Chapter 32
Morgan
Ingrid rushes into the guest room, jarring me from my slumber.
“Your dad is here,” she says. “He won’t leave this time.”
Two dad-free nights hiding at Ingrid’s place has been the only good thing in my life.
I groan loudly and drag myself out of bed. With my hair askew, I trudge down the hall, open her front door, and face my father.
He stands in a suit, all black, gold rings, and not a thread or hair out of place. His familiar cologne is like a smack to the face. He’s here, and probably angrier than ever before.
“Morgan,” he says flatly.
“Hello, Dad,” I answer.
He holds his chin as he uses the same hand to point at me. “Well? Shall you invite me in, to talk, like an adult?”
I frown, but open the door wider. He storms forward like his presence is bigger than his human form.
“Was your speech true? The part about Gabe?” he starts sharply.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and nod.
“And you didn’t tell me?” he seethes. “You were assaulted at my church and didn’t tell me?”
I clutch my elbows and shrug. “Sorry.”
He stills, studying me scrupulously, then continues.
“Are you an atheist now?”
I gasp in horror. “No, Dad! I just... It was time for the truth to be heard.”
“The truth?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “A truth that could not be spoken to me first. Did you think your own father could not be trusted?”
“Of course I trust you. I was ashamed.” I bite my tongue, withholding the part that I was intimate with Gabe before the attack. Instead, I drop onto a sofa chair hard, causing the springs to creak. “What does it matter, anyway? Gabe hasn’t been arrested and Jack is still in jail.”
Dad barks out a laugh. “Did you honestly think he would be released because of your stunt? Jack mutilated a pastor beyond repair. Gabe may never regain function. Your godless boy isn’t getting out of jail.”
My heart rips in two just thinking of Jack in a cold, heartless cell. No family or friends. Alone. I bring my knees to my chest and fight tears.
Dad sits across from me, elbows on his knees. He idly twirls a gold band as he speaks.
“We are past disappointment. You have single-handedly put my life’s work in jeopardy. We are teetering on complete devastation. Understand?”
“I know some members will lose trust in our church because of Gabe, but—”
He retrieves his phone. “Some? Here are some comments.” He recites a few quickly:
My kids were around that man and could have been raped,
Pastors are sexually repressed time bombs.
I saw the video and morgan looked fine until the attacker showed up.
That church is as fake as their pastors.
Then, Dad looks up. “Shall I go on?”
“No, but there are positive comments, too,” I defend. “That I am inspirational and will motivate other victims to go to the police.”
“Nonsense. There shouldn’t be any comments. This was a private matter. The only thing accurate in your self-serving speech was your inaction led to this disaster. You should’ve told me.”
I frown, but I am indifferent at this point. The damage is done. I can’t change the past.
“What’s your plan, Morgan? After setting our world on fire, what will you do? Leave the church. Find a new faith. What?”
“Dad, I didn’t mean to destroy everything. I truly wanted to fix things. I wanted to help Jack.”
His voice drops, rough and gravelly.
“Jack. It all goes back to that boy again and again. I’ve had enough.”
He stands and hovers over me. His eyes pierce.
“I raised you to put God first, but if all you care about is an atheist, very well. I will help Jack.”
I scrunch my face, confused. “You will?”
“Yes, and he’ll need a lot of help if he is to breathe fresh air again. I have a team of lawyers big enough to fight that battle. You do not. They’re far more effective than your amateur press conferences.”
I both lift and cower at his words. They’re precious words, though, that illuminate this dark hour with a sense of hope.
“But, it will cost you,” he adds sharply.
I wince. “Cost me?”
“Yes. A lot. I want your unwavering loyalty.”
I squint, unsure what he means.
“I want all of your truths. No more lies or unspoken nightmares. I want your obedience. Do as I say, when I say it.”
“And you’ll get Jack out of jail?”
He chuckles once more. “Morgan, I will try. This morning, Gabe sued our church for defamation of character because our precious pastor, Miss Morgan Leigh Montgomery, brazenly announced on national TV that Gabe was a rapist. If Jack survives the criminal case, then he’ll face a costly civil case.
If he walks free, he will never have a penny in his wallet. ”
My stomach twists hard and bile surges up my throat.
“He was helping me,” I whisper. My chin trembles, which makes Dad snarl in disgust.
“All this passion for a boy? A shame. You had such promise.”
Hot tears roll down my cheeks.
Abruptly, he takes me in his arms and holds my cheek to his chest, petting my hair in long strokes.
“Shh, shh, Morgan. I will right the wrongs. I need you to trust me moving forward. Trust that I knew what was best for you, my lamb, but you wandered toward the wolf. This time, I need you to obey your father, your shepherd, solely here to lead you toward salvation. Not temptation.”
My throat is too tight to speak, and my body grows limp against his.
“Will you? Trust me? And believe I will help Jack?”
I barely nod against his chest. It should feel like I am coming home by being held in his warm arms. Instead, something doesn’t sit well, like I am making a deal with the devil.
“Good girl. As I said, I will do what I can to help Jack. God knows I will. And you will help him, too, through acts to improve his chances.”
He walks to the front door and twists the knob, revealing Blake, who steps in cautiously. A small, weak smile pulls at his lips.
I bat my lashes.
Dad stands beside Blake, then cups the back of his neck in a firm, dominant gesture, causing Blake to grimace and look at the floor.
In this light, my father is more mob boss than pastor, using fear and intimidation to control his underlings.
He grins cruelly.
“You will marry Blake.”
“What?” I balk.
My shock is echoed as Ingrid steps out of the hall, her mouth open.
He doesn’t flinch.
“Was Jack a jealous lover who attacked Gabe, or the vigilante you claimed him to be? Because the question will linger in the judge’s mind if you are single. This weakens the motive the prosecutor must argue.”
He has a point, but his solution is outrageous.
“Blake,” I huff. “You don’t agree with this, do you?”
He keeps his eyes down and manages a flat response.
“It is sensible.”
I scoff loudly. “We don’t love each other!” I look around the room, feeling like this is a bad dream. “Blake, I love someone else. How could you possibly want to marry me?”
Dad thumps his back, shoving him toward me.
Blake brushes his hair back and collects himself, standing much like he does on stage.
“I loved a girl in New York, but it didn’t work out, and now, I’m grateful it didn’t. With time, we will learn to love each other. God has brought us together in unexpected ways, but we must believe in him. This union makes sense.”
I stand, speechless.
Perhaps seeing my shock, he takes my hand and lowers his voice.
“An article came out this morning. The Center for Special Hearts may lose its nonprofit status and certifications if Jack is convicted of a felony. His brothers could be taken away for good. He’ll have nothing.”
I nearly pass out, but Blake hooks his arm around my waist. He lightly pats my face, keeping me conscious.
Holding my chin, he says, “I didn’t want to marry you under these conditions, but I am truly trying to help. I am not Gabe. I’ll never make you do anything. It has to be your choice, Morgan.”