Right Where I Belong
Page 1
Acclaim for Krista McGee
“Good things come to those who wait—and pray.”
—KIRKUS REVIEWS OF STARRING ME
“Ripe with glitz and glamour of celebrity, the drive of ambition, and the angst of peer pressure, Starring Me is the perfect book for teenage girls. Krista McGee crafted strong characters who believably zoom in on their faith and decisions through the different lenses of their experiences.”
–NICOLE O’DELL, AUTHOR OF THE DIAMOND ESTATES
SERIES AND FOUNDER OF CHOOSE NOW MINISTRIES
“Spunky chick meets dreamy boy and auditions for a teen version of Saturday Night Live. What’s not to love?”
—SHANNON DITTEMORE, AUTHOR OF ANGEL
EYES, REGARDING STARRING ME
“[A] touching, fun, edifying, campy, quick and downright delicious teen read.”
—USATODAY.COM, REGARDING FIRST DATE
“McGee’s debut novel is an absolute gem. Anyone who enjoys reality television and a well-told story shouldn’t hesitate to read this great book.”
—ROMANTIC TIMES TOP PICK! REVIEW OF FIRST DATE
“How would you like to live out the dramas of your teen life on national television? Krista McGee has crafted a cute tale of dating, faith, and being the girl God has called you to be.”
—JENNY B. JONES, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THERE YOU’LL FIND ME
AND A CHARMED LIFE SERIES, REGARDING FIRST DATE
Right Where I Belong
Also by Krista McGee
First Date
Starring Me
Right Where I Belong
Krista McGee
© 2012 by Krista McGee
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fundraising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Scripture quotations are from THE NEW KING JAMES VERSION. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Also quoted: HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McGee, Krista, 1975–
Right where I belong / Krista McGee.
p. cm.
Summary: After her father’s third divorce, seventeen-year-old Natalia decides to move with her stepmother, Maureen, from Spain to Florida to learn more of Maureen’s faith and to discover who she is away from her father’s expectations. Includes reading group guide.
ISBN 978-1-4016-8490-7 (pbk.)
[1. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 2. Stepmothers—Fiction. 3. Christian life—Fiction. 4. Self-actualization (Psychology)—Fiction. 5. Spaniards—United States—Fiction. 6. Moving, Household—Fiction. 7. Tampa (Fla.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M4784628Rig 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2012023813
Printed in the United States of America
12 13 14 15 16 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Eliana—“God
answered” when he gave
you to Daddy and me
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Reading Group Guide
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
I am leaving your stepmother.”
“Let me guess.” Seventeen-year-old Natalia did not fall for the woe-is-me, martyred expression on her father’s face. Not again, anyway. “She is not making you happy. You’ve found someone else. Life is too short to be tied down to one woman.”
“Natalia Ruth Montoya Lopez! You do not speak to your papa in that tone of voice.”
Shame clawed at Natalia’s stomach. He’s right. Help me, Jesus. What do I say to him?
Natalia inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. But you keep leaving all the women in your life. How do I know you will not leave me too?”
Papa turned Natalia toward him, his face softening. “Hija. I will never leave you. You are my daughter. My flesh and blood. But women are different. You are young and you don’t understand. You fall in love and you fall out of love. Nothing can be done about that. It is part of life.”
“So this is what I have to look forward to? Falling in love with a man and then having him tell me a few years later that he doesn’t love me anymore? What about ‘till death do us part’? Doesn’t that mean anything?” Natalia hated the anger that kept bubbling up, but she didn’t know how to stop it.
“For some it does, mi corazón. Your grandparents were married for forty-seven years. And they were truly happy. I have often wondered if something is wrong with me. I just cannot seem to keep that feeling. I try . . .”
“Oh, Papa, please. You do not try. I have seen this, now, three times.”
“Natalia!”
She held up one finger. “Mamá—I was four. I can still remember the yelling. I would hide under my bed with the door shut and still hear the two of you.”
“That woman had a temper.” He looked out the window. “You didn’t know the half of it.”
“Yes, I do! I’m not saying she was perfect, but neither were you. And if either one of you had just accepted that fact, you might still be together.”
Papa turned around, opening his mouth to speak, but Natalia held up two fingers and continued. “Isabelle never did anything to you. She was like a slave: cooking, cleaning, cowering in fear. I remember she’d take little Ari outside in the middle of the night just so her crying wouldn’t wake you. And you kept her around for how long? Three years?”
He sighed. “Isabelle. No man can handle such a timid woman. It was nice for a while. A nice change from your mother’s ye
lling. But then . . . there was no passion. A man cannot live without passion, hija. It was her own fault. I cannot help being a man and having a man’s needs.”
The image of her father and his “needs” rushed in full color into her brain, and Natalia tried not to gag. “And now we come to number three. Maureen.” Natalia stood inches from him. “I think she was the best one yet. She left her home and her family. Moving from the United States to Spain was not easy. Yet she did it. She learned the language, she adapted to our culture, and still you reject her.”
Natalia shook her head. “I have seen it coming, but I know the signs. I do not think she has any idea. You are going to break her heart, Papa. And for what? So you can do this all over again with a fourth and a fifth and a sixth?”
Natalia’s throat felt like it was closing in on itself. She couldn’t speak. She willed herself not to cry. Why can’t I just stay angry? It’s so much easier to be angry.
Her father had hurt her so many times that she had learned to put up a wall around her heart, hardening herself to his outbursts, his ridiculous logic. But her heart broke for Maureen. She had seen good in Papa. She had loved him unconditionally, and Natalia had foolishly hoped he would live up to Maureen’s vision of who he was.
How childish that hope was.
“Natalia,” Papa said, like he was explaining to a toddler why she couldn’t have a cookie before dinner. “Someday you will understand. For now, help your stepmother. She depends on you.”
Natalia turned and walked away, refusing to listen to any more. God, help me stay quiet. Better not to say anything at all than to say something I will regret.
“Natalia!”
She kept walking, out of the living room, down the hallway of the spacious apartment, into her room. She shut the door and considered locking it, but her father wouldn’t come. He would yell and get angry, but he would not try to sit down and work things out. He would let her stew and then, when Natalia emerged, he would act like everything was fine, as if they did not just have an argument. She had seen this dozens of times before. Just one of many reasons why the man couldn’t keep a wife.
Five years ago Maureen had come to Madrid with her company, which was in partnership with her father’s. Several companies from around the world had merged. Because Maureen’s position was supervised directly by Papa, they worked together often. After a few months he was bringing Maureen home to work after dinner. A few months after that he was bringing her home for good. From the beginning she had felt more like a friend to Natalia than a stepmother.
Natalia walked to her window. She took a deep breath, trying to will oxygen into lungs that felt dry and thick. Ragged breaths escaped. She pulled back the curtain to see the plaza below. Mopeds and smart cars lined up at a stoplight eight floors below. Children were playing soccer, parents were pushing toddlers in swings, fathers were pushing their babies around in their carriages. So many happy families. Natalia let the curtain fall back into place and sat on her bed, finally giving in to the wracking sobs she had held on to for so long.
I will never, ever allow myself to fall in love. I won’t do to anyone what my father does to these women. And to me. Never. Do you hear me, God? Make me single. Have me travel the world or work with orphans or whatever. But don’t make me fall in love. I won’t do it. I can’t.
Natalia sat in her favorite spot at Retiro Park—a bench overlooking the small lake where couples drifted in boats and children skated along the sidewalks. She gazed at the statues of lions that guarded an ancient gazebo, the pillars reflected in waves in the waters below.
“Churros for you.” Natalia’s best friend, Carmen, handed her the warm pastry covered in cinnamon sugar. “And ice cream for me.”
Natalia bit into the churro. Heaven. “Gracias.”
Carmen splayed her hands in a Spanish “of course” sign and bit into her frozen treat. “Feeling better?”
“About my father’s divorce? Or about his dating a woman six years older than me? Or about watching my stepmother go from a strong woman to a blubbering child?” Natalia moved her feet back as a rollerblader sped past.
“It has only been a week.”
“Exactly.” Natalia closed her eyes. “And Maureen just told me last night that she is leaving. Moving back to Florida.”
“But you and Maureen . . . ?”
“She’s like the mother I never had.”
Carmen smiled sideways. “You have a mother.”
Natalia raised her eyebrows. Carmen knew that Mamá was far too busy with her career to give much time to her only child.
“Poor Maureen.” Natalia took another bite of the churro. “She is terrified to go back home. But she feels like staying here will keep her from being able to get over Papa. He is her boss, after all.”
Carmen tossed the paper from her dessert into a trash can. “But what will she do?”
Natalia shrugged. “I don’t know. Neither does she.”
“She’ll find something. Maureen is amazing. Beautiful, smart, funny.”
Natalia nodded. Maureen had been her rescuer in more ways than she could count. She made Natalia feel important, loved, during her preteen years when she felt awkward and ugly. She spent time with Natalia.
“Who will teach me about God when Maureen is gone?” She hadn’t even considered that her spiritual mentor would be leaving.
“You don’t need this crutch of faith to help you.” Carmen turned away and ran a hand through her long, silky black hair. “You are too smart to keep going on with this. People are talking. You used to be so well respected, but all this talk of ‘salvation’ and ‘eternal life’ is making you look foolish.”
Natalia sighed. Over and over again, she had tried to explain her faith to her friend. But Carmen, like so many Spaniards, saw faith as a weakness, an embarrassing part of their history. When Natalia tried to tell her that what she had was a relationship with a God who loved her, Carmen only recalled the Spanish Inquisition and other atrocities carried out in the name of “religion.”
“Natalia, think logically. There is no evidence that God exists. None. No evidence of an afterlife or a creator. Science has disproven all that superstition. Why would you go backward? You don’t believe the earth is flat. Belief in the existence of God is just as ridiculous.”
“Science can’t disprove the existence of God any more than religion can prove it. Faith is involved on either side of that debate. But I know God exists. I have seen him at work in my life. I have seen him change me. I’m sorry you don’t like the changes, but . . .”
Carmen shook her head. “It isn’t that. Well, it is, I guess. I don’t like it. But I guess if that is what you need, then I should just keep quiet and let you believe it.”
“Could you be any more condescending?” Natalia laughed. “You’re talking to me like I’m Ari, waiting in line to see Saint Nicholas! God is not Santa.”
Carmen put her hand up in protest. “Can’t you hear how silly that all sounds? An invisible Savior who speaks to you through a two-thousand-year-old book and little voices in your head?”
“I know it sounds silly to you. And it pains me more than I can say that it does. But that is all the more reason why I need Maureen. She understands.” Realization hit Natalia, an almost-audible voice from God speaking to her soul. Natalia jumped up.
“What is it?” Carmen pulled Natalia back to the bench.
Peace settled over her. She knew this was from him. Of course.
“Natalia, por favor.” Carmen clapped her hands, startling Natalia from her thoughts.
“I need to go with Maureen.” Natalia stared across the pond to a family eating a picnic lunch on the grass.
“To America?”
Natalia nodded. “Sí.”
Carmen pulled the remaining churro from Natalia’s hand. “They must have put something other than sugar on this.”
“No. I mean it.” Certainty settled over Natalia as soon as the words came out of her mouth. “She needs me. It’s my
turn to help her. I can’t abandon her the way Papa has.”
“What about me?” Carmen planted her hands on her hips. “If you really believe this, then should you not stay here and keep trying to get me to believe it?”
Natalia laughed. Her friend was using any tactic possible to get Natalia to stay in Madrid. “If my staying here could make you believe, I would stay. I’d sit right down here in the middle of the ground and not move an inch until you believed.” She sat cross-legged on the dirty sidewalk, caring little that those passing by looked at her as if she were losing her mind. “But I can’t make you believe. Only God can. So I will keep asking him to help you.”
“Get up, Natalia!” Carmen whispered. “What will people think?”
“What do I care what people think? I’m leaving!”
Carmen pulled Natalia up by her wrist, shaking her head in mock disgust. “How can you be so flippant about this? Do not let your zeal over your newfound faith take you away from everyone who loves you. Please! At least finish high school.”
“I know you’re saying this because you care about me.” Natalia straightened her jacket and dusted off her skirt. “This is my home, my people, my country. I will miss you so much. But I need to go with my stepmother. I just cannot believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Sooner?” Carmen stood. “It has been a week.”
“I need to speak with Maureen. And my father.”
“Hopefully they will talk you out of it.” Carmen grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. “Do not do this, amigita. You will regret it.” Carmen stared at Natalia, shook her head, then walked off.
Natalia felt her heart breaking with each step. Maybe she was out of her mind. Maybe Carmen was right. Did she really want to leave everything she knew just for—?
She stopped herself. She was leaving for a God who loved her, who had sacrificed everything for her. A God who knew just what it was like to leave the familiarity of home out of obedience to his Father.
Peace washed over her in a way Natalia could never explain, an experience so intimate and amazing that all her momentary doubts vanished. God was with her in this park. He would be with her as she left. More difficulties would come, but Jesus would be there as she faced each of them.