A Chance at Love

by T. K. Chapin

“True, but it’s the journey that shapes them into what they become.”

  I laughed. “Guess God helps that, huh?”

  “You’re the one who came up with that,” she said, smiling.

  I stopped and looked at her. “I didn’t get to see her, Grandma.” My lips tightened together.

  “I know.”

  “Then what are you trying to do? You know I’m upset right now. Why are you trying to tell me about snowflakes?”

  She grabbed onto my arms and looked me in the eye. “God can help us on this journey we call life, Kyle. He can help mold our lives if we let Him.”

  “I thought you were just letting me figure it out on my own and not trying to intervene.”

  She released her hold and grabbed for the passenger side door.

  “What?” I asked.

  She shooed me away as she opened it. “You’re right. I’m trying to keep out of it. Go ahead.”

  “You’re mad at me?” I asked. Pointing back toward the church, I continued, “I just tried to see that girl and got shut down by some dude that’s supposed to be a Christian. It’s experiences with men and women like that that turn people like me off to church! How on earth is anyone supposed to feel welcomed when they get treated like garbage? He told me she wasn’t my type of girl!”

  “Okay, Kyle.”

  I helped her into the car as I could tell she wasn’t going to divulge. After she sat in her seat, she looked up at me and her lips opened partially, but then closed.

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on! Just tell me, Grandma!”

  She looked back at the church and then at me. “God loves perfectly. People . . . they’ll always come up short.”

  Squinting at her, I shook my head and shut her door. Getting in the car, I looked over at her said, “People love like crazy. I see it all the time.”

  “That doesn’t make them perfect.”

  “True . . .”

  She placed her hand on mine and said, “Only God is perfect, Kyle. No matter where you go in life or what happens, you won’t ever find a more perfect love.”

  “Okay, Grandma.” Turning the key over, I asked, “Do you need anything else before we go to my parents’ house?”

  She smiled. “Nope, I am all set!”

  CHAPTER 6

  After all the wrapping paper settled the next morning after presents were opened, my grandmother went to take a shower and my parents sat on the couch sipping on coffee. My thoughts were focused on Emily and what had happened last night.

  “What’s wrong?” my sister asked as she set her tablet down.

  Setting down the pair of pants I had been looking at blankly, I shook my head. Going into the details of my sappy story with her didn’t seem like a fitting story for Christmas morning.

  “Come on,” she urged. Joanie had that look in her eye like she wasn’t going to settle for a simple no.

  With a sigh, I said, “I keep thinking about this girl I met last week. Well, I saw her the first time last week. Didn’t really meet her.”

  “A girl?” my mother said from the couch, overhearing us.

  “Who?” Joanie asked scooting closer to me as her eyes grew large. “Do I know her? Is it that new delivery girl at work?”

  I shook my head. “Her name is Emily, and she’s breathtakingly gorgeous. Saw her the first time when I declined that tip at the church.”

  “Oh . . . is that why you wanted to take Grandma there?” Joanie asked.

  “Yes,” my dad answered for me.

  I laughed. “No . . . Okay. Well, maybe.”

  “So what happened last night? Did you talk to her?” my mom asked.

  “No. I tried to go find her after the service, but I ran into difficulties. Some jerk told me she wasn’t my type of girl.”

  “You don’t want a churchy girl anyway. He was right,” Joanie said. “Don’t waste your time.”

  “Shut up!” I retorted.

  “Kyle!” my mother scolded me.

  “Sorry . . .” I said, looking at Joanie. “You don’t understand. This girl, she’s special. I can feel it.”

  “Go back there!” my dad said.

  “Feels a bit useless, Dad,” I replied, looking over at him.

  “No way.” My dad set his cup down on the coffee table. “Go back there and tell that over-zealous jerk that you will try every day until you get to see her. That’s not right for some bonehead to get in your way.”

  I saw my mother smiling at my father.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your father had to fight his way to me,” my mother remarked. “It was very romantic. He had to work at the old farm my parents owned for weeks before he could happen into a conversation with me. We never told you this before, but we were forced to go to church every Sunday while we dated.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yep. You need to go now, Son,” he replied.

  “Hold on,” I said. “I never heard about that. You went to church too, Mom? Even when you were older?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  It was irritating that church and God were so embedded into my parents, yet they had kept that part of their life a secret. I always knew my grandma was religious and took my mom to church as a kid, but I was led to believe that my mother departed the faith as a teenager.

  “Really? Church, Mom?” Joanie asked.

  Looking at Joanie, I said, “Oh, yeah. Hardcore. They both believe in God and failed to teach us any of their beliefs our entire life.”

  “That’s messed up,” Joanie said. She looked over at them with a furrowed brow. “You know Kyle and I have like no desire to know God, right?”

  My mother shook her head as her chin dipped to her chest. “We wanted you to freely choose how to believe. We didn’t like growing up the way we did.”

  My dad raised his eyebrows as he side-stepped the conversation about their background with God and said, “Go find her, Son.”

  I shook my head. “Nobody is there on Christmas morning.”

  “Worth a shot. If you think this girl is someone important to your future, you have to give it your all, Kyle.” My dad looked over at my mom and said, “That’s what I did.”

  They all three continued to talk about church and God, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about Emily. The sweet, sweet Emily that I had no way of getting to. Maybe my father was right. Maybe by some weird chance she was at the church. I leaped to my feet and said, “I’m going.”

  My dad smiled at me and nodded. Grabbing my keys, I headed out the door. There was no guarantee of seeing her, but I couldn’t resist the urge to at least try. Someone could be there, and if they were, it could be a different person than the jerk I saw last night.

  Arriving at the church, I was hopeful when I saw a few cars in the parking lot. Coming up to the door, I opened it and went inside. I looked around in the lobby, but I didn’t see anyone. Seeing an open office door that connected into the lobby, I went over to it. I stuck my head inside the room—empty. I sighed and I turned and went over to the large bay window that looked into the sanctuary. Seeing the stage and all the Christmas decorations still up, I thought about the night before when Emily was standing up there.

  I opened the door into the sanctuary and went in. Taking a seat in the back pew, I draped my arms over the pew in front of me. My thoughts drifted to Emily and then to God. If God was real and all these people that call themselves Christians were right, what would that mean for a person like me? I wondered.

  The door into the sanctuary opened, and I jerked my head around to see who it was. It was him, the same guy from the other night.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Jumping up from the pew, I said, “I want to speak with Emily.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “You can’t.”

  “Come on. You’re supposed to be a Christian!”

  He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant she’s not here. She’s at home
with her family. It’s Christmas. Look—I feel bad about last night and how that went down. Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll pass it along to her? I can’t promise she’ll call.”

  “Okay . . .” I replied.

  He turned and left the sanctuary. He held the door open for me to follow. We went over to one of the tables along the back wall, and he grabbed a pen and piece of paper. He set the pen down on top of paper.

  I wrote down my number and gave him the piece of paper. “How do I know you’ll give it to her?”

  “I will. My word is my bond, Son.” He squinted a little as he looked to be pondering something for a moment. “Why are you so persistent with Emily? What’s your angle?”

  “I can’t explain it,” I replied. “There’s just something about her.”

  “She is a special gal.” He extended a hand and said, “I don’t believe we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Tom Franklin, one of the deacons here.”

  “Kyle,” I replied, shaking his hand.

  He nodded. “I’ll get this to Emily. Merry Christmas, Kyle.”

  Smiling I said, “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

  The rest of the day went by in a blur as I waited for a call from Emily. Would he pass the number along to her today? I kept wondering as I checked my phone every few minutes. Once, I even thought I heard it ring.

  “Stop it,” my mother said from across the table one time I had checked my phone. “I made this ham specifically for you. It’d be nice if you could be present to enjoy it.”

  My dad looked over at me. “Just put it behind you, and if she calls, she calls.”

  I nodded and slipped the phone back into my pocket. “I just thought it vibrated.”

  “You’ll drive yourself mad waiting for it to happen,” my dad added.

  “I know.” I picked up my fork and continued eating.

  My grandma looked over at me and said, “Have you talked to Brady again? He’d probably get you hired on up in Redmond.”

  I shook my head as I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I’m still debating.”

  “On what?” my grandma asked, nudging me.

  “Life. I don’t know what I want to do. The only thing I really enjoy is video games, and it’s not likely I can get a job playing games.”

  “You could do the graphics for them, maybe?” my dad asked.

  “Not really an artist, Dad.” I shrugged and said, “There’s something out there for me; I just have to find it.”

  “Time’s running low for you before Mom and Dad kick you out,” Joanie added with a chuckle.

  “Joanie,” my dad said.

  Finishing my food, I stood up and took my plate to the sink. “I’ll figure it out. I’m going to go for a drive.”

  “I’m sure my mother wants to go home. It’s already after seven, and she’s probably wanting to get to bed soon,” my mom said, looking over at my grandma.

  “I’m fine,” my grandma replied. “I’m just happy he’s coming back with me for another week. Let him go for a spin.” She grinned in my direction.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Grandma.”

  Heading out to my car, I saw that the snow had stopped and peace was in the air. I didn’t care for winter, but the calmness that came with snow on the ground was relaxing. It helped settle my anxious nerves about Emily.

  Arriving up at The Abby, I started to park the car when my phone rang. Seeing the unknown phone number come across the screen, I smiled.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Kyle?” a girl’s voice said on the other end.

  “Yeah. Is this Emily?”

  “Yep.” She let out a nervous laugh. “You’re quite the persistent boy, aren’t ya? Tom just left my house a little bit ago. Told me all about last night and how you were trying to come visit me backstage.”

  I laughed as I turned red and got out of my car. “Did he?”

  “Yeah. Why do you feel such a strong desire to see me?”

  The question caught me off guard, and I lost my footing on the ice outside of my car and slipped. My phone hurled across the wintery air as I fell and smacked my elbow against ice. Pain surged through my arm as numbness immediately shot up into my shoulder. Crawling in a fury over to the phone, I said with strained words, “Sorry. Dropped my phone. Hold on.”

  Bringing the phone up to my ear, I heard her say, “What, why? Where are you?”

  “I fell on ice. I’m up at The Abby.”

  “I’ve heard of that place. Never been there. That’s the one that overlooks the city, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “It’s beautiful up here. I come up here to get away from everything and think. The view of the city is breathtaking.” She was quiet. I began to panic. “Sorry. I don’t know why I told you all that.”

  “No. It’s okay, I could only imagine the view is spectacular,” she replied wistfully.

  “Would you like to hang out?” I asked abruptly.

  “Uh . . .”

  “Too forward? I’m failing hard at this, aren’t I? First I start gushing about me thinking about life, and now I’m basically asking you out, and we’ve been on the phone for what? Two minutes?” I laughed nervously as I felt that I had failed before even starting with the girl. “Can you tell I’m not very experienced with this?”

  She laughed. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I just think its best that we get to know each other for a while before we hang out.”

  “I’m fine with that. I would love to know more about you anyway.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” she replied in a soft tone. Her voice was sweeter than when she was singing.

  “So what are you into?”

  “God, music, cats, hanging out with my family.”

  “Cats?” I asked.

  “Yeah. They’re so soft . . .”

  I nodded. “Interesting.”

  “What about you?”

  “Video games, primarily. I work at Pilo’s . . .”

  She began to laugh.

  “What?”

  “I already knew you worked there, silly!”

  I laughed and scratched my head. “That’s right. My bad.” I grinned. “Man, I’m coming across as dumb.”

  “You’re fine,” she insisted.

  “What kind of music are you into?”

  “Umm . . . maybe I can tell you what I’m not into? Shorter list. Rap, Heavy metal . . .” She paused. “Outside of that, I love most everything.”

  “Neat.”

  We went on for an hour, talking about life as I lay atop the hood of my car. I spent time talking about how I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do in life. She talked about how she wanted to work with children someday, but she wasn’t sure how or what she’d be doing with them. Her beauty grew with every word that came from her lips. She wasn’t boring like all the other girls I had met. She had ideas and interests, and she thought on a deeper level than any girl I had spoken with before.

  CHAPTER 7

  The next day, I awoke to a text message from Emily. Sitting up on the guest bed at my grandmother’s house, I read it.

  Do you believe in God?

  I closed out of her text without responding and got up out of bed. Rather deep question to wake up to, I thought to myself. My mind began to mull the question over as I went to go do the morning chores I needed to accomplish for my grandmother.

  Thinking about Emily’s question as I took the garbage out, I began to ask myself the tough questions. Did I believe in God? I knew I believed in God to some degree, and I had always felt connected to the light, but the God of the Bible? I didn’t know. There was no way I would convert to Christianity for a girl, but I’d surely investigate it for one.

  After dropping the trash off in the can outside, I headed back in and to the laundry room. Moving dirty clothes from the hamper into the washer, something a teacher once told me pressed itself onto my mind. While it was wildly inappropriate for the classroom, that didn’t stop Mrs.
Hoffman from saying it to the entire twelfth grade science class. She said, ‘If a loving and graceful God does exist, how come He allows such pain and heartache in the world?’ It was a good question and one that the Christians in the classroom were silent on.

  As I walked out of the laundry room and into the kitchen, I met my grandmother at the kitchen table. Stuck in my thoughts about what my teacher said, I must have projected a look of contemplation.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked right before taking a bite of her toast.

  Breaking away from my thoughts, I looked at her with a half-smile and asked, “Why would a loving and graceful God allow disabilities, illness and death to happen? Why wouldn’t He preclude these kinds of pains in life?”

  My grandmother set her piece of toast down on her plate and looked at the chair across from her at the table.

  I sat down.

  She finished chewing her bite. “First of all, he never designed it to be that way.”

  “Designed what?”

  “Life. Are you familiar with Adam and Eve?”

  “Of course, Grandma. Jeez.”

  “Okay. I didn’t know. Well, they fell from God’s grace and fell from the design in the Garden of Eden. In doing so, they set humanity on a course.”

  “Let’s get back on topic. Grandma, how come God allows pain? He’s so loving and caring for us, yet He allows us to be pained?”

  “I am on course. Death came from the fall. It’s sin’s sting. As for evil, God did not author it. On the final day of His creation, He looked over everything He had made and said it was very good.”

  “Creation . . .” I shook my head.

  “What?”

  “You understand that I’m smart and educated, right? I haven’t been to college, but I’ve done a lot of research on evolution and creation, and creation is just not valid.”

  “Let’s approach a different angle for your sake. How come you don’t like it when a shooting happens?” she asked.

  “Okay . . . It’s not right. Murder isn’t right.”

  “Okay, now would you say that murder is amongst other terrible deeds? Rape, incest, etc. . . . Each of these being considered not right.”

  I nodded.