Worthy of Rain

by Elizaveta Fehr

  It all came back. Every little empty feeling I’d endured since I was five. Every moment in my life where I’d wished I didn’t feel like I was abandoned. Every time I watched my father bury his hands in his mop of hair and cry, cry, cry. It all came back to me to say hello.

  But this time, I didn’t squash it down and pretend to forget. I didn’t pretend to tape our pieces back together. This time, I just let them break apart.

  I was back in the abyss. Flood tides crashed over me in waves as I drowned. The air leaked from my lungs and washed out to lie in the bottom of a well under the hot sun. Chaos ripped its way into my heart as I wasted away in the belly of resentment and fumbled in a city of my own torment. I forgot the faces of the dead as I listened to the singing of the enemies’ marching feet. Engulfed in my own fire and flame. Etched with blood and pain. Crumbling victoriously into a stone grave. Hidden in a crown of trees.

  No one would save me.

  Maybe, in another life, I might have missed the crunching of grass as someone came nearer. I might’ve turned and walked away and missed the one thing that could have brought me back. I might’ve not seen the outstretched hand just beyond my field of vision and let my mind take me to a place I never thought I’d go.

  Maybe in another life. But something in me recognized that outstretched hand, and something else in me decided to take it.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  He held me for a longer time than I could count, if I had even started. My sobs didn’t seem to slow down and he didn’t seem to care. He just held me until I stopped breaking.

  “I missed you, you know,” Jace said.

  I hugged him tighter and pressed my face against his neck.

  “I know,” I barely whispered, but I know he heard it.

  We stood there beneath the oak tree for a long time. The morning breeze turned cold and blew a chilly breath on my wet cheeks. I shivered as my sobs slowed to hot tears.

  Jace reached up and dragged a thumb against the side of my face to wipe off the trail of tears. I sighed. My face felt puffy and inflamed, and I knew my mascara had probably left twin marks on either side of my face. I couldn’t look at him.

  “Genesis, look at me.” His voice was firm but gentle. I obeyed.

  He looked me directly in the eyes, so now I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “Genesis, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I lied to you this whole time. I’m sorry my family is the cause of all of your problems. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He paused, as if contemplating whether to say what he wanted to say next. For a moment, he almost didn’t. He hugged me. He walked away. And I never saw him again.

  In another life.

  But in this one, he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. He spoke.

  “I wasn’t always a Christian, you know. I lied when I said my family has been going to Grace Church ever since I was born. But I only lied because I wasn’t sure how to tell you about how much that day changed my life in the best way possible when it changed your life in the most horrifying way possible. How do you tell someone that?” He shook his head and broke eye contact, looking out towards the parking lot.

  “Jace, what are you saying?” I said quietly.

  He glanced back at me then lowered his eyes. “When we hit, I was flown sideways and my head hit the window in the passenger seat. That’s where I got this scar.” He moved his hairline to show me the mark I noticed weeks ago. He let his hair down. It was longer now and came down closer to his temples.

  “But that’s not the only thing I got that day,” he continued. “When Pyron and I crawled out, her car was down the road, upside down in a ditch. It was April, but it was so cold I could feel every part of my body freeze almost instantly. I remember watching Pyron sprint to her car and try to pry open her door. I don’t know who called the police, but I heard sirens in the distance when the EMTs came. Everything was a blur of freezing wind and rain and blue and red lights. I didn’t know what to do. So I just stood there in the ditch trying to wish for it to be over.

  “I don’t know how I even noticed it. It was so far down into the ditch I might have missed it all together. But even as young as I was, something in me told me it was special, so I took it.” Jace knelt down and rummaged around in his backpack. When he stood up, he held out his hands and offered it to me.

  His Bible. The navy-blue cover made its gold fore edge pop out from the side and The Holy Bible caught the sun in its shining letters.

  I was so dumbfounded I didn’t know what to say. After a moment, Jace took his hands out of his pockets and gently flipped open to the title page.

  The page. It was ripped diagonally across the words, revealing the rest of the note written in my dad’s own handwriting.

  With love,

  Todd

  I held the Bible in my hands, tears forming in my eyes and blurring the page until all I saw was white.

  “When we went home, I forgot I still had it in my hands. For years, I didn’t really know what to do with it. Then one day, when I got a little older, I just picked it up and read it. That’s when I started pagejumping. After I saw what Jesus was like and learned about God through the stories, I became a Christian. My whole family did after I told them about God.”

  I looked up at him through teary eyes. “I thought my dad didn’t believe. I never even knew my mom was a Christian.”

  Jace shrugged. “I don’t know why your dad kept all of that from you. But I do know this—you need to talk to him. You will never know the truth until you do.”

  I traced a finger along the jagged edges of the ripped page.

  “Keep it. She would want you to have it,” Jace said softly. He put his hands in his pockets. “It might do for you what it did for me.”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  We walked back into the courtroom together, the Bible still clutched tightly in my hands. We parted ways once we got to the double doors since people were already starting to exit the room. We missed the ending of it.

  I watched as my dad shook hands with Phil and walked towards the exit in a daze. I ran after him.

  “What happened?” I asked him breathlessly.

  He barely glanced at me, his jaw clenched. “We’re continuing the case in another two weeks.”

  I released a breath of relief. There was still time.

  He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it tightly. “Genesis, look at me,” he ordered. “We’re going to get him, okay?” He grabbed me harder. “We’re going to get him.” He said it again, but he was looking through me, as if he wasn’t speaking to me at all.

  I looked at him fearfully, feeling the ghost of his fingers digging into my skin. Something was wrong. I had never seen so much anger in his face. It was like he wasn’t looking at my face, but Pyron’s. Pyron was all he saw.

  “Dad…”

  “Let’s go,” he said roughly.

  I followed him reluctantly. We weaved through the cars parked in the parking lot. I had to run to keep up with his pace. His strides were long and rigid, a hand in a fist at his side. Then about a hundred yards from our car, my heart dropped.

  Jace and his mom were closing the back of their Ford Explorer, about ready to get in.

  “Dad!” I tried to get his attention. Maybe he hadn’t seen them yet. He couldn’t have seen them yet.

  But then recognition dawned in his eyes. It was too late.

  “Hey!” he shouted. Jace’s mom spun around, squinting in the wind.

  “No, Dad!” I was sprinting now. My dad, a stranger in his own clothing, pointed a finger in her face and spat, “Your boy is finished, do you hear me? This isn’t over.”

  “Dad! Please,” I pleaded. I was next to him now, tugging on his shirt. “Just leave them alone.”

  He brushed me away. “You have no idea what you’ve all done to our lives. You ruined everything. All of you. It’s time you paid for the consequences!” His growl was almost lost in the wind. My hair whipped into my face violently. Parts o
f Jace’s face showed through the pieces and the sky had turned a pearly gray, blinding me with its bright, swirling body. His mom had her hands up to calm him down. She was trying to say something, but her voice was lost in the wind.

  I was crying now, dry, hot tears stinging my cheeks for the second time today. “Dad, please!” I was shouting now. “Let’s just go!”

  It was like the sky had opened up a massive hole. An icy downpour suddenly pelted us with raindrops. And for some reason, I thought of the crack in the sky in Jericho as we ran for our car, tugging open the car doors to escape the sleet and hail.

  I didn’t have time to run around to the passenger seat, so I flung myself into the back. Dad’s hair stuck up in several spots from the wind, his eyes red and wild. He pounded a fist on the steering wheel.

  I was still crying. “Dad, please.” I didn’t know why I was still telling him to stop. He was too far gone.

  “Shut up, Genesis! Just shut up!” And I cried harder.

  He started the car and we sped out of the parking lot, jumping the edge of the curb. The rain was a thick sheet now, bouncing against the windows so violently I thought the glass would crack. I could barely hear myself think as the sky thundered.

  A puddle crashed against the car when we pulled into our driveway. He hadn’t even gotten halfway up until I jumped out, running for the back door. When I turned around, he was pulling out again, reversing back into the street.

  “Dad!” I screamed. “Where are you going?” The rain was now mixing with my tears as I watched him disappear down the neighborhood road.

  “Dad—” I didn’t finish. I leaned over and threw up.

  It took me a second to get the back door open. I had to lean against the screen door so it wouldn’t get ripped off its hinges.

  I flung up the attic stairs, hoping to see his car from the windows.

  The neighborhood was empty of his car.

  I trudged back down the stairs. A trail of mud and water ran through the kitchen, but I left it. The wind blew through an open window over the sink. I shut it, shivers creeping up my legs and arms. I was soaked to the core.

  I dug my head into my arms. He cracked. We finally tore apart, just like we both knew we would.

  A car drove down the street, tires sloshing in the water. I jumped to the window, hoping to see him returning. But the car turned into another driveway. From the street, the headlights shone through the trails of water running along the windows, turning the ashy droplets into a collage of reds and yellows. Like the stained glass windows in a church.

  I froze. It was a long shot. A long shot. But if I was right…

  I knew exactly where he went.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  I had my bike dragged out from the garage and the kickstand folded back in a matter of minutes. The rain wasn’t letting up and I was thoroughly soaked once again by the time my tires hit the end of the driveway and were rolling out onto the empty road. I pedaled faster and gripped the steering handles, my knuckles turning white.

  A crack of thunder shot through the sky. My foot slipped off the pedal and almost sent me over the handlebars, but I righted myself and kept going. I could barely see through the thick sheets of raindrops pouring in front of me, so I didn’t look. I just remembered and hoped to God I was heading the right way.

  I knew I was on the right street. Those potholes were ones I knew by heart now. The bike rack was of no importance to me at this point. I threw my bike against the sidewalk. It was all I could do not to run smack into the double doors hiding behind the downpour. I felt around for the handle and pulled.

  It was unlocked.

  The doors opened with a creak and shut behind me in one swift movement. The sounds of the rain were instantly muted behind the oak wood.

  I released a breath.

  The vaulted ceiling was just as it always had been, expanding above me in all of its painted glory. The church groaned in the way a building shifted its feet and settled into old ground. The gray sky muted the colors in the windows to a dim vibrancy while raindrops stroked silent fingers against the glass.

  I took a step down the aisle.

  He had his head buried in his hands, elbows pressed against the keys of the piano at the front of the church. I almost didn’t see him, he was so still, his body convulsing silently to the rhythm of the rain. And in a way, he looked…comfortable. Like someone who’d been here before.

  The aisle stretched long in front of me, but I still approached it. I shuffled my steps on the wood and fixed longing eyes on my dad, dead center in a church on a piano in a storm on a street I had thought for so long was foreign to him.

  He didn’t look up when I reached the piano. After a long moment’s pause, I broke the silence.

  “Dad?”

  He didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. The rain continued to pour outside the walls. I sat next to him on the piano bench and stared at the white keys.

  “She used to come here all the time.” His face was covered by his hands as he spoke, his words slightly muffled at first. He uncovered his mouth and looked down at my fingers resting on the keys.

  “She would wear her enormous sun hats even if it wasn’t sunny at all and no one could ever see what was happening from behind her.” He rubbed the scruff on his chin.

  “She’d always sing the worship songs like a song bird out of tune and not have a care in the world if people complained.” He inhaled. “Because, to her, she was where she was the happiest.” He traced his eyes across the ceiling and moved over to the cross hanging at the front of the church.

  I looked at him. “Why haven’t you ever told me?” I whispered. My heart was breaking in half with his words.

  He continued to stare at the cross and shake his head, tears appearing in his eyes. “I was angry at God. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t understand…” he choked on his words and bowed his head.

  I waited, silently, not believing what I was hearing.

  We used to be Christians.

  We used to be.

  We used to.

  We used to be Christians.

  “So I got rid of everything. The Bibles, the notes, the memories. Everything.” He glanced at me and grabbed my hands quickly. “I thought I was saving you, Genesis. Saving you from a god who kills.”

  I searched his eyes, then slowly let go of his hands. He watched me as I reached for my backpack and opened the largest pocket. I pulled out the Bible and placed it in his weightless hands.

  He glanced at my face, then back down at the Bible. “Where…where did you find this?”

  I exhaled. “Jace gave it to me, actually…when mom died, he said he found it by her car and has kept it all this time. He became a Christian because of it.”

  He didn’t respond, staring down at the Bible in his hands.

  “Dad, He’s not a god who kills. He’s a god who saves.” And with those words, it was like everything had finally come to together, like taping ripped pages in a story.

  I got it. I finally got it. Everything that used to be missing had been right above my head in an attic and in a book that was lost in a past I never thought I’d know. All the way from the moment I fell into those first words to the minute I traveled the last. And you know what? Whether I could go back into the book didn’t matter. I didn’t need to. The words were more real to me now than ever.

  Dad stood up and grabbed my hand. We left through the front doors, the rain still falling onto the sidewalk. We stopped and stared at the downpour. He held out his hand, turning it face up in the rain that fell from the sky.

  I stepped out and let it wash over my skin. Unlike before, the rain was warm, and I turned my face up to the gray clouds. I held my arms out so that it could touch my skin.

  I breathed deeply. I saw my mom, her curly hair and warm smile sitting in the pews of that church. Sitting and smiling just as I remembered it, her words echoing in the vast expanse telling me everything I was—everything I could choose to be.


  I am Genesis. I am a Christian.

  In that moment, I felt a peace unlike any other sweep over me like the rain that fell on my skin. The water that washed away the pain, the emptiness, the anger we’d had for years.

  God stood next to me in that quiet way of his. I felt it in the deepest parts of my heart and my consciousness, as if there was no place in my body that didn’t know the face of the sun.

  There was a part of me that just knew, and that was enough.

  Epilogue

  One month later.

  “And for those of you following the Amelyst vs. Anthony case, the tables have turned for the two families. Last Monday, Todd Amelyst has officially revoked his appeal of the court’s decision and seems to have put the case to rest. Further updates will come this following week…”

  I set the newspaper down on the kitchen table, the sun illuminating the headline, “Amelyst vs. Anthony Put to Rest,” in a patch of light.

  I smiled at my best friend leaning against the countertop. Sunrays bounced off his cheek and sent the reflection on the water in his glass dancing against the floor. He sipped it and set it back down on the table, picking up the newspaper.

  “I can’t believe this is all really over.”

  I nodded. “Me either. I never thought we’d be in this spot now. So close to healing.”

  He pulled a chair out from the table and sat in it, propping his hand under his chin. “At least Mrs. Whitaker has asked us back into Honors.”

  I laughed. “The school board had so much social media angst she really didn’t have a choice.”

  He grinned, his smile smashing against his hand, “No, she really didn’t.”

  “If you two leave your bikes in the driveway one more time, I’m going to purposely run over them the next time I pull in.” The screen door shut behind the sound of my dad trudging into the kitchen, lugging a bag of groceries.