Chapter 20
Tessa
The loud echoing of happy voices from everyone who has gathered in the fellowship hall for a Sunday potluck should bring me a bit of joy, too.
But the weight of the sermon I just listened to, and the depth of my own sins, have me feeling a bit lost even in this place where I once felt more at home than anywhere else.
Everyone has been incredibly welcoming, telling me that they are so happy to see me and they’re so glad that I’m home. How do I tell them that I feel more lost than before? More confused than ever?
“How are you feeling?” Anastasia asks as she links her arm through mine.
I glance over at Zane, who is in what looks like a happy conversation with Garrison and a teenage boy I’ve never seen before. Every now and then, he scans the room for me, smiling when our gazes lock. Almost like he’s expecting me to disappear.
I’ve definitely thought about slipping out, but I just can’t bring myself to do that. Not again. Running seems to be my default setting, and I’m trying so hard to change it.
“I’m okay. Why? Do I look that lost?” I ask, hoping that my tone is light-hearted instead of weighted down by the very real turmoil I’m in.
She smiles softly. “A little.”
“Anastasia!” a woman calls out.
“Oh, sorry. Be right back.” Anastasia squeezes my arm gently before veering off toward the right.
Unsure what else to do and desperate for some air, I move out of the fellowship hall and into the otherwise empty sanctuary.
Stormwatch Landing’s church hasn’t changed much over the years. Aside from the fresh altar flowers that get changed out with each new service, the place looks almost exactly the same.
I still remember the first time I came here.
It was with Zane and his family. I’d been so nervous—terrified, really—because everyone in town knew who I was and who my parents were. I was certain they’d judge me for being here. Maybe even mock me for daring to enter God’s house, considering my bloodline.
But all I’d found was a welcoming array of people who were glad to see me.
The pews are lined up on both sides, leading up to an altar that has a large wooden cross made from driftwood. There are broken chains beneath it, signifying the way Jesus broke our chains when He came to die for us.
I remember standing here in awe for the first time, trying to wrap my head around that type of love. Truthfully, I still don’t understand it.
The balcony doors are wide open on both sides of the altar, giving a near panoramic view of the ocean out the back.
I take a step closer to the altar, and a side door that leads to the church office opens.
An aged man steps out into the sanctuary, his gaze trained on the Bible in his hands. Sensing he’s not alone, though, he stops and looks up at me, his smile friendly. “Tessa Lane.”
I should say hi and then turn back toward the fellowship hall, but the ache in my heart is only growing as I stand here.
“Hi, Pastor Reeves.”
“You’re—are you okay?” His light gaze darkens with concern.
“I’m okay. Just—” I take a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m in here, to be honest. I guess I just needed a few minutes of quiet.”
“Something I understand quite well,” he replies. “And I’m so glad you did find yourself in here.” He starts to reach out, but I flinch, then instantly kick myself for it when he withdraws his hand. That friendly smile I’ve always remembered stays in place, though.
He’d been another one who tried so hard to get me to turn my dad in. Though he was far gentler than most.
“Come, sit, Tessa.” He gestures toward a front pew.
I should head back. Zane could be looking for me.
So why am I following him down the aisle and taking a seat beside him on the pew?
“I don’t know why I came here today,” I repeat. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” I still haven’t even touched the Bible Zane gave me. It just sits there on the table where I left it that first day…waiting for me.
“Why is that?”
“Life,” I reply. “How could I believe a loving God is walking alongside me when I can’t ever seem to stay on my feet?” My throat constricts, and I stand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”
“You’re lost.” It’s not a question.
I meet his gaze. “You’re the second person to tell me that today.” I take a deep breath. “But how can I be lost when I don’t feel like I was ever found?”
“You know, I remember the day you first walked through those doors.” He smiles at the memory, and I find myself sinking back into the pew.
“You were afraid; I could see it on your face, but there was this light within you.” He shakes his head.
“It shone brighter than most I’d seen because, unlike some others, it had experienced true darkness. ”
My eyes fill.
“You were born into an incredibly dark situation, Tessa,” he says softly. “But that has never defined who you are.”
“I don’t think I ever had a chance.”
“That’s not true,” he replies. “Your parents may have chosen one path, but you chose another.”
I shake my head. “I left. I ran like a coward, Pastor Reeves. I wasn’t kidnapped. I wasn’t killed. I ran because I was so afraid that my darkness would taint Zane. The truth is, I let my dad set me on a path, and I took it without looking back.”
Pastor Reeves reaches over and takes my hand in his. He pats it gently as he did so many years ago. “I know you ran away. Or, at least, I assumed.”
“What?” I turn toward him. “How?”
“I saw you at your father’s funeral.”
I stare at him, shocked that he saw me and didn’t say anything. There were only four people in attendance that day.
Pastor Reeves.
Officer Leopold.
Zane Knox.
And me.
I’d hidden behind a tree, not wanting anyone to see me. Partly because I wanted to make sure my dad was dead and the other part mourning the man he could have been. A man who should have loved me as most fathers love their children.
“So you knew I wasn’t dead.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“It wasn’t my story to tell. By the time your father died, you’d been gone sixteen years. The investigation had stopped, and I assumed, if you’d wanted contact, you would have stuck around once the casket was in the ground.”
“I hurt people.”
He takes a deep breath. “Zane struggled for years with your disappearance. By the time I realized you were alive, he seemed to be doing better, and bringing it back up felt cruel.”
“What I did to him was cruel.”
“We all make mistakes, Tessa. But you don’t have to continue living in them.”
“They might as well be cement around my ankles.”
“There’s only one way to break free.”
I glance over at him. “How’s that?”
“Him.” He nods toward the cross. “Ask for forgiveness, and choose to live in the light. There will be moments where the darkness settles around you, moments of weakness where you slip and fall, but He is always there to pick you back up. You say that you feel like you can’t stay on your feet?
Then remain on your knees, Tessa, and pray. ”
The tears I’ve been fighting against begin to fall, and Pastor Reeves wraps an arm around my shoulders as I completely fall apart.
Every single wall I’ve carefully built comes crashing down in this moment, and if it weren’t for his arm around my shoulders, I imagine I would fall right out of the pew and onto the floor.
My entire life has been one battle after another.
From the moment I was old enough to understand my childhood wasn’t like the other kids’, to the first time my dad’s hand knocked me to the floor, to this moment right now, it all comes rushing over me in one constant wave of emotion.
The pain of the abuse.
The guilt of believing it was my fault.
The agony of never feeling loved.
The anger of not knowing why they couldn’t just love me.
I let it all out as I sit here on this pew in front of the cross.
“Lord, I come to You today, asking You to walk with Tessa. You know her heart, God. You know her pain. Please wrap her in Your loving embrace and help her see that she belongs to You. That You have always been here with her and that You will always be here with her. Lord, help her to find her way back to You and seek comfort in Your loving embrace. I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” I whisper.
The weight that’s been on my shoulders for the last eighteen years lessens, and I draw in a deep breath as I wipe my eyes and settle my gaze back on the cross. Please forgive me, God. Please help me. I want to do better. I want to know You.
The Bible Zane gave me sits in front of me, unopened. Reaching out, I run the tips of my fingers over the golden letters printed on the front. Holy Bible. I still remember the first time I ever held one.
Zane had given me that one, too.
“You okay?” Zane drops into the booth seat across from me and slides a mug of chamomile tea toward me.
“Pastor Reeves said that I don’t have to continue living in my mistakes.”
“You don’t.”
I look up at him. “I don’t know how to move forward, Zane. I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s the truth. Every time I close my eyes, they’re there. The things I did to you, the things I did afterward…they haunt me.”
“I know how that feels,” he replies with an understanding smile.
“How did you do it?”
“I’m still trying to do it,” he admits. “But I know that Jesus came here to die for all of my sins, and that brings me comfort in those moments when the enemy seems hellbent on using my pain against me.”
My chest aches, so I rub the heel of my palm against it. “I’m just not sure how to forgive myself.”
“If it helps, I’ve forgiven you.”
He speaks the words so plainly, as if they don’t carry the weight of the world. Eyes wide, I stare at him. “You have?”
He nods and takes a bite of an apple he’d sliced up and put on the table in between us. “Pretty much the moment you came back.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what we’re called to do.” He swallows hard. “And because I care about you, Tessa.”
The tension that was between us last night in his mother’s bathroom returns full-force, and all I can think about is the way his muscled arms caged me against that countertop. He’d been so close. Close enough that I could see flecks of copper in his green eyes.
The way that gaze dropped to my lips more than once.
The way I nearly gripped the front of his shirt and yanked his mouth down onto mine, even if there’s no real future for us.
Why can’t there be, though?
Because the way he’s looking at me now? I can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there isn’t still something there.
Another knock on the door slices through the tension, and Zane chuckles, running a hand over his face. “One of these days, we’re going to finish that conversation.” He pushes up, and I turn in my seat, watching as his hand goes to the weapon holstered in the waistband of his jeans.
“Who is it?” he calls through the locked door.
“Someone tired of being ignored,” a stern feminine voice calls back.
With a frustrated sigh, he slides the door open, revealing the brunette who’d shown up after we were shot at a week ago.
Her dark hair is slicked back in a ponytail tonight, and instead of a pencil skirt, she’s wearing black slacks and a matching jacket as she strolls into the cabin on heels so high they should be registerable weapons.
“You’ve gotten yourself and him into quite some trouble,” she snaps at me.
Anger flushes my skin, and I slide out of the booth and cross both arms to glare back at her. I will not be intimidated anymore.
“You’re going to use respect when you talk to her,” Zane says, crossing his arms. “Or you can leave, Brenda.”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you even bother looking into your high-school sweet mess here before just letting her back into your life?”
High school sweet mess? Is this lady serious?
“As I said,” he growls. “Respect. Or get out.”
Brenda glares at me, then turns her attention back to Zane. I don’t miss the way she eyes him like he’s the last piece of candy in a candy store. Jealousy threatens to eat me up, but I beat it back down.
Not the time.
“The guy you killed? Former CIA.” She shoves a manila folder at him, and Zane opens it.
“Who sent him?”
“I have no idea. There is literally no paper trail. Not one. He has no recent travels—aside from coming here—no known accomplices, no family, friends—nothing.”
“Former CIA? Why? How?” I’m reeling. Why would the CIA be after me? Is it the name changes? But wouldn’t they be trying to arrest me? I can’t imagine that comes with a death sentence.
“I’m not sure.” Brenda crosses her arms. “But that’s not all.” She opens the door. “Come in now!” she calls out. “Had to warm you up first,” she adds just before a man I’ve never seen steps into the boat.
Based on Zane’s furious expression, though? He’s absolutely seen him before.
“What are you doing here?” Zane demands, his hands clenching into fists as he takes a step toward the newcomer.
“Meet Agent Jack Weathers,” Brenda says. “FBI.”
“Why were you in my sister’s place? Once again, you’ve walked right past Nina’s Bait Shop.”
“I’m not a threat to your sister. I was just trying to get information.”
“My sister is not there for you to question,” Zane snarls.
“No offense, there, Knox, but in a murder investigation, everyone is up for questioning.”
“Murder?” I whisper, and all gazes shift to me, almost like they all forgot I was here in the first place. Man, if I could only go back to that.
“Tessa Lane, I presume? Or rather, Lisa Phillips. That’s the name you were using, right?” Jack crosses over toward me, but Zane slides between us.
He and Jack remain rooted where they stand, each of them glaring at the other.
“This is ridiculous.” Brenda rolls her eyes. “Both of you to your own corners. Let’s not let your egos sink the boat.”
Jack takes a step back. “I only need information.”
“Then you’re going to give us ten minutes.”
“Sure,” he replies.
“I’m assuming you can make your way back to my sister’s place?”
“Sure, but it’s closed.”
“Exactly. She’ll let you in when you get there.” Zane doesn’t move from his spot even as Brenda and Jack head toward the cabin door.
“I’ll see you in ten,” Jack says. “If you don’t show, though, our next interaction won’t be so friendly.”
With that barely veiled threat, he turns to leave, with Brenda following on his heels.
As soon as the door is closed, Zane pulls his phone from his pocket and taps on the screen before pressing it to his ear. All while the blood is hammering so loud in mine that I can barely hear what he says.
CIA?
FBI?
Murder?
What’s happening?