Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  “Now, you both know it all,” I sigh. A weight is lifted off my chest. That wasn’t as difficult as I expected. Silent seconds linger between the three of us. I look down at my empty water bottle. If they were going to judge me, I would have already seen it in their faces, especially during the difficult parts of my story.

  “Hallie,” Tom begins slowly—the first words spoken since I spilled it all. “We had no idea you’d been through so much.” He drops his head, “No one should have to endure that kind of hatred, and I’m so sorry that you faced such horrible things in your marriage. That’s not how God designed marriage,” he says as he reaches over and grabs hold of Sarah’s hand, “and that’s not what someone like you deserves. It’s not what anyone deserves.” With his head still hanging, he asks, “So, you thought you saw him today?”

  I rise from the armchair, my legs screaming to be stretched. “Not him.” I confess, “But I walked by a table in the corner of the patio, and there was a cigar burning.” Tom and Sarah both lift their head and wrinkle their brow. I begin to pace again. “It was his cigar, the one he always smoked.” I bite my lip. “It’s a Davidoff Yamasa, it’s the only cigar he smokes.” They still don’t get it. I stop, mid-stride, and yank up my shirt. “It’s the cigar that gave me this scar years ago.”

  Staring at the burn mark on my stomach, Sarah’s mouth drops, “He gave you that?”

  I nod, drop my shirt, and melt back into the armchair. “I just have this feeling that Jonathan was there tonight, and that he left the cigar, burning there, marking his presence. It would be just like him to do something like that…to remind me that he’s looking for me. He doesn’t know anything about Ann Arbor—he’s never been—so it makes sense for him to pick a public place nearby all the local gyms, just hoping I would walk by.” Groaning, I add, “He may have even searched the gym floors for me.”

  Tom stretches his legs as he leans back on the couch, “He would do all that just to find you?”

  A small whimper escapes, “Yes, I haven’t heard from him in a while. He called just over a month ago to tell me he was looking for me. He tried to threaten me, hoping to get me to return to Oklahoma. While I was on the phone, Harrison spoke in the background, and although he couldn’t tell it was Harrison’s voice, he probably guessed as much. I’m not on the gym’s website, so there was no way of really knowing if I was here.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he flew here to look around for me. He’ll stop at nothing, and he has the freedom in his job to take off all the time he needs to find me.”

  Sarah looks to the ceiling while shaking her head, “Now I know why you were so scared. I just hope he didn’t try following us. If he did, I’m glad I brought you here and not back to Harrison and Isabel’s.”

  Exhaling slowly, I slump my shoulders and say, “Maybe I’m wrong.” Silence, then I clear my throat. “I just hope I’m still safe here.”

  Tom brings his knees back in and rests his elbows on them, then says, “You probably are wrong, Hallie. That cigar could’ve been anyone’s, and in a population of over a hundred thousand people, I doubt it would be him.”

  I wobble my head with a half-nod. He’s right…this is ridiculous. That could’ve been anyone’s cigar. “I’m sorry if I ruined your evening with my overreaction. You’ve both been so kind to let me stay here and unload all this on you.”

  Sarah exhales slowly, then smiles a mother-like smile. “Anytime,” she offers, “you’ve got a friend in me … in us.” My heart swells to the point it might burst. That’s exactly what I need right now—friendship.

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed my scare, Sarah and Tom proved to be good friends, dragging me along to university events, going out downtown, and finding one-off excuses to pull me out of the apartment. Yet, if they’re so great, why do I still follow Ainsley on social media to see what she’s up to? My heart thuds dully in my chest. I want reconciliation between us, but the way I left it in my final voicemail hitches Ainsley to the sole option of offering a humble apology. It’s been nearly three months since my frantic departure from the lake house, and she still hasn’t made any effort to acknowledge her mistakes.

  With my phone in my hand and my gym bag slung over my shoulder, my sore muscles carry me to my parallel-parked car while my heavy breathing marks my struggled return to my regular workout routine. My finger scrolls down the screen, then stops. It’s one of Ainsley’s recently posted videos. My eyes narrow. Is it of Connect Church’s Vacation Bible School program? Hmmm. That’s right, Miles is old enough to attend now. And I guess Ainsley volunteered again this year, she and a ton of other volunteers…it takes an immense team to pull it off. I bite my lip and hover over the play icon. Should I watch it? My chest tightens. I’ve got to watch it…I used to be a part of it.

  I click on the link and slide into the front seat of my car. The video jumps to the stage, the same stage where I used to sing with my best friend each night for VBS worship. My tongue slides across my teeth. Jonathan should’ve been serving alongside us too … Heck, I begged him to volunteer with me every year. They needed him for bass, and I had hoped VBS might somehow get him back involved with church, but he made it very clear that he would not sacrifice any of his time to deal with kids for an entire week. Of course not. Why would he when he could make better use of his post-work hours by lounging on the couch, drinking and smoking the nights away? Colorful images dance across my screen. It must have been a fun week. Something new flashes. I blink, my head drawing back. My finger jumps to rewind the time on the clip. Am I hallucinating? There’s no way I saw what I think I just saw. As the scene replays, I hit pause at precisely the right moment, and stare at the screen with my lips parted. It’s Jonathan, playing the bass guitar on stage as the children below are paused in their jumping to the worship music produced by the team of volunteers in bright orange t-shirts. The team I used to be a part of, and now, he’s one of them.

  Wow. I lift my chin and tighten my grip on the phone, although I wish I could throw it across the car. My eyes glue to the screen as I hit resume. How could this be true? There has to be an explanation as to why this monster has actually chosen to do something he refused to do so many times before.

  As the video continues, my heart falls to my stomach. Oh gosh. Jonathan fills the screen, and he’s holding Miles. Ainsley stands near them, and they laugh together at the kids playing tag all around them on the front lawn of the church building. My eyes bulge. Then, Ainsley shuffles closer to high-five Jonathan. I stop breathing. She has actually befriended the man who has stolen my safety, security, and sanity over the years. How could she do this? The remaining two minutes of the video flash image after image of Jonathan participating in the children’s study groups and praying into the mic on stage. I swallow again and again against the lump stuck in my throat. But I watch on as the camera man catches the partially concealed act of flirting between Rita and Jonathan during pizza night. Maybe that’s why he’s there … volunteering his precious time. Rita’s shrieking laugh plagues this entire video. She was there all week, and so was he. The video ends, and my stomach rolls. In the course of three months, Jonathan has become the face of Connect Church.

  I punch my car into drive and race home, my stomach in knots. I shouldn’t have watched that video. The amalgamation of Ainsley’s vengeance, Rita’s persistent flirting, and Jonathan’s manipulation is more than I can handle. I hit my fist on my steering wheel as I take another turn. I’ve not only been forced to leave the worship team, my hiding place at the lake house, and my safety net, but I’m now having it all thrown back in my face as Jonathan steps triumphantly into the limelight.

  By the time I park, grab for my gym bag, and exit the car, I find myself climbing the apartment steps with other group members of Nations Church. I shake my head. How did I forget about group tonight? Has the betrayal seen in the video—seen all throughout the church that was once a trustworthy place—really bothered me that much? The moment I reach t
he top landing of the apartment, I slink past those gathered around the dining room table for refreshments, toss my gym bag into the corner of my room, and grab for a light, zip-up hoody to throw over my workout top. Taking one, quick scan of the room, I lunge for my Bible on my bedside table and close the door behind me, moving to claim a seat in the living room. Sarah is already settled in a seat next to the fireplace, so I meander toward the chair beside her.

  “Hey,” she greets, standing to give me a hug. “How are you?” But the second she catches sight of my furrowed brow, her grin fades. “Uh-oh, something’s wrong,” she adds. I return the hug, then slump down in the chair next to her.

  “It’s nothing,” I mumble, but the heat pulsing across my forehead suggests otherwise.

  Sarah’s eyes don’t leave my face. She goes to respond when Harrison announces, “Alright folks, let’s get settled in the living room and we’ll get started.” Everyone moves to find a seat, then Harrison opens our study with prayer. We pick-up where we left-off in our study through Proverbs as Harrison points out concepts of wisdom and foolishness that resurface in each new, profound line of the passage we are analyzing tonight. Harrison reads through Proverbs, chapter twenty-six, and although my muddled thoughts, affected by the video I watched earlier, distract me from much of what my wise brother is sharing, a verse catches my attention: “As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly.” This analogy from verse eleven leaves most of the group cringing, but their comments are pushed to the back of my mind. This is Jonathan and his foolish acts of manipulation. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. It won’t be long until he returns to his folly, like he always does. Whether he’s taking a break from the drugs or being discreet, everyone will see through his façade sooner or later.

  My memory stings with the words Ainsley offered several months back, when she showed nothing but support for my departure from that abusive marriage. She was the one who told me his victimizing act will run thin with time. So how is it that now, she is the one high-fiving him, serving on the worship team beside him, and letting him hold her son? Her son. Why would she do that when she knows how awful Jonathan truly is? Is she in denial? Maybe she thinks I was lying about how dangerous he is … how manipulative he can be when he wants to win someone over.

  “Hallie?” The sound of Harrison repeating my name swings me back to the present. Oh dear. Everyone’s eyes are fixed on me. Harrison raises one eyebrow, as if he’s waiting to hear my response. “Wouldn’t you agree?” he prompts.

  Heat rises to my face. “Sorry, could you repeat what you said?” I cringe, but breathe a sigh of relief as everyone’s eyes return to their Bible.

  Harrison smiles, “Oh, I was just saying how prevalent gossip is in small towns, especially small-town Oklahoma. Check out verse twenty, ‘Without wood a fire goes out; without a gossip a quarrel dies down.’ We constantly have to fight to withdraw from gossip in our hometown, so we know this truth all too well.”

  I nod, “Oh, yeah. Gossip definitely adds fuel to the fire,” and at that, my thoughts return to Ainsley, as if I could shake this whole ordeal anyway. If it weren’t for her gossip, partnered with Rita’s big mouth, I might still be in Oklahoma right now.

  Harrison continues reading, and yet another verse sinks me deeper into the darkened corners of my mind. “Enemies disguise themselves with their lips, but in their hearts, they harbor deceit,” he reads from verse twenty-four. Was Ainsley just putting on a show that whole time? Or was she so blinded from guilt that she refused to accept responsibility for her actions in Nashville, and instead, turned it on me?

  For the remainder of the study, my attention slips in and out of the conversations taking place within our group as I position the words found in scripture alongside the actions that have been taken against me. There is such truth found in these passages, and I’ve experienced it first-hand. I can’t seem to come to grips with all that I’ve lost and all that I’ve had to give up these last several months. My breathing grows shallow. Is God really worthy of my trust? Does God have my back, even now? Tom interrupts my spiraling thoughts as he closes our group in prayer, and with a quick shake of my bowed head, I focus on staying in the present instead of painfully analyzing my past.

  By the time everyone has said good-bye, we slip into the familiar pattern of this post-study meeting: me, Tom, Sarah, Harrison, and Isabel sitting around the living room. This routine ending our Thursday nights has become my highlight of each week. We discuss scripture, talk through the dynamics of the study and what Harrison and Tom want to study for the next week, but most importantly, we laugh. Tonight, our conversation takes a bit of a turn.

  “You alright, Hallie?” Harrison asks, his forehead wrinkling. “You seemed pretty distracted most of the night, and I didn’t mean to put you on the spot earlier.”

  I wave him off, “No, you’re fine. I just saw this video from Connect Church and it really has me thinking through some things.”

  “What kind of video?” Isabel asks.

  Sighing heavily, I say, “It’s the church’s VBS video from this year, and Jonathan is in it.” Everyone’s eyes register my words as they widen, forcing them all to shift in my direction. In the chaos that followed my panicked reaction to the patio scene a few weeks back, we’ve discussed these matters together, Jonathan being a consistent focus, although we all agreed we wouldn’t be calling him by name. A groan throttles from my chest. I need to use his name tonight and these people sitting here before me are my safety net. They understand. And I guess God does too. No matter how angry I am, God’s proven he’s never too far from me.

  “Can we see it?” Sarah asks, her tone piqued with curiosity. I nod slowly, reach over to pick up my phone resting on top of my Bible, and find the video still loaded on the screen. I hit play.

  At the first sight of Jonathan’s image, Isabel inhales sharply. Her gasp tells it all…Tom and Sarah have identified the monster. “Wasn’t that Ainsley that high-fived him?” Harrison asks as soon as the video ends. With a nod, his grunt marks his matched frustration with her betrayal.

  My eyes swivel around the group, but no one is as flustered as Isabel. Her cheeks flame red, ten shades darker than her hair. “How can the church do that?” she eventually sputters. “I mean, that terrible, terrible man is now the face of Connect Church. It’s like his history with the church has been erased in a heartbeat. They’re all treating him like their long-lost friend who has finally returned, and they have welcomed him with open arms.” Struck by the absurdity of it all, Isabel gathers her curls to one side and gives them a twist. “I mean, it’s bad enough that they eventually pushed you out, but it honestly looks as if they’re happier to have him around than they were to have you. How is your pastor even dealing with all of this?”

  I place my phone down, my hand growing limp. “He doesn’t know, he’s on sabbatical. And the new worship leader, Levi—who replaced Chip Catcher when he left—has taken over.” My posture folds over as I add, “Levi seems to like Jonathan, and because he’s pretty much running the church in Pastor Noah’s absence, he’s just eating out of Jonathan’s hand.” My voice drops with my next, sorrow-filled thought, “And Ainsley’s probably encouraging it all—I mean, she and Jonathan look like best friends in that video.” Sarah nods, her eyes softening with each of my comments. “But what does it matter?” I finish, “I can’t return, and I knew that when I left. Pastor Noah doesn’t know a thing, and I’m not going to bother him. There’s no future for me there.”

  “Well,” Harrison starts, “that church has always been about extending grace, so maybe that’s what this Levi guy’s doing.”

  “No,” I reply, “he’s really just oblivious to it all. You know Jonathan can put on a good show, and for the most part, he can be very convincing. Levi must think Jonathan is awesome, especially if he’s willing to step in when Levi needs him—whether that’s playing the bass on Sunday morning or serving as a volunteer at VBS.” My throat tightens, “I just can’t beli
eve they would let him around all those children. Ainsley knows he shouldn’t be around children. But it doesn’t look like she told Levi about his past, and I bet she didn’t mention anything about the live feeds he used to watch of those poor children.” I gulp, bile rising in the back of my throat. “If they knew that, they’d never let him around those kids.” Harrison and Isabel lock eyes for a moment. In a flash, they break eye contact. Isabel begins collecting dishes while Harrison rubs both hands down his face. My head tilts and my eyes narrow.

  “If you ask me,” Tom says, drawing my attention back, “that church and your old friends might not be handling this situation well. Bringing it back to our passage we read tonight, verse four says, ‘Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him’ … and that’s the truth.” With a turn of his head, he looks at me, then adds, “I’m just glad you’re free from all the gossip, betrayal, and foolishness of your past. This may not be your first choice of where you want to live, but we’re all thankful you’re here in Ann Arbor.” And although I smile in response, my gaze falls. What was Harrison and Isabel’s earlier glance all about?

  CHAPTER 21

  “Hello everyone,” Tom greets from the church stage as his eyes roam the congregation, “I hope you’ve had a good week and that you’re staying cool, despite this blazing, July sun.” He throws in a tug on the neckline of his button-up shirt, and the crowd laughs quietly. “Anyway, for this Sunday’s announcements, I wanted to remind you all that we will be caring for the community through our outreach program by serving the lost and needy in downtown Ann Arbor. If you’re planning to serve alongside us this Friday, please meet us at the corner of Liberty and South Main at 11:00 a.m. wearing your Nations Church t-shirt, and if you don’t already have one, come see me at the back after the service.” He points to the back of the auditorium, then drops his arm as a humble smile begins to form, “I’ve seen what a difference we can do in the community by caring for the people in this city and reaching out to those in need. So, I encourage you all to consider serving with us this Friday. Your actions will be seen, and you never know how God will use you.” He flips over the sheet in his hand as he glances down, then adds, “Also, don’t forget—” but his list of announcements blur in the back of my mind. I grab a pen wedged in my Bible and start fiddling with it. It’s been a while since I’ve served. Maybe this is what I need to get my foot in the door here at Nations Church.