CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I couldn’t go home that night. I knew it was a cowardly thing to do, but I just couldn’t face Ethan. Or the place where we were building a home. Or watch Haley’s turmoil. Once again, when she needed me most, I was running away.
But when Danny caught up to me in the hospital corridor and invited me to his place, all I could do was nod and try to keep my tears at bay. I’d be forever grateful for him and Lisa.
Sofia was already asleep when we got to his place, so he and Lisa called me to the kitchen to vent and eat. When Lisa grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge and pulled fresh cookies from the oven, I bawled like a baby, to their utter confusion.
Ethan was the one who should be placing milk and cookies in front of me.
I couldn’t remember a moment when I felt more torn and broken. Actually, I did.
It was the day I was told Zach was dead because he hadn’t resisted the injuries from the explosion. The explosion I’d caused.
The man I loved. My brother. My best friend. My mentor. All of them had lied to me. They all witnessed my pain and chose to keep from me a huge piece of information that would’ve eased my despair.
For so long, I wished to have died along with Zach. Even with my faith long gone, I even prayed for it.
With puffy eyes, I strode to the living room and plopped on Danny’s couch. Staring at nothing, I let the tears run down freely. It wasn’t a sob. It wasn’t bawling.
It was silent and resigned crying.
I knew I should be exhilarated. And I was. My wonder and happiness were inside me somewhere, and I could rationally keep in touch with them.
But at that moment, the betrayal spoke louder. And I hated myself a little bit over it, only to feel hurt all over again .
It was a fun night.
Lisa and Danny spent the whole night by my side. They sat on each side of me, holding my hand, letting me cry in silence. No words were needed. Their presence was balm enough.
When the sun came up, I was exhausted. Yet, I couldn’t sleep a blink. I wrote a note thanking Lisa and Danny for being so wonderful, left it under his phone, and left.
I didn’t have a destination in mind. I had no plan or strategy. I was just meandering through town. The small community where I created so many memories with Zach. The same place where I was starting to create a life with Ethan.
I walked and walked, watching the sky changing its colors in a palette so diverse that it was a shame I was unable to enjoy it. I aimlessly strode through the streets, until I reached a place I hadn’t been in so long.
A place that used to mean something to me, until the day I lost my brother.
I stood there, staring at the small, yet cozy church, daring it to give me answers like it used to do.
“I wonder what the poor building did to you to earn such a glare.”
John startled me, earning a muttering curse from me.
He ambled my way with his walking stick, taking his time, and clicked his tongue. “Such a colorful vocabulary you have. I bet that guy-trouble, Walker, is teaching you this.” He stood by my side and looked at the building. “You’re right. It needs a new painting. Now, I’m mad as well.”
“Maybe we should organize a joint effort. The guys and I could call in a few people and paint it.”
He considered my words and nodded. “That would be great. Maybe your brother could come as well.”
My jaw fell, and my eyes rounded. “How on earth do you know about that? Oh, please, tell me you weren’t in on it. Not you, too.”
He grumbled. “Of course, I didn’t know.”
“Thank God. Wait a second. You weren’t supposed to be in town. Why did you come back early?”
“Because of you.”
“What do you mean?”
He leaned on his walking stick. “It’s not every day that your brother comes back from the dead. I figured you might use a friendly face. Even if it’s a grumpy one.”
Smiling through the sting on my nose, I leaned on his side and curled my arm around his. “How did you know where to find me?”
He pointed at the house next door. “Paul, the minister, lives right there. He saw you and called me. He thought you’d feel more comfortable talking to me instead of him. Especially given the latest news.”
“How the hell did he know that already?”
John chuckled. “This town talks.”
“That fast?”
He shrugged. “We’re all connected somehow. That Jimmy boy is friends with Ms. Isabella and the trouble Walker. I guess they told him, who told Mark, who told his father.” He tapped my hand around his arm and squeezed it. “Come on. I could use some help getting things ready.”
I followed him to the church. “I didn’t know you helped tidy things up here.”
“I do. I like it. It reminds me of the time when I was a pastor.”
“ What ?”
“That’s right. I’m so much more than this friendly face you know. I used to preach, and I was good at it. I guess my bubbly personality helped.”
I laughed at the absurdity, but stopped at the door, rubbing my palms on my pants, suddenly self-conscious at walking in. “It’s been a while for me.”
John smiled at me. “What is time? If one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day, I guess we can say you just came yesterday. ‘And it was good.’”
I stepped inside tentatively. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Being burned on the spot? “Since you used to be a pastor, aren’t you disappointed that I’ve been skipping on church?”
He huffed. “I’m not qualified to be disappointed. I’m not going to lie; I missed sitting with you during the sermon. But that’s because I care about you and I was worried. But this isn’t school. I’m not supposed to state your presence in every class so you can graduate. I didn’t do it when I was at the stand, I won’t do it now. If a minister, a pastor, or anyone else is doing that, then they’re doing it wrong. Our job here is to help, to guide you through the obstacles of a path we believe it’s good. Not enforce it.”
He walked to one side of the temple to pull the curtains and open the windows, and I did the same on the other side. We worked mostly in silence, cleaning the space and leaving it ready for when another person in need came.
After a while, he sat on the second pew and leaned his head, motioning for me to sit by his side. I sat down next to him and fidgeted. My head was spinning with so many words, so many arguments, and I was feeling so many emotions at once, that it was hard to organize them in a way that made sense. And that didn’t overwhelm me. So, I started simple.
“How was your trip?”
“It was good. George is letting off bugging me with disgusting food. I think Lenora put some sense in his head. But I missed my house. There’s just too much noise at their place.”
“There are only two people there!”
“Everywhere has too much noise when the one you want to listen to isn’t around.”
I considered his words, and he was right. There was so much chaos and mayhem inside my head, that even on my own I could say there was too much noise. Because Ethan was the one who could calm it. And he wasn’t around.
John balanced his walking stick between his legs and rested his arms on top of it. “I don’t think you walked here, at the crack of dawn, because you wanted to know about my trip.”
I shook my head, looking down at my fidgety hands, and asked quietly, “How did you know?”
“Ethan called me yesterday,” he answered quietly. “He told me what happened and that you didn’t feel well. He figured maybe he wouldn’t be very welcomed for the time being, but I could try.” He tapped my hand. “He cares about you. I always knew he was the smartest one. That’s why I like him and his brother best.”
I snorted. “You must be very liked in family gatherings.”
He scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t care. If they wanted me to like them, they should’ve been better. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on? This pew is uncomfortable, and my heinie is protesting already.”
I rubbed my eyes under my glasses. They were burning from the late crying. “I used to have so many certainties. I believed I could just…pray my way through trouble. The issues my mind and preparedness couldn’t solve, my faith would. But then Zach died, and all those prayers were for nothing . It was like talking into the void. Then came the guilt. The guilt for having killed my brother. The guilt for having broken up my family. The guilt for not having faith anymore. And now he’s back. So, all of that should’ve been solved. I shouldn’t still feel this broken.”
“Why do you think you’re still feeling that way?” At my lame shrug, he pushed. “You were always a smart young lady. You must’ve at least a theory.”
I interlaced my fingers between my legs. “I feel betrayed. And in a way, it’s like losing them all over again.”
“Them?”
“Zach. Ethan. Benjamin. Aaron. I was confident that they had my back. I powered through adversities because I believed I could count on them. Not to clean my messes or anything. I can do that on my own. But to be supportive, to be by my side. Zach was my constant, my guiding force. Ethan became my strength. He was my light during the darkest moments of my life. He was my faith.” I sniffed and bit my bottom lip until I could control my emotions. “And now I’m scared. What if we can’t have what we had before? What if my bond with Zach is broken beyond repair? What if my life with Ethan could never be fixed again? I already mourned my brother once. I don’t want to mourn my relationship with them as well.”
He nodded in understanding and looked at the altar, crossing his ankles around his walking stick. “Maybe this is a you-issue and not a them-issue.”
“I’ve been accused of that already. If you’re implying I should’ve figured out the truth sooner, I’m going to scream like hell.” I cringed. “Maybe I shouldn’t say ‘hell’ in a church.”
He clicked his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse. That friend of yours, Walker, has quite a few options. And let me guess: he’s the one who told you that?”
I side-eyed him. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. I think you already dislike him enough. By the way, why do you?”
He tapped his finger on the top of his walking stick. “At first, I thought he was taking advantage of Ms. Isabella. I guess we can say he isn’t. But now? It amuses me. I enjoy seeing him squirm. It keeps him grounded.”
I laughed. “And it keeps me happy.”
John tipped his chin. “All the more reason for me to keep doing it.”
We chuckled and sighed at the same time, letting a comfortable silence descend upon us. After a while, he shifted by my side to get more comfortable.
“I used to be a pastor before my Daisy and I came back to Holy Water. But we decided to come and enjoy our retirement. This church already had someone at the head, so I didn’t even try to be a pastor again. I thought my mission as the leader of the flock was over, so we packed our things and moved back.”
I watched him as he stared ahead at the altar, a nostalgic smile softening his grumpy fa?ade.
“After we got back, I felt like we were living the dream. Retired. Resting. Our kids were settled, we had mostly good grandkids. There was nothing else to achieve. Then my Daisy got sick, and my world started to fall apart.” He touched the wedding band still on his finger. “I pushed through with faith, I prayed, I doted on her. I drove her to her treatment, I cooked according to the diet the doctors had suggested, and then I prayed some more. I did everything I was supposed to do. Yet, she still passed away. It was like a slap on my face. All my efforts weren’t enough. All my love wasn’t enough. All my faith wasn’t enough. That was when the guilt came.
“I’m a man of faith, but I hate this side of the speech where we need to learn to blame everything on ourselves and feel guilty at every single thing we do that makes us happy. I was a product of that guilt, so I was positive that what happened to her was some kind of punishment for my letting go of the ministry.”
I turned around, resting one leg over the pew and the other one hanging out, so I could sit sideways and look at him. But I let him reminisce.
“Through it all, Ethan, Shane, and their parents stood with us. My other kids and grandkids couldn’t care less that my Daisy was going away a little bit every day. All they cared about was her will. But Ethan and his family stayed with us. They stayed through the end. They stayed through my grief. They held her hand when she left. They held mine when I stayed. Yet, it still felt like fighting a battle alone. Because guilt isn’t something we easily share. When we blame ourselves, we don’t see any other reasoning. And forgiveness is hard to offer. Especially to ourselves.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that. I would’ve loved to have met her.”
He grinned at me with shiny eyes. “She would’ve loved you. And she would’ve known I’m right: you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I believe faith is a big part of your problem. You lost yours, because when you needed it, it failed you. So why believe in anything again? But I don’t think that’s the only issue. The problem is that you’re having a hard time forgiving. And I don’t mean your brother or my grandson. I mean forgiving yourself. What do you blame yourself for?”
“For killing my brother.”
He shook his head. “That’s a reactive response you’ve been nurturing since he was gone. But now we know it isn’t true. You never killed him. And even if he was indeed gone, it wouldn’t have been your fault. Yet, your guilt is still stuck inside of you. So, what do you blame yourself for?”
I took in a deep breath, trying to clear my head. I stared at the altar recollecting my path until that fateful day. And every day after.
I rubbed my nose and ran my palm over my cheeks to dry them. “I shouldn’t have put us in that position. I shouldn’t have created a situation where my brother could be killed. I obsessed over the investigation and dragged us all through hell. And for what? Ego? A grudge against the agency?”
He pulled a handkerchief from his dress pants pocket and handed it to me. “Do you really believe it was ego that moved you?”
I shook my head in shame. “I don’t know anymore.”
He nodded slowly. “So, when you learned that a woman was being held against her will, even though you had the ability to rescue her, you should’ve ignored it, otherwise it’d be your ego talking? And when you learned that said woman was found nearby, after so many years, you should’ve just let her go?”
“How do you—”
“Shane talks as well. And when Walker’s father came back, terrorizing him, Ms. Isabella, and their baby, was it your ego that made you face him? When little Sofia and Ms. Lisa were taken, did your grudge push you to get them back?”
“What are you saying?”
He huffed. “First of all, I’m saying you, young people, attract a lot of trouble. This is a small town! How are we witnessing so many problems? You need to find better friends.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “We’re special like that.”
John grumbled. “I can see. But it seems to me you didn’t have that much choice in the matter. You all can always hone your skills and strategies to improve, like everyone else, but those were things that couldn’t be ignored. You can’t blame yourself for doing what you were supposed to do. Just like I can’t blame myself for what happened to my Daisy. This is your mission. One I believe no one else could’ve done better.
“My mission was to guide the flock and then step back because I’d be needed when my Daisy got sick. She didn’t get sick because I stepped out. It’s the other way around. I believe I stepped out on time because she’d get sick and need me. Your family wasn’t threatened because you’re investigating vicious people. They were already in danger, but you stepped in to even the battle and give your family a fighting chance. You’re not to be blamed. You’re to be proud of.”
Fighting tears again, I shifted on the pew so I could lean on his side and rest my head on his shoulder.
We remained silent, both of us lost in our thoughts and memories .
I sighed heavily. “What do you think I should do about them?”
John lightly slapped my hand. “Once you learn to forgive yourself for doing what needed to be done to protect your family, then you’ll be ready to forgive them for doing what they thought was necessary to protect you. That’s what family does. We protect each other. You don’t need to carry that burden alone.”
“Were you always this wise?”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s a gift. And just so you know, that forgiving shit I just told you was meant just for you. I can be mad at them if you’d like. Just say the word, and I’ll make those boys’ lives a living hell.”
I laughed at his proposal, feeling lighter. “I’d like that. But just for a little while. Make them squirm for a couple of weeks, and then we’re settled.”
“Deal. Can I stay mad at Walker longer? It lightens my day.”
“Be my guest. I guess—”
My phone vibrated loudly on the pew, the sound echoing inside the church in an ominous foreshadowing.
I watched the caller, and my gut tightened. My heartbeat sped up, and I just knew it wasn’t a call I could miss. I swiped my finger. “Aaron?”
“ I’m sorry to call you this early, I know you need time. But…damn it! Shane was attacked this dawn. Pablo Salazar took Delilah .”