31

Jake spotted the card on the table and stopped short. The small flyer resembled the ones dispersed to tell the world he and Brooklyn were having a baby. Harold’s red logo screamed across the voucher for a free drink at the new “coffee bar,” which was scheduled to open in two weeks. He stuffed the card into his pocket and got back to work clearing tables.

He’d hired computer experts of his own to install extra security on his laptop and the desktop in the office. He took down the book exchange and even stopped selling the gift books. The actions had changed nothing with Brooklyn, who hadn’t spoken to him since a month ago. He must’ve left her a dozen voicemails. Harold deserved to be put out of business for coming between them. Better yet, run out of town the way he’d run Jake out of his church and away from Brooklyn.

He took the ad to the office. Maybe the police could match these new coffee bar cards to the ones about the video. Or not. Even if he could get someone to care, the Keens would squash an effort like that. Ruining Harold would take something more than a postcard. Mold or rodents or termites. Building condemned. Public outrage.

Vanessa rushed into the office. She knew the pool hall was on hold, but he hadn’t explained what the problem was or how long it would go on. Eventually, she’d get impatient, and he’d have her resignation in hand. Maybe Harold would still hire her.

Humming, she strung on her apron.

A book languished upstairs, half-read. He had little desire to rescue it, but his options were the biography or the office, and sitting here only deepened his frustration. “I’m punching out.”

Vanessa laughed. “That’s allowed?”

“Only when you’re here to take over.” Flattery couldn’t hurt.

A sign at the bottom of the stairs announced the balcony was closed for a meeting, so he took pains to be quiet on the stairs.

“You know running away makes you look guilty.” Devin stood at the balcony railing. His graduation party, which Jake had promised to attend months ago, had been earlier today. Skipping must’ve prompted this visit.

“I’m sorry I missed your party.”

Devin’s forehead knotted. “No, you’re not. And anyway, this isn’t about that.”

“I’m not guilty of what the video said. My understanding is that people are learning the truth.” Jake hadn’t been a part of sharing the story because he was now attending a big church north of town. “So what do I look guilty of?”

“A bad attitude. Why not hang around and let them clear it up? Pastor didn’t send you away from everything. Just leading youth group for a bit. There’s a difference.”

Jake hadn’t found insight from God or the Bible into the question of Devin’s desire to marry Lauren. But Devin wasn’t asking why Jake had lost touch with him. He was asking why he’d left the church. “I left because they’re more willing to bow to false accusations than to assume the best in people who have solid histories. That’s not the kind of church I want to be a part of. Anyway, Brooklyn wants space.”

“So she got the church in the divorce? She actually told you to stop coming?”

No, but he wouldn’t go to a church where the likes of Deanna Mulvey wandered the halls. And Pastor Simeon. There must’ve been a better way to handle the video than giving him just two options—publish news of the rape or take a sabbatical.

“I trusted you,” Devin said. “They’re telling me you were a bad influence. They’re talking about adoption and me and Lauren getting married, but their advice is crap. The one person who could help me can’t even face a little gossip.”

“I can’t help you, Devin. There are factors in play here that I—” No. He couldn’t admit God had asked him to step down, too, by not giving him any insight for the teen’s situation. “You want advice? Pray. Talk to your parents. Try Kelley and see if he’s got anything for you. But find someone else to send on this guilt trip. I don’t need it.”

“Who do you think is telling me all this? It is my parents. And Kelley and the Mulveys, but Lauren’s not talking to me. So who’re these nameless people who’re bowing to false accusations that you just can’t face? ‘Cause I don’t believe for a minute that Brooklyn told you she wanted that much space, and things aren’t right without you.”

He almost named Deanna and Pastor, but caught himself. “I can’t help you, Devin.” He stepped past to his apartment.

Despite locking himself in, Jake could still see Devin’s face, knotted with worry and anger. Instead of being the mentor he’d always aspired to be, Jake had gone after Harold, and now he was angry with Pastor Simeon for a situation that couldn’t be helped? And in front of Devin? He’d hit a new low.