by Mariano, Sam
“But knowing what you know already, you might be?” he asks.
I don’t know if my acceptance matters, but these flecks of vulnerability make me think it does, so I nod my head. “Maybe.”
Nodding his head, he says, “Interesting,” as if he’s conducting his own study. “I guess I can be patient.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I offer, lightly.
He smiles down at me. “Isn’t it?”
Chapter 17
Most weeks, I don’t dread going to church. It’s not really my thing, but Grace is in her element there, and the church we go to is a good one. They do lots of community outreach and offer plenty of volunteer opportunities. All that stuff fills Grace’s cup, and when you love someone, sometimes you do things for them, to make them happy, to fill them up. It’s not like I dislike it, and I wouldn’t be doing anything better with my time anyway.
This week is different, though. This week Grace is dodging my gaze, and when I daydream while the pastor talks, my mind drifts to last night. To Carter Mahoney’s couch, pinned beneath his strong body, his mouth claiming mine, his hand pushed down inside my jeans. After all my coaching to get him out of a dysfunctional place, he persuaded me that just because we weren’t ready for sex yet didn’t mean we couldn’t fool around. He told me he wanted to make me come again, told me he owed me one since the first time I got him off, he hadn’t returned the favor.
So as my pastor talks about sin and temptation, memories flash through my mind of moaning Carter’s name, my eyes closed, my body writhing while his fingers sent me somewhere magical.
Sitting in a church pew with those memories running through my head, I’m flushed and uncomfortable. I smooth a wrinkle out of my skirt, trying to expel those thoughts at least until I leave this building.
When the service is over, I pull out my phone to check it. There’s a message from Carter, asking what I’m up to this afternoon.
“Stuck at church,” I tell him. “We have a youth group meeting today, we have a new project and we’re trying to organize it quickly so we can get funds together.”
“For what?”
“This lady and her baby are staying with the pastor and his wife because there was a fire at their place. It destroyed all their stuff and they have nowhere to live, so we’re going to raise some funds to help her get back on her feet.”
“Aren’t you an angel,” he replies.
I can practically hear the sarcasm, even in text. “Not in the least,” I reply. “You don’t have to be an angel to help people.”
“When is it over? How about we meet for lunch and you can tell me all about it.”
I’m so used to telling him no, I have my thumbs poised over the keypad, prepared to make an excuse before I realize I don’t have one, and I don’t need to make one up. If I’m going to give the guy a chance, lunch is a good starting place.
“All right,” I send back instead.
“Zoey.”
The voice in front of me pulls me out of my text conversation. I flush, seeing the friendly, smiling face of the youth pastor, James. I slip my phone back into my purse and flash him a smile. “Good morning, pastor.”
Glancing down the hall, he says, “I saw Grace headed off to youth group without you today.”
“Did she?” I must have missed her exit while I was texting. “Well, you know Grace, always eager and willing to see how she can help.”
Nodding his head, he says, “She’s a good one, that Grace.”
“She sure is,” I agree.
“How are you doing, Zoey?” he asks, a slight emphasis in his question.
“I’m good,” I tell him.
“Are you?”
I look down at the ground, clutching the handle of my purse a little more tightly in my hands. Dammit, Luke. This has to be because Luke saw me yesterday.
“I don’t want you to think we were gossiping about you, because I assure you that was not the intent at all, but Luke confided in me that you’ve been having some trouble at school with some of the kids. Calling you names and—”
I cut him off, nodding my head. “Yeah, for a while, but I don’t think that’ll be happening anymore.”
Instead of looking in any way reassured, he looks even more concerned. “Because you’ve made new friends?”
Knowing he already has the answer, I respond with stony silence. I know exactly what this is, and I really don’t want to hear it. I may not be able to argue convincingly that Carter isn’t bad news, but it’s no one else’s decision to make. It’s mine. I’m the one who will bear the consequences if I’m wrong to give him a chance, so I don’t need to be told what to do, or who to spend my time with. I’m perfectly capable of deciding that on my own, and anyone who doesn’t like it can mind their own business.
Instead of saying anything I expect, Pastor James nods firmly and says, “Well, I trust your judgment.”
I blink in surprise. “You do?”
He smiles again. “Of course I do. You’re a bright young woman, Zoey. You have a good head on your shoulders. You have a respect for people I find quite admirable. I only hope you’ll insist on that same respect being shown back to you, because you deserve no less. You’re at an age of exploration, of self-discovery and expansion, so it’s natural to try new things and meet new people. I also want to remind you that my door is always open if you ever want to talk about anything—whether you need guidance or just to bounce your own ideas off someone. Sometimes we hear our own thoughts better if they’re said out loud. Even if you just need a friend other than Grace to talk to. My door is open, always.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, and I mean it. I don’t know why I expected Pastor James to get all stodgy and judgmental. He’s not like that; it’s one of the things I like about him.
“Well, we should probably get to youth group before they start without us,” he says lightly.
I can’t help smiling. “Better be careful, Grace might take your job.”
* * *
My meeting runs much longer than I anticipated. I wasn’t able to text Carter and let him know. I tried twice, but as soon as I got my phone out, someone would start talking to me. My mom already left after the service when I told her I was going to lunch with Carter afterward, but Carter isn’t at the church to pick me up since I never texted him to tell him when to be here.
Pastor James came outside with Grace talking his ear off about the fundraiser we’re organizing for next weekend. We have a youth group meeting on Wednesday, but Grace insisted since we have to have all this done by weekend, we should have a couple team leaders who would help out more, and then she volunteered me to help her.
So, my week is looking a lot busier now.
“We could go with you to buy supplies,” Grace volunteers, as Pastor James walks us toward her car. “We’ll need a bunch of stuff, so more hands are always helpful, and since you have that big SUV, me and Zoey could easily fit with all the cookout supplies.”
Faint amusement in his tone, James assures her, “I think we’ve got the shopping under control, but thank you, Grace. We’ll touch base again on Wednesday and see what everybody has donation-wise.”
“I work tomorrow,” I volunteer. “So I can ask about the gift card from my work.”
“I’ll make sure I hit up every other place on our list tomorrow,” Grace assures him. “I’ll have answers from everyone by Tuesday.”
“Great, then we’ll talk about it Wednesday,” he says.
Grace shrugs. “I’m just saying, I could come Tuesday if we wanted to get a head start on things.”
“Wednesday will suffice,” he assures her.
While he fends off Grace’s enthusiasm a little more, Carter finally texts me back. He’s still interested in going to lunch, so he asks which church I go to and tells me he’ll swing by and pick me up.
By the time I’m done on my phone, Grace is calling out, “Text me later,” and ducking into the driver’s side seat of her car.
&nb
sp; I wave as she drives off, then turn to Pastor James when he remarks, “She is aggressively excited about this idea.”
Nodding my head, I reply without thought, “She went to a party over the weekend; I think she feels guilty about it. Grace is always a lot, but even I started to get annoyed by her enthusiasm today.”
James glances over at me. “A party, huh? Did you go, too?”
“I didn’t want to go, but when she went without me, I had to go pick her up.”
“You’re a good friend,” he tells me. Casually shoving his hands into his suit pockets, he asks, “Did you stay a while?”
I don’t want to talk to him about the party, and I don’t want to tell him anything about Grace that she wouldn’t share herself, so I clam up again.
Apparently sensing that, James goes on like he’s not waiting for my response. “I remember my first high school party—not the kind like we have in youth group, obviously,” he adds, a bit knowingly. “There was a girl from church that I liked. She wasn’t in my crowd of friends, wasn’t involved in the church beyond Sunday service, but she was pretty, and she had the nicest smile. Made me happy just looking at her, you know?”
I crack a smile and nod my head.
“But she had this awful boyfriend. Football player, on the wrestling team—his whole family was. Three brothers, every last one of them Longhorns. I don’t know if you knew him because he’s a year ahead of you, but his younger brother was a halfback, just graduated last year, went off to Penn State. Duncan Bradwell?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that name.”
He nods. “Yeah, well, his older brother was in my class, and all the girls loved him. I’m sure you know how that goes.”
Carter immediately flashes to mind and I nod my head. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”
“He was a real jerk, though,” he says, glancing down and shaking his head. “A real rage-monster. He got mad over everything. Something didn’t go his way, he couldn’t handle it. Bad attitude, but Mandi must’ve seen something in him. So, anyway, when I got invited to this party, I thought maybe it’d be a chance to talk to her, or maybe I would see Duncan in a different light when I saw him on his downtime, and I’d be able to understand what she saw in him and make my peace with it. Maybe kill that ill-fated crush, or if it was my path to be with her, then maybe start a friendship. I was open to either outcome. I wanted to follow the path I was meant for, not force my own will.”
I nod my understanding.
“It was a rough night. Everyone was drinking alcohol and makin’ questionable decisions. Duncan and Mandi got in a fight and he stormed off, yelling about what a bitch she was being—pardon my language. Mandi was in tears, telling her friend she was only trying to make him happy and she didn’t know what she’d done wrong.”
I grimace. “That doesn’t sound like much fun at all.”
He smiles, shaking his head. “It wasn’t. I, uh… I’ll admit I wasn’t completely sober myself at that point, and when I saw Mandi crying and her friend assuring her that Duncan would calm down and come back, I had just enough liquid courage in my veins that I wanted to go tell her not to wait for that guy, that I thought he was a real jerk and she deserved someone who would never treat her the way he did.”
That sounds like James. It’s not like high school was that long ago for him, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he’s mostly the same person. “Did you tell her that?”
He nods his head. “I did. I marched right over there, took her off to the side away from her friend, and told her how great I thought she was, how mad it made me to see someone treating her that way and making her cry. She accepted my comfort, hugged me, I thought I was walkin’ on sunshine.” His voice levels out with a slightly self-deprecating edge. “Then Duncan came back, and all the sense I thought I’d talked into her leaked right out, and she went running right back to him.”
“That stinks,” I murmur sympathetically.
He shrugs. “You can’t save everybody,” he tells me. “Mandi had her own path to follow, and she learned her lesson the hard way. He kept treating her badly because she allowed him to, then he cheated on her with one of her friends and broke her heart.”
“That’s terrible.”
He nods his agreement. “Some people aren’t good-hearted, Zoey. We might want them to be, we might offer our hand and try to pull them up, but you know what? It’s much easier for them to pull us down. Mandi thought she could change Duncan, but all she got for her effort was broken. Following Duncan led her onto a different path than the one she started out on. Even after they broke up, she was stuck on that sinful path. She never made it back. When her first crisis occurred and she realized Duncan had led her somewhere bad, she could have made a change and turned back around. She could have come back to church, picked up the pieces after that painful mistake, and made better choices going forward, but she didn’t. Now she’s 23 with 2 kids by 2 different men, not married to either of ‘em. Her life isn’t what she wants it to be, but she allows it to stay that way. That’s the thing that determines your path. It’s not mistakes you might make, it’s not detours off the straight and narrow. It’s knowing when to say enough is enough, when to stop taking that crap, and when to turn back toward the light and away from whatever tempts you to stray from it.”
As if on cue, Carter’s Mustang pulls into the mostly empty church parking lot. Since James and I are the only ones still standing out here, he drives right up and stops in front of us. Carter’s dark gaze rakes over James appraisingly, then slides over to me.
“Hop in, babe.”
Heat creeps up my neck and stains my cheeks. He had to call me babe, didn’t he? Why does he live to torment me? I shoot him a look of warning, then look back over at Pastor James. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Yes, I’ll see you then,” he replies, his voice faintly resigned.
I open the passenger door and slide in. I no more than get it shut and I feel Carter’s hand move to the nape of my neck. He grabs me and pulls me in for an aggressive kiss, just in case the “babe” didn’t get his point across.
When he finishes kissing me and nips my bottom lip, I want to sink into the seat and disappear. Carter looks out my window, shooting my pastor a little smile. I can’t even look at Pastor James, still standing there, but thankfully Carter doesn’t feel like lingering either. He puts the car back in drive and peels out of the church parking lot like a raging asshole.
Great. That’s just wonderful.
“Was that necessary?” I ask him.
“I think it was,” he remarks. Barely missing a beat, he continues, “Who was that guy? Why are you seeing him Wednesday?”
“Oh, the guy you just mauled me in front of? That’s my youth pastor,” I state, glaring at him. “I’ll see him Wednesday at youth group, and now he’s going to have a mental image of you kissing my face off and then driving away like a Neanderthal, so thanks very much for that.”
“Neanderthals didn’t drive; get your facts straight. And that guy did not look old enough to be a pastor.”
“He’s 23.”
“Like I said,” Carter replies.
“If you were tryin’ to make my life less pleasant, congratulations, you’ve done that. The cashier you ‘babed’ me in front of yesterday? His younger brother. Now their whole family is going to be prayin’ for my soul.”
Carter grins, like this brings him pleasure instead of embarrassment. “Happy to help, princess.”
“Terrible,” I inform him, shaking my head in disapproval. “I think Pastor James has some kind of savior boner for fallen women, so now he’s probably gonna be all over my ass at youth group for the next couple of weeks. I can usually keep to myself and just help out the minimum amount.” Sighing dramatically, I let my head fall back against the seat. “Men are the worst. I hate all of you.”
“That guy seemed like the worst,” Carter says with a nod. “You shouldn’t hang out with him. His boring might rub off on you.”
&n
bsp; “I will hang out with whomever I want to hang out with, thank you very much,” I inform him.
He shrugs. “We’ll see. I don’t like the way he looked at you.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I know what I saw,” Carter replies.
“James is a pastor. A married pastor. You can relax, he doesn’t want to pin me to his couch and have his way with me, he wants to save me from bad influences who might want to do those sorts of things.”
“Either way, he doesn’t sound like someone who should be watching your ass when you get into my car. And that look on his face when I kissed you? It wasn’t judgment, it was envy.”
“Stop,” I say, covering my ears. “Stop trying to pervert everything in my life. I need some things to stay pure, dammit.”
“People aren’t pure, princess,” he tells me, shaking his head as he hits his turn signal. “When are you ever gonna accept that?”
Chapter 18
Carter picks at the basket of fries between us on the table, listening as I explain about the themed baskets we’re going to make and auction off at the church cook-out next weekend. It’s all part of the fundraiser—we’ll make the food and the baskets, people will buy the food and raffle tickets for the baskets, and all the money raised will go to help the woman and her baby get the bare necessities and a new place to live.
Carter leans back in his chair, shaking his head. “Look at you, shining up that halo. You must be fixing to blind somebody with it.”
I flash him a smile, stealing a fry. “No, but I might be tryin’ to keep up with all the tarnish you’re inflicting on it.”
“I’ve tarnished your halo?” he asks with ludicrous innocence. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“I was sittin’ in church today thinking about what you did to me on your couch last night. These are not distractions I’ve ever had before.”