Chapter 24 #2
“We live in a small town here in Avila Falls. So small that it only took me a couple of days to learn everyone’s name.
” A few people in the crowd chuckled. “And all too often, we can look at the size of this town and think that we aren’t living important lives, that we haven’t done enough, that we don’t matter.
We’re looking right past where we are, right where God has placed us, and searching for fulfillment somewhere else. ”
I reflected on his words, which were strangely similar to what I’d thought to myself more times than I could count before I’d left Avila Falls. I’d yearned for the days when my life would finally matter, when I’d have achieved something extraordinary, when I wouldn’t feel invisible.
Moving to New York, dating guys like Logan, landing the dream job .
. . they’d all felt good in the moment, but I’d invariably become thirsty again, thirsty for the next thing that would make me feel like I mattered.
The fulfillment they offered wasn’t long lasting, almost as if the kind of satisfaction they created wasn’t the right shape to fit into the gap that needed to be filled.
“If there’s one thing that I pray you walk away with today,” Pastor McNamara continued, “it’s this: truly, the one and only place where you will find the kind of fulfillment that will last you a lifetime is in God.
There is no other place, no other person, no other accomplishment.
And this might make you feel hopeless. Or frustrated, even.
But believe me when I say this is good news for you.
Because it means that you don’t have to chase down your value.
Your life, your story, matters. Whether or not you ever set foot outside this town or get a degree or get a million followers.
You’re inherently valuable because you were made in the image of God.
And there’s nothing you have to do to prove that. ”
His words reverberated in my mind as a million new thoughts whirled around, fighting to get a word in edgewise.
For nearly three decades, I’d functioned like my value had to be hunted down, earned, and verified by exterior sources.
Despite having achieved the goals I’d given myself to do just that, nothing had ever quite quelled my hidden worries that underneath it all, I would never be significant.
My gaze wandered over to Noah, who was sitting in the front row and looking up at the pastor attentively.
He’d never left Avila Falls, but his life was meaningful—from selflessly caring for his parents to leading an entire congregation in worship to writing his own songs and playing them to small crowds in intimate venues.
I glanced at my parents sitting to my right, Dad’s arm draped around Mom, her hand on his knee. They’d lived simple lives tucked away in the mountains, but they’d done it together, side by side, hand in hand, for forty faithful years.
Edith popped into my mind. The woman who’d cared for the same bookshop from the time I could remember. She’d stood at the same desk in the same town for decades, but she’d been my best friend, the woman who’d acted as a grandmother to me and encouraged me to write my first novella.
Perhaps Pastor McNamara was onto something.
The surprisingly relevant sermon ended just as swiftly as it had begun, and for the first time in my life, I wished to hear even more. Before long, the service came to a close and the congregation hurried out of the sanctuary, rushing to get a table at Jack’s Diner for a postchurch meal.
My parents and I wandered out to the front of the church, a brisk mountain breeze nipping at my neck. I nestled deeper into my scarf as we approached the pastor, who was greeting passersby in the crowd. Pastor McNamara’s warm eyes lit up when he caught sight of my parents.
“Steven, Cathy, good to see you both.” He grinned and shook their hands before turning his attention to me. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Pastor McNamara.” He extended his palm.
“Jane. Pleasure to meet you, Pastor,” I said, taking his hand as throngs of churchgoers scuttled around us.
“So this is Jane.” He looked between my parents, then back at me. Apparently, my reputation preceded me.
“She’s here visiting her old parents from the big city.” Dad put his arm around me. I risked a small glance around us, keeping an eye out for Noah.
“And she’s writing a novel,” Mom said. I smiled to myself, heartened at the thought that this had become her go-to way of introducing me.
“Incredible. What’s it about?” Pastor McNamara asked, his eyes genuine and undistracted.
I gave a short elevator-pitch explanation about my novel and mentioned my ghostwriting project in passing without going too in depth before he asked me about life in the Big Apple and recounted his visit to the city years ago.
In the few minutes I’d known him, the pastor was more engaging than any other at Saint David’s before—or at any other church, for that matter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Noah weaving his way through the crowd, heading toward us with his guitar case in tow. We locked eyes for a moment and shared a smile.
“Jane, you might already know him, but if you don’t, let me introduce you to Noah, our new worship leader.” Pastor McNamara moved aside, welcoming Noah into the circle.
“We do know each other, yeah. Really good to see you,” Noah said, tucking his hair behind his ear. My parents’ eyes whipped over to me. I’d never wanted to teenagerishly wail, “Be cool, you guys!” more than I did at this moment.
“You too.” My cheeks burned, and I cleared my throat.
“How long are you in Avila Falls, Jane?” Pastor McNamara asked.
“Well, I’m supposed to fly out tomorrow, actually,” I replied, a twinge of sadness spilling out through my voice. My parents both looked down, their heads drooping like half-deflated balloons.
“Well, that’s too bad. I was going to suggest you check out Noah’s show in Denver this week,” the pastor said, putting his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “He’s quite the songwriter, this one.”
“Thanks, Pastor,” Noah said sheepishly.
“I’m sure he is. I’m sorry to miss it.” I eyed Noah.
“There’ll be more. Besides, New York waits for no one,” Noah nodded, a smattering of disappointment coloring his soft smile.
We eventually said our goodbyes and headed to Jack’s for brunch.
The little diner was flooded with hungry customers and Sunday afternoon chatter, but it wasn’t long before we snagged a table by the window overlooking Colores Park.
An old couple walking hand in hand, a golden retriever chasing a stick, and a toddler messily sipping hot chocolate with his mom running after him populated the park.
Our food arrived soon—massive helpings piled onto old, chipped plates. I wasted no time before dumping a generous helping of hot sauce onto my runny eggs, golden hash browns, and bacon while my parents discussed whether or not to enter the annual Christmas cookie contest later this week.
“I just don’t want Sue to think I’m trying to compete with her,” Mom said as she cut into the fluffy omelet in front of her.
“I don’t think she will, honey. Everyone enters the contest,” Dad assured her.
“What do you think you’ll make?” I asked.
“I was considering s’mores cookies . . .
you know, it’s really too bad that you’ll miss it,” she said, her eyes crestfallen.
I looked at Dad as he tucked his mouth into a sad, straight line.
The pressure to stay mounted in my chest, but strangely, with it came a longing to delay my return to New York for just a bit longer.
I envisioned myself leaving tomorrow—my parents, Edith and the bookstore, Noah, and Avila Falls—and felt the overwhelming desire not to say goodbye to any of them just yet.
New York had Michelin-star restaurants and every major publishing house and world-class attractions.
All things that this little mountain town didn’t.
But I didn’t want to miss my parents’ convoluted whodunit theories during the next episode of To Serve and Protect.
I didn’t want another half a decade to slip by before I came back to Avila Falls and find that more had changed than I’d thought, especially And Then There Were Books.
I didn’t want to give Edith one more hug and wonder if it was the last one I’d ever give her.
I didn’t want to find myself on another first date with another Logan wondering what would’ve happened between Noah and me.
“Maybe I don’t have to,” I said, hardly believing what had just come out of my mouth. My parents looked at me with question marks in their eyes.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked. I wondered the exact same thing.
“I think I can stay another week.” Could I stay another week? I said it before I knew for sure.
“Really?” Mom’s voice broke.
“Yeah.” I nodded, both to myself and to my parents.
“I’m making really good progress on my book with Liv.
I’m way ahead of where I’m supposed to be.
And all our meetings are virtual anyway.
Plus, things are dialing down for the holidays.
I don’t think Alexandria will mind if I stick around a little longer. ”
In one fell swoop, my parents’ faces shone brighter than the brilliant winter sun. Mom launched into her plans for the cookie contest and recruited me to be her sous-chef. Dad excitedly remarked that this gave me time to help him cut down our Christmas tree.
We finished up our meal and crowded into the car to head home. Dad turned up the radio and sang along to a John Denver song while Mom giggled.
I slipped my phone out of my purse and typed out a text to Noah.
Hey, so as it turns out, my work doesn’t need me to come back this week. Which means I can come to your show!
It wasn’t long before he replied with a celebratory emoji and This just made my day.
My gaze slipped out the window, taking in the scene as we whirred through Avila Falls, past the gazebo and the ice cream shop and 231 Third. The streets that I knew like the back of my hand.