Losing Faith

by Scotty Cade

  Mr. Kiley? This can’t be good.

  “Sure.” Cullen gestured for Agnes to come aboard.

  She climbed the steps and joined Cullen in the cockpit. “Please have a seat,” he said. “I’ll ask you again. Is something wrong with Abel?”

  “Abel is not hurt if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Cullen felt a flood of relief wash through him. “Then where is he?”

  “He’s with my husband, four other regional pastors, and a counselor.”

  “In heaven’s name, why?” Cullen asked.

  “Mr. Kiley. Please allow me to be blunt and get right to the point.” Agnes’s voice was laced with darkness.

  Cullen nodded tightly.

  “I’m here, Mr. Kiley, to ask you to leave Southport immediately.”

  Cullen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Leave Southport? Why?”

  “For Abel’s sake.”

  “What do you mean for Abel’s sake?” Cullen asked, his voice a combination of frustration and anger.

  “My husband and I, as well as most of the congregation, know what has been going on between the two of you.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, don’t act so surprised. We’re not dumb country hicks who can’t see our hand in front of our face. And you Episcopalians claim to be God-fearing people.”

  “First of all, Agnes. Episcopalians are not God-fearing people. We are God-loving people. There is a difference. Secondly, what I do is none of your business.”

  “But what Abel does with you is my business. And the church’s business and the congregation’s business. My God, you didn’t even try to be discreet.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Agnes dug her phone out of her purse, tapped the screen a couple of times, and handed it to Cullen. “Pictures speak louder than words.”

  Cullen took the phone from her and looked at the screen. A picture of him and Abel at the Riverwalk, his hand on Abel’s thigh, stared back up at him.

  Before he could explain, Agnes chimed in. “Keep going,” she said. “There’s more.”

  Cullen slid his finger across the screen and another picture came into view. This time it was him in Abel’s arms in this very boat the night he broke down telling Abel about Cole. He flipped through a dozen more photos of him and Abel in various locations around town—sometimes touching, sometimes not. Having dinner. Running through town. Shirtless on a swing at the Riverwalk. At the gym. Abel sipping what Cullen knew was a shot of bourbon. The two of them sunning on the bow of the boat.

  “You’ve been stalking us?”

  “Not me,” Agnes said innocently. “And I don’t think I would go so far as to call it stalking.”

  “What in the hell would you call it, then?” he asked angrily.

  “I like to call it concerned members of the congregation standing up for their beliefs.”

  “That’s a load of crap, Agnes. And you know it. You people are nothing but a bunch of bigoted sinners masquerading as Christians.”

  “That’s very strong language coming from a homosexual former Episcopal priest who’s more than likely gonna burn in hell for his lifestyle.”

  Cullen was flabbergasted. These people have been investigating me.

  “Don’t look so shocked. I can google. Just fifteen minutes on my computer yielded a plethora of information.”

  “No wonder you’re God-fearing,” Cullen sneered. “You spend your life sitting in judgment of others, in his name. But you also know that one day you’ll be held accountable for that behavior when your own judgment day rolls around. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

  Agnes flinched, and Cullen knew he’d thrown her off kilter. He’d dealt with her kind before. She was all fire and brimstone, but he knew her type well, and he knew the Bible even better. He could take her on quote for quote if it came to that, and come out ahead every day of the week. But while she was wavering, he took the opportunity to twist the knife just a little more.

  “And furthermore, Agnes. Do you think God approves of you manipulating his Word into something you can use to discriminate against and hate other people who don’t share your beliefs? Do you really think He’s gonna pat you on the back for that kind of bigotry? I think not.”

  Agnes huffed, grabbed at a stray piece of hair, and stuck it behind her ear. She straightened and seemed to regain a little of her composure. “When the time comes, Mr. Kiley, I will answer to my maker, just as you will. And if he sees fit to condemn me, I’ll see you in hell.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but I won’t be in hell.”

  “That’s not for you to decide, Mr. Kiley.”

  “You’re right. But I know my God, and He loves and respects me just as I am. The way He made me. And as much as it hurts me to say, He even respects you, as difficult as that may seem. Unlike you, Agnes, He forgives sins, even yours, because that’s who He is and what He does. But you will have to ask for that forgiveness. And I can only hope I’m there to see you beg for it.”

  “You can hurl insults at me and my faith all night long if you like, but that’s not going to help Abel. The only thing that will help Abel is for you to leave Southport now.”

  “Like hell,” Cullen said through clenched teeth. “Now get off my boat so I can go to that church of yours and save the man I love from the likes of you people.”

  Agnes’s eyes widened with apparent shock, and Cullen smiled, surprising even himself with that admission. The man I love! He’d known his true feelings were simmering just below his consciousness, and the natural instinct to protect Abel was exactly what he needed to bring them to the surface. God and Cole had sent Abel to him. He was sure of that now. And Abel needed him now more than ever. He wasn’t going to let Abel down.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Agnes said.

  “And why not?”

  “Because he’s not at the church.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “He’s in the middle of an intervention.”

  “An intervention?” Cullen repeated.

  “It might be too late for you, Mr. Kiley, but it’s not too late for Abel. We’re gonna save that boy from the likes of you and at the same time from burning in hell.”

  Cullen’s anger was building by the second, and he needed to find Abel. “You better tell me where the hell he is, or I’m calling the police.”

  “You can call whomever you like. We’re not holding Abel against his will. Who do you think asked me to come here?” Agnes asked.

  When one is strong, the other is weak. The power always shifts between foes, and the time has come. Now it was her turn to twist the proverbial knife. Cullen felt weak in the knees. He grabbed the handrail and steadied himself, unable to process what Agnes had just said. “Abel sent you here to ask me to leave?”

  “Not so righteous now, are we, Mr. Kiley?” Agnes looked away, apparently not wanting to meet Cullen’s eyes.

  “But why?” Cullen sat on the steps to the flybridge and buried his face in his hands.

  “Because he’s agreed to go into an extensive therapy program and knows he has no chance of succeeding if you are still here.”

  “What kind of therapy program?”

  “It’s called conversion or reparative therapy.”

  Cullen had studied that as part of this ministry. “Are you kidding me? Oh my God, Agnes. Every medical, scientific, and government organization in the United States and Britain have expressed concern over this therapy and how potentially harmful it is. And you’re gonna subject Abel to this? Why didn’t you just try and pray him straight like the rest of the Bible beaters?”

  Agnes straightened her posture. “It has been proven to work, Mr. Kiley. And don’t you worry. We’ll be doing a lot of praying as well.”

  For the first time, Cullen realized that Agnes really did believe she and the other members of the God squad, in their own way, were trying to help Abel.

  “Mr. Kiley,” Agnes said, softening her voice. “I
f Abel wants this, don’t you think he at least deserves the chance to try? Deserves a chance to be normal?”

  “Normal? By whose standards, Agnes?”

  Agnes clapped her hands together. “God’s standards! He wants this! The least you can do is support him.”

  Cullen stood. “I want to see him. I need to hear this from him.”

  “That’s not possible,” Agnes said. “My husband is driving him to a facility upstate as we speak.”

  “Upstate where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Shit,” Cullen cursed. “This can’t be. Abel would never agree to something like this. What did you hold over his head or use against him? What did you threaten him with?”

  “Come on, Mr. Kiley. We’re not evil people. We’re only trying to help someone who doesn’t want to be a homosexual. We would do the same for you if you asked us to.”

  “Don’t hold your breath for that, Agnes.”

  “I figured as much,” Agnes sneered.

  “How long will he be gone?” Cullen asked feeling more and more defeated by the minute.

  “I don’t know the answer to that question, but I was told it could be months. These things take time.” Agnes stood. “Mr. Kiley, do yourself and Abel a favor and just let him go.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “You have no choice,” Agnes said. “If you believe everything you’ve told me about your God, then you have to believe if you and Abel are meant to be together, God will bring him back to you.”

  “Sometimes even God has trouble asserting his will when there are underhanded outside forces at play.” Cullen met Agnes’s gaze. “And I don’t for one second doubt that you, your husband, and his band of merry pastors have used underhanded tactics to influence Abel in his decision.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Agnes stood. “Whether you believe it or not, we are doing this for Abel. Good-bye, Mr. Kiley.”

  “Bullshit!” Cullen said.

  Agnes narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together like she was insulted. She started down the aft steps. When Agnes stepped on the dock, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Such language for a supposed priest.”

  Cullen’s blood was boiling now. “I guess you just bring out the best in me, Agnes. And I’m sure I’m not the first person, clergy or nonclergy, you’ve made angry enough to use foul language. That,” he added, “I’m sure comes naturally to you.”

  “Well,” Agnes huffed. She raised her chin and stomped down the dock back toward the shore.

  Cullen sat down and cradled his head in his hands again. He was in a state of disbelief. Did that just happen? Feelings of helplessness, fear, uncertainty, doubt, and disappointment all began to spread through him, each fighting for front and center. He’d only felt that way one other time in his life, and he refused to go there. Not yet anyway. He couldn’t. If he did, he might never recover!

  Chapter Fifteen

  ABEL WAS mentally and physically exhausted. It was four o’clock in the morning, and he’d been essentially locked in a room all night long. His captors had been relentless.

  The inquisition had started off with the counselor, who had questioned him for hours about his homosexual tendencies. When he’d first experienced them, if and when he acted on them, how far he’d gone, and if he could change, would he want to be a heterosexual.

  That was the funny part, because if this had happened a month ago, Abel would have jumped at the chance. But Cullen had changed all of that for him. Cullen! He wanted so badly to call Cullen. To let him know he was all right. He needed him now more than ever, but he’d put his phone in that damn box.

  After Abel had told the counselor he had no desire to be heterosexual, the willowy man had finally given in and left the room. Next the pastors came in as a group and prayed over him. They exhorted the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit to remove the evil homosexual desires that plagued him. Then they sent in the counselor again, and the questioning started all over.

  Each time this happened, Abel assured the counselor he still did not want to change and just wanted this to be over. They all tried to convince Abel he was no longer in control of his actions and all this was the work of the devil. When he still refused, they threatened him with eternal damnation if he didn’t accept the help they were offering him. Next they came in one at a time, each using different tactics to try to convince him to go to treatment.

  When they’d finally exhausted every method they had and nothing seemed to work, they started in on Cullen—how evil he was and how he’d recruited and corrupted poor Abel. They even threatened to contact the Episcopal Church and have him excommunicated for his actions and… for impersonating a priest! Abel had to laugh at that one. Now they were just desperate and reaching for anything.

  If Abel had really wanted out, he could have easily busted down a door or broken out of a window, but he allowed this lockdown to go on for one reason and one reason only. To prove to these men, beyond a doubt, that he was in control of his actions, in love with Cullen, and wanted no part of what they were offering him. And if he had to give up one night of his life to do it, so be it. Besides, he hadn’t once felt like he was in any danger. He knew these people, except for the counselor, and they were basically good people, albeit steeped in their beliefs.

  In the end they had pleaded with him, threatened him, threatened Cullen, promised him salvation—like that was in any of their control—and gone so far as promising to get him his own church. They even told him that when he succeeded, he would become a role model for other struggling homosexuals.

  By the time the last pastor had slammed his Bible shut in exhaustion, it was seven o’clock in the morning. He’d resigned his position to Pastor Williams, turned over his keys to the church, and agreed to be out of the church residence by noon. Abel had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to get to Cullen and enjoy him for however long they had left.

  Abel stepped out of the church and stopped on the front steps. He looked up at the sun and closed his eyes. The rays were warm on his face, and he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He ran from the church to the marina without stopping once. He was operating on adrenaline and desire and a renewed energy for his future with Cullen. He turned into the marina, ran down the dock, and stopped short.

  T-Time’s slip was empty.

  Chapter Sixteen

  CULLEN HAD still been awake when the sun peeked above the horizon. He’d spent the entire night on the flybridge, unable to bring himself to lie in the empty bed he and Abel has shared every night for the last two weeks. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. He needed to think. To decide what to do. Abel had prayed endlessly to be straight, and if he was getting this opportunity, would he take it? These people could be very persuasive, and if Abel dropped his guard for one second, they would have him eating out of their hands. Not because Abel was weak, but because they knew exactly what they were doing. Especially if they brought a counselor into the mix.

  But still. Abel hadn’t called him or answered his calls. Did that mean something? And Agnes had said that Abel was the one who’d asked her to come to the boat and ask him to leave.

  If Abel really wanted this opportunity, how could Cullen stand in his way? If he really wants it.

  But much to his surprise, in a roundabout sort of way, Agnes had had the biggest impact on him. Did Cullen believe the propaganda he’d been spewing to her about his God? He had, wholeheartedly, at one time, but things had changed. As of late, they had started to change again, and he owed that all to Abel.

  Had God brought Abel into his life simply to help him move on and finally bring him back to the church? Maybe Abel was never meant to stay with him. But how could his God, the God he was telling Agnes about, do that to him twice? Give him someone to love and then take him away so easily?

  In the end he decided to leave. But it was going to be hard to leave Abel
and Southport behind, for so many reasons. Cullen’s and Cole’s memories here came into play too, but this was mostly about Abel. In less than a month, Abel had buried himself so deeply in Cullen’s heart that it was hard to think about not seeing his smiling face every day. How had he become so attached to the man in such a short time?

  But for some strange reason, Cullen was very calm. Deep down he didn’t think his and Abel’s time together was over. It might be over for now, but not forever. If he was going to embrace his faith again, he needed to do it unconditionally, and it was now or never. Have faith, Cullen. Just have faith!

  THE ADRENALINE that had flowed freely through Abel’s veins just seconds ago was now nothing more than a slow drip. Staring at that empty boat slip, combined with his emotional and physical exhaustion, nearly brought Abel to his knees. This can’t be.

  While Abel fought to stay upright, he also fought the all too familiar pains of abandonment he’d known would consume him when Cullen eventually moved on. For now, he was holding them at bay, but he wouldn’t be able to do it indefinitely. He still had hope.

  Maybe I’m on the wrong dock. Abel looked around the marina, still in disbelief, hoping above all hope he’d taken a wrong turn in his haste to get to Cullen. But no such luck. The boats that had been on either side of T-Time were still there, bobbing gently in the waves.

  On unsteady legs, Abel ran to the fuel dock. No T-Time. He ran to the pumpout station. No T-Time. He’s gone! He’s really gone.

  Abel mechanically patted his pocket for his cell phone but remembered he’d put it in the cardboard box with the others. Damn, Abel! It belonged to the church anyway, so there was no need to go back for it.

  Feeling helpless, Abel walked slowly back up the dock and sat on the steps of the office. He looked at his watch and then looked at the hours of operation affixed to the glass door. Damn! They don’t open for another forty-five minutes. But a white envelope stuck in the door caught his eye. He looked closely, and Cullen’s slip number was written on the outside of the envelope. He glanced around to make sure he was alone and quickly retrieved the envelope and opened it.