Chapter 49
Morgan
“How are things going with Jack?” asks Daddy.
“Great!”
Lie.
I wish I would quit doing that, but something is very wrong with Jack. It’s been two weeks, and Jack is slipping through my fingers. He hardly talks. His jeans fit looser. He never reaches for me first anymore. When I crowd him, he goes stiff. When I back off, he looks shattered. Then angry.
I lie awake beside him every night wondering what I broke.
I can’t tell Dad, though.
“We can announce the engagement is over,” I say confidently.
Blake and I are over, and frankly, I’ll do anything to move forward with Jack. Maybe that is what he needs to embrace this new arrangement.
“We should wait another week,” Dad urges.
His answer comes too quickly. Too easily. It does not feel like a father trying to protect his daughter. He mentions marriage often. I can’t imagine he does not want that for me and Jack, yet I can’t help but wonder if there is something I am not seeing.
“I don’t think waiting is a good idea,” I say.
He looks at his reflection in the dressing room mirror. Service is about to start. “Will Jack be in the audience this time?”
“He won’t,” I answer softly. “I told him to stay home. I think he needs rest.”
Also a lie. I begged him to come, but he didn’t.
Dad barks out a laugh. “Can’t convert him if he doesn’t come to church.”
“That isn’t true.”
He glances over his shoulder, flashing a give-me-a-break smile.
“You look beautiful,” he deflects, then leads the way toward the stage. I follow dutifully, talking as we go.
“I know Jack. I believe in my heart, he will find his way back to God eventually.”
“Do not let him steal more of your time.” His voice lowers. “Does it not bring you pain to live in sin? Being unwed...” His voice trails off and his hands curl into fists.
My stomach sinks. I hate disappointing my father, but I love Jack.
“Being with someone else is what would bring me pain.”
Dad grunts, unconvinced. “Tell him what you want. He already knows from your beliefs.” His eyebrows lift as he says coolly, “Unless you are worried Jack cannot give you those things.”
The thought stabs.
“He wants the same things,” I assure blindly.
“Has he noticed your efforts to convert him?”
“I lead prayer at dinner. He doesn’t stop me.”
“That all?”
I frown.
A woman hooks on our microphones.
“Your mother and I love you,” he says before powering on the battery pack.
I return the sentiment, but his words of affection drive a stake into my heart. At Tybee Island, Jack spoke from his heart. Now I have to pry the words from him. They feel hollow coming from his lips. I bite down, my blood simmering.
It’s frustrating. He’s more guarded than before. If I could help him find his faith again, all of these problems would go away. He would feel loved.
My stomach lurches. Converting Jack shouldn’t feel wrong, but for some reason, it does. I used to think church was the answer to everything. Lately, I am not so sure.
I swallow my doubts and focus as I jog up the stage steps.
Another two weeks pass, and one night, I awaken alone.
Hmm.
In a sleep fog, I stumble out of bed.
No Jack.
I check the house until I find him in the living room sitting on the couch, hands in his hair. His elbows rest on his knees and he stares at the floor.
“Jack, what are you doing?”
He jolts to a stand. “Uh. Nothing.”
I shake my head, mad. I’ve tried everything.
I tried working with him to show I care.
I give him my body and it doesn’t work anymore.
I tell him I love him freely despite his unwillingness to say it back.
I hate that he won’t go to church for me.
And I am tired of compromising. My last option is the only option.
“I’ve had enough.” I rush over to him. “You need God. We need to pray about this. You should be happy because we are together, but you’re not.” I sniffle back angry tears and take his hands with force.
“Morgan,” he says.
“Pray with me. Dear God, we ask—”
“Stop,” he growls.
“We ask that you help Jack—”
He thrusts my hands downward, breaking our connection. “Fucking stop, Morgan.”
Out of nowhere, a rage so powerful overcomes my body. An anger I’ve never felt before. It burns so hot, my skin flashes with a sheen of sweat.
As though they’re not my own, my fists pummel against Jack’s chest, relentless and wild.
He blocks my unhinged attack easily, but I’m inconsolable. My knees give out and I fold to the carpet, sobbing.
“Why can’t you love me?” I cry through my fingers. “Why can’t you believe for me? Believe that God gave me to you! To love you!”
Jack stares down at me, his eyes narrow and nostrils flare, but he doesn’t talk. We both know the devastating truth. Jack doesn’t want to believe. He’s an atheist to his core.
“You hate me. You hate my religion, don’t you? That’s why you hate my father. Don’t lie! For once, tell me the truth. Just speak! Use your words.”
I know I’m being mean. Cruel even. I don’t care. I feel like I already lost him, and it’s ripping my heart to shreds.
He stays calm and replies, his tone low and somber.
“You wanna know? Fine, church girl. Your shit-dad moved to my town. He bought the land next to our church. My mother begged him not to and asked him to build somewhere else. Be fair about it. He didn’t. He wanted to close our church and use the space for parking.”
My tears stop as the claim sinks in. “He wouldn’t.”
“How would you know? You hadn’t moved to this town, yet. That’s what your dad does. He builds bigger and bigger churches. He doesn’t care if the smaller ones have to close their doors.”
“No. My dad would’ve told me!”
“Oh?” Jack laughs darkly. “You put that man on a pedestal like he’s God and always do whatever he says.”
“I do not!”
“Then why does the world think you’re still engaged to Blake?”
My jaw hinges open. I search for words. Finally, I spit out, “Because you won’t commit.”
“No, you won’t commit. Your father is in your head.”
“Don’t blame your inability to be with me on him.” I lift my chin and fold my arms. With calm certainty, I defend my dad. “At least he practices what he preaches. What do you do? Let your dreams pass you by because you are too scared to take them.”
He snarls, then shakes his head.
“It’s true! Maybe you don’t want to admit God is real and giving you blessings. Because then you would be wrong.”
“That’s not why I don’t believe. I didn’t finish the story.”
An eerie darkness fills the room. The hairs prickle on the back of my neck. He hesitates for a moment, but continues.
“My mother and I went to see your dad before your old church opened. She wanted to wish him the best even though he screwed us over. That’s the kind of woman my mother was. We found his office, opened the door, and guess what, church girl? Your perfect daddy was getting blown. Not by your mom.”
The world around me goes silent. I can see Jack, but everything else blurs. I try to picture what he is saying, but I can’t. Not my dad.
“No,” I whisper.
“Your dad’s a cheater, Morgan. My mom and I left fast. We piled in the car where my dad and brothers were waiting.
She was hysterical and ordered me to be quiet.
I still told Noel and my dad. They couldn’t believe it.
The car was loud. That’s when I said the unthinkable.
I pressured my mom to blackmail your father’s cheating ass.
I told her to expose him if he didn’t leave town.
What’s worse to snooty donors? Tattoos, or an adulterer? ”
I’m nauseous and run to the sink. Vomit floods from my mouth, splashing against the cold steel.
When I finish, I rinse my mouth and watch the bile swirl down the drain. Then I lean back, using the counter for balance.
Jack watches me. He isn’t angry anymore. The gleam in his eyes only reflects pity and something else.
“That’s why I don’t believe. We crashed seconds later. I begged God to save her. I said I was sorry and didn’t mean it. I still did it. I told my mother to blackmail a pastor.”
I can’t say anything. I’m too overwhelmed.
His hands drop to his sides. “Everything I’ve ever loved has been taken from me since. If there is a God, he won’t stop punishing me, but then again, your father is a sinner and he’s on top of the world.”
Razor blades scrape my throat as I speak.
“You’re lying.”
“I didn’t want to tell you, Morgan, but you won’t drop this conversion shit. It’s like you don’t live in reality. The one where your father isn’t perfect, and neither am I.”
I grab my keys from the counter and rush past him, slamming the door shut as I step into the night.
I race down the highway in the truck. Tears streak my face. I am outraged. I thump the steering wheel again and again. Soon, I pull into the church parking lot. I’ll pray the lies away. I hurry inside, march down the auditorium, and kneel below the giant cross.
With every ounce of strength I have, I swallow my pride and pray for Jack, who just accused an innocent man of something too terrible to fathom.
I pray he will be forgiven for speaking blasphemy.
For being scared and selfish. For hurting me in a grand and merciless way.
I pray and pray until the anger slowly slips away.
Until my tears dry and hands no longer shake.
Then, I drag myself to a stand and head back through the long corridors of a church my father built. A brand-new megachurch. This isn’t a bad thing. This place brings people together every week. It saves souls.
I hear a voice near a break room. Something drops.
Did Jack follow me?
I round the corner and—
My vision tunnels.
My father and Blake... kissing.
My fingers tremble as I cover my mouth. My eyes won’t blink. I cannot breathe.
Not because of the kiss.
Because in one sick flash, I see the shape of it — the delays, the manipulation, the way Daddy kept pressing and pressing while Jack fell apart in my arms.
Blake is the first to notice me, stopping the kiss.
My dad’s gaze snaps to mine. Immediately, he hides his face, unable to look at me.
“Sweetheart,” is all he can say.
“It’s true?” I mutter. “And you’re gay?”
Darkness blankets me. Just before I’m swallowed whole, my skull cracks.