Worthy of Rain

by Elizaveta Fehr

  I sat up.

  “I saw you and Jace outside the library, Genesis.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, so?”

  She snorted, as if I was the one who was in the wrong. “You told me you hated him!”

  “I never said that.”

  “But you basically did! I thought you two were enemies.”

  My voice faltered as I tried to protest.

  “Like I said,” Aven continued, “you are kind of being a hypocrite right now.” She crossed her arms and looked down at the floor, anger settling on her face.

  “He’s not as bad as I thought he was,” I pointed out quietly.

  “And did you give Alex a chance?”

  “No, but—”

  “But nothing, Gen. You don’t know Alex like I do.”

  I was desperate to change the subject from Jace, so I countered, “Oh really? You really think you know Alex that well?”

  “And you think you know Jace that well too?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Jace was still a mystery to me. He was arrogant and condescending. He was short-tempered and confusing, but he was also other things too. The paint and water war flashed across my mind. I wondered if that side of Jace wasn’t seen by other people. If it had been the first time since he had actually let himself be free for once.

  But the picture. He had been so rattled by that one picture, that one face, and everything had gone crashing back down. None of it made sense.

  “Besides, you’re always gone all of the time. Sneaking off, being extremely cautious, rarely even regarding the girls and me when we are talking.” She sniffed and made a disgusted face. “Carting around your backpack like it has gold or God knows what shoved in it.”

  I flinched, avoiding her eyes. None of what she said was exactly untrue. I had kept the book from her. Somehow, I knew she just wouldn’t understand. That feeling that I had when I touched it, when I was inside of it.

  “You kind of can’t blame me for starting to look for other friends.”

  That one hurt.

  “Whatever,” I sighed, defeated. “You can do whatever you want.”

  “I will,” she answered accusingly, as if I should’ve given in a long time ago. The discomfort between us was palpable. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I shifted my weight off one of my legs so I could stick my hand in to get it out. It was a text message from my dad.

  “Dad is picking me up in five minutes.”

  “I thought you were staying the night,” Aven said, but her voice was flat. After our mini-argument, we both weren’t up to being near each other. Not like we said that out loud.

  “No, he’s almost here.”

  She sighed heavily. “Okay, we should go wait for him then,” and with that, she climbed up the stairs without waiting for me to follow.

  “You and Aven have a fun time?” my dad asked as he put the car into drive.

  “Mhm,” I mumbled vaguely, causing a worried look from my dad as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

  “That’s good,” he ventured cautiously, but he stayed silent afterwards.

  I was grateful. I didn’t feel like talking about Aven or our very disturbing argument. Alex was a bigger deal to her than I thought she was.

  I suddenly realized I had forgotten my bag back in her house.

  “One second, Dad. I need to go back in.” I hopped out and walked to the front door. It was still unlocked, so I opened it and crossed the living room to the door that led back down into the basement. I tried to move quickly. I didn’t want to run into Aven and make it more awkward than it already was.

  “Yeah, she’s kind of a loser. We had a fight, but she left already.”

  I froze in my tracks. Aven’s bedroom door on the other end of the den was open and slightly ajar, her voice floating through the small crack.

  She laughed, “I know! She doesn’t get it. She didn’t even give you a chance. Oh well, I tried. Really. She’s so stubborn.” There was a pause, and I could hear a muffled voice. I moved closer and I could see Aven sprawled out on her bedsheets with her cell phone to her ear.

  “No, I’m still friends with her, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last.”

  I backed away from the door slowly, grabbing my bag from the sofa. As soon as I was out of earshot, I bolted. I bounded up the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping on Aven’s Birkenstocks scattered on the steps.

  Her Birkenstocks.

  A pair of Birkenstocks and a pair of Filas shuffled to the sinks, the sound of giggles reaching my stall.

  “Oh God, she sounds so annoying. Why do you put up with her anyway?”

  It was Aven and Alex in the bathroom that one day. They were talking about me.

  The front door slammed behind me as I ran across the lawn. I tried to push away the knots in my stomach and the tears threatening to fall down my cheeks.

  My dad rolled down the window. “Got everything?”

  I looked at my dad and shut the car door. “I’ve got everything I need.”

  Chapter Fifty

  On Sunday, I parked my bike against the bike rack and made my way to the doors of the church. The music was already playing, its sound sweeping past the front entrance and out into the street. I looked over the oak doors, the ivy weaving itself around the arch above the frame and along the sides of the building. The stained glass reflected the early morning sunlight. Pristine, perfect.

  But my steps slowed, and for a reason I can’t explain, fear settled inside my head.

  There was more. There was a lot more to this place than I had guessed, and I was unworthy. Unworthy to understand it. Unworthy to have it. Because if I had been worthy, I would have been here from the beginning.

  So instead, I stood there and watched the fathers and the mothers with their screaming children. I watched the grandparents and the infants. I watched the teenagers. I watched them all go in as Aven’s words from the day before flooded my head.

  Maybe she was right. Was I really going to lose her over this?

  “Are you going to stand there gawking at it or are you going to go in?”

  My heart fluttered wildly and I spun around, gathering a section of my sundress in one of my fists.

  Jace was standing behind me on the sidewalk in dress pants and a blue button-down flannel, his hands in his pockets and a small lopsided smirk plastered across his face.

  “I, uh…” I struggled, searching for words.

  He laughed and continued towards me, stopping at my side.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry, I was going to go in…um…but—”

  “But you weren’t,” he countered, lifting his chin up. He cocked his head and looked down at me, just like he usually did when he was proving someone wrong in an argument. This time, though, he couldn’t help the mischievous grin that spread across his face, and instinctively, I punched his arm and rolled my eyes.

  “Tell you what. We can go in together or you can stand out here by yourself, it’s your call.” His eyes sparkled, but their sparkle faltered as his smile fell. “That is…if you’re not still mad at me.”

  Maybe Jace was a mystery to me, but after what happened with Aven and me last night, I really needed a friend. And Jace seemed to be the only friend I had at the moment.

  “I’m not mad anymore,” I said.

  Jace waved a hand towards the church. “After you,” he said graciously, and we walked together through the doors and down the main center aisle, searching for a spot.

  “I didn’t know you went to this church,” I confessed, finding an empty aisle seat near one of the pews towards the front.

  “I could say the same for you,” Jace said, sitting down next to me. “Unless I just haven’t noticed the lonely girl standing in front of it these past few Sundays,” he teased.

  I squinted at him, but smiled. “Very funny. No, I’ve been here before, but not for a long time. I come when I can.” I looked down at the seams of my dress, guilt turning in m
y stomach.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  “Is your family here with you?” Jace wondered, looking at the people behind us that were filing in.

  I looked up. “Nope, just me.”

  He pursed his lips. “You came on your bike?”

  I nodded. His brow furrowed and I caught sight of a fleeting puzzled look, but he dismissed it quickly. A grin replaced it instead.

  “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the service.”

  I was happy he didn’t ask about my dad and why I was here alone. I wouldn’t have known what to say about that. Not the truth anyway.

  The music picked up volume, cueing us to stand up and sing.

  I realized then that they must only play the ancient organ to begin the service. Two women walked up to the carpeted stage along with a man and his guitar. A projector screen unfolded in the front of the room, and words to a song I didn’t recognize appeared on it. The man started to sing, and the rest of the church joined in. The guitar strings sang sweetly.

  A few people in the front raised a hand over their heads. There were people around us who followed after, young and old alike. I tried not to look bewildered at their unashamed commitment. I’d never seen anyone do anything like that before.

  Leaning over, he whispered to me, “Look, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at your house. It probably looked like I was just snooping around.”

  I looked up at him, shaking my head. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “But it was to me. I worry about what you think of me.”

  He’d said the same thing at the library.

  “You do?” I said.

  He shifted his jaw. “Yeah. You’re extremely smart, Genesis. You’re more than people think you are. I wouldn’t want you thinking less of me.”

  I laughed. “Who says I think highly of you in the first place?”

  “No one could resist my freakishly good looks.”

  I laughed harder this time and covered my mouth quickly with my hand, looking around sheepishly. The church had picked up to a faster song, so I doubted anyone heard me.

  He chuckled. “Oh, so you admit it. See? I told you.”

  “Did anyone tell you how arrogant you really are?” I teased.

  “They’re just jealous, believe me.”

  “Whatever you say, Jace,” I laughed, lifting my hands in surrender. He cocked his eyebrow and looked at me out of the corner of his eye before turning back to the front. I smiled, looking around at the people gathered in the room.

  There was real energy here.

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jace stopped in front of my bike after the service ended.

  I nodded and pulled the bike out, nudging the kickstand so that it folded back up. “Do you want to come after school again like we did? We only have a week left to finish this project.”

  “And it has to be good,” he added, agreeing.

  I placed my hands on the handlebars. “We can’t mess this up.”

  “I know,” he said. “That’s why we aren’t going to.”

  I sighed. “I can hardly say the same with as much confidence as you.”

  He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Why…why are you so afraid of letting people know what you believe in?”

  I shifted my weight and gripped the handles again. “I’m not afraid. I’m just not sure what exactly I’m supposed to be believing in.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you came here to stand and stare at a church instead of actually going in?” He gave me a half smile.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. I looked down, embarrassed.

  Jace stuck his hands in his pockets. “No one really has all of the answers, Genesis. Part of being a Christian means accepting that.”

  I stopped him. “What did you say?”

  “What?”

  “What did you just call yourself?” I asked.

  He stared at me. “Christian.”

  “Christian,” I breathed. “Wow.”

  He smiled, bewildered. “What is it?”

  “Am I that? Am I a Christian?”

  “If you believe Jesus Christ died for you on the cross, and if you live your life to serve him, then yes, you are a Christian.”

  I swung a leg over my bike and hopped on the seat, balancing myself on one foot.

  “How are you supposed to know for sure?”

  Jace smiled. He backed up a few steps and turned around, heading back towards the church. “Come here the next few Sundays,” he called jovially over his shoulder, “and I’ll show you how.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Then you will know which way to go,

  since you have never been this way before.”

  Joshua 3:4 NIV

  Her breathing rose and fell in steady rhythms and the wet lines on her cheeks stopped glistening a couple of minutes after she fell asleep. Beside her, I hugged my knees to my chest and pulled the animal skin over my shivering feet. Sleep would be avoiding me tonight.

  Although it was late, the camp was alive outside the walls of our tent. We had to prepare for tomorrow when the tribes of Israel would gather and march to the Jordan River to overtake the city of Jericho. Awake and trembling and afraid, it seemed as if I was the only one fearful of tomorrow. The excitement of the people was the one thing that was impossible for me to misinterpret.

  And for what? Why didn’t they fear the land of Canaan or its people? We were walking into a death sentence. How could they not see that?

  Faith.

  Yes, Mom. Faith. But what did that mean? I’ve seen it in other people, but I’ve never felt it, so how do I know when I have it?

  I missed her. I missed her terribly. She was the one who could give me answers, and from the beginning, I didn’t even know that she had had them. From the beginning, I didn’t know I’d ever been lost...or if I had yet to be found.

  Jedidah rolled over and pressed her face against my arm. She seemed so peaceful sleeping there. Worriless. Quite unlike her panicked self only minutes earlier.

  A high-pitched buzzing erupted in my ears and my hands flew up to press against my temples. My mouth opened, but the agony I felt was soundless as I felt my eardrums slowly ripping apart and my head collecting weight by the second. Then, as quick as it happened, it was over. I felt numb. There was nothing but fear, empty fear. I felt a weight on my heart that was indescribable. Undeniable. As if the very next move I would make could shift the earth on its axis and change the cycles of the moon. Against it, against this feeling of power, I was powerless. Utterly powerless. Joshua’s face came into view. However blurry his features were, I could still tell it was him.

  It was then that a small cry left my lips. Jedidah jerked awake, blinking back the sleep in her eyes. Her face was a shadow in the darkness, but her voice carried the worry I couldn’t see.

  “Genesis, are you alright? Why did you scream?” She had both hands on my shoulders and held me there as I caved in on myself. The pain was unbearable.

  I tried to speak, but my voice gave out. I cried and trembled as she hugged me.

  “Shhhhhh,” she whispered, trying to comfort me. “It’s alright. It’s over now.” And she was right. The pain slowly started to ebb away as I began to calm down, my sobs retreating into soft sniffles.

  “It was only a nightmare. It’s over now.”

  But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a nightmare. Dreams come when you sleep, not while you are wake. What I felt was unmistakable. No dream could ever feel that real. Not even a nightmare.

  Even though I knew she was wrong, I was too weak to argue. She continued to hold me and started to sing a song in Hebrew that I somehow knew the words to but couldn’t pick up over the low hum of her voice. My eyes closed, sleep finding me in the midst of everything. I was thankful for it. I was beginning to think I was safer asleep than I ever could be awake. I thought of Joshua’s face appearing in my vision and wondered if it wa
s his thoughts I’d felt.

  Maybe I wasn’t the only one worried about war tonight.

  Light filtered in through the opening in the tent, and I sat up rubbing my eyes. I watched as Jedidah entered with a bucket, her face framed with her dark hair hanging down around her cheeks. She looked at me, eyes round with pity, and I found it hard to hold her gaze. I looked down at the animal skin and picked at the hairs as she placed the bucket beside me and knelt down.

  “Are you well?” she asked, dipping her hands in the bucket and pulling out a rag. She handed it to me and I took it, pressing it against my face. I dropped it back into the bucket.

  “I’m fine, really. I’ll be fine.” My voice was shakier than I wanted.

  Jedidah nodded. She stood up and set the pail near the edge of the tent. There was nothing left but us and the bucket. Her family must have moved everything out while I was sleeping. I could hear the rest of the camp moving around outside, a sense of urgency put in place now that it was daylight.

  “We tried to let you sleep as long as possible. Father said not to bother you.”

  I pushed the animal skin off of me and stepped into my sandals, gathering the bedding into a large bundle. “Tell him I’m awake. I want to help you get everything ready.”

  “It is already finished. We must all gather with our tribe before Joshua gives the commands to leave,” Udom answered as he appeared at the doorway, lifting up the flap. He held it open for us and I followed Jedidah out, picking up the bucket on my way.

  A crowd was already filling around the tabernacle by the time we got there. Joshua was standing near the front, a staff in his hand and a placid expression that seemed to be hiding something deeper.

  “Our tribe is this way,” Jedidah said, taking my hand. She led me through the crowds of families, but my eyes stayed on Joshua. There was something familiar in his eyes that I couldn’t quite detect.

  We arrived at the cluster of people standing with their belongings and animal carts. Our tribe alone stretched over into the distance past the hills and ravines to the west of the tabernacle. We stopped towards the edge of the group and set our belongings on the ground. Udom, who was holding the ox’s reigns, handed them to his father and walked over to Jedidah and me.