23

When the soft light streamed through the blinds, Zan’s bleary gaze wandered the room. It took a minute to think where he was.

And then he remembered he was going to church today for the first time in his life.

So. How was he supposed to do this? Not dress up, Jayce said. Shorts? Jeans? He stretched, swung his feet out of bed, actually curious. Sort of.

Maybe.

He climbed into the shower, let the water hit him straight in the face.

He wanted answers to those questions he’d asked Bailey. Wanted to know how forgiving a wife-beater could possibly be right. His heart welled up with emotion, and Zan didn’t try to contain it.

He let his words fall with the stream of thudding water. “Hey, God? Why didn’t You handle Bailey better? I was right there. You could’ve made her stay with me or something.”

Zan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wanted to shout but couldn’t stand the possibility of Jayce hearing him. “There’s so much I don’t get. I don’t know if I can trust You, but—if You’ll take care of Bay—I’ll give You a shot. It’s all I’ve got for now, but I’ll give You that.”

Jayce wasn’t kidding about clothes. He sported a black U2 T-shirt with jeans, his wallet attached with a chain.

Zan chose a plaid shirt with khakis, rolled up the sleeves. “Do I need to take anything?”

“Nope.”

If Jayce had any idea this was Zan’s first time going to church, he didn’t act surprised.

They swung into Java the Hutt for breakfast and coffee to go, and Zan choked down his bagel and cream cheese just as he climbed back behind the wheel.

When they pulled into the church lot, Zan’s chest was tight. “Listen, Jayce. I’ve never…I don’t really know why I’m here. I’m not a church guy, and I don’t know what I believe about God. This is my first time.”

Jayce cracked a wide grin. “I thought maybe. First time at any church?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then you don’t have anything to compare it to. Do you want a heads-up about how we do it here, or just want to ask if you’ve got a question?”

Zan’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Just let me hang back and check it out. I’ll ask if I need to.”

“You got it.” Jayce gave the bar a quick drumroll and ended with a thump. Then he jumped out.

They walked toward the doors, and Zan’s heart raced so fast he thought maybe Jayce was using his drumsticks on his back. Bailey, this is for you. I owe you this. He knew somehow, as he crossed the threshold, there was no return. He couldn’t stop until he had the answers he needed.

Jayce’s face lit up. “Zan, this is my girl, A.J.” Earthy. Artsy.

“Zan, huh? Interesting name.” She shook his hand. Good grip.

“My first name’s Alexander.”

“Gotcha. I’m Aurelia Jane.”

Zan grinned. An Aurelia she was not. She suited Jayce McEwan to a tee though. They all went in and found a spot near the back of the auditorium. Jayce excused himself for a sec to say hey to some people he claimed he hadn’t seen in a while.

Zan studied the program he’d picked up, checked out all the activities. This church was busy.

“Jayce said you’re from Charleston.” A.J.’s blue eyes watched him closely.

“Yeah.”

“Have you lived there long? I mean, your family.”

“All my life. Why?”

“I just…know a guy who moved down there about five years ago.”

“What’s his name?”

“Felker. Stefan Felker.” She studied him as she said the name.

“I mean, I may have heard of him, but I definitely haven’t ever met him.” Was she relieved?

“Only curious.” Her eyes softened. “I’ve got to work this afternoon, but Jayce and I usually grab lunch together after church. You joining us?”

“I won’t be in the way?”

“Course not. As long as you’ll drop me off at the body shop after.”

Zan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What kind of shop did you say?”

She probably knew exactly where his head was. “My Uncle Frankie owns a body shop. I used to just handle the office stuff, but I’m the airbrush girl now too.”

He was impressed. He’d pegged her for artistic, but—with her confidence—he could believe she was serious. Besides, biker-looking guys obviously didn’t faze her.

“Yeah, no problem. Lunch sounds good.”

Jayce slid into the seat next to A.J. and put his arm around her, whispered in her ear. She glowed.

And Zan wondered when he’d run into Auburn.

~*~

“Zander, you wanna slide the pie my way? What’d you think of the service?” Jayce asked.

Zan took a bite of his thin-crust pizza and thought about it. He pushed the pizza toward the other end of the table, took a second to swallow. “Um, I hate to admit this, but I didn’t really listen a whole lot. I sort of watched people, wondered about everybody’s life. It was cool that they let me keep the Bible I used though. I’ve never heard of that.”

Jayce laughed. “Yeah, some people don’t bother gettin’ one of their own—glad ya grabbed it.”

“I’ve got a lot of questions, so I think it’ll help.”

A.J. used a fork and knife on her pizza like a debutante. Must be the Aurelia Jane in her. She speared a bite and turned his way. “So, what’d you think of the people you watched, then?”

“Pretty laid-back. I like that the preacher has a sense of humor. I guess I expected him to point out everything wrong with my life and make me feel like crud.”

A.J. said, “Nah. I’m pretty sure most people at our church would admit they’re not perfect. Everybody hurts somehow.”

Now was a good time to have a mouthful of pizza. He wasn’t ready to talk about pain.

A.J. eyed her watch. “I’ve got to clock in soon, guys.”

“Want me to get a to-go box?” Zan asked.

“Sounds good.”

Zan stood up and stretched, pulled out his wallet as he walked up to the counter. Lunch was on him. They’d been patient with his questions.

He followed A.J.’s directions into a part of Huntington he sure wouldn’t want his girl living in. A.J.’s Uncle Frankie had better be scary. With big dogs.

He turned into a drive packed with old cars and cycles. A few were impressive, obviously done and ready to be picked up. But most looked junky. And the nearby businesses and clientele all seemed pretty sketchy from where Zan sat.

Jayce walked A.J. inside. While they were gone, Zan thought back to one thing he’d actually caught during church. By both His words and His actions, Jesus Christ claimed to be God. If someone went around today claiming they were God, they’d be locked up. Or killed by extremists.

Caleb had hit on the very same thing though. The guys who’d been closest to Jesus—saw Him executed and swore they saw Him alive again later—those men believed Him with absolute certainty. And two thousand years later, with only a book of stories to go on, Bailey did too.

Jayce jumped in beside him just as two burly bikers pulled into the small lot. “You mind drivin’ back to the church so I can bring her car back out here? I know it’s a lot of back and forth, but—I don’t want her out here without a vehicle. Frankie’s around now, but he won’t be later tonight.”

“Not a problem.” Zan could respect a guy who kept all his bases covered.

~*~

Kasia breathed in the scent of mountain laurel and a hint of late-summer wildflowers from the meadow. She propped herself up, the blanket softer than the hard ground. Worship in English and Tatuś’s sermon that morning had warmed her heart, but when he prayed the benediction, the church members and all their questions about her trip flew at her like arrows.

On her way out of the building, she spotted Jim Schilling, the chairman of the deacons, at her dad’s office door. The question was whether he played the role of deacon or county sheriff at the moment. Everybody needed to drop the subject of Blake Hamilton and let her move on once and for all.

After lunch, she’d craved space and taken off. A large white oak beckoned her to enjoy its shade near the trail. No sooner than she’d pulled out Tatuś’s old blanket and stretched out on it, sleep had taken her.

The nap had been relatively peaceful for once. She reached over and checked her phone. Jen had replied.

Oh. She’d already gotten two underclassmen to commit to running the Heritage Arms club. Well, Kasia wouldn’t give up that easily. There were other neighborhoods. She grabbed her notebook, jotted down a few complexes where she might be able to start an after-school club. She’d have to call around tomorrow to gauge interest.

A twig snapped behind her. She sat up and spun around in one move.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tatuś said.

Her shoulders sagged. “Just surprised me, that’s all.” She patted the blanket beside her. “Come sit by me and enjoy the view for a minute.”

He breathed a creaking sigh as he squatted next to her and eased himself down. “I thought you’d worn holes in this old rag long ago.” His fingertip traced one of the lines on the plaid blanket. “I’m sure it had a few in it when I gave it to you, in fact.”

“Even if it looked like a net, I’d still love it.”

His head bobbed in a silent chuckle.

“Were you just out for a walk?”

“No, I thought you and I could chat.”

Her heart stuttered. “’Bout what?”

He picked up her list of Huntington neighborhoods close to school. “What’s this?”

“Some possible places for me to start up a neighborhood ministry. I need to make a difference, even back in the U.S.”

“What kind of ministry?”

“I thought maybe an after-school club. Help the kids with homework, give them something constructive to do.”

He held the list up, reading over it. “That’d fit you tongue in groove, but some of these neighborhoods are…”

“Neighborhoods that need something like this the most.”

He nodded and rested his arms on his knees. “I understand. But you don’t have to climb into a woodstove to prove you can handle fire. I’d like you to cross these two off the list.” He set it down, tapped the paper. “Do you plan to do this alone?”

“No, sir. I’ll ask for help.”

“I want you to have a partner with you all the time. If you can’t find somebody to commit to it all week, maybe your friends would take turns.”

What was she, a project? “I can do it, Dad.”

“I believe you. If you didn’t have Blake to worry about on top of this, I could—”

“I can’t let him win. I won’t hide like last year. I’m happier when I do something for others.”

“And I won’t squelch that for a minute, Kasiu, but we don’t need to be foolish either. Sheriff Schilling said to come by and fill out the paperwork for the protective order tomorrow morning.”

Her fist pounded the blanket—on the side away from him. “I hate that he knows everything. How am I supposed to ‘press on’ if church people are keeping tabs on me?”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. Jim and I are working together for your protection.”

She set her hand on top of her dad’s strong one. “It’s been three months since anything happened, and he didn’t even mean to hurt me when he hit the window. I saw his eyes, Tatusiu. He looked shocked and sorry.” She wouldn’t add how briefly those emotions had registered. “Would you let me go back to school and truly put all this behind me? Blake’s over me. He must be. Na pewno.”

“There’s nothing ‘for sure’ about that boy.” He flipped his hand over and held her hand in his, stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“What about me? Do you trust me?” She wished the question back a thousand times before he answered. A no would break her; a yes would remind her of how far she’d fallen.

His thumb stilled.

She peeked in his direction. His jaw knotted so hard she could see it in his temple. Why did she have to put him through so much?

“Kasiu, can you be honest with an old man?”

“Yes.” Maybe.

“It is my job—my heart—to keep you safe. It’s what dads do. You know that’s all I’m after, right?”

She dipped her head.

“Do you think Blake is dangerous?”

“No, sir. I think he was hurting—and I caused it. Can you imagine being dumped for no good reason?”

He snapped his head in her direction. “How is following God not a good reason?”

“You know what I mean. To him it wasn’t.”

“That communicates volumes.” He let go of her hand.

“Tatusiu? I’m positive this has all gone away. It has for me. I don’t love him. I don’t miss him. I’m focused on other things. He probably is too.”

Her dad looked as if he were in physical pain. “It’s not a wise move.”

“For me, Tatusiu. Let me have the chance to show you I can walk away from him and be fine. Let me show you.”

He stood and fisted his hands.

Kasia didn’t know whether to stand or not. “Besides, we shouldn’t make trouble. If Blake has moved on, a restraining order all of a sudden would only stoke the fire again.”

His jaw knotted, and she wished she weren’t the source of such stress.

“God, don’t let me live to regret this one.” He looked down at her. “I will tell Sheriff Schilling we’ll wait and see. But if Blake—”

“I refuse to live in fear. I can’t let him win, plain and simple. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He shook his head. “I hope it’s plain and simple.”

He left her sitting there.