After the longest night on the planet with Micah calling and texting multiple times and Casey tossing and turning, Casey groaned and glared at her ringing phone in the dim morning light. Who dared call her this early on a Sunday? She flipped the phone over and blinked at the screen.
Teagan.
“Someone better be dying, Teag.”
Her friends tinkling laugh rubbed against her nerves. “Well it sounds like you are. You have twenty minutes to look presentable before I show up with coffee.”
After a rough end to the night with her sister and Micah, today, Casey didn’t care about anything other than sleep.
“No way. Sunday mornings are sacred. I don’t get out of bed before ten.”
“Not this Sunday.”
Casey heard a car door slam.
“You have nineteen minutes. Jeans and a cute sweater. No ball cap. No leggings. Chop, chop, missy.”
“Teagan, I swear . . .”
“Your threats carry no weight with me. Now, Case.”
It was futile to argue with Teagan when she got a new harebrained idea. That girl had a gypsy heart if Casey ever saw one. She didn’t like plans, but she loved to drag her friends on adventures. Casey sat up and tossed her cream comforter off her legs.
“Fine. Fine. Where are we going?”
“That’s a surprise,” Teagan sang. “Eighteen minutes.”
With a click, Casey was left in silence.
She groaned at the digits glaring at her from her phone. “8:07. Teagan, I’m going to strangle you.”
With a groan, she stumbled into the hallway and flipped on the shower. Within minutes, she fought her way into skinny jeans, a burgundy knit sweater, and had added just enough product to her hair to add a little body wave. This would have to do.
The doorbell rang just as Casey forced her ankle boots on her feet. She toppled against the counter. A free-spirit Teagan might be, but when the girl wanted something, she was freakishly punctual.
She hurried into the living room where Emery sat on the couch eating a bowl of cereal and watching her latest Netflix obsession, something with mermaids and really cute teenage boys. No wonder she had a thing for TJ. And that other guy back home. Casey didn’t want to think about how her mom had handled that indiscretion.
“I’m running out with Teagan. Do you need anything?”
Emery rolled her eyes. “I’m fourteen, not four.” She saluted with her cereal bowl. “Go have fun.”
“Teenagers,” Casey grumbled under her breath. She grabbed her purse and keys from the hook near the door just as the doorbell sang again. She yanked on the door handle.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Teagan’s bright smile and flowery shirt were much too chipper for this early on the weekend. She held out a coffee cup from Mudleaf. “Your favorite with that caramel stuff you like.”
Casey accepted the offering and pulled the door closed behind her. “This better be good, Teag.”
“Only the best.” Her friend flashed a smile as she slipped behind the wheel of her sunny yellow bug. “Just close your eyes, enjoy your coffee, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”
Casey sank into the charcoal gray leather seat and followed her friend’s suggestion. The coffee warmed her throat before slipping into her belly. Shot one of morning juice. Only the rest of the cup to go. “Who says ‘jiffy’ anymore, Teag?”
“People who aren’t so surly in the mornings.”
The car pulled onto the freeway, reggae music blared from the speakers, and Casey regretted having a friend who was a morning person. “Just tell me when we get there.” She slipped on her knock-off Ray Bans and closed her eyes.
Within ten minutes, the car came to a halt. A door closed but Casey wasn’t ready to move. Until her door sprang open and Teagan tugged her hand.
“We’re here!”
Casey opened her eyes and bit back a word she would have yelled at Emery for using. She might get struck by lightning just for using it, especially this close to Redeemer Community Church.
“Teagan, I really am going to kill you. This is your grand adventure?” Casey tugged her seatbelt to her chest and refused to budge. “I thought we were driving to Marble Falls for the day or maybe visiting a new brunch place you are obsessed with. I am not going in there; do you understand me?” Anger laced her voice but hidden deep within her was sheer panic. She hadn’t been in a church since she was sixteen and her high school small group leader, Mrs. Anderson, had gone on about the cons of abortion instead of asking Casey what had happened to her baby. If only she’d still had Mrs. Todd when her life had fallen apart.
Teagan crouched by the passenger seat, her caramel brown eyes a little too understanding. Casey knew there would be no changing her mind. Good thing Casey was just as stubborn.
“Casey Stewart, do you not think I understand better than anyone why you wouldn’t want to go in there?”
Casey swallowed another sip of coffee and refused to look at her best friend. Teagan did know better. So why had she dragged Casey here? Around them, people exited cars and flocked to the doors where ushers smiled and greeted them. Children skipped through the parking lot, eager to get inside, while parents yelled at them to watch for cars. A group of teenagers chatted outside the doors of what looked like a youth center, perfectly happy to be with their friends at church this early on a Sunday. Teenagers like she used to be. Before that night changed everything.
“Case, look at me.”
Teagan’s soft voice drew Casey from her memories. She took another swig of coffee, hoping to swallow away the urge to cry. She wouldn’t shed any more tears for the girl she’d once been—the girl who had given her heart to a loving Father, who loved going to church as often as she could talk someone into taking her in her early teen years, who prayed and read her Bible, even when her mom made fun of her. And who’d been torn to shreds when she’d gotten pregnant and lost the baby and then been accused and blamed for the loss. She’d never been inside a church again.
“Case . . .”
Casey finally looked at her friend. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been coming the last few weeks with Mama Rosie.”
Casey bolted upright. “Teag, you promised.”
Teagan held up a hand. “Casey, I have more right to hate the church than you will ever know.” Her green eyes were as hard as jewels. “You know I was beaten countless time by my foster dad who was a deacon at a local church.”
Casey had known. She’d been the one Teagan had called to help her hide the bruises.
“But Mama Rosie has been talking to me a lot about people and about God.”
Casey flinched, but Teagan reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“The God she talks about and the Christians she describes, the Christian she is, they aren’t like the ones we experienced. And it makes me wonder if we are missing out on something we used to love and if the people who hurt us . . .” Teagan swallowed and shifted her eyes to the church doors. This time Casey squeezed her hand.
“Maybe . . . maybe they were as hurt and messed up as we were and don’t deserve to be the thing we associate with God or believers.”
Casey knew what was coming next. She wanted to withdraw, to run, to avoid the memories.
“Please, Casey. Come inside with me.”
Music filtered through the open doors. Only a trickle of people still entered. She shifted her sunglasses on top of hair and met Teagan’s begging stare.
“I know how much it hurt. We can’t . . .” Teagan shook her head. “We’re almost thirty, Casey. We can’t keep letting it win. Letting them win. Just come inside with me. Please,” she whispered.
Her heart stalled out. Teagan had stood by her through everything. Understanding, knowing, and yet she asked. Casey could do this one thing. Even if the memories hounded her. She fumbled with her seatbelt and slipped from the car.
If Teagan could do it, then so could she.
Teagan wound her arm through Casey’s. She shivered, her steps faltering, but Teagan’s arm through hers didn’t allow her to waver. Before she could blink they were past the smiling greeters, through the doors to the worship center, and occupying two cushioned seats on the back row.
Casey shrank back, expecting people to stare, to know she didn’t belong. But the woman next to her smiled briefly and then turned to sing along with the band. Teagan began to sing next to her. Teagan. Her best friend. Church-hating, anti-organization Teagan. Singing. Worshipping. It had been a long time since Casey had thought of that word. But everyone worshipped something. Casey wondered if she’d been worshipping her pain for far too long.
She took in the room around her. A few hundred people stood in front of rows of chairs and faced the stage, coffee cups in hand, singing along. Two screens displayed art and lyrics on either side of a full band. Casey almost smiled. The guitarist and main singer had the hipster, longer hair—lightly greased and combed to one side—plaid shirt, skinny jeans, and Converse. At least he was predictable. But the way he sang, the way the base guitarist behind him held his hands high, it didn’t feel fake. She studied the room again. Eyes closed, calm faces. A few curious glances, just like hers. But overall, the people were engaged. Something in here felt . . . real.
Casey turned her focus to the lyrics as a new song began. She listened, the words hitting the scars that marked her heart, lyrics about a good Father who loved her and defined her.
Teagan sang with abandon next to her. Something had changed in her friend. Her usually caustic attitude toward church had changed to one of peace, joy even. She studied her friend, her hand held high, eyes closed, and the gentlest expression on her face.
She believed what she was singing.
The refrain repeated about a good Father. That it was inherent to his character.
Casey had believed in a good Father once, too. But it hurt too much now. How could He allow Tanner to hurt her, people she trusted to turn their backs on her, her baby to die? She wrapped her arms around her chest and closed her eyes.
She heard Teagan sing about His ways being perfect.
Tears began to pour from Casey and she shrank into herself. How? How was He perfect in all of His ways? How was what had happened perfect?
The lyrics went on to claim His love was undeniable and His peace overwhelming.
The peace that Teagan felt. The peace Casey craved. Maybe Teagan was right. Maybe God had loved her, but she’d made bad decisions and people had handled her poorly. Maybe God loved her still.
She wanted that peace.
“As you call me deeper still into love, love, love.”
Love hurt. That’s why Casey built her walls. Teagan’s arm wrapped around Casey’s waist, and she sank into her friend’s embrace. Something wet landed on her hand. Teagan was crying, too. Could it be that they had pushed God away? And not the other way around?
But He had still allowed their abuse. Their hurt.
“You’re a good, good Father. It’s who you are. And I’m loved by you. It’s who I am.”
Teagan’s voice broke and something inside Casey broke, too. She so desperately wanted to believe in a good God, identify herself as His kid, know she was loved. Know she was protected by her Father.
Tears soaked her face but the sobs remained trapped inside. Teagan had never left her side despite her own abuse. Shawn had stood by both of them, another foster kid in the system, another hurt boy who had become a good man. He’d never stopped believing in God or loving his friends.
Mama Rosie. Mama Rosie was a saint. She loved Jesus with abandon. Even though her husband had died. Even with all the violence and pain she had seen in the neighborhood. She accepted the good and bad as coming from or being allowed by a loving Father, and she loved with a courage Casey craved. Casey loved her kids that way, wanted the best for them, talked them through their hurt. And Micah. She didn’t know what he had seen, but she knew he trusted God, believed He was good.
The crack inside her stretched until another wall crumbled. Next to her Teagan sang that God was perfect in all of His ways.
The rest of the crowd sang loudly and off-key. The band had stopped playing, but the room resounded with the cry, the confession, the acknowledgment.
And Casey claimed it. The words stumbled from her. Rusty and ringing with the teenager she’d once been. She’d thought no tears were left for that girl, but maybe these tears were for the woman she was now. The one who wanted what she’d once had and didn’t know how to reclaim it—to belong to a loving Father, a role model she’d never had.
“I am loved by you.” The music began to slow. “It’s who I am.” The sound tapered off, but something full lingered in the air.
Casey sucked it in.
I don’t know how all that can be true. But you were once a loving Father to me. Help me . . . to believe it again, her heart cried as her tears continued to flow.
Four days. Micah hadn’t heard from Casey in four days. And it had been four days of wondering. Four days of reliving. Four days of waiting.
He hurt people he loved. It was becoming a consistent theme in his life. He wasn’t sure if Casey would ever want him around. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay long-term.
But he was coming to love his Dallas neighborhood—cop cars, night raids, and all. He hadn’t wanted another war. Still wasn’t sure he could handle this. But these kids caught in the middle of bad cycles, they hadn’t asked for one either.
He and Shawn sat across from Mama Rosie in her frilly kitchen for Tuesday night dinner. TJ and two other boys from the football team, Kason and Wilson, surrounded him, used to dinner nights with the neighborhood grandmother. Thankfully, kids who walked into Mama Rosie’s were always on their best behavior, most likely because she wasn’t afraid to love them and give them a whipping, sometimes at the same time.
“I saw Casey and Teagan at church on Sunday,” Mama Rosie said, her shrewd gaze darting between Shawn and Micah. Micah wasn’t sure who Shawn was interested in, but he suspected it was one of his longtime friends. Why he had never made a move on either of them, Micah would never know.
Shawn took a sip of his water and nodded. “Teagan told me she had been coming with you. She also told me she was going to take Casey this week.”
Micah shot Shawn a look but remained quiet. He could feel Mama Rosie’s maternal gaze on him.
“Well, I’m not sure how Teagan convinced Casey to go, but I’ve been praying she would. It’s about time both of those girls went back to their roots.”
“There’s a lot of history there, Mama Rosie.”
Micah noticed the boys glued to the conversation, clearly interested in what the adults were saying about their mentor and counselor.
“What have you got to say about all this, Micah?”
From the corner of his eye, he watched Shawn suppress a smirk. Micah twirled his fork, his meatloaf officially unappetizing.
“I don’t think I have an opinion.”
With a loud whack, Mama Rosie popped the back of his head. Micah jerked away, rubbing the sore spot. “What was that for?” The boys fell over in their seats laughing. Shawn’s deep chuckle joined theirs.
For such a small woman, she packed some force behind that slap.
“Boy, I got eyes in my head. You are smitten with that girl.”
Shawn grinned next to him, and Micah glared.
“Don’t get me started on you, Shawn Delgado.”
The tall athlete next to him immediately sobered. “Yes, ma’am.”
This time it was Micah’s turn to smirk.
“Boy, you better fix whatever you did to that girl and fix it fast. Don’t you dare hurt her, or I’ll hurt you.”
“She means it, Coach,” TJ said. “I watched her wallop Bryan down the street when we tried to steal some beer money. He was walking funny for a week.”
“That’s because you shouldn’t be stealing or drinking. That stuff is nasty and bad for your brain and your senses. You’re too young, and even if you weren’t too young, I’d still be giving you a lecture. Don’t you do that again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” TJ shoveled another bite in his mouth. Micah smothered a smile until the full weight of Mama Rosie’s all-seeing stare focused back on him.
“Well?”
He choked back a laugh. “I didn’t do anything to her, Mama Rosie, and I have no intention of hurting her.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket
Casey. Finally.
His hands grew slick.
“No cell phones at the table, or do you want me to pop the back of your head again?” The hint of a smile graced her brown, wrinkled face.
“It’s Casey.”
Her smile spread. “Well then go answer it.” She nodded to the hall. “But just this once, you hear? Meal times are for verbal conversation and quality time. Not electronics. Good for nothing devices.” He heard her muttering behind him as he darted into the hall.
Micah opened the joint text between him, Shawn, and Casey. It’s wasn’t much, but at least it was acknowledgment.
I need a couple more coaches to help with the community basketball fundraiser. You two in?
Micah fired back a response.
Absolutely. When and where?
Her reply came within seconds.
Next Saturday. You’ll play until your team is out.
I’m in. He shot back. He wasn’t sure Old Faithful would get him from Dallas to Alabama to see his family, so he had decided to spend Thanksgiving in Dallas with Mama Rosie. Maybe he could even get some of the guys together for a pickup game. But he officially couldn’t wait for the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
He waited a few minutes, pacing the hall. His phone buzzed again. This time a text just to him.
I know I’ve been distant. I just needed some space. But I really need your help on this.
You can count on me.
He slipped back in his chair to the raucous chorus coming from the boys as Mama Rosie dished out cherry pie. His team. These boys were his team. And Shawn and Mama Rosie. It was an interesting group, but the more time he spent with them, the more he wanted to sink roots into this new city.
He took a bite of his meatloaf, the taste exploding on his tongue. Home cooking. He’d missed it.
Micah didn’t know what the coming months would hold. He didn’t know what he would do after he said his final goodbye. But the more he stayed in this neighborhood, the more he felt the stirring of belonging. No matter what came next, he didn’t want to let these people down.