The Pastor's Son

by Rebecca Joanne

  “I’m so sorry, Dell.”

  “I brushed it off the first few times because the first few times were legitimate. Then it became a pattern, you know? Always testing me to see if I’d choose him over other things. It was like he couldn't stand me having anything else in my life except him. And it isolated me so badly that I lost friends. I lost touch with my brother. I lost touch with this town, and what I wanted out of my future, and even the voices in my head that speak up when I’m being an idiot. I lost touch with all of it, until all there was…”

  Adam traced circles against my skin. “Was him.”

  I sniffled. “Yeah.”

  “Your ex was the Christian that did you in with the church, isn’t he?”

  I sighed. “I suppose, looking back, he really wasn’t a Christian at all. I mean, just because you go to church and put your hands in the air, that doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

  He brushed my lone tear away. “You’re very right in that regard. And I’m sorry you had to go through something like that. You deserve so much better, Dell.”

  “I don’t want that happening to you, Adam. I don’t want you to latch onto me and feel that you need me. That’s my paranoia. That’s why I’m trying to get you to do things in the timeframe in which they need to be done, but without my intervention as much as possible. Though, you’re making that very difficult.”

  “Well, are you manipulating me?”

  “What?”

  “Are you, Kendall Wright, manipulating me? You know, taking advantage of me during my time of need?

  The question cut deep. “Of course not. How could you think that?”

  “Well, you say you don’t want me going through that same thing. So, it seemed like a pertinent question to ask.”

  “I could never do that to you. You’re too good for that. I lo--.”

  I swallowed the words down before I dug my hole even deeper.

  And I watched as a smirk crawled across his face.

  “You what now?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I just--.”

  He licked his lips. “Pretty sure that wasn’t nothing.”

  “Adam, listen to me. All I’m saying is--.”

  “That you don’t feel you’re worth whatever it is that’s brewing between us. So, your knee-jerk reaction is to push it away.”

  My mouth went dry. “Possibly.”

  He chuckled. “I know you’re not manipulating me or taking advantage of me in any way. So, you don’t have to protect me from that. But, I think maybe you need a bit of protection from yourself. From your own mind, sometimes.”

  I wiped at my tears. “I just want to make sure you’re not--.”

  At first, I didn’t understand what happened. One minute, I was talking, and the next minute, I felt something warm pressed against my face. My nose. My lips. My eyes widened as I saw Adam’s face seated so close to mine. His beautiful oceanic orbs, shut tightly while his lips puckered against mine.

  He’s kissing you. Do something!

  So, I did something.

  I raised my hand to cup his cheek. I let my head fall off to the side. My lips parted for him, allowing him entrance as my heart burst with delight. Happiness trickled through my veins. Ecstasy soaked into the marrow of my bones. Adam wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. He graced me with a strength that left me weak in my knees. I melted into him. I molded my body to his. And as our tongues danced together, I felt at ease.

  Relieved.

  Happy.

  Alive.

  For the first time since moving up to the top of that mountain, I felt alive.

  My forehead fell against his as our lips finally parted. I already missed them, though. An effortless smile stretched across my cheeks, filling my heart with a light it had been missing. My eyes fluttered open. I found Adam staring back at me. As his hands settled against the small of my back, his gaze held mine.

  “When you’re ready to say those words, I’ll be here. Okay?”

  I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Dell. Even if I have to chase you back up that mountain once this snow melts. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I’d like to see you try and navigate those roads without your car.”

  He groaned. “Do you always have to remind me of this stuff?”

  I kissed his lips softly once more. Just to taste him. Just because I wanted to. And as he pulled me closer against him, with the television running in the background, the last of my walls finally fell.

  The walls that had held me captive for years.

  Chapter Twenty One: Adam

  I didn’t remember waking up that morning. I didn’t remember getting ready. I didn't remember kissing Dell or driving to the church or hugging those that came through the door.

  I didn’t remember anything the second I laid eyes on my father.

  Lying there, in that measly casket.

  He looked so… peaceful. And yet, not like himself at all. His skin was much too pale. His eyes were too beautiful to be closed. He would have never worn that suit to church. He wouldn't have even worn a suit to church in the first place. He had always been about ‘coming as you are.’ Allowing people to wear whatever they wanted to church, including pajamas.

  Anything to get them in the pews, son.

  “Hey, you okay?” Dell asked.

  I felt her rubbing my back as I slowly turned away from the casket. I gazed out into the small sanctuary, watching as people continued to stroll in. Ralph sat with his wife, and their son waved at me. I hadn’t seen that man in years. Yet, there he was. Sitting in the pews of a church he hated attending as a kid.

  “Anything to get them in the pews,” I murmured.

  “What?” Dell asked.

  Surely, that wasn't what my father meant.

  “Sorry. I just--needed a second to collect myself.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be sorry, silly. Take all the time you need. All right?”

  It would never be enough time, though.

  I’d never be prepared to put my father in the ground.

  I took Dell’s hand in mine and kissed it softly. I led her over to the front pew before helping her sit down. Then, I took my rightful place in the chair behind the pulpit. It felt weird, sitting there. My entire childhood, that was where my father sat. Every morning, Mom and I would be right where Dell was , and he’d be up there. Warming that little old seat.

  The banging of the church doors closing pulled me from my trance.

  Shushes and whispers trickled among the crowd. There wasn’t an empty seat in the place, and I felt my nerves settling in. Everyone in town, it seemed, had come out to pay their respects to my father. A man who touched more lives than he would ever know. My stare fell to the floor. I drew in a deep breath. I clenched my trembling hands and rehearsed the speech I poured over all night.

  Then, I made my way to the microphone.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” I said.

  “Good afternoon,” they said back.

  I smiled softly. “As much as my heart hurts today, I don’t want this to be a day of mourning. What I want is for this to be a time of celebration. Where we rejoice in the life my father lived and the lives he touched along the way with his presence, his message, and his relationship with God.”

  Heads nodded throughout the crowd as I found Dell. She smiled at me and blew me a small kiss. I drew from her all the strength I needed to press forward.

  To lead that flock through a trying time.

  “My father, Pastor Jacob Riley, lived a fruitful and wondrous life. So, I want to open this service with the eulogy I wrote before I invite other people to come up here. Because I’m not the only person my father influenced. I’m not the only person my father guided. And I’d like to give everyone who wants to speak a chance to speak.”

  I heard sniffles rise from among the crowd before I cleared my throat.

 
; “My eulogy is short, but my father’s reach was not. From the age of seven, he knew he wanted to be a pastor. He knew he wanted to have his own church that he not only guided but educated. And so, my father dedicated his life to theology. To the study of the Bible and its translations. To the metaphors written during that time and what they meant for the people of that era. I’d like to say he accomplished his goal, too. This room is filled to the brim with proof that my father led the life he set out to lead at only seven years old. And though there are many things I could say about my father, there’s only one phrase he taught me that fully sums up who he was as a person, as a father, as a husband, as a man, and as a follower of Christ.”

  I swallowed hard as everyone locked their attention onto me.

  “My father always said, ‘To the victor go the spoils. But, to the supporter goes the respect’. And what he meant by that was those who constantly fight battle after battle will always be deserving of their victory. But, it is those who stand by their sides during all of those wars waged that deserve a warrior’s respect. That’s how my father saw himself. A teacher and a warrior. Someone who constantly fought off the Devil. And because of that, he always saw my mother and myself as those deserving of respect. Because it isn’t just a pastor who sacrifices himself, or herself. It’s that pastor’s entire family who sacrifices. And they deserve as much respect as the pastor himself. Or--or herself.”

  I saw a few smiles gracing the tear-streaked faces of those listening intently to my story.

  “My father was a good man. A faithful man. Never perfect, but always good. And now, I want to open this pulpit for those that might want to come up and share a story or a memory they might have of my father. Because we all have reason to grieve, but we also all have reason to rejoice.”

  I figured two, maybe three people would get up and say something. Maybe tell a funny anecdote before breaking down in tears and having to make a quick exit. But, one by one, dozens of people took to that pulpit. Ralph, the electrician in town. Maybel and Myrtle, the two town gossips that never could stop talking. Bee, the bartender, and Marge, his only other employee. They all had something to say. They all had words of wisdom and personal encounters with my father that marked them for the rest of their lives. It was overwhelming to listen to, and I memorized every word they said.

  Because despite the weather, everyone showed up for him. Everyone showed up for me.

  And they deserved my full attention.

  “I remember the time when Pastor Jacob came and saw my little boy in the hospital.”

  “My favorite memory of Jacob is when I went through my first divorce.”

  “I don’t think anything shouts ‘Pastor Jacob’ more than a Bible signed by my favorite country singer. But, somehow, he got it for me.”

  “I started going to church because my grandmother wouldn't stop pestering me. But, I stayed because Pastor Jacob touched my heart.”

  Story after story poured forth, and the tears that streaked my cheeks soon streaked my neck. I held Dell’s hand tightly, our fingers threaded together as she sniffled along with me. She laid her head on my shoulder, and my cheek found the warmth of her forehead. I sat there, laughing and smiling and rejoicing in the beautiful life my father carved out for himself. And suddenly, guilt washed over me.

  I had spent so long dwelling on what was wrong between my father and myself that I never stopped to remember what was good between us.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered.

  What started as a forty-five-minute service turned into a three-hour show and tell. We laughed and cried. We rejoiced and sang. Ester Jackson, the church pianist, got up and led us in some of my father’s favorite worship hymns. Our voices rang loud and true up to the heavens. Singing at the top of our lungs in the hopes that Dad heard us.

  I’d never felt so much love in all my life.

  The service came to a close, and we all navigated our way to the cemetery. Watching my father being laid to rest next to my mother was nearly the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. The tears fell effortlessly as I drew in shuddered breaths. Each of us laid a rose on top of his casket before we all started throwing handfuls of dirt down into the hole. My tears fell into the pit. I felt Dell wrapping her arm around me as she held me steady. I closed my eyes and wept against the top of her head as people came by and hugged my neck. Kissed my cheeks. Wiped at my wet skin and told me everything would get better with time.

  And I knew they were right. Logically, I understood that.

  It just didn’t feel like they were right.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Dell said.

  I gazed down at her tear-stained face as we stood there by my father’s open grave.

  “Thank you for being here.”

  She nodded. “Of course, I’d be here. No doubt about it.”

  “My father would’ve loved you, you know.”

  She smiled. “You think so?”

  Just like I love you. “Yeah. He really would have.”

  My lips fell to hers in a soft kiss, and the chaos of the moment quickly dwindled. I felt everyone staring at us while whispering and gawking, but I didn’t care. If I knew nothing else, I knew that my father would’ve been proud that I had finally found a good woman for my life. A woman to gird me and keep me strong. A woman to remind me of my purpose here on earth. A woman like Dell, with eyes of fire and a soul of passion and a heart filled to the brim with love to give.

  “He would have adored you. Like I do,” I murmured.

  She giggled softly. “They’re staring, you know.”

  “We’ll be the talk of the town before the day’s over.”

  “What makes you think we already aren’t?”

  I grinned. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  She furrowed her brow. “But, I thought there was a reception?”

  I took her hand in mind. “Ah, my father always hated funeral receptions.”

  “Then, why did you put together one?”

  “Well, in my father’s words,” I said as I mocked his deep, resonant voice, “‘sometimes, Adam, it’s not always about you.’”

  Her head fell back in laughter. “Sounds to me like you were a selfish child, then.”

  “Show me a child that isn’t selfish, and I’ll show you a perfect man.”

  “You might not be a perfect man, but you’re perfect for me.”

  Her words brought me to life. “If you’d come with me, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  She paused. “Actually, can I take you somewhere first? There are some people I want to introduce you to.”

  “Lead the way then, beautiful. I’m all yours.”

  Chapter Twenty Two: Kendall

  I drew in a deep breath. “Mom. Dad. This is Adam Riley.”

  I felt his hand tighten around mine as we stood at my parent’s gravesite. Storm clouds roiled overhead, almost as if the earth were protesting their absence.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Adam said.

  I looked up at him and smiled before my attention fell to my mother’s tombstone.

  “I know that if you were here right now, Mom, you’d be squealing because you know him. I mean, you knew everyone in town. And their children. Right?”

  The silence that followed broke my heart.

  “Dad. I, uh…”

  I swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from flowing. And as I sniffled, Adam let go of my hand and wrapped it around my waist.

  “You’ve got a wonderful daughter, Mr. Wright. She’s strong, and she’s capable. I’m lucky that she took me in during the storm when she did.”

  I wiped the tears away from my neck. “I wanted you to know that I found myself a good one, Dad.”

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  I leaned my head against his arm. “I wanted you to know that I found someone who cares. And understands. And gets me, you know? He doesn’t put up with my crap, and he calls me out when it’s necessary. And he always--I mean always--comes aft
er me.”

  He chuckled. “She comes after me, too, to be fair. I’m just leveling the playing field.”

  I nudged him softly, giggling. “Anyway. I know you would’ve turned your nose up at me having a strange guy in my cabin overnight, much less for two solid weeks. But he’s very respectable. Considerate. And he helps me around the house, which is nice.”

  “What can I say, Mr. Wright? I’m a regular handyman.”

  “Oh! And he saved me from a bear. That’s a story I’ll have to tell you about later.”

  He kissed the side of my head. “Why don’t you tell him now?”

  “I mean, it sounds like a doozy of a story.”

  I whipped around at the sound of the voice as my jaw dropped open in shock. A smile crossed my face as a tear dripped down my cheek, landing softly against my bosom. The first thing I saw were two hands, clasped as tightly as I’d ever seen. There was a glittering diamond ring that caught the few rays of the sun that managed to poke their way through the thick, dark clouds. And as thunder rolled in the distance, I smiled at her.

  At Mara.

  At the woman who had, somehow, tamed my brother.

  “I mean, unless you don’t want to,” my brother said.

  “Phil,” I whispered.

  He turned to Adam. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Adam held out his hand. “Adam Riley.”

  Phil shook his head. “Oh, no. I know that. And, uh, I’m sorry. You know, for your loss.”

  Adam nodded. “Thanks.”

  I smiled. “Hey, Mara. How are you?”

  She nodded. “I’m doing well, actually.”

  “You finally adjusting to life in town?”

  She held up her hand. “I guess I better since this thing is practically weighing me down here.”

  Phil chuckled. “You know ya wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Mara looked up at him, smiling. “You’re right about that.”

  Adam held out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”