Kept (37 page)

Good. Nice. Not much help.

Someone else spoke up. Surprise, surprise. Another person saved as a kid, their parents taking them to church. He looked around the room. Most here had been saved as kids. Wasn’t there someone Miska could identify with?

What about you?

He was just like them. Saved at seven. Grew up with a desire to serve God. From age sixteen, there’d never been a doubt that he’d serve God fulltime.

But there’d been other doubts, different doubts. There’d been days when his faith felt puny, days when it had been tested.

God, do I say that?

“Pastor Dillan.”

He jerked his head up to meet Austin’s gaze.

“You look like you have some thoughts.”

So the answer was yes. He leaned back in his seat. “I was thinking how my life is like almost everyone else’s. Saved young, grew up in church, in a Christian family. The big sin I had to repent from was being rude to an obnoxious little brother.”

Snickers spread.

Garrett stilled, then straightened. “That would be Fred, our brother who died.” He gestured at Jordan. “You weren’t born yet.”

Laughter grew, and Dillan chuckled with them. “Yeah, poor Fred.”

Garrett shook his head tragically.

“Anyway, during college I faced whether my faith was mine or my parents’. I believed in God. I knew he was the bread of life, the living water. I’d seen him work in my parents’ lives, but I hadn’t experienced much in my own life. Being on my own made me examine what I really believed.”

Memories returned, sweet and satisfying. “For the first time I had to face whether God was God enough to do everything he’d promised. I had to decide if he was big enough to trust.”

Miska turned toward him.

He saw only her. “And God was. Over and over I went to him, prayed about situations and struggles, and each time he stepped in and did what was right for me. He met me, and he was completely enough. He was everything he said he was.

“I think, Miska, there comes a point where it’s faith. We all came to Christ based on faith that what he said in the Bible was true. We hadn’t seen it yet; we hadn’t experienced it yet; but we chose to believe and, well, put everything in his hands.

“Those of us who did, whether we were saved at eight or twenty-eight, would tell you that he doesn’t fail us. No matter what happens, he’s there and working on our behalf to make us stronger. It doesn’t mean life is easy—because it isn’t—but we go through all the trials with him. We aren’t alone. And he never drops the ball.”

The words were full of clichés, he knew, but around the room heads nodded. Dillan studied his hands. They all got it. If only Miska would too.

From the back, Cam spoke up. “I get Miska’s question. I was saved at twenty-eight. I remember wondering if I was losing it since this stuff was making sense. All I’d say, Miska, is read the Bible. Don’t be afraid to ask the hard questions. Yes, it takes faith to believe, but it takes faith to reject it too. When you really want the truth, God opens your eyes and you get it. At least, that’s what happened to me. You couldn’t pay me to go back to my old life.”

Couldn’t pay me
. Dillan rubbed a knuckle against his lip.

The discussion continued. Miska listened intently.

And Dillan couldn’t help remembering that elevator ride with Tracy, two months ago, when she’d wondered if they lived next door to Miska for a reason.

Sure looked like Tracy had been right. Tracy, with the strongest faith.

We aren’t alone. And he never drops the ball.

The words played in her head all Thursday. During a wedding scene in the romance she edited. During a pre-lunch workout. While she cleaned before Tracy arrived with dinner.

Like her dad had said, God wasn’t a genie. He was powerful, in charge. So the real question, the one she’d ignored all day, was what she was going to do about it. Would she try to turn him into a genie like the people who followed him for the miracles? Or would she be like Simon Peter who said there was no one else to go to?

Tracy arrived with a Chinese feast. Miska paid her back, despite Tracy’s protests, and joined her on the couch, eating while the sky hinted at dusk.

“Some days I think I could live off Chinese food,” Tracy said around a mouthful of General Tsao’s chicken.

“Some days I think you and I are twins.” Miska ate another bite of broccoli, then pointed her fork at Tracy. “Move in here.”

Tracy, mouth full, raised an eyebrow.

“You’re still looking for a place to live come September, right? Be my roommate. I’ve got two spare bedrooms. You can pick the one you want and have your own bathroom.”

Tracy’s shoulders fell. “Honey, I’d love to be your roommate. If you lived anywhere but next door to Garrett, I’d do it.”

Garrett. Right. “I forgot about him.”

“I wish I could forget about him. In fact, let’s talk about something else. What did you think about last night?”

“Honestly? I’ve gone over it all day.”

“What exactly?”

“About how it seems like I know all I need to know. I’m not sure where I go from here, though.”

Tracy set her plate on the coffee table. “You know what I did?”

“What?”

“I confessed my sin to God, asked his forgiveness, and accepted Jesus’s sacrifice. I asked him to take me as his child, Miska. I gave him everything.”

Everything
was a massive commitment. “What’s with the father/child analogies? That’s not reassuring.”

“Except that God is the perfect father. He doesn’t hurt us, humiliate us, or leave us. Instead he does what’s best for us. He won’t mess you up.”

It was all too good. “If he’s so perfect, how can he care about me?”

“Because he made you, honey. No one will ever love you like God does.”

She rolled the words through her head. “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

She shrugged. “I just—I can’t measure up.”

“To what?”

“To God. To the way he says to live. I still won’t be a virgin.”

“Is this about Dillan?”

Was it? “I don’t think so.” She rested her head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Listening to everyone—you’re all good. No one has a past like me.”

“I do.”

Miska sent her a gentle smile. “No, you don’t. You’ve been with one guy. I’m not sure I could give you an accurate number.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. How could it not?”

“Miska, when we repent before God, he forgives our sins. The Bible says they’re as far from him as the east is from the west. Think about that.”

“People don’t forget.”

“People don’t matter.”

Sure, they did. Some. Moaning, she covered her face with her hands. “Tracy, I’ve done so much. I’ve done things people in that group would never even think about.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve listened to them. They’re so… innocent.”

“But they’re not.” Tracy grabbed her hands. “It doesn’t matter how much you’ve done, whether it’s one sin or a million sins. They both have the same punishment—hell, eternal separation from God. When Jesus died on the cross, he didn’t die for the twenty-sins-or-less crowd. He died for everyone who would believe, whether they were a six nine pastor who picked on his brother or a woman who couldn’t say how many men she’s slept with. He died for you both, Miska. God loves you just as much as he loves Dillan.”

Her vision blurred. “But what does he expect from me, Tracy? What on earth do I have to give him?”

“Just your love and obedience. Just a lifetime in perfect friendship with him.”

The knock on the door came at ten o’clock.

Dillan knelt on the living room floor, picking up the popcorn kernels he’d spilled. Garrett turned off the kitchen faucet. “I’ll get it.”

The door squeaked open. Tracy’s voice sounded. “Is Dillan here?”

He set the bowl on the couch and stood.

Garrett held the door open, and Tracy hurried past him toward Dillan, tears rolling down her cheeks. “She did it, Dillan. She asked God to save her.”

He opened his arms a moment before she threw herself against him. She shook once, twice, while he held her, dazed. Miska had become a Christian?

Tracy stepped back and wiped her cheeks.

Garrett stayed by the door, watching.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been talking all evening. She’s so ashamed of her past, Dillan. She almost couldn’t get over it. But then she just made up her mind.”

Her words settled in his brain. “She really believes?”

“She does. She was so ready for someone to tell her about God. So ready.” Tracy laughed. “You should see her.”

He couldn’t imagine.

“She asked me what she should start reading. I told her to keep going in John. We ran out, bought her a Bible, and read through two more chapters.” Tracy laughed, ending it with a hiccup. “Dillan, I’m so excited. Already she’s different. You can see it in her face, hear it in her words.”

Miska—saved.

“Don’t tell her I told you, okay? I think she wants to tell you guys herself, but I couldn’t keep quiet. I had to tell someone.” She sent Garrett a soft smile, and Garrett sent it back. “I’m still giddy. Part of me can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ll sleep much tonight.”

He might not either. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Thanks for everything you did, Dillan.”

He hadn’t done much. Tracy was the one with the burden.

“I need to get home.” She gave him another hug. He patted her back. She gave Garrett a quick hug too. “See you guys Sunday.”

Dillan stayed rooted by the couch, his gaze locked onto the door as Garrett shut it behind her.

His brother looked his way. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He’d hoped she’d get saved, and then he’d doubted, and then he’d hoped— “I think it’s awesome.”

Garrett searched his face, as if he expected more.

Dillan ran a hand over his hair. He could guess what that look meant—and he wasn’t going there. “I’m tired. See you in the morning.”

Garrett stepped aside and let him pass.

In bed, the lights out, he could still picture the emotion on Tracy’s face, the certainty that Miska had made that life-altering decision.

And suddenly he couldn’t wait to see for himself if this quasi-friend who’d once laughed at God had really become brand new.

Dillan was coming up the lakefront stairs when Miska reached Lake Shore Drive the next morning. His sweaty shirt clung to his chest, and he plodded across the road, breathing heavily.

What would he think of her news?

Miska waited where she was.

He didn’t notice her until he was within arm’s reach. Then he pulled up and chin-nodded, panting for breath. “Hey.”

“Morning.”

He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “You’re out here late.”

“Yes, I—” She tented her hands over her mouth, trying not to give it away. “I read some of the Bible before running.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You read the Bible.”

She nodded, lowering her hands. There was no point in hiding the grin. She could hear it. “I bought my own yesterday. I had no idea how expensive they could be.”

“No eight dollar gift-and-award Bible?”

“I saw those. No, I decided if I was going to buy one, it was going to be nice. Real leather, nice chocolate color.”

“Hmm.”

“And get this. It has the words of Jesus in red so they stand out.”

He smiled as if she amused him. “Really.”

“That’s what I read this morning, where the red words started.”

“So you started in Matthew.”

How did he know that? “Chapters five, six, and seven. And don’t tell me what it was about. Because I know.”

He chuckled, the sound warming her. “Tell me.”

“There were a bunch of verses with blessings.”

He nodded, his eyes looking happy. Was he?

“One struck me right away, that those who long for righteousness—who hunger and thirst, I think—would be satisfied. I realized that’s me. Last night—” Her voice shook. “Last night I asked God for his forgiveness. I believe him, Dillan, and I realized this morning that it’s true, that I have been satisfied.”

His smile broadened. He wrapped an arm around her, then another, pulling her close. “I’m happy for you, Miska.”

“Thank you.” She rested against his damp shirt and closed her eyes. “I’m happy for me too. Are you surprised?”

He chuckled.

“You’re not.” She pushed out of his arms. “How did you know?”

His grin touched every part of his face—cheeks, jaw, eyes. “Tracy told us last night. And you reading the Bible—that would have given it away.”

“Ever since that woman-at-the-well story, I’ve been thinking about it—fighting it. Then last night, talking to Tracy, it just clicked. I couldn’t believe I’d doubted.”

“You’re looking through God’s eyes. Everything will be different.”

Everything? She hoped so. “Do you remember when you did this?”

“Honestly, not all of it anymore. I was seven—long time ago. I remember going to my dad, though, and telling him I needed to be saved, that I didn’t think I’d go to heaven if I died. I remember being scared.” He stared toward the lake. “I remember he cried afterward.”

Just like Tracy. Happy tears, she’d said.

Dillan smiled at her.

She smiled back.

He said nothing, and after a few seconds, awkwardness set in. She looked down at his feet.

“You off today?” he asked.

“Just the afternoon. Then I’m going to Tracy’s for dinner and fireworks. You?”

“Same—I’ve got some work to finish up. Then fireworks.”

She nodded. Maybe they’d end up at the same place.

“Well.”

The word announced he was about to leave. She forced her smile to stay.

“I’m really happy for you, Miska.”

“Thank you.”

He checked his watch. “I need to head in. Stay, though.”

“I will. Enjoy the fireworks.”

He moved into a jog and tossed a final smile over his shoulder, then loped across the pavilion.

Well.

He did seem happy about her news. For that she was grateful. But there’d been nothing more.