I paused. “If we really want to break this down, the first thing I should ask you is whether or not you were the kind of kid to pick your scabs and eat them.”
I looked over at Adam and watched him wrinkle his nose.
“Ew. Are you kidding?”
I shrugged. “Hey, not my fault. Scabs? Boogers? They’re all part of the human body.”
“Yep. I’m not hungry anymore, either.”
“Or, if we wanted to get technical--.”
He held up his finger. “I know where you’re going with that, and you can stop.”
I grinned. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“When I’m sitting here with a beautiful woman in front of a romantic fire? Maybe ‘uncomfortable’ isn’t the right word.”
My grin slowly faded into a frown as his eyes danced between mine. Did he say what I thought he said?
“Beautiful.”
He blinked. “Yes?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You sure that’s the word you want to use?”
“Uh, yeah. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“Not particularly.”
He sat up. “Wait. Do you not look in mirrors? At all?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
“So, you’re honestly trying to tell me that you don’t believe you’re beautiful.”
I shrugged. “I pride myself on other things. Like my career. And my grades in school. And my capable shooting skills, when I can remember to grab my gun.”
“So, you at least understand you’re breathtaking, right?”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. When did we go from ‘beautiful’ to ‘breathtaking’?”
“To me, you make that transition every day.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“No one’s ever said something like that to me before.”
Adam licked his lips. “Well, they have now.”
I snickered. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t just think it. It’s true. It's a fact. Like dates in a history book.”
I blinked. “And you’re not joking.”
“Not at all, Kendall. No.”
I sighed. “Adam, look. I--.”
He placed his hand on my thigh. “I’m not asking for a commitment. Or even a date. Don’t freak out on me, okay? I’m just telling you that you’re a beautiful woman.”
I felt my heart sink a bit. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
I sipped my coffee. I needed to get out of this conversation.
“What did you do after high school?”
His brow ticked. “After high school?”
I nodded. “Mhm. After high school.”
“I’m not following.”
“You still haven't placed why I look so familiar.”
He paused. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t.”
“Either you had a lot going on as a child, or you really didn’t like this place.”
“Why can’t it be a bit of both?”
His question gave me pause. “I don't know whether to apologize or pry.”
“Again, why can’t you do both? Why do things always have to be one or the other? Black or white?”
“Now, that’s a question worth asking.”
He smiled. “I know you mentioned your family coming to my father’s church before your mother… you know.”
“Died?”
He nodded. “Mhm.”
“Say it, Adam.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t--.”
“Say it. Say ‘before my mother died.’”
He sighed. “Before your mother d-died.”
“The word will get easier to say the more you say it. Okay?”
“I don’t want to say it, though.”
“We never do. Losing a parent is hard. Losing both is… well, it comes with a tremendous amount of grief.”
He fell back against the cushions. “So I’m finding out.”
“Do you ever remember playing with a boy named Phillip?”
“I never played much with people as a kid.”
“I remember you two hanging out for a while there. The kid who always carried around a basketball he couldn't dribble?”
I watched it click behind his eyes. “Oh! With the red hat and the bright green shoes. I remember him now, yeah. He had a sister, I think. Glasses. Braces. Two massive front teeth.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
He slowly looked at me. “Oh.”
“Yep.”
He shot up from the couch. “Oh.”
I waved. “Hi there.”
He stood up. “Oh! You! You’re--you--Tails!”
I rolled my eyes. “And here we go.”
“Oh, my--how in the--I didn’t even recognize you.”
“I’d hope so. Because my plan wasn’t to be an adult walking around with braces, goofy glasses, two buck teeth, and pigtails, thank you very much.”
He sat back down on the coffee table. “You’ve… grown so much.”
“That’s usually what happens with time, yes.”
“How could I have forgotten you?”
“In my experience? I’ve found that grief doesn’t just take a toll on our conscious mind. It takes a toll on our memories. It eats away at them. The chemical composition that makes up the feeling of grief within us also erodes at neural net connections in our brain.”
“It sounds like you’ve done a lot of reading up on this.”
I sipped my coffee again. “I have, yes. I wanted to understand what was happening with my body. It was uncontrollable, almost. I felt out of sorts. Very unlike myself. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake it. I wanted to know why my body was feeling this way and what was happening to it. The knowledge helped.”
“Helped what?”
I stared off over his shoulder. “It helped me forget about things.”
“Is that why you’re up here?”
I blinked rapidly. “Hmm?
My stare found its way back to his before he took my hand.
“Are you up here to help forget about things?”
I shook my head. “I could only be so lucky. No. No, that’s not why I’m up here.”
“Then, why are you up here?”
My gaze fell to our connection. “Promise to keep it a secret?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I never really wanted to live my life in Rankin.”
“I understand that. I was so excited to go to seminary school and get out of this place that I didn’t think twice about my father’s advice.”
“What advice?”
“He always told me I was terrible with words.”
I snickered. “You weren’t terrible with words in that little note you left me.”
“Ah, that was just a note, though. Dad meant on a sermon sort of scale. Can’t really be a pastor if you can’t string words together in front of people.”
“Why does it have to be strung together in front of them? Don’t pastors write things down on paper or something to have up there with them?”
He paused. “My father never did that.”
I shrugged. “So, what if your father didn’t do it? Why does that mean you have to do it that way?”
Silence fell over us, and I felt the oddest want to stroke his hand. I started moving my thumb, tracing it in soft circles as his eyes grew unfocused. I wasn’t sure what I had triggered, but I knew that look. I’d seen it many times in Phil’s face over the years whenever we dealt with our grief together. So, I knew better than to interrupt.
“Sorry. I uh--.”
I squeezed his hand. “No need. You’re in the company of someone who understands.”
He sighed. “And, I’m sorry you do.”
“Me, too.”
He released my hand. “Well, to answer your original question. After high school, I left for seminary. It took me almost five years to
complete my undergraduate degree. Then, four and a half more years of Divinity school to get my Master’s.”
“So, you have a Master’s degree in…?”
“Theology. I enjoy digging into the mire of the Bible and piecing together what things actually meant during that time.”
“If only everyone else was like that.”
He chuckled. “If only more pastors were like that.”
“Amen to that. But, what brought you back? You had your degree. You had your studies. Why come back here?”
“To take care of my father, essentially.”
“Ah. Being the family rock.”
“I don’t think my father would’ve seen it that way. He always sort of had this disdain for how I chose to live my life, despite following in his footsteps.”
“Maybe he felt you were choosing the life you did simply because he lived it.”
He blinked. “In another lifetime, I would’ve shot back something like, ‘no, he only wanted to make my life a nightmare.’”
“But?”
“But, being up here with you has given me some time to reflect. To dig back into the memories of my father and how we always reacted to one another. And I think--at least part of the time--he did it to try and push me back out of here.”
“To get out of Rankin?”
He nodded. “Yeah. My father always talked about opening a larger church at the base of this mountain. Of having a view of it from his office and being inspired by the spiritual beauty of this place. And I think after Mom died, maybe he thought me coming home was settling in my grief. Or something.”
“So, in his odd sort of way, he was trying to look out for you?”
He groaned. “Oh, I don’t know. The man was just as cryptic from the pulpit, too.”
“Probably not the best trait to exude from a pulpit.”
“Right? I mean, that’s what I wanted to do, you know? That’s what I want to change. Out of all the people on this planet who make up The Church, pastors and leaders of all kinds should be the least cryptic in their messages.”
I smirked. “I think you picked the right degree.”
He sighed. “You think?”
I nodded. “Passion should always guide us. What we love should always be at the forefront of all we do. Life’s miserable without it. And just from this little talk, I can tell how passionate you are about what you believe. That’s a good thing, Adam. Run with it.”
He smiled. “I appreciate that. Thank you. But, what about you? What did you do after you finished school around here?”
“I mean, I did almost exactly what you did. I used college as a way to get out of here.”
“And yet, here you are on this mountain.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of a long story.”
“Mind giving me the summary?”
I gripped my mug. “Is it bad that I don’t want to?”
“Don’t want to what?”
“Give you the short story. What if I want to give you the long one?”
His smile fell into a grin. “I’m all ears, Tails.”
I kicked him softly. “You cut that out. I haven’t heard that nickname in over a decade.”
“Hey, this could be the time to bring it back.”
“Or, we could burn it forever. Along with those pigtails.”
“I mean, not for nothing, but I thought they were kind of cute.”
I paused. “You did?”
He nodded. “Yep. Especially with those polka-dotted little bows you wore in your hair. Oh, I could’ve pinched your little cheekies right off!”
He started coming at me with those pinchers, and I smacked his hands away. He took my mug from me and set it on the floor before he climbed onto the couch. He taunted me with those fingers. Trying to pinch my cheeks and bop my nose with his finger. I yelled for help through my giggling as I wrapped my hands around his wrists, trying to keep his grimy paws away from my face.
“Adam! Stop!”
“Come on, Tails. Just one pinch. One small, little--.”
“I’ll tickle you. I mean it!”
He gasped playfully. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I released his wrists and found his sides, tickling up and down his torso. He fell apart in laughter before he rolled onto the floor. And I heard the tumbling of my mug as coffee spilled everywhere. I laughed until my voice went silent as he laid there, sprawled out on the floor. Clutching his heart as if I hand mortally wounded him.
“My sweet lass. What have ye done to me!?”
I sat up on the couch. “Something I’m not done with yet. Incoming!”
I jumped onto his body and straddled his lap. I jammed my hands underneath his arms as he wiggled and cried out for mercy. I danced my fingertips along his chest. I tickled his stomach with my ministrations. I even dipped down and swept my face over his hair. He sneezed and jumped. He wiggled and gasped for air. I couldn't remember the last time I’d laughed like that. I truly laughed until my stomach hurt.
But, it felt like heaven.
“Okay, okay, okay! Uncle! I give, I give!”
I smiled. “Say I’m the best.”
“You’re the best. You’re the best.”
“Say my name.”
“Tails is the best!”
I snorted. “You jerk!”
He rolled over, knocking me off his body. And as I felt myself flying into the coffee table, I heard its legs scrape across the hardwood floor. I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to catch my breath. I heard Adam scrambling as his heavy panting hit my ears. His arms and legs, bringing him closer before he hovered over me.
“Kendall, you all right?”
I nodded. “I’m great.”
“You sure? You hit the floor pretty hard.”
My hand flopped toward him. “Got a heck of a buck there.”
He shook his head. “You sure you’re okay?”
“For the first time in a while, Adam? I’m better than okay.”
And the smile that took over his face seized my heart.
It clutched it in a grasp that made me feel safe.
Chapter Nine: Adam
I reached for my drink. “So, you gonna finally indulge me with this long story you taunted me with earlier?”
Kendall giggled. “I suppose after conceding in the tickle fight and helping me make dinner, you’ve earned it.”
“Earned it? You told me you’d tell me! Blasphemy, I tell ya. Sheer and utter blasphemy.”
Listening to the sound of her laughter had to be what angels sounded like singing in heaven. Because it was the most glorious sound my ears had ever heard.
“All right, all right. I’ll tell you the story,” she said.
I leaned back in my chair. “So, what did you do after high school, and how did you end up on this mountain?”
She picked up her wine glass. “Well, like you, I used college as a way to get out of here. Chicago, actually.”
“Where did you attend school?”
“University of Illinois. I got my Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice and slipped right into their law school.”
“Where you specialized in estate law, I’m assuming?”
“Essentially, yes. That’s how I ended up with the firm I’m with right now. I did my internship there for my last year of law school, and they hired me on. After that, it was all about building rapport.”
“So, what brought you back here?”
She sighed. “My father’s death.”
“I’m so sorry, Kendall.”
She shook her head. “It was time. And the firm was great about it. I took a month of paid leave I had built up. But, when I called after those four weeks and told them I wasn’t sure if I felt ready to come back, they let me work remotely.”
“So, you still work for them even though you’re up here?”
She nodded. “I do, yes. I do more work for them during the other seasons of the year. But, for the two or so months that winter really strikes up here? I�
��m off. Mostly.”
“Mostly.”
“Mhm. I’ll tap in now and again to make sure no one needs help or anything. But, between paid time off, medical leave, and unpaid sick leave that I earn throughout the rest of the year, I can afford to take the two or so months off.”
“I take it you travel back and forth, then?”
She sipped her wine. “Mm, not as much as I used to. Especially now that I’ve got decent internet up here. I’ve got a nice camera on my laptop, so very few things require me now to appear in person. Including firm-wide meetings.”
“That’s cool that they work with you on that.”
She snickered. “They do it because I have the highest percentage of wins versus losses in the entire company. I’m their selling point.”
“Nice! So, you have leverage then.”
“I don’t want to think of it that way? But, yes. I’ve got loads of leverage.”
I chuckled. “Good for you. It sounds like you’re doing very well for yourself.”
“And you will, too, once you find where you’re supposed to be.”
“Is this mountain where you’re supposed to be?”
Her wine glass paused halfway to her lips. “For now, yes.”
“For now.”
“Mhm.”
“You still haven’t told me what brought you up here. Though, if I had to take a guess, I’d say it has something to do with your father’s death?”
She took a quick sip. “Less to do with his death and more to do with the aftermath.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it--.”
She waved her hand. “No, no, no. It’s not that. I mean, I get it. It’s not hard to talk about. It’s just…”
“Hard opening up to a new person?”
“It’s so weird. I mean, you’re new. But, you’re not. You feel new, but sometimes you don’t. It’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Maybe ‘odd’ isn’t the right word.”
“What do you think the right word is?”
I pondered her question. “Destined, maybe.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Destined.”
“Yeah.”
“Like, we were destined to meet back up at this point in our lives?”
I shrugged. “Why else would you happen to be living alone on the one mountain I chose to come and grieve my father’s passing?”
Her eyes glazed over. “You make a solid point.”
“What brought you up here, Kendall?”
The Pastor's Son Page 6