Finding Faith

by Tabatha Vargo

  Finding Faith

  BLOW HOLE BOYS #2

  Tabatha Vargo

  FINDING FAITH

  Copyright © 2013 by Tabatha Vargo

  All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manor whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events or real people are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Finding Faith/Tabatha Vargo

  Editing services provided by Cassie McCown/Gathering Leaves.

  Cover Art by Regina Wamba/Mae I Design and Photography

  ISBN-13: 978-1493576746

  ISBN-10: 1493576747

  Also by Tabatha Vargo

  The Chubby Girl Chronicles

  On the Plus Side

  Hot and Heavy-Coming Soon!

  The Blow Hole Boys

  Playing Patience (Zeke)

  Perfecting Patience 1.5 (Zeke)

  Finding Faith (Finn)

  Convincing Constance (Tiny)-Coming Soon!

  Having Hope (Chet)-Coming Soon!

  www.tabathavargo.blogspot.com

  www.facebook.com/tabathadvargo

  www.twitter.com/tabathavargo

  For Matthew.

  I love you.

  Prologue

  Faith… sometimes it’s passionate and fleeting. One minute you’re swimming in it, diving into the deepest recesses of the one you worship. You bathe in their heat as their healing presence swarms all around you and builds an almost unbreakable devotion.

  You believe in them, trust and rely on them blindly, knowing that if you fall, their loyal hands will catch you. You’re convicted, so strongly dedicated to them that the rest of your world falls to the background and there is only their grace.

  And the next minute, your reverence has broken apart, exposing breath and bone. Bringing you down and leaving you faithless in all things that once held purpose and hope. Beliefs unbind and all you can do is hold on to the memories of when you felt savored and whole.

  I was once faithless. Believing only in myself and the things that I could touch with my two hands, but then love took up residence in my heart and stole my soul. Something bloomed inside of me that lacked explanation and reason and I nourished it, believing with that love, all things were possible. I prospered, held strong with just a promise of desire’s sweet breaths.

  And then I was abandoned and there was nothing.

  Passion and desire desert you and you find that Faith, however tainted and brief, has changed you, reshaped your DNA and made you someone you never thought you’d be. And then you look back at the one that held your devotion for so long, and you find she’s not rapture in soft pink, but a demon with creamy skin and endless eyes—endless eyes that I swore would never capture me again.

  Part One:

  Young Love

  One

  Faith

  “I blew him,” Amanda said loudly.

  A girl walking down the hallway looked over at us like we were disgusting. I waited until she was out of earshot to respond.

  “What do you mean you ‘blew’ him? Is that like some sick slang for something sexually disturbing?” I asked, confused.

  Amanda’s laughter got the attention of everyone around us. The last bell had just rung and the hallways were packed with girls in uniform hustling to get home. Her face was red and tears of laughter ran from her eyes.

  “Oh my God, Faith, you crack me up, girl.” She wiped the smudged eyeliner from underneath her eyes and took a deep breath.

  I had no idea what was so funny, but at that point, I was too embarrassed to ask. I assumed that whatever she was talking about was sexual, and knowing her, it was probably disgusting. I was clueless to stuff like that. Daddy said when the time was right my husband would show me everything I needed to know.

  My parents always made sure to keep me in the dark about the opposite sex. I once saw a naked man briefly while I was flipping through the channels. My mom saw it, too, and three days later, my dad had the cable turned off.

  Amanda’s laughter stopped and her face cleared. “Wait, you really don’t know what that means, do you?”

  I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I put my head down to hide my red cheeks and stuffed my hair behind my ear. I didn’t think my face could get any hotter—that is until Amanda took the time to actually explain the ins and outs of oral sex.

  I spent the next twenty minutes staring at her like she was the most repulsive person alive as she explained in detail how she’d spent her night with her new boyfriend Kevin. Almost everything I knew about sex, Amanda taught me as she told me about her different boyfriends and what they’d done on their dates.

  “That’s disgusting.” I felt sick to my stomach just hearing about it.

  “Actually, it’s kind of nice.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. Sometimes I forget your situation.”

  She reached in and gave me big hug. She knew what my life was like. She’d once had to live the same life before her situation changed.

  “Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I forget you’re finally free.” I laughed.

  “Free, my ass! Mom’s being a total bitch about me using her car for anything. Speaking of, Saturday night movies… yes or no?” Amanda asked as she pulled out her English book and slammed her locker shut.

  She ran her fingers through her long blond hair and adjusted her hot-pink purse strap on her shoulder. Her chunky heels clunked against the floor as she waited for my answer. She could always pull off fun clothes like that. Honestly, I had no idea why she was still friends with me.

  We’d known each other since we played with baby dolls and wore lacey socks with our Mary Janes. Sadly, on occasion I still wore lacey socks. When we were younger, we were both sheltered and childish, but she grew up and was no longer under her dad’s strict thumb since her parents had shocked the church and got a divorce.

  Amanda was constantly getting in trouble at school because she loved nothing more than to break the dress code by throwing in a pair of skinny jeans with her button-up top, or better yet, she’d leave too many buttons open, showing entirely too much skin for Principal Lynn.

  I adored her, though. She kept me feeling alive, even if she didn’t know it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged.

  “You never do anything with us,” she whined.

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing. Look, I get the whole strict dad thing. I mean, seriously, look who you’re talking to here, but you can sneak out. It’s kind of a rite of passage for girls our age. Come on, Faith, please. You only live once and, honey, you ain’t living.”

  My dad once told me that Amanda was a bad influence. I didn’t tell him, but that was one of the main reasons I spent so much time with her. I never stepped out of line and living vicariously through her made staying in line more tolerable.

  “I can’t. If I could I would, but I really can’t. I have church Sunday morning and if I’m out too late on Saturday, I’ll never get up on time.”

&nb
sp; She rolled her green eyes and exhaled loudly. It wasn’t technically a lie. I would be tired if I stayed out too late, but she knew the real reason I wouldn’t go and it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my dad. She’d seen him beat me once when we were nine, but she never spoke of it. Maybe she thought I didn’t get beatings anymore now that I was older. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “You go to the church, like, every day. I’m sure God will understand if you miss one day.” She adjusted her strap again and blew a stray piece of hair from her eyes. “Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”

  Going on a double date with Amanda, her new boyfriend Kevin, and his cousin Tony did sound fun. Everything sounded fun to me since I never did anything but go to school and church. So I did think about it. I thought about it all through dinner that afternoon and when I couldn’t think about it anymore, I went for the kill.

  “Daddy, is it okay if I go out to a movie with some friends this Saturday night?” I poked at my untouched mashed potatoes and avoided eye contact.

  It wasn’t an unfair request. Seventeen-year-olds went to the movies all the time, but I knew before I asked that he was going to say no. It never stopped me from trying. One day… one day he’d say yes and I’d have just one night of freedom. All I needed was one night.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He said after he used his cloth napkin to wipe his mouth.

  I didn’t bother mentioning it again. I’d learned long ago it was futile to argue with a man of God. No matter what I said, he’d have some way to associate my request with Jesus and whether or not he’d approve of my actions. That argument won every time.

  Instead, I settled for homework on my older-than-dirt computer. I loved it and hated it. It got me what I needed, but only after taking forever to do so.

  An hour later and I still hadn’t gotten past my sign-on screen. I was about to throw the computer from the desk when my dad interrupted. “What would Jesus do, Faith?”

  Honestly, I hadn’t thought about what Jesus would do as I mumbled angry words and smacked at my computer. I had a paper due the following day and my ancient computer and dial-up Internet were making that extremely difficult.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” I mumbled.

  He patted my back as he walked by with his Bible in hand. He’d spent his time after dinner preparing for that night’s special sermon. It was more than difficult to focus on studying with him calling out the words of God as if he were already standing behind the pulpit.

  “You almost done?” he asked a few minutes later. “Sister Francis asked that we arrive early for tonight. She needs your help preparing for Bible school.”

  I wasn’t even close to being done. “All done.” I smiled sweetly.

  Daddy always said church came first. God waited for no man. It didn’t matter that I had to sit up some nights past my bedtime just to finish a paper.

  The church my dad preached at, Riverbank Baptist, was bigger than it used to be. Just a few years before, they’d added on extra rooms to the back, including a small kitchen for when we had big dinners. A simple redbrick building that was older than my grandfather stood tall in the middle of a large patch of grass. A tiny patch of rocks represented the parking lot. About seven cars fit in the space, which meant on rainy days, a lot of people braved muddy shoes for God.

  I was raised in Riverbank Baptist. So much time was spent with our church family that I could no longer figure out who was actually a blood relative and who wasn’t. All in all, it didn’t really matter. Family was family as far as I was concerned.

  I met Sister Francis, the Sunday school teacher and possibly my aunt, in the kid’s room as soon as we arrived. As her assistant, I was in charge of having worksheets printed out and the snacks ready to go. It didn’t take much time, but it was my job. I enjoyed being around all the lively kids. They had spunk and said some pretty bizarre things that made me laugh.

  “Thank the Lord you’re here. I didn’t think I’d get everything done,” Sister Francis said as she flittered around the room and prepared for our special Wednesday class.

  Her black flats pounded into the old hardwood flooring as she moved around the room to prepare. The edges of her shoes stretched to accommodate her thick ankles. A tiny run in her nude stockings rippled up the back of her knee, allowing her fleshy pale skin to poke out.

  As a bigger lady, she was out of breath from all the activity. Her face was flushed, but her graying miniature beehive was still holding strong. Sister Francis had always worn her hair in her signature beehive. I could remember being seven and trying to peek over her nest of hair to get a good look at my daddy as he preached his heart out in front of the congregation.

  I spent thirty minutes preparing the room for the kids and then I left and followed the sounds of my father’s booming voice as it bounced off the curved ceilings of the chapel. I found myself at the back of the church, staring up at the choir and my daddy, who was blue in the face and shaking his Bible at the crowd. He was a passionate man, but only when it came to God.

  Wednesday nights weren’t usually as packed as Sundays, but I still didn’t want everyone turning and looking back at me. Without wanting to cause a scene, I quickly slid onto the pew in the very back.

  Usually, no one sat that far back. On any other day, I’d be sitting on the first pew with my mother, but I’d taken longer in the kids’ room than usual. Mainly because I had no desire to listen to my father preach.

  The last pew should’ve been empty. But instead of having an entire row to myself, I slid right into a hard wall of heat. The smell of paint and freshly cut grass filled my nostrils as my cheek met the hot flesh of a man’s upper arm.

  As I quickly pushed back, my eyes met the jagged design of a black tattoo. It wrapped around the arm in question and worked its way under the white sleeve of his T-shirt. My fear of the unknown kicked in and I slid quickly to the edge of the pew.

  It was then that I was met with caramel-colored hair and soft baby-blue eyes. They skimmed my chin and cheeks before colliding with my own. His lips tilted in a grin before he ran his fingers through his hair, turned his attention away from me, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  He was leaning back in the pew with his long legs sprawled out in front of him. Chains hug from his right pocket and slid across the shiny wood as he gapped his legs to get comfortable. His jeans were rugged and worn, with holes allowing me to see peeks of the skin and hair around his knees.

  My eyes roamed across his strong features. A thin stroke of soft sable hair lined his jaw before bleeding down onto his chin and around his mouth. He bit at his thick lips in boredom, which pulled at the tiny silver stud beneath his bottom lip. Soft evening light spilled in through the stained-glass window and gave his face a red hue. The light flickered off of a piercing in his brow.

  I couldn’t look away. I’d never before seen anyone like him up close. Every time someone like him even came near, Daddy would pull me to the side and shelter me from anything unbecoming. Besides, going to an all-girl school meant I rarely saw boys unless they were at the supermarket or church.

  He turned toward me again with a raised brow. I was staring and it was rude, but even then I couldn’t peel my eyes away.

  “I’m not.” He grinned down at me.

  A dimple deepened on his cheek and another flicker of silver showed inside his mouth when he spoke. Dear God, was he pierced everywhere? I felt my cheeks heat at the unholy thought.

  “You’re not what?” I whispered.

  I don’t think I could talk any louder if I tried. It was bred into me to be seen, not heard, especially in church where it mattered most.

  His smile widened and I felt my blush rush down my neck. “I’m not the devil.”

  Swallowing the dry lump in my throat, I shook my head like I understood. “I know.”

  “Oh really? How can you be sure?” He turned toward me a little more and I saw another tiny tattoo on his other arm.

 
; If only Daddy could see me interacting with such a polluted person.

  “Because this is a holy place and sin’s not welcomed here.”

  He laughed quietly to himself and shook his head at me like I was confused. His caramel-colored hair spilled into his humor-filled eyes. For the first time in my life, I had the desire to reach out and touch a stranger. My fingers itched to push the hair from his clear blue eyes. It was a crime for them to be covered.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “You couldn’t be more far off. I’m not the devil, but the fact that I’m sitting here says a lot about your logic. An angel should know the difference between holy and hellfire.”

  Again, my body lit up with a hot flush.

  “I’m no angel.”

  He reached up and flicked a piece of my thick hair from my face. I pulled back, making him laugh softly to himself.

  “If it looks like an angel and talks like an angel, then it must be an angel.” He smiled.

  Even through his piercings and dark, looming looks, his smile was sweet. I wasn’t sure how he was able to do that. Maybe he was the devil. I’d been told in life that evil would be a charmer—a rattlesnake masquerading as a prince. I was beginning to think there was some truth in that saying.

  I tried to wrap my mind around his words. If it looks like a sinner and talks like a sinner, then it must be a sinner. And one thing I knew about the stranger in front of me was that he was made for sin.

  Without another word, he stood, the chain hanging from his pocket clanking and drawing the attention of the entire room. Daddy stopped preaching and his eyes were wide in anger and shock. I expected him to run down the aisle and snatch me up to get me away from the strange boy with the sinister beauty.