She snatched her hand away. The sudden rush of blood warmed her fingers. “For the record—you also didn’t ask me to come out here.” She massaged her elbow to make her point.
“So I’m the bad guy now?” The tenor of his voice rose with every syllable.
Jayce strolled down the sidewalk into the light. “Kasia, this fella botherin’ you?” His words were clipped with tension.
Embarrassment flushed her cheeks.
Blake’s hard, penetrating eyes leveled a silent warning. And it almost worked.
She wasn’t fool enough to say yes out loud, but Kasia met Jayce’s eyes.
“Kyle’s about to take a break. I want to introduce you two.”
Her steps were tentative at first, but she walked toward the coffee shop. She didn’t hear Jayce’s footsteps behind her, so she glanced back.
He stood a few feet from Blake, simply staring.
After a minute, Blake threw his hands up in the air. “What?”
Jayce shrugged as his gaze lingered on Blake a few moments more. Then he shook his head and left Blake sitting in a lump.
He jogged up, wallet chain jingling, and walked her down the steps. “Ya good?”
She stepped into the shop full of music. He’d seen more than she’d wanted, and she needed a minute to get her wall in place.
“Thanks for coming outside, Jayce.”
Jayce scraped the corner of his mouth with his thumbnail. “No problem. I’m gonna get something to eat. You?”
She shook her head and looked back toward the table. “Just our coffees.”
With any luck, he would pretend none of this ever happened.
Lenka slid up and nudged her. “What happened while I was in the bathroom?”
Kasia shrugged. “Nothing big. Blake showed up, but I told him we’re over.” Or something like that.
6
Zan’s blood was liquid apathy, the world adequately squidgy around the edges. This kind of night—the kind when he wondered why he bothered with college ball—demanded a buzz.
Walking down Frat Row, he felt the bass before he was within fifty yards of the party. A few more steps and he could lose himself in the mayhem.
In no time, he made it to the center of the throng, moved to the beat that vibrated the house and thrummed in his veins. He stayed where the music throbbed so loud in his ears he didn’t have to talk to the girls who danced and pressed around him, couldn’t have carried on a conversation if he’d wanted to.
Yeah, this was where he wanted to live until the night wore out.
He closed his eyes. Bodies writhed and swayed on every side. He felt soft, thin fabric against his palms, a touch of warm skin, hair ghosting over his fingertips. Delicious perfumes, fruity and exotic, suffused the air, and the slight tinge of sweat and the fermented odor of beer mingled with every scent. When he opened his eyes in the dim light, a gamut of tantalizing images played out before him. A sensory feast.
So why didn’t he feel sated? Restless, he wandered back to the kitchen for a refill. Several of his teammates sat around the table, playing beer pong and getting wasted. But nobody was too far gone to miss it when Adams cranked up the TV to hear the ECC championship announcement. Zan’s back hit the kitchen doorframe, his gaze riveted to the screen as Firelli’s game-winning hit looped again. The room became a riot of whoops and hollers.
He only stood there. What had he done all year? Shagged foul balls and warmed up the left fielders? He’d personally contributed absolutely nothing to this victory. It wasn’t his.
Nothing had ever been his.
“It’s been a long time.” A too-familiar voice purred in his ear, warm lips against his skin.
Tasha.
It definitely had been a while. Forgetting her—that face, that voice, that body—after their hot summer together back in Charleston had been less than easy, but he’d made a valiant effort. Popularity, prestige, and wild sorority parties mattered more than he did, so she’d cut him loose. During rush week, and the following year, throngs of guys clamored for her attention.
Well, they could have her.
Tonight, though, as her fingers dug into his hair and her body moved closer to his, he didn’t have to ask what she wanted. It might mean nothing to her, might just be for old time’s sake, but if he could have something, someone of his own—even for an hour…
He let her lead him away from the crowd and toward the stairs.
One step up, she locked eyes with Zan. Her fingernails scraped lightly against his stomach as she whispered the words he wanted to hear, full of invitation and promise. Zan smirked and answered with a scorching kiss.
A massive arm slammed into his upper body, and Zan swung his head around, disoriented.
The arm was attached to a tree trunk of a man. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
Tasha batted her eyelashes at the hulk. “There you are, baby. He was helping me look for you.” As if she hadn’t just offered herself to Zan.
The giant’s face crumpled as his eyes darted back and forth between them. Whatever was in his bloodstream—mercifully—slowed his reactions to a crawl. That moment of hesitation was the only reason Zan made it out the door.
~*~
As Kyle’s set slowed, the song choices were familiar enough to calm Kasia, and convicting enough that she wished she could sink into the floor. Blake’s reminders, still hot against her ear, didn’t help.
How in the world had she had the audacity to think God would still use someone like her? She’d broken every promise she’d ever made Him, stepped on the shards of her commitments and ground them to dust. Kasia gripped her coffee like a lifeline and squeezed her eyes shut. Gravity compressed her will to nothing. How do I get up from here, God? Unless You lift me, I have no chance.
Soft guitar broke into her hopelessness, a plaintive melody drawing her attention. Suddenly, Kyle seemed only a small part of the music. His mellow voice sang a song new to Kasia, and the lyrics hollowed out a piece of her heart.
“…wrapped in shadows of good intentions…”
Exactly. She’d be better off fleeing God than trying to sing again.
His voice filled the room, filled her head. “Stronger, better, but not myself. Change me into—”
Something else, something new.
“Something that could bring You glory…”
In a breath, Kasia was ten again—and Tatuś her universe. On one of those countless nights her family had cozied up on the hearth rug to enjoy the warmth of the fire, Kasia’s adoring eyes locked on her daddy’s. Tatuś read to them from his favorite books—some in Polish, some English. But he always began with the questions.
“What is man’s greatest end?” he asked. With a light touch to the tip of eight-year-old Lenka’s nose, he’d leaned toward her and whispered, “I’m asking why we are here, misiu. Why did God make us?”
Kasia, nestled snugly under his strong arm, leaned with him in Lenka’s direction, scooching even closer to his side as he straightened. He smiled down at her, the skin around his eyes creased with love, and he tugged one of Kasia’s long curls. “Do you know, Kasiu? What is our greatest end?”
Suddenly shy, Kasia had whispered the words they were all committing to memory. “The greatest end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”
“Och ty! Slicznie, Kasiu.” Wonderful. He squeezed her knee, and she proudly rested her small hand atop his oversized one as he tapped the rhythm of the answer, repeated it once more. “…glorify God and enjoy Him forever…”
Tonight, in Common Grounds, the warmth of her daddy miles away, Kasia wrestled with the second half. Would she ever be able to find joy again?
“So…Kyle’s pretty great.” Lenka’s voice yanked Kasia out of her introspection. “A.J. said he wrote this one. You ought to get that chord chart from him. Maybe you could play with him sometime.”
“If you want the chart, you can ask him.” Lenka could sing it.
With a crescendo, the music commande
d Kasia’s attention once more. Kyle’s eyes were closed, his face lifted in prayer as his voice resounded. “Make me whole, then make me wholly Yours…” He hummed as he played the final chords, hung his head and let the music fade.
“You’ve totally got to get the chord sheet.”
“Dobrze. Fine. I’ll get it.” Sheesh. She would. Even if she couldn’t make herself sing. Those words would be her prayer in the weeks ahead.
~*~
Kasia studied Kyle’s guitar as he set it down. Great sound quality, beautiful coloring. She sort of hated it when people put stickers on the body though.
He strolled over to fist-bump Jayce. “Who are these lovely ladies?”
“I’m Lena, and this is my sister, Kasia.”
A.J. chuckled. “There you go. They even answer questions.”
“You two go to school at Oconee State?”
“I do,” Kasia said. “Lena still lives at home.” She wouldn’t say “high school” in order to save her toes from her sister’s vengeance, but she wouldn’t lie either.
“Where do you go?” Lenka asked.
“Tri-County Tech. I study Broadcasting Media?” It was a question.
Lenka chuckled. “You’re not sure?”
“I’m sure it’s my major. Wasn’t sure you’d know what it was.” He shook his head.
“Radio and TV, right?” Kasia asked.
“Yeah. There are loads of technical details and small projects, but we each get a shift at the station too. I handle a weekday-morning broadcast, but my baby is the indie-music show I do on Saturday nights. It’s a pretty cool course.”
“Sounds like it.” Kasia smiled. “I’ll have to tune in this weekend and check it out. I’m always looking for new music.”
“Did you write any of that music tonight? A few songs were new to me.” Lenka brushed her long, straight hair back over her shoulder. “Kasia writes music.”
What! “Thanks, Lenka. Even though I purposely kept it on the down-low that you were still in high school.”
“Ohho. Bring it, sister. He probably doesn’t care that you’re mediocre.”
“You guys are so sweet.” Kyle laughed quietly. “But seriously, Kasia, do you write a lot?”
Kasia tipped her head to the side. “Been known to try.”
“That’s cool,” Kyle said. “I’d love to hear something of yours. Why not bring your guitar next week. We can jam after the study?”
Kasia’s emotions swirled in the pit of her stomach at the hope she saw in his face. She hated disappointing people. She looked away. “I, um…haven’t really written anything new—or played—for a while.”
“Oh, I guess…” Kyle quit talking.
“Who else is hungry?” Jayce said suddenly. “I feel like a meatball sandwich or two. Anybody in?”
“I’ll get a dessert,” Kasia said. Kyle and Lena picked up the conversation from there, but Kasia didn’t listen. Her mind stayed engulfed in unanswered questions.
~*~
Back in Kasia’s dorm room, her sister spouted opinion like an annoying fountain—on the music, on Kyle, on how hard it was to get Kasia’s attention all evening.
Kasia hoped the well would run dry soon. She’d thought about inviting Lenka to spend the night, but no way. Kasia’s nerves were as taut as guitar strings and humming already.
“So. Church tomorrow. It’s cool A.J. invited you, since we need new people for you to hang with. And Kyle definitely seemed interested in talking music more.”
Lenka clearly had no hesitations about it. Apparently, “we” were signing up for anything that presented itself. Kasia studied the floor, tried to expel her irritation somewhere other than all over Lenka. Her sister meant well, but—just ask first. People always assumed they knew what she wanted.
“Kyle had a whole lot of questions about you, actually.” Lenka waggled her eyebrows.
“Slow down, Lenka. I’m not exactly ready to meet the world yet.”
“You don’t miss Blake, do you?” Lenka obviously wanted a no. “You know, I don’t even know him. Anyone who’s more important than family is—”
“He was never more important. It was just…I didn’t want…”
Lenka’s face softened.
Maybe Lenka could truly listen and withhold judgment. “I…did you have any idea Blake and I were sleeping together?”
Lenka rocked back on her heels. “No! I mean, I knew you were—” Her words fell into silence. She cleared her throat. “Kosh, what were you thinking?”
Kasia’s ears heated up. From shame or the sting of Lenka’s tone, she didn’t know. “I didn’t plan it, Lena. We just went a little further every time. And you knew we were what?”
Her sister’s mouth formed a tight line. “I walked up on the two of you one time out behind Dad’s wood shop—you had no idea I was there.”
What had she seen? “Were we—?”
“Kissing, but handsy enough to scald my eyes.”
“Sorry you saw that.” Kasia aligned her Bible with the desk corner. Exactly.
“You’re not sorry you did it?”
“Jejku, Lenka. Thanks for the judgment.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Lenka rubbed her palms on her shorts—her signature I’m-uncomfortable move. “It was just a shock to see, you know? And to hear this now. You’ve always been my standard.”
Kasia’s gaze flew to meet Lenka’s. “Not fair. Nobody can live up to that kind of pressure.”
Lenka nodded. “You at least realize it was a mistake, right?”
How about some encouragement? “You think if I planned to sleep around, I’d announce it?”
“Sorry.” Lenka blew out a breath. “I’m not doing a good job here.”
True. Still, Kasia couldn’t fault her sister for the reaction. She deserved worse. And she needed a friend. She steadied herself on the edge of her bed. “I understand why you’d think less of me. But there were a slew of good reasons I couldn’t stop.”
“Like what?”
“Forget it. Just…believe me when I say I’m done with all of it. Dating and everything.”
“Sorry you have to deal with all that.”
Kasia picked at the rubber on her flip-flop and felt a hand on her wrist. She glanced up.
“Really. Przykro mi. I’ll pray for you.”
The Polish apology warmed her. “Thanks. You, um, should probably head home. Don’t want Mama and Tatuś to worry.”
Her sister’s strawberry-blonde hair fell in her face as she stood. “All right. Do you want me to drive down sometime this week?”
“I’ll let you know, dobrze?” Lenka was right. She needed friends right now.
But she also needed to make some decisions for herself.
7
Zan woke the morning after the hellacious frat party and felt like he’d slept chained to a jackhammer. His body ached, his stomach churned, and his tongue wore a sweater. He poured a cup of yesterday’s coffee, swallowed some aspirin, and tried to remember the last twenty-four hours. Based on the pieces he could recall, he might as well give up and move home.
His cell vibrated on the coffee table. Dad. Well, that ought to ease the headache. “Hello?” His phone said one o’clock already.
“Congrats on the championship, son. Wish you’d have gotten a little game time.”
He did not want to talk baseball with Dad while his head was under this anvil. “I’m going to see Bailey today.”
“Is she all right?” Protective-father mode. Immediately.
“Decent, I guess. Staying with some church people.”
Dad harrumphed. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask though.”
“We don’t tell you enough, son. Taking that partial scholarship—that was a mighty selfless decision. It’s good you’re close to Bailey.”
Zan’s chest swelled a little, even though when he’d turned down two other offers—both starting positions—he hadn’t been reaching for a compliment.
“As far as these church folks—you help Bailey make some wise decisions, hear? Maybe get her to come home.”
No pressure. “Yes, sir.” Zan knew he’d be hearing from the coach soon. May as well bite the bullet. “Hey, Dad?”
“What is it?”
“Mike was there yesterday, at the game. Looking for Bailey.”
He’d never heard his dad swear so eloquently. “Did you say anything to him?”
“Yeah…more than that. I’m pretty sure I’m in serious trouble.”
~*~
Kasia sat in the back of West Ridge Community Church next to A.J. and Jayce. Kyle, part of the worship team, winked at her from the front. Their pastor wouldn’t preach that morning. Missionaries Mark and Patty Cleaven would only be stateside for two weeks more, so Pastor Sean asked Mark to share about his work in Peru.
From word one, Mark’s obvious love for the people of Cajamarca held Kasia’s attention. In the photos, she saw their highland village—snapshots of their work, side by side with the people, drilling wells, building irrigation systems.
As Mark spoke, Kasia’s mind whisked her to the Andean highlands. She saw herself working with the bronze-skinned women, laughing at the antics of nearby black-headed children. The idea smoldered within her.
She tore herself from her reverie and listened as Mark shared the immense challenge facing the team as they returned to the field. “We’re torn,” he said. “We spend most of our time in the highland villages. Up until now, we’ve only spent one day a week in the city, for shopping and daily business. But we’ve built relationships with the open-air merchants and shop owners. Any of you folks ever thought about teaching English as a second language?”
Kasia had. She’d helped her mom for years. Even before Mama let her help with her ESL classes, Kasia couldn’t stay behind. She’d learned to greet everybody in their heart language, make them feel welcome. She sat and drew pictures for them while she listened. When she turned twelve, Mama let her help with the kids. But in that—that—she’d found joy.
Mark’s eyes—full of contagious intensity—scanned the auditorium. “Before we came back to the States, they asked me to offer a conversational English class for their older kids—home from university for the summer. We’d be crazy to blow this opportunity. The highland families are responsive, but there are a hundred thousand more people in the city than the villages. There isn’t enough time for my wife and me to do it all. Pray that God will give us wisdom as we choose how to invest our time.”
Strains of Silence Page 5