6. Andie
Before Gran’s funeral, I hadn’t been to a church for years. Shame kept me from walking through those doors, despite the understanding that God forgives. I just don’t understand how He could forgive the things I’ve done.
So many mistakes. Like a snowball rolling downhill, steadily gathering more weight. One mistake led to ten more, and before I knew it, I was living a life I didn’t even recognize. Not that I’d wanted to even if I could.
It was easier to hide from the woman in the mirror than it was to face her head-on.
In a lot of ways, it still is.
The church in front of me is where I spent every single Sunday growing up. Even when my parents were still together and I was living with them, Gran made sure she picked me up every week and brought me here. I know the pews like the back of my hand. So why can’t I take the next step?
Why am I still standing out front, staring at it as though it’s going to devour me whole?
“Sometimes, we just need a little push, huh?”
I glance behind me at the pretty blonde standing a few yards away. She’s dressed in a sundress with yellow flowers, a denim jacket covering her arms.
“Something like that,” I reply then face the front again.
The woman moves up to stand beside me. “I’m Eliza Knight,” she says.
“Andie. Knight. Your husband owns the security company in town. The one Elijah works at.”
“He does. I recognize you from the funeral,” she says softly. “Your grandmother was a great woman.”
“The best,” I agree, still staring at the church.
“Would you like to go in together? I need to talk to Pastor Redding about something, so I’m going in anyway. And sometimes, it’s easier to go in with a friend.”
“I practically grew up in this church.”
“Sometimes, that makes it harder.”
I turn to her, offering the woman a friendly smile. “True.”
Facing off with the church again, I take a step. Then another, until I’m walking through the large wooden doors and standing at the end of the aisle.
“I hope to see you around, Andie,” Eliza says with a wave as she heads off to the right, down a hall where the church office sits.
“You too,” I call out then force myself to walk all the way to the front. The large crucifix over the altar is the same one that has been there every day since the church opened. So why does it seem so much larger now?
Okay, God. I’m here. The burning desire to come to church this morning was not something I could ignore. Gran would have wanted me to come by and see everyone before I left, so this seemed like a good chance to do just that while avoiding the Sunday morning crowds.
And after spending all morning packing up gran’s things, I’d needed a break. Even if I made more headway than I thought I would. Since Elijah plans to buy me out of the house, I won’t have to put it up for sale, which means my time here can be cut far shorter than it would have been originally.
Why does that make me a bit sad?
“Andie Montgomery.”
I jump then turn to see the pastor standing beside me, a wide smile on his face. “Hello, Pastor.” Standing, I return his hug then take a seat on the pew. He sits beside me, and we stare straight ahead for a few moments.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“It’s okay to not be, you know,” he says softly.
Forcing a smile, I nod. “I know, but I’m okay.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Gran loved coming here on Sundays.”
He chuckles. “Every other day too. Your Gran was in here almost every morning.”
“Really?”
He nods. “She would come in and pray, then have coffee with Kyra, before heading home.”
“How long had she been doing that?”
“Since you left,” he replies.
My heart aches. I knew I broke hers when I left, I’d just been too young and immature to realize that I should have come straight back home. “How is your wife doing? I haven’t seen Kyra around.”
“You should swing by the bakery. She would love to see you. And she’s doing well. Kassandra just got married not too long ago. They have a baby on the way.”
“That’s wonderful.” I may not have known her well since I kept to myself, but Kassandra was always such a bundle of energy.
After a deep breath, I admit, “I have so many regrets…with Gran. And life in general.”
“You shouldn’t carry them,” he tells me. “Seek repentance, and let them go.”
“I wish it were that easy.”
“It certainly sounds like it would be, doesn’t it?” he asks with a chuckle. “Even as we know that our mistakes are forgiven when we pursue a life with Christ, asking seems an impossible feat sometimes.”
“I don’t suppose you take confessions, do you?” I ask, half-joking.
He laughs. “You don’t need to confess to me, Andie. I’m a sinner just like you. God is the only one who can help you work through that pain.” He faces forward. “However, if you need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”
* * *
The wooden boxin my hands feels far heavier than it should as I sit on the edge of Gran’s bed. Aggie purrs beside me, curled up in a ball on top of the throw blanket at the end of the bed. I glance over at him, honestly jealous. What I wouldn’t give for some good sleep right about now.
My phone rings, and the cat raises his head, staring at me with annoyance. “Sorry, I forgot the ringer was on.” I tap the screen and press it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Miss Montgomery, it’s Mia.”
“Hi, Mia, is everything all right?” My latest assistant almost never calls me. She’s spooky good at handling anything and everything thrown her way, even without my direct intervention.
“It is. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“The funeral?”
“It was a funeral,” I say. “What can I do for you?”
“You’d emailed and asked about a storage unit for your grandmother’s things?”
“You found one?”
“I did. It’s a bit of a drive from your apartment, but it’s the only climate-controlled one that is available in the area.”
“Then that will have to do.”
“Great, I’ll get it reserved for you.” The line falls silent for a moment. “You know, I lost my father when I was young. I know how you must be feeling.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago. I can drive up, help out, then take a load back in my car if you’d like.”
I consider telling her no, but then I peek out the door at the mountain of boxes. Truthfully, some help organizing would be nice, and there’s no one better at it than Mia Harper. “That would be great, actually. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” The call ends, and I set the phone down beside me.
I glance over at Aggie, who has already fallen back to sleep. “Must be nice,” I tell him then run my hands over the carved flowers in the top of the wooden box. “All right, Gran, let’s see what you’ve got for me.” I open the lid and stare down at a row of envelopes lined up neatly inside.
“In order, I heard you.”
Plucking the first message out, I set the box to the side and run my finger over the One written on the front. Seeing my gran’s writing brings a fresh wave of grief over me, and I nearly set the letter aside. However, doing so feels an awful lot like shutting the door on her.
And I did that enough when she’d been alive.
So, heart aching, I open the letter.
Dearest Andie,
You’ve been gone almost a week now, and the house still feels so empty. I haven’t wanted to reach out because the last thing I want to do is drive you away when you’re already gone. Pastor Redding suggested I start writing you letters. Then, if I get brave enough, I can send them to you. If not, it will at least help me to feel connected.
I hope you know that I am praying for you. I miss you something terrible, my Andie.
Come home soon.
Gran
I close the letter and shove it back into the envelope. Tears burn my eyes, emotion clawing its way to the surface. I beat it back down and drink a glass of water, hoping it will soothe the pain in my throat.
Did she detail everything that happened while I was gone?
How could I have left her like that? Why did it take her death for me to come home?
“Get it together, Andie,” I tell myself as I set the glass down and straighten. As I turn to head back into the room, glass shatters.
Something hits my side, knocking me into the edge of the couch.
Pain shoots through my hip, and I hiss, falling to the side as glass sprinkles the carpet.
“What the—” I struggle to my feet just as car tires screech against pavement.
A white sedan races down the street.
Adrenaline pumping, I pull my phone out and dial 9-1-1. After giving my address to the operator, I shove the phone back into my pocket and study the damage left behind by the brick thrown through Gran’s front window.
Rebecca. The name burns like a hot poker in my gut.
It had to be her.
She’s furious that I got the house, and now she’s going to do everything she can to make my life miserable, but what she just did gives me a picture window-sized reason to finally press charges.