Chapter 25
Blaze squirmed on the couch in the youth room, feeling every bit like a girl who’d had her braces removed and was waiting for her friends to notice. The change between her and Anson was so obvious to her that she couldn’t believe no one had commented on it.
The Rooted leaders’ meeting gave her the perfect excuse to ogle him.
His dress pants and black button-down complemented his athletic musculature.
Or was her brain simply filling in details about his build gleaned from her time wrapped up in his arms?
She once considered his mouth irritatingly close to perfect.
Now that he’d kissed her, she could confirm—his lips were, indeed, perfect. But irritating? Hardly.
“For our next series, I’d like to have adults from the church share their testimonies. I think it’ll help bring home some of the things we’ve been talking about this semester.”
She nodded along. If Anson’s acceptance amazed her, then God’s was so far beyond her comprehension she’d never understand what saving her had cost Him and spared her.
Healing had started the morning she turned her life over to Him, and she loved stories of grace interrupting people’s lives.
Loved their victories. She still had a long way to go, and their stories gave her hope that the best was yet to come. “Who are you going to ask to talk?”
“I thought we’d keep it in-house, at least for this semester.”
“In-house?” She shot a glance at Nolan, hoping he looked as clueless as she felt.
Anson drew a circle with his pointer finger, including the three of them. “I’ll go first to set the pace, then I’d like it if each of you would take a week.”
Dread reverberated through her core. He wanted her to share her story?
“Sure,” Nolan said. “If you think it’ll help. Mine’s pretty straightforward, though. I was in middle school, so it’s relevant in that way, but I’m not sure it’ll take a whole lesson to share.”
“You can talk about your walk with Christ since your initial decision too. Your stories could help show them it’s a lifelong relationship, not a one-time rite of passage.”
Nolan nodded, and Anson’s gaze settled on her, eyebrows lifted.
“Um.” She smoothed her skirt. “I’m not sure I’ve really arrived at a point where my story would be helpful to the kids. I’m kind of the opposite. A long story before I got saved, and not all of it is middle-school appropriate.”
“You don’t have to mention anything you’re not comfortable with.
The goal is to tell about what God’s done rather than what you’ve done.
I trust you both, but if either of you want to run your testimony by me before you share it with the kids, my door’s open.
I’ll give mine this week, then Nolan the week after.
” He consulted his phone, presumably checking the calendar.
“Blaze, that would put you the following Wednesday. Does that work?”
“Okay.” She eyed the lectern where Anson stood so comfortably. She would take him up on the offer to review her testimony before she gave it. A narrative took shape in her mind, too long and complex to type on her phone. Hopefully she could remember the parts she liked when she got home.
The couch shifted as Nolan rose. Anson stuffed his phone in his pocket and picked up his Bible and notes. She snagged her purse and jacket, then stood.
As Nolan left, Anson stepped up beside her. “What are your lunch plans?”
She warmed, and she hadn’t even slipped into her coat yet. “Just headed home for soup and sandwiches.” She slid her arm into one of her coat sleeves and juggled her purse as she twisted to find the other sleeve.
Anson moved behind her and held the coat for her. “You and Mercy?” He settled the coat over her shoulders and ran his hands down her arms before stepping away.
“Yeah. She spent all day yesterday out, so she needs to buckle down and do her homework today. Historically, that meant I’d need to hover over her shoulder, but she’s been doing better the last couple of weeks.”
“So her medication is working.”
“It appears so.”
“And yours?”
She fiddled with her purse strap. “I didn’t have the heart to take it this morning.
I’m sick of being so tired. The new doctor can scold me if he needs to.
But the prescription didn’t resolve my original problem—distraction.
” She gave a sheepish smile. “Did you say anything in the meeting that I need to know? Other than that the sleeping bag owner hasn’t been found and I’m supposed to give my testimony? ”
“I guess you’ll see on Wednesday.” Smirking, he waited for her to step into the hall, then locked the door.
There was no guarantee she’d focus any better on Wednesday than she had just now. Maybe after her appointment on Friday, though. If it went well.
“Can you write a note for me?” The question slipped out before she’d vetted it, but after yesterday, she didn’t feel nearly as self-conscious with Anson.
He rested a hand on the small of her back as they started down the hall. “A note?”
“For the doctor. It’s helpful if he can get a take on me from a couple of different perspectives, different spheres of life.” Her voice came out cheery because Anson kept his hand in place.
Given how reserved he’d always been with Sydney, she’d assumed any contact from him would only happen in private. Walking down the hall with his hand on her back felt almost scandalous. Granted, the last classes had ended half an hour ago. She checked over her shoulder. The hall was empty.
“The idea is to see how much of your life is affected?”
“Right. ADHD wouldn’t affect just one area.
I have Marissa and Philip each writing a couple of lines describing me.
If you don’t mind writing one, you can seal it in an envelope.
That way, there’s a chance I’ll be able to resist reading it so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings by being honest.”
“And what sphere of life do you want me to speak to?” His warm hand made her very aware of the sphere of life she most wanted him in.
“We still haven’t gone very far into the personal sphere.”
He frowned. “I have some pretty vivid memories from yesterday that suggest we’re making progress.”
She coughed. She must not be the only one with a replay looping through her brain.
He chuckled as he withdrew his hand. “I guess I’ll keep it church related. When do you need it?”
“Any time before my appointment on Friday.”
He dipped his chin. “Consider it done. And speaking of Friday, can I take you to dinner? Either Friday or Saturday?”
Inwardly, she squealed, and her voice came out breathy. “That sounds nice. Just don’t say you want to go to The Depot.”
“For our first date?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Never. How about The Red House Grill?”
Date. She liked hearing him say it. “I’ve heard of Red House, but I haven’t been there.”
“It’s an American grill with a few unique things on the menu. Casual, but the food’s always good, and since it’s out of town, we’re less likely to run into people we know.”
He had openly dated Sydney in Many Oaks. Now he wanted to hide his time with Blaze? She forced a teasing tone. “Are you embarrassed of me?”
“It’s not that.”
Her throat cinched. It’s not that was a long way from no.
“People are going to have a lot of opinions about us. I’d like to keep this private for now, if we can.”
She felt like black tar was spilling over her head and dripping toward her toes. “Opinions like how you shouldn’t be with someone like me?”
He stopped walking in the middle of the hallway outside the offices and caught her hand. “Not long ago, someone told me to follow my heart, and do you know what happened?”
She shook her head.
“An avalanche of memories, all of them about you. I wholeheartedly chose you, and I have no regrets or second thoughts.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.
“But I do want to keep this private. My position here isn’t as solid as it once was, and Eric’s been aiming at any target he can find.
I need to protect our relationship from that.
I care for you too much to do anything else. ”
“I care for you too.” The words felt like the first steps after a fall—uncertain and a little painful. “I’ll get back to you on whether Friday or Saturday works best. I’ll need to find someone to watch Mercy. Either a sleepover at a friend’s house, or Marissa might be willing to hang out with her.”
“Okay. Let me know.” His lips twitched like he wanted to say more. Instead, he released her hand and tipped his head, motioning behind her.
She turned to find Mercy headed their way. No wonder he’d released her. If they wanted any semblance of privacy, Mercy needed to remain clueless.
Blaze rubbed her hand, already missing his touch. “I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Take care.” He stepped away.
Pastor Greg came out of the main office and cut past with a curious glance on the way to his office. There really was something to Anson’s theory about how much interest people would take in them.
When Mercy was close enough, Blaze looped her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Ready for some grilled ham and cheese?”
Mercy eyed her like she’d lost it. “Since when do you like grilled cheese so much?”
She tweaked her sister’s nose instead of answering, because it definitely wasn’t grilled cheese she liked.
As Anson neared, Pastor Greg stood outside his office with his mouth hanging open.
Anson suppressed a chuckle. The memory of Blaze’s wistful look as she agreed to the date sent endorphins splashing into his bloodstream. “Need something?”
Greg pointed after Blaze and Mercy. “What was that?”
Anson looked back, but the sisters were already around the corner. “What?”
“The office door was open. You didn’t hear me in there?”
“Oh.” Apparently, he’d been oblivious to anyone but Blaze. “I guess not. Why?”
“When the printer stopped, I overheard a few things I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on.” Greg stepped into his office, and Anson followed. The senior pastor dropped a packet of papers onto his desk. “I thought you and Sydney Roswell were serious.”
“We were until we weren’t.”
Greg’s surprise flickered over his face. “You broke up?”
“A while ago.”
“Well, that was discreet.”
“Didn’t see the need for it to be anything less.” The whole relationship had been quiet. Why broadcast the embarrassing part?
“And you and Blaze?” Greg sat on the edge of his desk.
Her name linked to him brought a warm flash of pleasure.
He’d written off chemistry as something better left behind in high school or college, a dangerous experiment that could blow up a pastor’s career.
Unchecked, it could. But within the right bounds?
Someone get him a lab coat, because he had a new favorite subject. “We’re getting to know each other.”
Humor played at Greg’s mouth. “Is that all? If you didn’t notice me clunking around in the office, you were pretty absorbed in each other’s company.”
Anson crossed his arms. “Is that a problem?”
Greg shook his head. “I’m glad to see it. You’re something of a lone wolf.”
A lone wolf raising multiple packs of pups, maybe. Anson laughed. “I’m always surrounded by people.”
“How many of them really know you?”
He cocked his head. “There are some things I can’t run around talking about. That’s the job, isn’t it? Surrounded, but not necessarily known?”
“I’m not talking about running around, talking carelessly. But isolation leads to a lot of unhappy pastors. Everyone needs confidants and accountability—friends in their corner.”
He wasn’t wrong. Anson could use more friends on the leadership board, but opening up about personal matters at this point would more likely draw fire than amass allies.
“Besides, a ministry is more effective when it’s not only theologically sound but also has a beating heart, don’t you think? How long’s it been since you shared a sermon only you could preach?”
Again with the heart stuff. Why did this keep coming up? “I just made a plan with my team to share my testimony.”
“Oh. Then I stand corrected. Keep following the Lord’s prompting. Sounds like He’s already showing you what to share and when.” He walked around his desk and turned on his computer. “Let me know how it goes.”
Taking the cue, Anson retreated into his own office. After he shut the door, he paused. The uneasiness stirring in his chest drew his eyes to the rough-hewn cross on the wall.
The Lord had poured His heart out for His people, and He had a right to ask Anson to do the same.
Am I holding too much back, Lord?
Given the current climate in the church, sharing too much with anyone—besides, perhaps, Blaze—would be like walking into combat without armor.
As he stared at the cross, his uneasiness settled.
His mission was to share God’s heart, and if he wanted to continue doing that, he couldn’t afford to be any more vulnerable than he already was.