by Amy Clipston
I couldn’t stop the sobs when they started in full force. I lowered myself onto a stool behind me and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. When I glanced up, I found Zander standing by the workbench, watching me with his arms folded across his chest and a tender expression on his handsome face.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, my voice croaking from the tears.
“A few minutes. I thought you might be in here, so I sort of snuck in through the side door. I actually found the key last week.” He nodded toward the car. “This explains the visits from the engine fairy.”
I cleared my throat and gave him a weak smile. “Surprise. Just call me Tinker Bell.”
“How long have you been breaking into my garage and fixing my car?” he asked, his voice gentle instead of accusing.
“For a while.” I grabbed a shop rag from the bench behind me and began to wipe the grease from my hands. “I should go.” I stood. “I’m sorry for breaking in. I had no right to —”
“It’s okay,” he said, pulling up a stool next to me. “Please stay. We need to talk.” He sat down.
“Yeah, we do.” I felt the lump returning to my throat. I had to apologize, but I didn’t know where to begin. I remembered Chelsea’s and Whitney’s advice: I just needed to say it.
“I’m sorry for all of those horrible things I said to you,” I said, tears flooding my eyes again. “You’re not spoiled, and you don’t get everything handed to you.” My voice quavered. “You’re not self-righteous either.”
He stood, opening his arms to me. “I’m sorry too.”
With tears spilling down my hot cheeks, I stepped into his hug, enjoying the aroma of his musky scent and the feel of his muscular arms around me. I took deep breaths and willed myself to stop crying.
He blew out a deep sigh and rested his cheek on the top of my head. “I didn’t mean it when I said you were bitter. I was just frustrated because I wanted to help you.” He reached for something on the bench behind him. “I got you a birthday present.”
I wiped the tears from my face and took the small box from him. “You didn’t have to.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I did. I’m a lousy friend, because I’ve actually had it awhile.”
I opened the small box, pulling out a dainty silver bracelet with a cross charm on it. “Zander,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.” I lifted my wrist. “Will you put it on me?”
He took the bracelet and attached it to my wrist. “I’d planned to give it to you and tell you that I thought this would help you find your way back to God. It was supposed to be a little reminder that God loves you.” He shook his head. “But I went about showing you that in the wrong way.”
I studied his eyes, stunned by his words. “What do you mean?”
He touched my arm. “Your faith journey is different than mine. When you said you lost your faith in God when your mom passed away, I thought I needed to push you back to him, but you needed to find your faith in your own way.”
“You’re right. I’m different from you.” I gestured toward the car. “I realized tonight that this is the only way I really know how to cope. I worked on cars as a way to deal with my mom’s illness, and I also needed the repair work to get me through my grief after her death. This is the only place where I can clear my head and reconnect with myself, and apparently with God.” I shook my head. “It took me a long time to realize that, but when we moved here I lost my little sanctuary and I had no means of escaping until you invited me to share your garage.”
“I’m glad you’re coming over. You’re always welcome here.” His eyes were soft as he touched my shoulder. “I was so worried about you tonight.”
“You were?” I whispered, my heart thumping against my rib cage due to his close proximity.
“I knew Darlene’s stupid comment had hurt you,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I tried to stop you when you took off, but you left so fast. I’d been driving around trying to find you, but it was like you disappeared into thin air.” He ran his thumb down my cheekbone. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I assumed that faith had to be a certain way, but I’ve realized that we all experience it differently.”
I swallowed, trying to stop my throat from going dry at his touch. “You were right when you said I built a wall up to keep people out. I was defensive and I overreacted to things, like when I heard you’d dated Whitney. I’m so sorry for hurting you, Zander.”
Leaning forward, his lips brushed mine, sending the pit of my stomach into a wild swirl.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against my ear.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Let’s never get into a fight like that again.”
He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist. “That sounds like a good plan.”
He kissed me again and then nodded toward the clock, which read nearly 1 a.m. “I guess you better get home,” he said, pushing my hair back behind my shoulder. “Your dad was really worried about you. We can talk more tomorrow when I get off work.”
Looping his arm around my shoulder, we stepped toward the side door. “While I’m at work, you can finish hooking up the gas lines since you’re an expert at breaking into my garage,” he said with a laugh.
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
We stepped out into the rain, and he kissed me again, causing my legs to wobble.
“Good night, Chevy Girl,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Good night,” I said, smiling.
I felt as if I were floating as I headed toward the deck.
However, the floating feeling didn’t last long. When I stepped through the sliding glass door and found my father sitting at the kitchen table and glaring at me, I quickly crashed to earth.
“Where have you been, Emily Claire?” he demanded. “You scared us to death.”
Darlene stood frowning by the counter. “We were searching for you, and you didn’t bother to answer your phone,”
I tossed my wet hair back from my cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone, but I needed time to sort through some things.”
“What things were so important that you would scare your family like that?” Darlene asked.
“It’s personal.” I looked at my dad for help. I didn’t want to talk about Darlene’s stupid comment in front of her. “I needed some time alone, and so I went for a walk.”
“For four hours?” Darlene asked.
“Yes,” I said, even though I hadn’t realized it had been that long.
“Emily, please sit,” my father said.
“Actually, I think I need to go to bed.” I started for the stairs. “I really want to get out of these wet clothes and head to —”
“Sit, Emily!” My father’s booming voice caused me to jump. In my seventeen years of life, I’d heard my father yell a handful of times. He rarely lost his temper with me, and it was even rarer to hear him bellow like that. I knew by his tone that I was in for it.
I dropped into the chair and hugged my arms to my chest while my dad stood over me, glowering with such intensity that I winced.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my father cut me off.
“Emily, you’re in deep trouble,” he growled. “Consider yourself grounded until after New Year’s.”
“What?” My voice squeaked. “Are you serious?”
“I’m quite serious.” He shook his head, scowling.
I jumped up from the chair. “I’m grounded because I needed to clear my head? This is outrageous!” I turned and started toward the door, but my father grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“Sit down,” he said. “We’re not done. You’re grounded because you took off without telling anyone where you were going and you —”
“I walked to the coffee shop and had a hot chocolate with Jenna, the youth pastor. Then I talked to Zander in his garage for a while. Is that really a crime?” I asked, leaning against the table. “I’m seventeen. I can come and
go as I please.”
“No, you cannot,” he said, wagging a finger millimeters from my face. “That was irresponsible, and to make it even worse, you ignored our calls and texts to find you.”
“I wanted to finish talking to Jenna,” I said. “If I’d realized it was you —”
“And you worried us all,” Darlene interjected. “We had to end Whitney’s party early to look for you.”
So that was it. In Darlene’s eyes, I ruined Whitney’s royal party.
I’d had enough of the way Darlene treated me. In that instant, I saw red, and I snapped.
“But you’re the reason why I left the party,” I said, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Didn’t you realize that your comment about giving me the old hand-me-down car was humiliating? Don’t you ever think about how you talk to me? How you put me down and criticize me?”
“Emily Claire!” My father’s voice boomed again, causing the hair to stand up straight on the back of my neck. “Do not talk to your aunt like that. I don’t care how angry you are. It’s disrespectful, and I will not put up with it.”
How could he betray me like this? Tears of anger welled up in my eyes as I looked between them.
“I humiliated you?” Darlene pointed to her chest. “But I’m giving you a car. That’s humiliating? When I was your age, I could only dream of a car.”
I shook my head and looked at my dad, hoping he would see my side of things, but he just continued to look hurt, filling me with a mixture of outrage and guilt.
“She appreciates the car,” my dad said quickly. “And I will pay you back for it.”
“I don’t want the stupid car,” I said. “I’d rather take the bus.” I started for the stairs.
“Emily!” my father bellowed. “Emily Claire!” He grabbed my arm and yanked me back, causing me to stumble. “You will not speak to your aunt that way and take off. You’re going to apologize right now.”
“Why? Because of all she’s done for me?” I asked, my voice trembling as tears filled my eyes.
My father glared at me. “You have absolutely no respect or appreciation for all she’s done for us. What about the roof over our heads? The clothes? The phone? How could you forget it all?”
“Oh, no,” I snapped. “I remember it all.” I pulled out the phone and stared at it. It was time for me to let it all out and tell her how I truly felt. I’d kept it bottled up for too long. “I appreciate the phone, but I despise being your charity case.”
Darlene shook her head, her brown eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I thought I was helping you. I gave you everything out of the goodness of my heart, not to make you feel bad.”
“I’m also tired of being criticized,” I continued, starting to feel confident. “I’m sick of hearing that you don’t like how I dress or how I wear my hair. I’m not Whitney, and I never will be. I don’t want to be a cheerleader, and I’ll never be an honor student. Take me as I am or leave me alone.”
“Emily,” my dad hissed. “You better quit before you say something that you’ll really regret.”
I turned to him, irate tears spilling from my eyes. “You asked for the truth, and I’m going to give it you.” My voice sounded foreign to me — too high and thick.
“I think it’s time for you to apologize and then go to your room,” he said.
“No.” I shook my head, my voice quavering with hurt and anger. “I’m not finished.” I raised a finger at him. I was on a roll. This was cathartic. “And I’m sick of trying to get you to talk to me. Why do you share your feelings with Pastor Keith and not me?”
I stood, my body shaking like a leaf in the wind. “You never ask me how I feel or how I’m coping. I lost Mom too. And neither of you,” I began, looking between them, “asked me how it felt to have my first birthday without Mom. Whitney was the only one who bothered to see how I felt that night.” I started for the door.
“Emily,” Darlene called.
“Emily Claire!” my dad shouted.
Ignoring them, I raced up to my room, slamming and locking the door. I curled up on my bed and sobbed. I’d gone from flying high after kissing Zander to falling into a deep, suffocating abyss of despair.
A knock sounded at the door. “Emily?” Whitney asked.
“Go away,” I grumbled, my voice barely a whisper.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked.
“Please,” I said. “Not now.”
“Whitney,” Darlene’s voice snapped outside the door. “Go to your room!”
“What did you do to her?” Whitney demanded, her voice moving away from the door.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and examined the missed call list, finding unanswered calls from my dad, Darlene, Whitney, Chelsea, and Zander. They were all worried about me, but that was still no reason for my dad and Darlene to go unhinged. There was one bar left on the battery indicator. I wondered if it was enough to text Zander and see if he could talk.
Glancing toward the window, I hoped Zander was still up. I texted: R U up? I need 2 talk.
Not receiving an answer, I sent the same text to Chelsea.
I tried to text Zander again, but the phone went dead. I smacked my forehead, wishing I’d brought the charger up from the kitchen. I hadn’t heard my father’s footsteps in the hallway, and I didn’t want to risk running down to get it and seeing him again.
I snatched the framed photograph of my parents and me from two Christmases ago from the nightstand and stared at my mom’s beautiful face.
“Why did you leave me, Mom?” I whispered, my voice choked back with sobs. “Why, Mom?”
The cross on my wrist twinkled in the light and I studied it, pondering what Jenna had said about God. How had I missed him?
I placed the photograph back on the nightstand and curled up on the bed. Closing my eyes, I opened my heart and I prayed.
“God,” I whispered. “Are you there? I’m ready to tell you everything, beginning with how I felt when I lost Mom.”
I talked to God until I ran out of words. And then I cried myself to sleep.
chapter nineteen
I awoke at noon the following day and noticed that the house was eerily quiet. Sitting up, I found myself clad in the wet clothes I’d worn the night before. The damp sweatshirt was zipped and clung to my body. My hair was a knot of curls hanging past my shoulders. I pushed them back, grabbed clean clothes, and headed toward the hallway, finding a note in my dad’s handwriting taped to my door. I opened it and read:
Emily:
I’m going to work. Whitney and her mother went Christmas shopping, and Uncle Chuck and Logan are headed to Logan’s karate class. You’re to stay home. We’ll talk later.
Dad
I sighed as the events of last night played through my mind like some jumbled-up dream. My dad was still fuming, and I still had to face the consequences of going missing after the party and telling off my aunt. I felt somewhat at peace, however, which didn’t make sense at all. What had changed since I’d gone to bed?
Then it hit me: I’d prayed. I’d finally been able to open my heart up to God.
Glancing down, I studied my bracelet and I thought of Zander. I smiled as the warmth of those amazing kisses filled me. What did they mean? Were we finally a couple? Was I Zander Stewart’s girlfriend?
Pushing the thoughts aside, I headed to the shower. When I got back to my room I was refreshed. I stood before my mirror and began the tedious task of combing out my curls and forcing them into a ponytail at the nape of my neck.
While running the pick through my hair, my eyes moved to two photographs stuck in the bottom of the mirror. Both were taken on Halloween and in the den; one featured Chelsea and me and the other Zander and me. I picked them up and studied them.
Then something Jenna had said last night echoed through my mind — maybe God’s been there all along.
Movement in my peripheral vision drew my eyes to the window, where I spotted Zander’s Jeep coming to a jerky stop i
n Whitney’s driveway. He slammed on the emergency break and then leapt from the truck without closing his door, his face showing panic.
I moved to the window and watch as he took the deck stairs in one bound and then heard him banging on the back door and yelling my name.
“Emily!” he shouted. “Emily! It’s an emergency. Emily!”
My heart racing, I dropped the photographs. As I ran down to the kitchen, Zander’s voice echoed through the empty house.
“Emily!” he yelled, banging on the glass. “Open the door!”
My body shook with fear as I unlocked the sliding glass door and opened it with a whoosh. When I saw his eyes, icy fear prickled my back.
“Emily.” He grasped my forearms. “I need you to come with me.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “There’s been an accident.”
“My dad?” I whispered.
He nodded, and my knees buckled. He caught me and leaned down over me, his eyes probing mine. “Emily, I need you to be strong. Get your coat. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
I stared at him, trying to comprehend his words while tears flooded my eyes. “Is he …? Is he …?” I stammered.
“He’s hurt, but I think he’s going to be okay.” He swiped away my tears with his fingertip. “I need you to get your coat, and I’ll get you to the hospital as quick as I can, okay?”
I searched the kitchen, not remembering where I kept my coat. All I could think was that my dad was hurt, and he and I had fought last night. What if he …? The thought trailed off as fresh tears streamed down my face.
“I don’t know where my coat is,” I blubbered like a moron.
He rubbed my arm. “It’s going to be okay.” He moved me to a chair and gestured for me to sit down. “You sit here and remember where your shoes are.”
Shoes I could handle; they were always by the back door. I slipped on my boots while Zander disappeared into the hallway and came back with my coat. I shrugged into the coat, and we rushed to the Jeep.