Epilogue
Morgan
Seven Months Later
The new center is quiet. We held a special luncheon for the crew.
I mop the kitchen, then search the halls for Jack.
Faintly, O’ Holy Night by Josh Groban plays in the dining room.
As I approach, Jack steps through the doorway.
The gentle light blends with the shadows of the corridor, accentuating his stunning features.
He’s as handsome as ever dressed in all black — slacks, collared shirt, and his favorite Converse shoes. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing those tattoos I insist he never cover.
“Hey, babe,” he says. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
I smirk and lace my fingers behind his neck. “As if I would be anywhere else except with you on Christmas Eve.”
He kisses my lips, then inhales my perfume in that way he does. The way that makes me feel worshiped.
“Remember when we met? In the old center’s hallway just like this?” he asks.
“Yep, and then you called me a Bible bitch.”
A cocky smile tugs at his lips. “And I got you pregnant soon after.”
I pat his chest. “It wasn’t that fast.”
“I fell for ya fast,” he mumbles.
“I fell first,” I assure him.
He chuckles. “I’ll let you believe that, church girl.”
“Well, are you ready?”
He nods and takes my hand, leading me through double doors that connect the center to my new church.
I purchased the old community theater and remodeled it as a church. The east part of the building was converted into a bigger center. It makes it easier for us to help each other out.
Jack likes to keep me close, too. I always tell him he has nothing to worry about, but I know with Jack, it’ll take time. I don’t mind. I’m here for the long run.
We enter the small auditorium. It still has tattered red velvet curtains that need to be replaced.
I added an area for the choir, a ten-foot tall cross, and an organ.
It’s a far cry from a megachurch. Instead of fifty thousand attendees, there is seating for five hundred.
But it’s mine. I built it. I adore it. The connections to people feel closer and more meaningful.
Blake greets us behind the stage, giving me a hug and shaking Jack’s hand. It is hard to believe these men have become friends. Jack was not happy when I told him I’d be preaching with my former fiancé.
Jack shook his head. “Hell no. He’s gay, not blind.”
But with time, they got to know each other. It doesn’t matter to Jack who the men are. Initially, everyone poses a risk. He doesn’t want to lose me.
Every day, though, I show him a woman can love him and his baggage.
In fact, I don’t see Tommy or the center as a burden.
Sure, Tommy and the crew can be a challenge, but their enduring happiness is contagious.
They delight us every day. It’s amazing how much hugs and smiles can uplift a person.
My heart overflows around them. Like Jack says, people with Down Syndrome truly are good and rare.
I look out from behind the curtain. Tommy is in the crowd with Julie and Noel. Beside Noel? His new love interest. A sweet girl named Sierra. Jack says he’s never seen his brother so smitten, which is saying a lot.
The choir sings Silent Night, and the audience sings along.
The congregation is filled with people from all walks of life. It’s something I am proud of. I wanted a church that was more transparent about its leadership, which has attracted people who can relate.
That’s why Blake’s sexuality isn’t a secret, nor is my having a baby out of wedlock. It was... a revelation.
My hands rest on my belly. I started showing early, which was a blessing. I never want to hide who I am again. I left my father’s church after announcing my pregnancy.
Besides, the church and center are the priority at the moment, and I don’t want to rush the wedding just to appear traditional. We’ll have the baby first, then marry.
That conversation was delicate.
“What do you mean, you wanna wait to marry me?” Jack growled.
“I want the ceremony held in the new church, with our child in my arms.”
He did what Jack does. Put up walls and lit a joint, which I promptly threw away. Of course, he fought back.
“Proverbs 18:22. ‘He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.’ I thought you wanted me closer to God?”
Unfortunately, him using the Bible to argue with me only turns me on. We made love, but after, I wore him down. First, I set a wedding date, then used the Bible as leverage.
“Love requires faith, Jack. ‘There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear,’ 1 John 4:18.”
That, he accepted. Now, I am near my delivery date, and we’ll get married next month.
“Excited to be a wife?” Blake asks, and God bless him for having no ill will... considering our failed engagement.
“Yes, I am very excited!” I reply. More careful and lower, I add, “Is my dad coming tonight?”
He shrugs, his expression sullen. “You know how your father is. I pray he’ll step away from the megachurch and join us as his true self.”
A loving and protective man, but also, a deeply ashamed homosexual who lives in a marriage of convenience.
“Me, too,” I murmur.
It’s a shame. Nobody is perfect, but my parents continue their charade. Worse, my mother will not speak to me. And neither of my parents approve of Jack. He isn’t Christian to them — not a saved soul. Loving Jack is not the easier path, but it is the right one for me. The only one.
Just then, the choir ends the song. Jack gives me a kiss, then I step onto the stage with Blake. We speak for fifteen minutes. The majority of the time is for Jack, our special guest preacher.
He agreed to appear on Christmas Eve and Easter. Otherwise, he sits in the front row on Sundays. I insisted he didn’t have to attend, but he does to support me. It warms my heart more than he knows.
After service, I always stand by his side, proudly, while I talk with church members.
When he preaches, though, I think deep down, he does that for himself. Maybe to feel closer to his mom. Maybe to thank God in a way that is unique to his gifts. Twice a year isn’t a lot, but when he does, it is a joy for me.
He begins his sermon, and his voice carries like a ballad that sends shivers down my spine.
He is fearless and moves with purpose and passion, weaving God’s words with his own struggles.
As he closes his testimony, he glances my way to make sure I am paying attention.
Something in me knows, this is for me as much as the congregation.
“I used to think hope was dangerous. Then, I realized, I wasn’t afraid of hope. I was afraid of love. The more you love, the more you lose. After my parents’ death, I was godless. I wanted to walk the earth with as little love as I could bear. Then I’d never grieve another person.
“One day, Morgan Leigh Montgomery walked into my life and taught me how to believe again. She sacrificed enormous wealth, status, and damaged her relationship with her family. Loving me cost her everything.”
He glances at me offstage. His gaze, so full of atonement and longing, lingers in mine. My heart stumbles and skips a beat. Only he makes my body react this way.
Gently, he smirks, then studies the crowd.
“Hell, I led her to sin. Now we’ll have a child before marriage.
But was that God's plan all along? Corinthians 7:9 says, ‘For it is better to marry than to burn with passion.’ Yet, that fire was fueled by the love God put into our hearts.
We all have the capacity to love, but it is our free will that determines who we give it to.
“Morgan gives her heart to me each day. She made it impossible not to return the very thing I didn’t want to sacrifice — the only thing I had to give — my love.
Next month, I will marry her. A woman who fell from grace for a broken soul.
Our journey wasn't easy, but I like to believe, it was God's plan.”
He pauses, and for a moment, I see what others don’t. It’s the inkling of the nonbeliever that wrestles within him. His faith ebbs and flows. Some days, it’s easy for him to believe, and others, it simply isn’t.
And I’m okay with that. It’s his own path to walk. I let him lean on me when he needs it, and he reciprocates when it’s my turn.
He draws in a deep breath, perhaps having found the believer within that finds sanctuary and strength in a higher power.
“I look at Genesis 2:18 as how we can live better lives. God says, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.’ I believe by man, he meant mankind. All beings need a helper. I needed one. I found that in Morgan.
“I have other helpers, though. My brothers helped me get out of bed every morning in my darkest hours. Julie helped me when I lost everything. And a community helped me when I sat behind bars. And maybe God helped me, despite my efforts to deny his existence. It’s human to question, and sometimes I still do.
Especially when I’m sad or frustrated. However, those are the times I find peace in knowing I am not alone.
You are not alone — God can be your helper, too.
“This Christmas Eve, reflect on God’s sacrifice. Reflect on your own. If you have love to give, give it. If you feel alone, remember, there is always a helper.” He points to the ceiling. “I was never alone, and neither are you.”
The audience claps, and I join him, giving him a warm embrace. Blake takes over, leading a prayer. The choir closes.
It’s a lovely, holy evening.
I catch Ingrid snap photos from beside the stage.
“These will look great,” she gushes.
She manages the church’s social media. We hired her marketing firm. It was my way of thanking her for what she had sacrificed.
And she is good at it.
I hug her, holding her in my arms a beat longer than normal.
“I love you,” I whisper.
She smiles and returns the sacred words.
After the service, Jack holds my hand as we walk to the truck. Soft snowflakes swirl around us, rising and falling with our movement. Our breaths warm the air, creating soft plumes that remind us we exist.
My heel gives under a thin layer of ice. Jack catches me, never letting me fall. He brings me close, and we kiss under the pale moonlight.
He’s my sometimes atheist and believer, my helper, my blessing, and the love of my life.
I murmur against his mouth, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, church girl,” he responds without hesitation.