unexpected, and makes me sit through the whole thing as if I’m still his wife.” I turn my head, as if I’ve been slapped, then add, “Yes, legally I am still his wife, but his chance to win me back withered long ago. I knew it was over when he … when he—”

  “I know,” Ainsley interrupts. I bite my bottom lip. Thanks, Ainsley. I didn’t want to have to finish that sentence. She shrugs a shoulder and leans back. Neither of us wants to think about what he’s done to me over the years…what he did to me that one night when I knew it was over for good. Or how he terrorized me afterwards. When I left him, I thought I was finally free. So what if his check paid for my car? I’m not going to repay him by pretending that everything is okay while he sits beside me at church. I can’t handle his presence, his walk … his smell.

  A shadow off to our right grows heavier as both Ainsley and I shift in our seats, only to find Rita approaching. Ugh! Not again. Can this morning get any worse? “Ainsley, Hallie,” Rita greets as she tosses her jet-black hair then yanks her tight shirt down over her wide hips, “What did you think of the sermon?”

  My head rears. What an odd question, coming from her. Ainsley cocks her head to the side, “It was good,” she draws out. Is that the end to this encounter? Rita stands before us, crossing her arms. I guess not. Ainsley clears her throat, “And what about you?”

  “Oh, I thought it was good, too,” Rita responds. The piece of gum in her mouth doesn’t stand a chance as she chomps harder and harder, her eyes flashing from Ainsley to me. “But I really enjoyed his Christmas series … you remember, Ainsley?”

  Ainsley shifts in her seat, “Sure, that was a good series.” Her voice has raised at least two octaves. “You’re talking about the one just this past year?”

  “Yeah, you remember—the one that started right after that Christmas party I went to with Andrew.” Chomp-chomp. Rita raises an eyebrow, “You remember Andrew, don’t you, Hallie? He went to college with you guys, right?” Rita leans her head forward as her eyes bare down on me. Oh no! Andrew’s text about getting coffee. This is what she’s after. But I never responded to him, nor would I … regardless of my marital status. I pick up my chin and nod with a tight smile.

  Rita looms over me, then smirks. “Andrew and I are kinda hot and cold, but he always comes back around.” What’s her deal? If she knows he texted me months ago, then she should know I didn’t respond. She looks to Ainsley with an ugly twist of her mouth, “Remember, I told you all about us at the Christmas party? How we date, on and off, and then you told me—” she starts to point at me with her long, pink fingernail.

  “Oh yeah,” Ainsley interrupts. Her cheeks flush as she waves a flighty hand, “I’m sure if you’re off now, you’ll be back on in no time. I mean, it’s Andrew—he’s always been like that. Even when we were in college.” Her hollow laugh is followed with a flutter of her eyes. “Besides, we are all a little off beat at times, right Hallie? I mean, loneliness can do that.” She nudges me with her elbow. Why is she drawing the attention back on me?

  “Well, Hallie doesn’t seem too lonely,” Rita interjects with a sneer. My mouth parts. You gotta be kidding me. But my moment to defend myself for the second time this morning passes as she hastily adds, “Anyway, I have to get my son from the back. Kids’ church will be closing soon. Guess I’ll see y’all later.”

  Deafening silence sits between me and Ainsley, then she finally says, “That was super weird.” I nod. Yeah, it was. Ainsley scans the vacating room. Apart from a group laughing in the back, and Pastor Noah and his wife chatting with an elderly man on the other side of the room, we are alone. “I should really go get Miles,” she says. Ainsley stands, sighs, walks down the aisle, then skids to a stop. “Oh—and about Jonathan. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I wave her on. “I just needed to vent.” But I don’t need to vent. I need to find a solution. I cannot afford a repeat of this morning—my nerves can’t take it—it’s enough that I’m always looking over my shoulder for him.

  As Ainsley speeds toward the foyer, my eyes cloud in her wake. I shake my head. I just need to get out of here. Checking my surroundings, I count off the items in my arms. I’ve got everything—time to go. But the slam of a door off to my left startles me. Becca storms from Chip’s office. Her head is down as she rushes up the aisle. Hesitating, I avert my gaze. Nope—no more drama for today … or any day, for that matter.

  I take a deep, steadying breath against the brick forming in my stomach. Chip exits his office. His drooping eyes find me in no time. “Hallie, I’m glad you’re still here.” He glances back at his office with pursed lips, then forces a smile and lifts his shoulders as he meanders over and settles into the seat next to me. “I’m sorry if I interfered between you and Jonathan today, it’s just that when I saw him arrive this morning, I—” and his voice trails off.

  “No, it’s fine, it was thoughtful of you to sit with me today,” I reply, my toes wiggling inside of my shoes.

  “Does that mean you’re going to work things out in your marriage?”

  “Oh, no!” I spit. “No, no—he just, uh, misunderstood a conversation we had earlier this week.” Chip nods. “He said he’ll be back next week, and I was too shaken to tell him not to return.” A groan gurgles in the back of my throat as I add, “I’ve already made it clear he’s not allowed to come here, but I don’t know if he’ll listen to me.” I have to do something about the farewell promise he made to me today. But what? “Anyway, I should probably be going,” I say as I stand with my things and survey the room. The auditorium is now completely empty.

  “Actually,” Chip says, “I, uh—” he runs a hand down his long beard as his eyes flit toward the auditorium doors, “I was hoping you would give me an answer about serving on Team B. I know I’ve been getting on you about this, but I really feel like this church could grow if you were singing more on stage, and if some people are removed from the worship team.”

  My mouth parts. After that episode with his wife, how does he have the nerve to ask me this now? The pit in my stomach flips. “Honestly,” I start, “it seems like Becca was really upset with the news you shared just a few moments ago. I think this really needs to be more of a conversation between you and her rather than you and me.”

  Chip rolls his head to one side. “Listen, Hallie. I’m the worship leader, and I can deal with people who just aren’t making the cut anymore. My wife will get over it.” He pinches his lips together, then adds, “Yes, she wasn’t all that thrilled that I talked to you about this change before I talked to her, but she will see my reasoning for it in the end, even if it might take a while for her to come around to it.”

&n
bsp; “Is she upset with me?” I blink slowly. Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.

  “Ah, well,” he clears his throat and studies his feet. “She’s not happy, but she’s talking out of pain. I know she doesn’t really hate you, she just needs to get over this change and find another way to serve in the church.”

  The room begins to spin. I never asked for this. And now, I have to deal with another woman in the church who doesn’t like me. “You should keep Becca. She’s not a bad singer, and I should have never entertained this idea.” I bite my bottom lip, and add, “Despite my circumstances, I don’t want anyone else to deal with marital problems. I know how important it is to have a good marriage, and with the way Becca just stormed out of here, I think your focus should be on her, not on getting me to sing on stage more.”

  “Please, Hallie—”

  I close my eyes and lift my eyebrows. “Chip, I’m not going to sing on Team B, especially with how Becca’s feeling about this. My answer is no.” Without another word, I race out of the auditorium to my car, desperate to leave this dreadful morning behind. I slam my car door shut and speed out of the parking lot. How can I come back here next week?

  CHAPTER 12

  Buzz! My eyes fly open, and I blink against the morning light. I lean over and hit snooze. Work can wait, especially on such little sleep. I pull the covers closer to my chin. Just go back to sleep. Don’t think about yesterday’s church service. Groaning, I roll into my pillow and pull the covers over my head. My dreams were tainted with visions of Jonathan searching all over town for me while Becca and Rita blame me for all the church’s problems.

  The jumbled scenes from my nightmares skirt my mind as I rub at my eyes. What would be the worst that could happen if I refuse to get ready for work? Am I even able to lift myself out of bed? The alarm goes off again. That’s it … I’m calling in sick. I can’t face work today, and I know Danny would gladly take on my clients for me. I pick up my cell and punch in the number. Ugh. I bet Rita will probably be at the gym today, too. All the more reason to call in sick—I don’t want to face anyone who contributed to yesterday’s experience.