And Miss Gloria? I didn’t know how to describe the expression I saw on her face. It was almost blank. Vacant. Numb. Like she wasn’t even really processing what she was hearing.
When had this happened? When had the loving mother figure I’d grown up knowing in my childhood, the woman who used to do crafts with me and Darla when we were kids and always had a plate of warm cookies and a glass of milk for me when I came over, turned into someone who just checked out while her husband stood up there trying to justify the way he treated their child? How did I miss it, and how didn’t I realize what it meant until now?
“Most people today say that it’s not okay to strike your child,” came the pastor’s voice, bringing me back to the message. “They call it abuse. But the Lord commands us to strictly discipline our children! If we spare the rod, we spoil the child! He commands us to train up a child in the way they should go so that when they are old, they will not depart from it! And children are commanded to honor their fathers and mothers, so that their days will be long on this Earth.
“So, what are you going to do? Are you going to let Satan lie to you in the form of the mainstream media, telling you that discipline is abuse, or are you going to do as the Lord commands and use the rod to keep your children on the path of righteousness?”
“That’s right!” I heard a random person exclaim.
“Amen!” someone else said.
What in the hell? How could anyone think this message was normal? How could they read the Bible’s instruction about disciplining children and take away a message that it was okay to strike your children and hurt them?
There were so many things wrong with this, I wasn’t even sure where to start. I knew one thing for sure, though: Darla was in serious trouble.
“Hey, Brendan,” Heather said as she walked up to me in the lobby.
“Hey,” I muttered, continuing to walk toward the youth room.
There was only one person I wanted to see and talk to this morning, and no offense to Heather, but it wasn’t her. It was a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl who I had a feeling desperately needed human contact after hearing her father try to justify what he was doing to her to an entire congregation of people who ate it up with a spoon.
For some reason, my arms literally ached with the need to give Darla a hug. She needed friends, now more than ever. But the problem was, every time I tried to show her that friendship, everything else I felt bubbled up to the surface, threatening to spill out and drown me.
“Um, am I the only one who thought that sermon was a little weird?” Heather said, just above a whisper, reminding me that she was still there.
I sighed. “Nope. It was more than a little weird.”
“Thank God my parents don’t take the Bible that literally,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I think they’ve maybe spanked me once.”
“Yeah, my parents aren’t big on spanking either,” I mumbled.
But apparently someone else’s parents were. Or at least her father was.
“Anyway, you ready for the game on Wednesday?” she asked, changing the subject.
Seriously? How could she think about football at a time like this? How could she even concentrate on anything other than the psychobabble we’d heard coming from that pulpit this morning?
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered as I held the door to the youth room open for her, then followed her in.
My eyes immediately fixed on Darla, who was sitting in a corner with her head down, like she was purposely trying to make herself invisible. It broke my heart seeing the girl who was usually so in her element when she was in this room looking so uncomfortable. I really wanted to go find that asshole who called himself a spiritual leader and use the “rod of discipline” on him to see how he liked it.
Heading over to the table that had coffee, orange juice, milk, and donuts set out, I grabbed a small plate and threw a Boston crème donut and a powdered sugar one on it, then went to sit next to Darla. I took my Boston crème donut, then put the plate containing her favorite donut on her lap.
“Figured that might cheer you up,” I said quietly.
She let out a quiet huff. “It would, if I was allowed to eat it.”
Seriously? She wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, and now she wasn’t allowed to eat a stupid donut either? This was beyond strict. This was insane.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I chuckled humorlessly.
“He could walk in any minute. He said he’d know everything that happened today,” she said, so quietly that I could barely hear her. “I’m surprised he’s even letting me be in here at all.”
“He doesn’t want anyone else to know,” I sighed.
She shook her head. “It’s family business, not anyone else’s. I’m not allowed to bring anyone else into it.”
Her voice broke at the end, and I could tell she was barely hanging onto her control by a thread. But he’d probably told her she wasn’t allowed to cry either. Because that would tell everyone that something was wrong.
That man shouldn’t have even been allowed to have children. Not even the worst juvenile delinquent deserved this kind of treatment, but knowing that it was happening to this sweet, kindhearted girl who wouldn’t have hurt a fly made me want to cry.
I’d always been taught about a loving and merciful God. I’d been told that having a relationship with the Lord would change people for the better. But sometimes I had to wonder, if that was the case, why did so many people seem to get harder and meaner after “finding Jesus”? Where was all the change that everyone spoke of? Because I wasn’t seeing it.
“I’m going to give you a hug, Dar,” I told her. “I’m not letting you say no. You need a friend.”
She swallowed hard, and it took a second, but she finally nodded timidly. I took the plate off her lap, put my half-eaten donut on it, and set it on the chair next to me. Then I pulled her into my arms and squeezed tight.
“You know, if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here to listen,” I murmured.
“I know. But I’m okay. I promise. It’s my own fault,” she sniffled quietly.
I sighed. I thought we’d been over this. But apparently it hadn’t quite sunken in yet. I guessed it would take a while for her to really see the toll that her father’s “discipline” was taking on her.
“Okay. I just want to make sure you know you can talk to me. About anything,” I reiterated.
Peter walked into the room, and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a half-smile when he saw us. Marie followed him, and it seemed like she was looking for someone for a moment before her eyes landed on us and she made a beeline in our direction.
“Hey, you two,” she chuckled, flashing a friendly smile. “Brendan, do you mind giving Darla and I a minute? I wanted to talk to her about the kids’ service this week.”
Well, she was about to be unpleasantly surprised when she found out that Darla wasn’t allowed to participate in the children’s ministries for the next week and a half.
I looked down at Darla. “You going to be okay?”
Darla nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.”
With a sigh, I forced my arms to release her, then grabbed the rest of my donut off the plate that was still sitting next to me and went to sit on the other side of the room. I was so lost in thought, trying to figure out what I could say or do to help Darla, that I didn’t even notice someone else was next to me until I heard Peter speak.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”
Oh, I had more than one thing on my mind. But my brain was such a jumbled mess of emotions and questions that I didn’t even know where to start.
“Can I take a wild guess and say that today’s sermon made you uncomfortable?” he tried.
Well, there was no use in denying it.
“Yeah, it did,” I admitted. “I’m worried. About Darla.”
He gave me a sad smile. “You’re a good friend to her. I can tell
you care a lot about her.”
“More than I should,” I said without even thinking.
Shit. What in the hell had I just said? And to someone who, for all I knew, could go right back to Darla’s father and tell him about it? I was such an idiot. If I was the cause of any harm coming to Darla, I’d never forgive myself.
But instead of looking at me like I had three heads – or, worse, like I was a horrible person for voicing the feelings I was so ashamed of – Peter just let out a quiet chuckle and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Brendan, do you know how old Marie and I were when we met?”
I looked over at him, confused. What did that have to do with anything?
“She was ten and I was thirteen. We started dating three years later, when I was your age. That’s not so different from the age difference between you and Darla.”
“Still. There’s a lot of reasons why I can’t think about her like that,” I sighed.
Like being afraid that her father was hurting her and that I’d make it even worse for her if I tried to take things any further between us. Oh, and then there was the not-so-thinly-veiled threat he’d given me on Wednesday night. Couldn’t forget about that, now, could I?
“That’s your decision to make, and if all you feel you can give her right now is friendship, then she’s lucky to have you in her life,” he told me. “But there’s nothing wrong with starting to notice girls in another light either. Darla might not be a woman yet, but she’s not a child either. She’s old enough to make her own decisions too. Remember that the Lord created us to love and be loved. And I believe He has someone special chosen for each of us, and when that person comes into our life, He finds ways to let us know. Just something to keep in mind. And if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I won’t judge and I won’t tell anyone what you share with me in confidence.”
I cracked a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
With another squeeze on my shoulder, Peter stood up and went to get a donut. And I was left there with my head spinning as I tried to process what he’d just said to me.
Was he actually encouraging me to pursue the pastor’s daughter? Was the war that had been waging in my mind for the past couple of weeks that obvious to everyone? Or was it just because he was trained to work with teenagers that he’d picked up on it?
And why, after he’d framed it like that, did it not seem so wrong to have feelings for her now?
Chapter 8
Darla
Shifting Sand
“How’s everything going, Darla?” Marie asked me as soon as Brendan was out of earshot.
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I can’t participate in the kids’ services for the next couple of weeks, though. Sorry. I can give you the stuff I was going to do for crafts if you want.”
“I know,” she said with a soft smile. “Your dad told me. It’s okay. You can do those crafts in a few weeks when you come back. But that’s not really why I wanted to talk to you alone. Your dad…um, he told me a little about why he wanted you in the main service for the next couple of weeks. Is there anything you want to talk to me about, sweetheart?”
I snorted softly. Yeah, there was no way I was about to tell her anything about what was happening behind the closed doors of her husband’s boss’s house. Not to mention, she was a licensed mental health counselor. My dad had brought me to plenty of therapists before. And then when I’d tried to talk to them about what was going on, they’d try to have a joint session with him.
That was always the point at which he would pull me out of therapy, because I was “making up my stories again” and therapy apparently wouldn’t work if I didn’t tell the truth. Well, his version of the truth. The version where I was an out-of-control kid. A pathological liar who just made up stories to get attention. Not the version where he kept me on a leash so tight that it suffocated me and never even gave me a chance to prove myself to him because, according to him, I was rebellious and couldn’t be trusted.
“Nope,” I muttered. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “If you change your mind, you have my phone number, right?”
I nodded.
“You can call anytime. We can go grab some lunch or ice cream or something and talk. You know I’m a therapist, so if you tell me something, I can’t tell anyone else unless I think you’re in trouble. If you tell me something that makes me think you need help, I have to get you help, but besides that, I can’t repeat anything you say to me.”
I wished I could talk to Marie about this. I wished my father was reasonable enough that I could ask her to talk to him about letting up on me just a little. If there was an adult I would have trusted enough to say anything to, it was her. But I knew he’d probably already given her his “you can’t believe a word my disrespectful and rebellious child says” spiel, so it wasn’t like she’d believe me anyway.
“I appreciate it, but I’m fine,” I insisted. “Really.”
She smiled. “Good. So, anyway, you and Brendan are getting pretty friendly lately.”
My cheeks immediately heated, and I covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t believe she’d gone there, and especially when Brendan was literally less than thirty feet away from us.
“Are you two dating, or…”
I snorted. “No. We’ve known each other forever. I’m like a kid sister to him.”
“The way he was looking at you when I walked in here didn’t seem like he was looking at his kid sister,” she chuckled. “But what about you? Do you like him? As more than just a friend?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled.
“Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t change anything,” I sighed.
It didn’t change the fact that I was pretty sure my dad would have checked me into a nunnery if he could. And it didn’t change the fact that Brendan didn’t like me that way, even if I was allowed to date.
Marie stood up. “Well, he’s a good kid. You’re lucky to have him in your life.”
That actually made me crack a smile. “I know. He’s one of my best friends.”
“I can tell,” she said.
She wandered off to talk to Peter, and Brendan came back to sit next to me. As he turned to me, concern was etched all over his face. More concern than I’d ever gotten from anyone before in my entire life.
“I really think you should eat that donut,” he said. “Your dad’s not going to come in here now. He’s already in his own Sunday school class at this point. And there’s nothing like empty calories to make you feel better.”
I let out a weak chuckle as I picked the plate up from the chair next to me. He had no idea how badly I wanted that stupid ring-shaped bakery item. And it was too sweet that he’d remembered what my favorite was.
“Fine. But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you,” I said, just above a whisper.
“I’ll be blaming myself, so that’s fair,” he murmured as he rubbed my back. “I really wish you’d tell me what I can do to help you.”
I loved that he knew me so well and always knew when something was bothering me, but at the same time, I kind of hated it because it meant I couldn’t keep anything from him.
Of all the people I was keeping the truth about my home life from, he was the one I hated lying to the most. Naomi, Kate, and Ashton all tied for second place, but Brendan? We’d grown up together. He knew me better than anyone. And to have to lie to him about something this huge killed me.
But I couldn’t tell him. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because I knew that he’d do something to try to help me, and all that would accomplish would be to make it worse. He wouldn’t understand that the absolute best thing I could do was just to keep my head down, grin, and bear it until I could legally move out and file a restraining order against my father.
“If I can think of something, I promise I’ll tell you,” I said truthfully. “But just knowing that you’re here is enough.”
“I’ll always be here,�
�� he said, a flash of some emotion I couldn’t identify crossing his face. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, guys, let’s go ahead and get started,” Peter said.
I turned to face the front of the room, where Peter and Marie were both sitting wearing solemn expressions. I didn’t think I’d ever seen them look so unsure or uncomfortable before.
He took a deep breath. “I know not all of you were in the early service this morning, but some of you were. And those of you who are going to the later service, consider this…preemptive action, I guess. I hope you all know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t be speaking out against something Pastor Jones said unless I felt strongly about it. And I’m not so much speaking out against it as clarifying some things. And Marie’s going to be helping with the lesson this morning, because this is something she deals with on a regular basis at work.”
“So, Pastor Jones spoke about parents disciplining their children this morning,” Marie said. “And he did make some very good points, like that it’s the job of the parent to discipline their children and ensure that they keep walking the straight and narrow. We might not always like our parents disciplining us, but it is their job to make sure we’re obeying the rules of their house, and the rules that the Lord has put in place for us as His followers. I counsel parents and children all the time, and one thing I find myself reminding my patients about constantly is that parents aren’t supposed to be their children’s friends. If you’re not frustrated with your parents every once in a while, they’re not doing their job.
“But Pastor Jones left something very important out of his message this morning, and that’s the fact that there’s a very fine line between discipline and abuse. So I just want to talk to you a little bit about the difference between the two and let you know when you should talk to an adult you trust. Actually, before I get started talking about that, I just want to remind you that you can always talk to both me and Peter about anything. I’ve already told you guys that I’m a licensed therapist, and I’m more than willing to abide by the confidentiality laws with you, even though you’re not technically my patients…with one exception. As a therapist, I’m a mandated reporter for child protective services. What that means is that, legally, if you tell me something that makes me think you need some sort of help, I’m required to report it so you can get that help.”
My Vows Are Sealed (Sealed With a Kiss) Page 8