Winter of Grace

by Kate Constable

  I felt like I was losing God. He was withdrawing behind the curtain. Maybe it was Northside I had believed in all along, rather than God. But now I’d lost my faith in Northside, I didn’t know where else to look for Him.

  I couldn’t go back to the way I was before; I couldn’t pretend that God wasn’t there. He wouldn’t let me. I knew He wanted to be part of my life, and I wanted to be part of Him. I just wasn’t sure how to do it any more.

  Maybe it wasn’t God that was lost, maybe it was me. I couldn’t decide what to do about the forum, whether to go and hear Mum speak, which meant inviting Stella, or to stand outside with the Northsiders and their monkey suits. Not going at all would be just a big wuss-out.

  On Saturday I was sitting in my room worrying about it, pretending to study but actually flicking through the Bible, when my phone rang.

  ‘Hi, Bridie. It’s Elliot.’

  I froze. ‘Hi!’

  I waited for him to speak, but he stayed silent. An explosion of happiness went off in my chest; of all the people in the world, he was the only one who might possibly understand how I was feeling. It was like a sign, the sign I’d asked for.

  I clutched the phone to my ear. ‘I’m so glad you called! I really need to talk to someone. I’m so confused, I don’t know if I can go back to church or not. I mean, I want to. I still want God in my life, you know? It’s just I’m not sure if— Elliot? Are you still there?’

  There was a pause, then Elliot said, ‘Bridie, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to you about this right now.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said uncertainly. ‘How come?’

  Elliot took a deep breath. ‘I’m not … I’ve decided I can’t be a youth leader any more. I don’t feel very strong in the faith at the moment.’

  ‘Right,’ I said slowly. ‘Does that mean you’ve stopped believing in God?’

  ‘No, no.’ A pause. ‘I don’t know what I believe, Bridie.’ Elliot was quiet, and I could picture him rubbing his hand across his forehead the way he always did. ‘There’s Jay, his eye … Since I started uni, I’ve met people … Not everyone thinks the same, you know? And that doesn’t mean they’re evil; it doesn’t mean they’re stupid. I’m starting to realise, there are other ways to live. Maybe Jesus doesn’t have all the answers, after all. Maybe Dad doesn’t have all the answers. The other night, when we were talking …’ His voice trailed away. ‘Listen, Bridie. You’re a great person. Just don’t … don’t rush into anything, okay?’

  I gripped the phone. I didn’t know what to say. The ground seemed to shift under me. I hadn’t realised how important Elliot’s faith was to me. Even if the rest of Northside had revealed themselves to be, well, not as perfect as I’d hoped, I thought I could count on Elliot. I knew he was asking questions, but I assumed that underneath, his faith was solid. It was as if Jesus was a dazzling friend Jay and Elliot had introduced to me, and now Elliot had turned around and said, No, sorry, I don’t trust him. If Elliot, who’d belonged to the church all his life, could walk away, was there any reason for me to stay? If Elliot didn’t believe in God, could I?

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Um … not really. But thanks for letting me talk. There’s no one else. My uni friends don’t get it, you know? And everyone at Northside – they just tell me to get over it, not to be negative.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’ I pressed the phone to my ear. I was about to ask, Do you want to meet for a coffee or something? I’d taken a breath to say it. We were fellow fringe dwellers of the faith, weren’t we? He’d said so himself.

  But then Elliot said abruptly, ‘Anyway, thanks. I’ll see you round, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said in a small voice. But he’d already gone.

  Next morning when Lorraine knocked at the door, I peeped out at her. ‘I can’t come to church today. I’m really sorry. I don’t feel very well.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Lorraine peered through the crack. ‘What’s wrong? Anything I can do?’

  ‘Just a bit fluey. Don’t want to give it to everyone.’

  Lorraine edged forward as if she were about to force her way in. ‘You don’t look sick.’

  ‘Well, I feel like shit,’ I said, more sharply than I intended, and Loraine jumped back as if I’d slapped her. The church kids never swore. The church kids never told lies either, at least, none I knew about. That was two sins right there, and on the Sabbath, too.

  Lorraine sniffed and turned away. ‘Hope you get better. I’ll ask Pastor Matt to add you to our prayers.’

  ‘Thanks!’ I called after her. Chelsea waved from the car and I waved back. I wondered if Jay would miss me, and felt a twinge of guilt. I’d sort out Jay later.

  Mum stepped into the hallway in her dressing-gown. She must have been listening, spying on me. ‘Not going to church today?’

  ‘Does it look like I’m going to church?’ I snapped. I felt bad enough already, without Mum sticking her nose in.

  But she didn’t seem to register my tone. ‘Oh, thank God. I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.’ She held out her hand. ‘It was partly my fault, I know. I suppose you’ve been looking for some kind of father figure.’

  I stepped back. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter. Now that phase is over––’

  ‘Who says it’s over?’

  Mum wrapped her dressing-gown more tightly round herself. ‘You just said you weren’t going back!’

  ‘I said I wasn’t going today. I didn’t say I was never going back.’

  ‘Bridie, be reasonable. You must see how silly—’

  ‘I’m not going to your stupid evolution forum, either. You can’t force me to think like you. You can’t take over my brain.’

  ‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say.’

  ‘Just leave me alone!’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’

  I can’t remember exactly what we said next, or rather, what we shouted at each other. In the end, Mum’s expression froze stony cold, and she slammed her bedroom door in my face. I yelled at her, and then marched out of the house and down the street, choking down sobs of rage and fury.

  I strode along so fast I gave myself a stitch. I didn’t even know where I was going; I only knew I couldn’t go back.

  At Northside they told us, You’re never alone. Jesus is always with you. Jay said that Jesus was his friend, always there to listen and to help him. Like Stella said, an invisible friend; an imaginary friend? I’d never quite managed to achieve that sense of Jesus being in the room with me that the other Northsiders seemed to have. They’d sway in ecstasy, holding up their hands to Jesus. Strangely enough, I found it easier to believe in God – a mysterious, unknowable spirit – than in the living person of Jesus.

  Hello, Jesus? I thought experimentally. Are you there?

  No answer. Maybe he was off with his mates: the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.

  That was a wicked, blasphemous thought, I told myself. But God didn’t strike me down.

  How rapt would Mum be if she knew I was having thoughts like that? I sped up, my runners smacking on the footpath.

  Once, when I was a little kid, I’d overheard Mum talking about me to one of her friends. Bridie’s a follower, she said. Bridie’s always looking for someone to tag along behind. I hadn’t thought about that for ages, but I remembered it now. Since I started high school, I guess I’d tagged behind Stella. This winter I guess I’d hung off Elliot and Jay. Was Jesus one more figure for me to trail behind, someone else to tell me what to do?

  I crossed the bridge and followed the path beside the river. People were walking their dogs, riding bikes, plugged into iPods. I hadn’t been down there for weeks. The river was alive this morning, foaming and tumbling over the weir. A light rain sprinkled. The low morning sun caught the tiny droplets, and the air filled with dancing specks of gold.

  The news from the war was bad. The invasion force had met unexpected resistance, fighting in the streets.
Last night there was footage on TV of a little boy with his arms and legs blown off, his big eyes glazed with shock and terror. Was he being punished for his sins? If he died, would he go to hell? It seemed he was the wrong religion; he hadn’t accepted Jesus as his saviour, that’s for sure. How could I believe in a God who was cruel enough to let that little boy feel so much pain and fear?

  I crossed halfway over the next bridge and leaned on the rail, staring down into the murky brown water.

  ‘Hey, Bridie!’

  I jumped. It was Paul, on the far side of the bridge. He waved, and jogged over to lean on the rail beside me, wiping sweat from his forehead. ‘Long time, no see.’

  I felt shy. ‘Um, yeah.’

  ‘You girls had a fight?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘’Bout time you made it up, don’t you think?’ He squinted at me sideways.

  ‘S’pose,’ I mumbled.

  A woman jogged past us and the bridge wobbled and swayed.

  We stood there for a minute while Paul caught his breath.

  ‘Paul?’ I said suddenly.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘I know you’re not in the church, but do you believe in God?’

  ‘Starting with the easy ones, eh?’ Paul stared down along the river. ‘I wish I could, Bridie,’ he said at last, wistfully. ‘I just can’t quite force my head around it, you know? But I’ll tell you what, I believe in this.’

  He swept his arm out, across the trees dancing in the sunlight, across the cool brown water of the river, the church spires and mosque minarets poking into the sky from the hilltops; across the silver towers of the city beneath the scudding clouds and the transparent circle of the moon; across the suburban rooftops and all the people sheltered beneath them. A flock of birds rose and swooped over the river, calling high and wild and sweet.

  Paul turned to me. ‘Can’t this old world be enough?’ he said.

  I looked, and I saw that it was beautiful – that the world was full of wonders and mysteries and hope and love and work to be done. All of that was just as real as the fear and suffering and loneliness and cruelty. And I wanted it to be enough; everything would be so simple, if this old world was enough.

  But somehow, for me, it wasn’t. Something in me yearned for something bigger, something more, something beyond what we could see and comprehend. I didn’t know what it was, but there had to be more.

  I looked at Paul, and I shook my head.

  He put his big warm hand on my shoulder. He smelled of sweat. For a second I thought he was going to laugh at me, but he didn’t.

  ‘I had a big fight with Mum this morning,’ I said.

  ‘You duffer,’ said Paul. ‘Want to come back to our place?’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Come on,’ said Paul. ‘Think of all the times Stella’s run away to your house. We owe you.’

  ‘Stella won’t––’

  ‘Don’t be daft. She misses you.’

  My heart leapt. ‘I miss her, too.’

  Paul inclined his head. ‘So what are you waiting for?’

  ‘OF COURSE, YOU can stay as long as you like,’ said Mish at once, and Scarlet clapped her hands.

  ‘Can she sleep on our floor?’

  Stella pushed her sister. ‘Der, where else could she sleep?’

  I smiled. I was still shy with Stella, but she did seem pleased that I was there.

  ‘There’s plenty of space at my house, Bridie,’ Nana Kincaid said. ‘Lovely big spare room all to yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘But …’

  Tark lolled against his grandmother. ‘As if Bridie wants to stay with a crusty old bat like you.’

  ‘Cheeky,’ said Nana. She always let Tark get away with murder.

  ‘Just one thing.’ Mish held up a finger. ‘You have to call Lisa and tell her where you are. Or would you rather I did?’

  ‘I’d rather you did,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Hmm.’ Mish narrowed her eyes. ‘All right.’

  She took the phone into the front bedroom and stayed there a long time. When she came out, her face was grave, but she didn’t say anything. Much later, after Nana had gone home, when Paul was off on some refugee errand, Tark and Scarlet were fighting over the TV, and Stella was rehearsing her concert piece in the girls’ room, Mish beckoned me into her room and shut the door.

  ‘Lisa says you can stay here as long as you have to. I’ll send Paul over to pick up your things when he gets back. And you know you’re welcome here as long as you can bear it.’

  ‘As long as you can stand having me,’ I said, out of politeness, because just then I felt like living with the Kincaids forever.

  ‘Lisa says to tell you she’s sorry for calling you selfish and pig-headed and immature.’

  ‘Good,’ I muttered. ‘So she should be.’ I looked up and smiled weakly. ‘Because I’m not immature – no way.’

  Mish smiled back. After a minute she said, ‘Lisa wouldn’t tell me what you called her.’

  I looked at the floor. ‘I said she was an interfering, narrow-minded, judgemental bitch. Something like that.’

  Mish drew in a breath. ‘And then you stormed out of the house?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bridie, darling, don’t you think that might have reminded your mother of something?’

  I drew circles with my toe on the shabby rug. ‘Maybe that’s kind of what she said to her mum when … when she left Brisbane?’

  ‘Mmm, maybe.’

  I rubbed my nose. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mish patted my knee. ‘It probably won’t hurt you two to give each other a bit of space, let yourselves breathe. It’s not easy for Lisa, you know, to see you growing up, growing away from her. You’ve always been such a tight little unit, the pair of you.’

  I hadn’t really thought of that, either.

  ‘And what about this church group? Are you going back, or not?’

  I wrinkled up my nose. ‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘I think I need to go back, at least one more time, to see how I feel.’

  Besides, I felt like I owed it to Jay to speak to him face to face. And if Elliot happened to be still hanging around— I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

  ‘Wednesday, isn’t it?’ said Mish. ‘I’ll drive you.’

  ‘Bridie!’

  Jay rushed up and crushed me into a hug that lasted about half a minute too long. I extracted myself and he studied my face solemnly. ‘How are you? Where have you been? I’ve been calling, but you never pick up. Did you lose your phone?’

  ‘My phone …’ I almost said, my phone is busted, but I swallowed down the lie.

  ‘Are you okay? Chelsea said you were sick. I was worried!’ He shook my shoulders, half playfully, but there was an accusing light in his eye.

  My gaze slid away from his. I’d come to youth group tonight, maybe for the last time, specifically to explain myself. But a public cross-examination wasn’t what I had in mind. I pulled him into a corner, and stretched the truth a little. ‘I had a fight with Mum; I was feeling a bit down. Not really in the mood for church.’

  ‘But it’s when things go wrong that you need Jesus the most,’ said Jay earnestly. ‘And your friends, your whole community. To lift you into joy.’

  ‘I just felt like being sad,’ I said.

  ‘Being negative’s a waste of time,’ said Jay. ‘We’ve got so much to thank the Lord for.’

  ‘I guess,’ I said helplessly.

  ‘Anyway, you’re back.’ Jay squeezed my hand. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  ‘Actually, Jay, I have to talk to you about that.’ I took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I’ve been thinking, and I’m not sure … I’m not sure I can really believe everything that you believe. I’m not sure all this is right for me.’

  Jay’s green-gold eye fixed itself on me, surprised and sorrowful. ‘You can’t give in to doubt, Bridie. That’s letting the devil in.’

  ‘See – the devil, that
’s the kind of thing I mean. I don’t think I can believe in the devil.’

  Jay looked shocked. There was a silence, then he asked abruptly, ‘Is this anything to do with Elliot?’

  ‘Elliot?’ I echoed.

  ‘He’s not here. He’s quit youth leadership.’

  ‘Yes, he told me.’

  ‘Did he?’ Jay was so startled he dropped my hand.

  ‘He just, you know, mentioned it in passing.’

  ‘When was this?’

  I know it was stupid, but Jay glaring at me, with the eye-patch and everything, made me feel as if I was being interrogated by the SS. All he needed were the jackboots and the leather cap.

  ‘Um, on Saturday?’ It seemed like years ago.

  ‘He talked to you about it,’ said Jay, half to himself. ‘He talked to you and then … It was Saturday night he told Dad. What did he say exactly? What did you say?’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I said. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it. It was a private conversation.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Jay slowly. ‘I see.’ There was a pause. I knew everyone in the room was listening, though they were pretending to ignore us. I felt hot and angry.

  Jay shook his head. ‘I’m not giving up on you, Bridie. You could be an amazing witness for Jesus. If you’d just trust Him, if you’d let Him right into your life, if you stopped pushing Him away …’ ‘Jesus isn’t a stalker, Jay!’ I said, too loudly. Every head in the room swung round; no one was pretending to ignore us now.

  Ryan came barging over. ‘Hey, hey, hey! Let’s all take a moment here.’ Ryan put one hand on my shoulder and one on Jay’s, simultaneously connecting and separating us. ‘Simmer down, everybody. Gather round. Let’s ask our Lord for some input here.’ Ryan flung back his head and addressed the ceiling. ‘Lord, we ask for your special help for our beloved friends Bridie and Elliot. We ask you to drive out Satan from them, to drive out their negativity and their bad energy. We ask you to forgive their doubts and questions. We ask you to restore their faith and gather them back into the embrace of your love.’

  I don’t know if I’ve ever been so embarrassed, and indignant, too. As if asking questions was wrong – as if daring to feel doubt about something was a sin! If Ryan hadn’t been gripping my shoulder so hard, I would have wriggled away. I’m sure he could feel me squirming; that’s probably why he squeezed so tight. My face was bright red. As soon as the prayer was over, I escaped to the other side of the room. Jay tried to follow me, but somehow I managed to evade him for the rest of the meeting. All evening, his stare pierced me, pleading and reproachful.