At six foot two, Brian Powell owned every step he took. His dark suit had been replaced by jeans and a polo shirt, and the atmosphere immediately lifted when he smiled at his guests. He pulled Asher’s mom close and kissed her head. “Laura, thank you for this lovely meal. Let me say the blessing and we can all dig in.”
Asher bowed his head, wondering if he’d ever be as gracious as his father. Through the entire mess with Bob Murray, his dad had never once questioned his word. Their strong relationship was the one positive thing that came from Jillian’s lies. He and his dad were closer now than ever before in his life.
His dad said “amen,” and chatter erupted around his mom’s eighteen-person farm table. It had been a gift from Tim Morris, a master craftsman and longtime church member. Asher had watched every step of the process, asking a million questions that Tim had been patient enough to answer. One day he would make a replica, right down to the two benches that ran the length of the table. Though he’d probably scale it down to seat twelve.
He passed the salt to a little girl with ringlet curls and an obvious distaste for red meat. Her family had visited the church, and his mom always asked new guests to lunch, though they rarely accepted the invitation.
“Push the meat around your plate a little. Your mom will think you ate some of it,” Asher whispered.
The girl giggled and he winked. He remembered these meals as a kid. They seemed forever long and torturous back then. He swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. Not much had changed. At least not today.
“You will never guess who came to church this morning.” A pause for effect, and then a lengthened “Katie Stone.”
Asher lifted his head, interested for the first time in the surrounding conversation. Miranda Wheeler mirrored an eager salesperson as she expectantly waited for his dad’s reaction. Being the first to drop that nugget of gossip would likely give her a ten-day buzz.
His mom answered instead. “Really? Well, that’s wonderful. I didn’t realize she was back in town.”
The woman scowled, obviously not satisfied with this reaction. “I’m not so sure it is wonderful. She left during the sermon. Was quite a distraction for the rest of us.”
His dad wiped his mouth. “Well, I guess I’d better make sure my sermon is more interesting next week.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Miranda’s cheeks flushed red, and Asher had to duck his head to hide his snickering. “It’s just that Katie Stone likes to make waves everywhere she goes, and I think we need to be careful. This could all be part of some elaborate scheme.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s been plenty vocal about her disdain for the church,” Darrell added, his double chin bobbing as he finished chewing.
“People can change,” Asher’s mom reminded him.
“Not often.”
Asher watched his dad, who had yet to weigh in. While he knew his father was genuine in his love for people, no matter their background, his stomach still knotted. Katie was different. She had changed. And she deserved more than to be some punch line. But he wasn’t about to get into an argument with the Wheelers. They’d only use it against his dad later, or worse, run back to the Murrays and give Jillian more firepower to use against him.
“If Katie was there, I’m thrilled.” His dad’s gaze bounced around the full table. “No matter what her motivation is, our response should be the same. We welcome her, and we treat her like we would any other guest. What an opportunity for our congregation to show the love of Christ to someone who has maybe never felt it before.” He directed his attention to his deacon. “I hope every one of you makes her feel wanted and cared for.”
“Her parents too,” his mom added. “The whole family needs our prayers right now.”
Miranda lowered her head, her brown curls hiding a portion of her face. Good. Asher hoped she was embarrassed. Hoped they both were.
He sat back in his chair as he witnessed the remarkable shift in conversation. There was no more talk of Katie coming to church or biting commentary about her sins. Yes, one day he’d be like his father. One day he’d be that kind of leader.
His dad winked from across the table, and Asher suddenly couldn’t wait for his new neighbor to meet his parents. He eyed the coffee table in the living room. A hardback photo book of Israel and his dad’s leather-bound Greek Bible lay next to a bowl of potpourri. She’d nailed it, without ever setting foot into their home.
He shook his head, hid a smile, and wondered what books were displayed in her living room.
Asher finished loading the last dish while his parents said good-bye to their final guest. Since leaving the church, he’d only come to lunch sporadically and was usually gone before dessert. Today felt like a turning point. It was the first time in months he wasn’t the first to leave.
His father shut the front door and went to stretch out in his favorite leather recliner. The hinges protested and the armrests were faded, but he insisted the chair would outlive him. Doubtful.
Asher pressed Start on the dishwasher and joined his dad in the living room.
“Well, son, how was it today? Honestly.”
Propping his feet on the coffee table, he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes. “Hard, but I knew it would be. I didn’t see them, so that helped.” Only the ghost of them. The ghost of sitting next to her, hand in hand. The ghost of Bob Murray calling him “son” and her mom secretly picking out china. The ghost of a future that would never be.
“You were wiggling around like your seat was full of fire ants. I swore I’d gone back in time and you were my squirmy five-year-old all over again.” His grin was teasing, but it was still true. Church used to be a resting place, a relief after a week out in the world. But no more.
“So was this a one-time deal you made with your mother, or will I see you squirming next week too?”
“I don’t know. Do you ever feel like everybody in the room is watching you?”
His dad nodded. “Yep. Every Sunday.”
“Not the same.” He didn’t need his dad’s humor. He needed someone to understand. “I can feel their judgment. People watch me and I know all they see are the lies the Murrays told about the breakup.” And some embarrassing truths too. He sighed. That was the hardest part. His sins were practically plastered on the sanctuary walls. He had probably even been the topic of someone’s lunch conversation, as Katie had been.
“Maybe they’re staring because they’re happy to see you. I know I was. Seems to me the only one still passing judgment is you.” The subsequent pause was an uncomfortable one. “The church isn’t your enemy.”
Asher didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They’d gone around this circle of logic more times than he could count and rarely made any headway. He leaned over and picked up the three-inch-thick Bible. “Why don’t you put out that architecture book I gave you for Christmas?” His dad loved building design. Studied the historical context, the innovators, the scale and space down to the finest detail. Family vacations were planned around landmarks, and the little free time he had was spent drafting for fun on his computer.
“I don’t know. Ask your mother. She slaps my hand every time I move something.” His dad shut his eyes, recognizing Asher had tabled the “coming back to church” talk once again. “So how’s that deck coming along?”
“Really good.” Asher eyed his father’s lethargic position and smiled. He was the only man Asher knew who could nap and engage in conversation at the same time. “I only have about ten more planks to lay down and sand. Then I’ll stain it all.”
“What about the fence? I’m free on Tuesday. I can come dig those last postholes with you.”
Never. Never again. His dad’s “help” had been a disaster. Besides, when Asher thought of his spunky neighbor, the fence suddenly felt like a bad idea. “You know, I may wait on those. Get started on my bathroom next.”
His father popped open an eye. “I thought that fence was your number one priority.”
&nb
sp; It had been . . . before. “I just think maybe it’s a good thing for me to run into the Stones right now. Especially now that their daughter’s back.” He set down the Bible. “She’s changed. I’m pretty sure something big happened in Florida.”
His dad sat up, and the back of the recliner followed suit. “Really? So you don’t think today was a stunt.”
“No. In fact, she asked me to apologize to you for walking out. I think she was nervous about being there. And honestly, after hearing the Wheelers, can you blame her?”
“Who was nervous about being there?” His mom tapped Asher’s legs, and he dropped them to let her by.
“Katie Stone,” his dad answered.
“That poor girl. She’s been the gossip in this town for years now. The rumors after she disappeared.” His mom shook her head. “They were just terrible.”
A new rush of anger hit him. No wonder she’d been trembling on that picnic table. He’d spent most of the last eight years away from Fairfield and its incessant chatter. First at college, then in a small cubicle at Synco Intelligence. He’d met Jillian three months after returning home, and they’d been too wrapped in each other to bother with the rumor mill.
He moved a throw pillow so his mother could sit on the couch beside him. “What were they saying?”
She frowned deeply. “Nothing I care to repeat. But I know this much for sure: that child needs all the kindness we can offer her.”
CHAPTER 10
Katie tugged on the back of the couch, maneuvering it another six inches from the wall. She’d gone back and forth between pushing and pulling and finally had it positioned so it could be picked up.
“There’s no way you and I can get this thing to the truck,” her dad said, staring at the sleeper sofa with as much disgust for it as she had. “Why do you think it’s still here? It was my granddad’s, and back then they made things out of steel.”
She didn’t doubt it. The cushions were marred with multiple tears and cigarette stains. Not to mention the embedded cat hair and an odor that reminded her of sweaty feet. She didn’t care if they had to take a chainsaw to the frame, they were moving the couch today.
“Let me call some guys from work,” he offered.
What he meant was Let me call Cooper. Her father’s hints about her ex-boyfriend had been anything but subtle. Apparently, the manipulative jerk had wormed his way into her dad’s good graces while she was gone. Well, her opinion wasn’t nearly as pliable. The answer wasn’t just no, but H-E-double-hockey-sticks no.
“I already called for reinforcements.”
“Who?”
“Our neighbor.”
Her dad kicked an empty cardboard box, and it bounced off the wall. “I told you I don’t want him sniffing around here.”
She threw up her hands. “Well, I don’t want Cooper here, so it looks like we’re at an impasse.”
“Except it’s my house.”
That was true, but Katie had spent a week sweating and sorting and cleaning. She had a right to expect a little understanding. “It’s just a couch, Dad. He won’t even go down the hallway. Ten minutes. That’s it.”
He tightened and released his fist like he was trying to control himself. “Katie, I’m glad you’re home. I wanted you here, but there are boundaries I do not want crossed. You know my limits, and between the fighting with your ma and you turning my house upside down, you’re getting very close to pushing too far.”
The doorbell rang, and he made a grumbling sound in his throat. “Don’t invite him over again.”
“Fine,” she said with an edge honed by years of arguments.
Her dad marched toward the door and swung it open with annoyance. “Hope you ate some spinach this morning,” he said without a hint of humor.
Asher’s brow pinched together as he tried to come up with an acceptable response, but her dad didn’t give him time.
“Whatever. You’re too young to know what I’m talking about anyway. It’s in the dining room. Just follow the sound of Katie huffing and puffing.”
She’d seen her dad be rude, but never like this. Every word was stretched and harsh, like he thought Asher had personally wronged him in some way. Only she knew he hadn’t. His only crime was that he’d been born to the town’s pastor.
Asher’s attempted smile communicated something between complete discomfort and mild defensiveness as he stepped over the threshold. Her dad shoved a piece of cardboard under the door to prop it open, still grumbling under his breath.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding for the last few days.” Asher examined the partially cleared space that had stolen a week of her life. “It looks good.”
“Hardly.” There were still two columns of boxes and half-built metal shelves in the room, now shoved to the side so they could move the eyesore beneath her hands. She leaned in and whispered, “Sorry about my dad.”
“No worries. I’m used to it.” He circled the couch and settled at the other end. “How do you want to do this?”
“Personally, I want to burn it, but I’ve been told I’m being rash.”
“Trying to move this thing last-minute and without proper manpower is what’s rash,” her dad griped, joining them in the room. If the aggravated energy between her and her father bothered Asher, he gave no sign of it. His face was a mask of concentration as he measured the couch and then the doorway.
“I think it will fit through the opening with just a slight tilt. I guess we can try to carry it. Mr. Stone, can you and Katie take that side?”
The older man nodded.
Asher squatted down to get a grip. Katie and her dad did the same, each taking one corner. After the count of three, they all lifted. Heat ripped through Katie’s fingers and up her arms, but together they got the monstrosity airborne.
After fifteen grueling minutes, multiple readjustments of the upholstered beast, countless bursts of angry commands from her dad, and various strained muscles among them, they finally closed the truck bed behind the couch, each of them gasping for air. Her father was wheezing so badly she had to bite her tongue not to remind him that smoking tends to wreak havoc on one’s lungs. But even she knew when her old man had reached the breaking point, and he was there.
“That’s the last time I cater to your stubborn, stupid pride. Next time, we get more help,” he announced between puffs. Without even a thank-you to their guest, he stomped up the rotted front steps and slammed the door.
Asher jumped from the bed of the truck, and Katie fought the urge to kick the tires repeatedly. Buried rage swelled in her belly, reminding her why she’d spent most of her adolescence either gone or locked in her room with Laila.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was in such a mood.” She closed her eyes, humiliated by her family. It wasn’t worth it. Here she was sacrificing and suffering for them, and yet they both seemed to resent her all the more for it.
“Is it always like that between you and your dad?”
She pulled at a hangnail until the sting forced her to stop. “No, sometimes we throw in awkward silence and uncomfortable small talk.”
“And your mom?”
“The same. Just add in a dose of sarcasm and a heaping spoonful of bitterness.”
Her body sagged against the truck. “I had hoped it would be different than before.” Though she didn’t know why. Nothing had changed. If anything, her inability to connect with her parents had only worsened.
“Are they the reason you left town?”
She wished it were that simple. “No. I left town because I couldn’t breathe here anymore.”
And suddenly, that feeling returned. The constricting regret, the ache of knowing she’d hurt so many. She tried to focus on Asher. His long legs, the way his elbow barely touched her arm, the careful way he asked just enough to know her but never pushed too hard.
“I’ve felt that way before too. Like I couldn’t breathe,” he said.
Her pulse settled, and she studied his profile. “What did you do
?”
“The same thing you did. I left.” He shifted his body so that he faced her direction. “How did you know it was time to come back?”
“I can’t really explain it. My dad called to tell me about my mom’s diagnosis, and I just knew. Even before he asked me, I knew it was time. Like something deep inside was pushing me, telling me to go.” She’d fought with herself about it too. Her life had finally become stable. She had a new apartment and a job, and yet she’d packed up and left it all behind. Because she still believed that if she could do one good deed, maybe all the bad ones would stop haunting her.
“Were you happy in Florida?”
“Not at first.” Not even close. Her first two years had been spent flitting between boyfriends, crashing apartments, and so entrenched in darkness that it was a wonder she ever broke free. “But later I was.” After that wonderful night when she’d surrendered her life to Christ.
“Like I said before, I think you’re incredibly brave.”
She shrugged, uncomfortable with his compliment. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know everything she was hiding from. “It’s just a few months, right? I’ll get them settled and then go back to my life in Tallahassee. I lived with them for twenty-two years. I can certainly last a summer.”
“And you have your friends, right? I remember a certain blonde who stayed permanently attached to your hip in high school.”
A gust of wind spun through the air, making the trees rustle and the birds chirp, but all she could feel was grief. And it hurt. Deep inside her, under her rib cage, beneath her lungs, the memories pulsed with never-ending shame. “I don’t have anyone. Not anymore.”
His hand brushed hers. “You have me. I’m right next door, and I’m kinda short on friends right now too.”
She cleared her throat, managing to banish the worst of the pain. “Be careful what you offer. At this rate, I may end up moving in.”
He pushed himself off the truck but didn’t argue with her exaggeration. It almost made her think he wouldn’t mind the idea so much. But that was crazy.
My Hope Next Door Page 6