Chapter 14 – Grayson
“Church?” Dad raises a brow but doesn’t move from his position on the couch. “You really think that’s a good idea?”
I shrug and loosen my tie—just one more thing I don’t miss about going to church.
“You know, going to service to impress some girl isn’t a good idea.”
I never should’ve told him Isabelle invited me. I should’ve told him I was hanging out with friends; it wouldn’t have been a lie. I sigh and slip my arms into my jacket. “She’s not the only reason I’m going.”
He gives me another raised eyebrow, disbelieving look. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“I won’t.” I only hope I’m not lying. Isabelle is convinced her church will welcome me with open arms, and I refuse to admit how badly I want her to be right. When Mom died, I didn’t just lose her—I lost all my church friends, too. Is it so wrong that I want to reclaim a part of my old life? To remember what it was like before she destroyed our lives?
“When you get back, you and I can sit down and start looking at some colleges.” He doesn’t phrase this as a question, and I know it’s not. I give him a simple nod in response. The last thing I want to do is fight with him right now.
“Take the truck,” Dad says. His gaze is on the television. “It’s supposed to rain today.”
“Thanks.” I retrieve the keys from the hook in the kitchen. “I’ll be home in a few hours.”
He grunts, and I leave. Last night, Isabelle sent me the address, and not surprisingly, the church isn’t far from my house. Everything is fifteen minutes away or less. As I make my way through town, the sky is dark and cloudy. Hopefully, it won’t rain until after service is over.
When I pull into the parking lot, it’s full. My stomach lurches, and I momentarily consider going back home. But then I see Isabelle standing by the door, and a smile pulls at my lips. I know how important God and church are to her, and if I have any hope of dating her, I need to at least make an effort to share in this part of her life. And it’s not like I’ve never worshipped before—it used to be a normal, consistent part of my life.
I park, adjust my tie one more time, take a deep breath, and head for Isabelle. The church is on the smaller side with clean, white siding, and a new-looking sign that reads: Lakewood Valley Christian Church. Solar lights on either side light up the words in a soft glow.
“I’m impressed you own nice clothes,” Isabelle says as I approach.
I laugh. “Figured it wouldn’t be appropriate to show up in jeans and black boots.”
She smiles, and her face lights up. She’s wearing a simple blue, flowered sundress that stops an inch above her knees. A headband holds her hair back, and a touch of makeup brightens her face. “I have to admit, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up.”
“I considered turning around a couple times,” I confess.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” She holds out her hand, and I take it, lacing our fingers. Right now, I’m glad I didn’t, too. “This is going to be good.”
I wish I felt an ounce of her enthusiasm. “You look really nice.”
“Thanks. So do you.” She squeezes my hand and leads me through the doors.
As soon as I step over the threshold, sweat breaks out on my forehead. I take a deep, calming breath and remind myself this isn’t my old church. No one, other than Isabelle, knows my past or how my mother shamed and ruined an entire congregation. Here, I’m just a new guy checking out a new church.
Isabelle walks down the aisle, head held high, and stops at a pew near the middle. She whispers hello to an elderly couple and then slides into her seat. I sit beside her and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants. Then, I glance around. Hannah is on the opposite side of the aisle, a few rows ahead of us. She’s staring at me with what I can only guess is confusion. I smile, and she turns away. Dread pools in my gut. What did I do to upset her?
I blow out a breath and continue to look around—there’s an equal number of elderly couples and young families with children in attendance. My old church was mostly older people who were very set in their ways and very unforgiving. My gaze snags on Cam. He’s in the front pew with Andrea. He narrows his eyes, leans over to whisper in Andrea’s ear, and then she turns to look at me.
I shift uncomfortably and nudge Isabelle’s knee with mine. “I don’t think this was such a great idea.” I nod toward the front pew.
Isabelle straightens. “Ignore him.”
That’s easy for her to say when she’s not getting death glares from him.
A moment later, Cam stands and walks toward us. He stops, smiles to the other people sitting in the pew, and then crouches so he’s eye level with me. “What’s he doing here, Isabelle?” He talks as if I’m not sitting directly between him and her.
“The same thing we’re all doing here, Cam. We’re praising God” she says sweetly.
Cam scowls. “You could have given me a heads up.”
“I didn’t realize I had to get your approval to invite someone to church.” She turns to him, and her eyes are fiery with defiance. “I’m sure your mother and father will be thrilled he’s here. They’re always encouraging us to reach out and help grow the congregation.”
Cam stands and storms back to his seat. I shake my head but bite my tongue to keep from telling Isabelle I was right—I’m not welcome here. If Cam’s little outburst isn’t an indication, then Hannah’s snub is.
She grumbles something incoherent under her breath and crosses her arms. Worship music starts to play, and a hush falls over the church. After an introductory hymn, a tall, husky man stands in front of everyone.
Isabelle leans over to me. “That’s Cam’s father. Pastor Jeff.”
I nod.
Pastor Jeff clears his throat. “Let us pray.” In unison, everyone bows their heads, me included. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing all of us into Your house this morning so that we can praise You for Your unconditional love and forgiveness. In Your name we pray. Amen.”
A chorus of “amens” ripples through the room.
“Let us start by welcoming each other and greeting our brothers and sisters in Christ.”
Chatter erupts, and people begin to move around. I stand awkwardly as Isabelle says hello to the people around us. Several of them ask her about her parents—her father is in Chicago for business, and her mom is home with the flu. A little old lady with a hunched back and thick glasses secured around her neck with a fluorescent yellow string stops next to me. She takes my hand and smiles, but she doesn’t speak.
“Hello,” I say.
She nods and then moves on to the pew behind me, giving everyone she encounters the same friendly smile and handshake. No one else bothers to speak to me, and I don’t go out of my way to talk to them, either.
“That’s Mrs. Stratton. She’s ninety-eight,” Isabelle whispers. “She’s been coming to this church since she was a child.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Pastor Jeff,” she says, nudging me out of the pew.
Before I can move, Pastor Jeff calls for everyone to open their hymnals to page forty-six.
“I’ll introduce you after,” Isabelle says. She grabs a hymnal. I stare down at the book she holds open. Soft singing fills the nave. Goose bumps erupt on my arms. The chorus of voices is uplifting, but I’m not quite feeling the desire to sing along, so I silently move my mouth to the words.
After a couple more hymns, everyone settles into the pews. Cam’s father arranges his Bible on the pulpit and smiles at his congregation. It’s eerie how much he and Cam look alike.
“This book”—he holds up his Bible—“has been called God’s instruction manual for life. But the reality is we aren’t always sure which page to turn to. Sometimes, the decisions we have to make in life aren’t easy ones. I was talking with my son a few days ago. He was facing a difficult decision that would not only affect him but others he cared for deeply. I won’t share any personal details because I don’t want to embarrass him.” He winks at Cam.
Beside me, Isabelle groans. I slice a look at her—her jaw is clenched, and her cheeks are red. I blink, realization slowly clicking into place in my head. Is Pastor Jeff seriously using Cam and Isabelle’s break-up as a sermon illustration? I shift uncomfortably, worried what kind of emotional toll this is having on Isabelle.
She sits unusually still. I reach over and take her hand, but she doesn’t so much as glance at me. I’m guessing, based on her reaction, that she, too, knows Pastor Jeff is talking about Cam’s decision to break up with her.
“Seeing him struggle with making this decision,” he continues, “got me thinking about all the difficult decisions I’ve had to make in my lifetime.” Pastor Jeff spends the next thirty minutes sharing personal stories of tough decisions he’s faced. His honesty is refreshing.
Halfway through his sermon, Isabelle relaxes and gives my hand a small squeeze. I smile, and she returns the gesture. I settle into the pew and listen to Pastor Jeff. I’m not sure what I expected, but I’m impressed with how well-spoken and charismatic he is. He’s funny, too, which makes the sermon pass quickly.
“And so, I’m always led right back to Proverbs 3:5. ‘Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.’ When faced with your own difficult choices, lean on God to help you make the right decisions for He will guide you.”
The choir sings again, and when service ends, Isabelle stands and smooths her hands down her dress. “So, what did you think?”
“It was nice,” I say. And it was—I really did enjoy the sermon. Under different circumstances, I could see myself coming here regularly.
“Isabelle.” Hannah waves and walks over to us.
Curious eyes watch us. Conversation around us almost stops or people move away, but their gazes linger. This is exactly what people did at my last church—they’d smile to my face, but then they’d stare and whisper. I momentarily close my eyes, fighting back the bad memories. But it’s too late. My chest constricts, making it nearly impossible to draw in a breath. My vision blurs, and sweat drips down my back.
He beats her, you know? That’s why she was with the pastor. He was helping her escape.
Well, I heard he was caught with some foreigner when he was deployed.
Such a shame. That poor boy has to grow up without his mother.
The whispered accusations from my previous church whip violently through my mind. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
Hannah takes hold of Isabelle’s arm and lowers her voice. “You two need to leave.”
“What? Why?”
“Cam is not happy, and I just heard him say something to Andrea about you bringing in the trash.” Hannah smiles apologetically at me. “Sorry.”
I hold up my hands, which are clammy and shaking. “Don’t worry about it. I know when I’m not welcome.” I dig my keys from my pocket. “Thanks for inviting me, Belle, but I’m going to go.”
She reaches for my hand. “Please don’t go. You’re just as welcome here as anyone else.” The pleading in her eyes makes me hesitate.
But then I motion toward the front of the church where Cam and a group of people keep glancing in my direction. “Yeah, I doubt that. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” I turn and walk out of the church without bothering to look back. Each step is harder than the last. I’m walking away from Isabelle when she needs me most. Isn’t that another thing they accused my dad of doing to my mom? I want to run back to her, but I can’t bear the whispers, the dirty glances, the ignorant judgement of people who claim to love God but can’t love a broken person right in front of them. There’s a verse about that, too. God, how am I supposed to find my way back to You if I don’t even have the strength to stay with Isabelle when she begged me to stay? I’m a jerk.
Safely in the truck, I rest my head on the steering wheel. Well, that went exactly as I expected it would. I only wish Isabelle didn’t have to witness it all. I’m sure she wants to believe her church isn’t full of judgmental, superior people pretending to be Christians. But I know better. That behavior in there is very un-Christian.
I start the engine and hook my seatbelt. Dad’s right—organized religion is a joke. At least he won’t have to worry about me coming back here. I hope Isabelle understands, but if she doesn’t… I don’t want to think about what that could mean for us.