Chapter Forty-three
Kenna
My palms are sweaty as we approach the church. Dad has no idea I’m coming. I didn’t want to give him the chance to say no.
No matter how this day turns out, it has to happen.
I have no idea if Cyrus can reach out to him from jail, but Carter was right about one thing—I should be the one to tell him.
Telling him myself will accomplish two things: he’ll hear the truth and not some trumped-up revenge story, and he won’t be blindsided.
I’m fully prepared for him to disown me as his daughter. And while that thought frightens me—because despite our differences, I always figured he might come around sooner or later, if not for me, then for Amelia—having Carter here will make it easier to navigate.
Carter lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens in there, you’re going to get through this.”
He opens the large, ornate front door, and I step inside a church for the first time since I left home to attend college at age seventeen.
Unlike my father, I don’t believe you have to go to an organized establishment to have a relationship with God.
It’s just one of the myriad reasons he and I are so different.
I’m about to add to those reasons a thousand-fold.
“May I help you?” an elderly woman asks, coming out from a side door.
I didn’t hear a bell chime when we came in. I look up and around, wondering if they have cameras. Is Dad watching me right now? Will he slip out a back door to avoid talking to me?
When I don’t speak, Carter says, “We’re looking for Eric Roberts. Is he here?”
“Pastor Roberts is in his office,” she says kindly. “May I tell him who’s inquiring?”
He clears his throat. “A friend. Please just tell him a friend.”
Her droopy, wrinkle-lined eyes rake over Carter and me.
I’m wearing a conservative blouse and jeans.
Carter is in khakis and a button-up, looking much different than his usual work uniform or casual after-hours attire.
Am I just now noticing how handsome he looks?
I’ve been so nervous all morning, so in my head, that nothing else has sunk in.
“Wait here, please,” she says after a long and excruciating moment where I’m sure she’s going to insist we state our names or leave.
I release a long, slow breath as she walks away.
“You okay?” Carter asks.
I nod.
“Because you’re squeezing my hand like a woman in labor.”
I relax my hand in his. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. But you need to breathe, Kenna. I’m right here. Lean on me if you need to. Squeeze my hand as hard as you want. Nothing he says or does can change who you are. And who you are is a wonderful person.” He leans in. “And the woman I love.”
Hearing him say it helps calm me. But the slowdown of my pulse is only temporary. As soon as I see Dad coming down a hallway, my breath catches in my throat. And when he comes fully into the light, a hand flies over my mouth to cover my gasp.
My father looks completely different than he did the last time I saw him.
I know it’s been nearly two years since we’ve met in person, and he’s well into his fifties, but this man—he’s not the tall, strong, broad man who raised me.
He’s shuffling slowly, using a cane to aid him.
His hair has gone mostly grey, he’s lost a considerable amount of weight, and his face has a hundred more lines than I remember.
“Daddy!” I drop Carter’s hand and close the gap between me and my father. “What happened?”
When he realizes who’s standing in front of him, he nearly topples over. He studies my face as if making sure it’s me. “Kenna?”
“Yes. It’s me.” I stare at the cane. “Are you injured?”
He ignores my question. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
He scoffs. “You should have called first. I have a busy schedule.”
Carter steps up next to me. “Too busy to spare a half hour for your daughter?” He holds out a hand. “Carter Cruz. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pastor Roberts.”
Dad appraises his hand as if he’s not sure he wants to shake it. But being the Godly man he is, he does so anyway. “And just who are you, Carter Cruz?”
“I’m the man who’s in love with your daughter, sir.”
“She already had a man who was in love with her. Her husband.” His head shakes. “She’s still married in the eyes of the Lord.”
“Is there a place we could talk?” Carter asks, nodding left. “Somewhere private?”
Dad’s eyes turn and I follow his gaze to the old lady who’s lurking in the hallway shadow. When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Please, Daddy. I have so much to tell you.”
“I’m not a priest. You don’t need to confess your sins to me, Kenna. Only to God.”
“Sir,” Carter insists. “Please. Thirty minutes is all we ask.”
Dad’s lungs seem to deflate. He turns and slowly walks away before he looks back over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Carter takes me by the hand again, giving it an encouraging squeeze as he guides me down the hallway.
My father’s office is nothing special. Your typical pastor’s office.
There’s a large desk, no computer, the Bible opened upon it as if he was actively working on his next sermon.
His bookshelves are filled with theological texts.
His walls lined with various crosses, religious art, and photos of him with people I presume are members of the congregation.
In the corner is a small seating area with a loveseat and chair.
Despite the inviting setup in the corner, he shuffles behind his desk. Carter and I each take one of the two chairs opposite him.
Dad glances at a large clock on the wall as if to remind me my allotted time is ticking by.
“Daddy.” I motion to the cane perched against the desk next to him. “What happened?”
“You’d know if you were part of my congregation.”
“Daddy, please.”
He puts a bookmark in his Bible, closes it, then sits back in his chair, eyeing me clinically as if this were a business meeting. “Subcortical stroke.”
My chest seizes. “You had a stroke?”
“About six months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’re never around,” he says. “Don’t worry, my family took care of me.”
It’s a jab. And it hurts just like he intended it to.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He shrugs. “I’m on a few medications.” He touches the cane. “And in physical therapy to strengthen my left side.” He taps his head. “No damage to cognition. The Lord has my back.”
“Do you need anything?” I ask. “Can I help with your medical bills?”
“Now, why would you do that?” His head shakes. “Insurance covered a good bit. My congregation put together some online fund to cover the rest.”
I nod. “Good. I’m glad you’ve had support from—”
“You’re not here to talk about my health, I presume?”
I swallow. “No, I’m not.”
“Well then.” He sweeps his hand out in front of him. “Get on with it.”
I look at Carter, who nods his support.
“Cyrus is in jail.”
I’ve shocked him. His wiry eyebrows rise. “You don’t say?”
“He shot a man. Attempted murder, Daddy. Do you still think I should have stayed with him?”
A long sigh exits his nose. “There are two sides to every story.”
I laugh incredulously. “Are you serious? My ex-husband is in jail on attempted murder. He tried to kill the man coming after him for his gambling debts.”
“Perhaps it was self-defense then.”
“It wasn’t. We had a private investigator look into it. He’s going to prison for a long time.”
“What does any of this have to do with me?” He eyes Carter strangely. “Oh, I see. You’ve come here to ask me for her hand in marriage, haven’t you?”
“No, sir,” Carter says. He reaches over and puts a hand on my knee. “While I fully intend on marrying your daughter, with all due respect, considering your history, I don’t feel the need to ask permission.”
My father scoffs, staring Carter down. “How proud your parents must be,” he says sarcastically.
“My parents are deceased, sir.”
Dad turns back to me. “What’s the reason for this visit? Surely you could have called to let me know of Cyrus’s fate.”
Before I answer, I retrieve a five-by-seven picture from my purse and slide it across his desk. “I thought you might want to see a recent photo of your granddaughter.”
He regards it for a long moment. He’s seen her several times before, but two years is a long time for a fast-growing child. “She looks nothing like you.”
“She got most of her looks from her father. That’s one of the things I came to talk to you about. Daddy, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But it’s hard to regret those things when they resulted in Amelia.”
He looks at the clock again. “Kenna, spit it out.”
“You wouldn’t pay for college.” I hold up a hand when he tries to speak. “I don’t fault you for that. I know we didn’t have a lot of money. But I had no idea how expensive it was going to be. My debt racked up fast. And I did what I had to do to pay my expenses.”
He touches the cross on the end of the chain around his neck. “Jesus in heaven, Kenna. Did you sell your body?”
“No.” I close my eyes. “But I’m afraid you’re going to see it that way.”
He looks disgusted as I tell him about the escort gig.
About falling for a client. About getting pregnant, the non-disclosure agreement, and the fifty-thousand dollars.
About marrying a man not for love, but who I thought was going to take care of Amelia and me.
And about not even realizing I didn’t love him until I met Carter and knew what love really was.
He rubs his small cross so hard I fear it’ll snap in two. I swear he’s also mumbling a prayer. Just when I’m sure he’s about to kick us out, I say, “There’s more.”
“How could you possibly disparage this family any more than you have?”
“I won the lottery, Daddy.”
He blinks over and over, head shaking. “The devil’s money.”
“It’s not the devil’s money. I’m not a gambler like Cyrus. I had an extra two dollars after buying groceries and got it on a whim. It was the one-and-only time I’d ever bought a ticket. The win was a fluke. Actually, you might even say it’s a miracle.”
“God doesn’t work that way,” he grumbles.
“Okay, fine. But just so you know, I’m planning on giving half the money to charity.”
“And you think that exonerates you from your sins?”
“I’ve made my peace with God, Daddy. Growing up listening to your sermons, you always said that was what’s most important. To make peace with Him. Honor Him. Serve Him.”
“It’s despicable. How was being a prostitute serving Him?”
“I wasn’t a prostitute.”
“You had relations with a man who was paying for your time. That’s a prostitute in anyone’s book.”
Now is when the first tear falls. Because I truly fear he’ll never come around. “You know what else I learned from you? That God forgives. I asked for His forgiveness.”
“Empty words.”
“They aren’t empty. Why can’t you understand that I don’t need to sit in a pew every Sunday to have a relationship with God? Can you honestly tell me you have no sinners in your congregation?”
“We’re all sinners, Kenna. By thought if not by action.”
“I’m not here to get into a religious debate with you.”
“No. You’re here to clear your conscience.”
“I’m here because I want her”—I point to Amelia’s photo—“to have a relationship with her grandfather. You are her only family, Daddy. Why would you take that away from her?”
He turns to Carter. “Are you a Christian?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dad scoffs. “I’m guessing if you and Kenna share the same values, you’re not the kind of Christian I’m referring to.”
“You know what?” Carter says, clearly struggling to control the volume of his voice.
“I’ve had enough. I grew up with a father who belittled me, disregarded me, and had zero respect for me.
I know what it’s like. You hide behind the cloth as if you’re impervious.
Kenna’s not perfect. She’s made mistakes.
We all have. You have, sir. But you need to ask yourself how you’ll feel on your death bed if you dismiss her after she’s extended an olive branch.
How can a man of faith—a Christian—turn his back on his own flesh and blood over shit like this?
She hasn’t hurt anyone. She’s a good person. The best mother I’ve ever met.”
Dad is rubbing his cross again. “I—”
Carter stands. “You’re a pastor. A man of God. Doesn’t that make forgiveness part of your job?”
“I’m not the one she needs to ask forgiveness from.”
“And I told you I’ve made my peace with Jesus, Daddy.” Now I’m the one struggling to contain my frustration, sadness, and volume. “What more could you ask?”
“I could ask that you follow the sacred rules of the Ten Commandments. That you not disgrace yourself or this family.”
I stand. “I’ve done what I came to do. Hate me if you must, but I love you.
” He looks stunned. “Yes, Daddy. I love you. Like I said, you’re our only family.
I want a relationship with you, and I hope one day Amelia will get the grandfather she deserves.
” I take Carter’s hand. “And if I do marry again, I hope you’ll be there to see it, if not to give me away. ”
I take something else from my purse. A check I’d made out to his church.
He sneers at it like it’s poison. “The Lord will provide. The church doesn’t need the devil’s money.”
I belt out a disheartened laugh. “Do you honestly think there’s not a single person in your congregation who hasn’t slipped lottery winnings, unscrupulous earnings, or even stolen money, into the collection plate?”
“That’s only for the Lord to know. And just so you know, He doesn’t take bribes.”
“It’s not a bribe. It’s a gift. Cash it or don’t cash it, I don’t care.” I pull Carter behind me to the door then turn around, tears falling. “Goodbye, Daddy.”