Chapter Twenty-Three Claire
Chapter Twenty-Three
Claire
The reason birds can fly and we can’t is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.
—JAMES M. BARRIE
We didn’t get called out yet, so we’re free to go to church.” Angel must be feeling penitent about her recent indiscretion.
I grew up attending church in a neighborhood school gymnasium, but when the school was torn down, my family never looked for another place of worship. I’d feel funny about simply showing up to a building full of strangers now and acting like I fit in.
I pull up the Premier Air website one more time to see where I am on the standby list. Wouldn’t I be closer to heaven if I were up in the clouds?
Miraculously, there are three flight attendants more junior to me who will get called out before I do, so God’s answer to that question must be an amused Nice try.
“I don’t have any dresses to wear,” I argue.
Angel pulls open the shared closet, which contains more suitcases than anything else. “This isn’t the traditional church I was raised at in the South, Claire. We can wear whatever we want.”
I look down at my light-blue flannel pants with white clouds printed on them. “Pajamas?”
She smirks. “If you want. I’m wearing jeans.”
I pull on jeans and a sweater. “Have you gone to this church before?”
“No. I’m rarely in town on a Sunday morning. So that’s why you have to go with me.”
She’s been a good friend, but I’d really been looking forward to staying in my pajamas all day if Crew Scheduling didn’t call. “Take Sparrow.”
“Sparrow, do you want to go to church with me?” Angel calls to the woman we can’t see but is always here.
She sticks her head into our room. “I’m listening to a service online. Because of my concussion, I’m still resting from physical and cognitive activities, but I recommend attending the Safe Harbor Neighborhood Church. They are multinational and multigenerational.”
“Thanks.” Angel eyes her in wonder at this new insight into our invasive roommate, then turns to me as though Google has just proved her right in a bet. “If Sparrow says so . . .”
It isn’t until we Uber to the tiny traditional building and Angel waves to Nathan that I realize why we’re really attending church today.
“You could have just told me you wanted to see Nathan again,” I tease.
Evidently their date went better than I’d thought.
I’d waited up for her to get home after their dinner Tuesday night, but she’d been tight-lipped about it.
“You caught me.” She beams my way, no shame in her game. “Come on.”
Somehow I end up between them in the pew. Perhaps Angel is gun shy after the last guy she dated, but I don’t mind hanging out with Nathan again. Since I’ve got this walking boot on my foot, it’s not as if I’ll be visiting him to take Maverick on runs anymore.
Nathan doesn’t seem to be interested in talking to me, though. Desiree and Vincent sit on his other side, and he only looks our way to smolder past me toward Angel. If she hadn’t fallen for him before, his Flynn Rider impersonation is sure to make her swoon.
Ignoring the romantic tension, I settle in and scan the rest of the room, from the vaulted wooden beams to the wall of pipes for an old organ.
We certainly didn’t have that in the high school gymnasium back home.
This church might not be traditional for Angel, but it’s more traditional than I’m used to.
The other attendees seem to come from all around the world, as Sparrow had claimed.
Besides Angel’s Southern accent, I also make out smooth African dialects and choppy Asian languages.
It looks like the church welcomes the homeless too.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the guy with the scruffy beard who just entered was . . .
I grip Angel’s arm on my left and Nathan’s arm on my right.
“Ouch,” Angel trills.
“What’s wrong, Claire?”
“That guy.” I nod toward the man in the blue beanie, since both my hands are otherwise engaged. “He’s the one who tried to mug me.”
Angel pries my fingers from her arm one at a time. “Stressful. But is that worse than clawing up your friends?”
Nathan covers my hand with his warm one. “You’re safe here.”
I glance down at my grip on him and force myself to let go. I inadvertently left fingernail indentations in his skin, but he’s not complaining. Somehow this really does make me feel safe. “Sorry.”
I snatch my hands to my lap, willing my heart rate to slow down.
From my safe spot, I watch the homeless guy take a seat in the front row.
I guess it’s good that everyone is welcome in church.
And maybe this guy is here to turn his life around.
But I’m also a little concerned that he could be taking advantage of trusting souls.
I keep my eye on him through worship and announcements.
The pastor takes the stage, and I try to focus.
She’s a tall Black woman with a booming voice.
I’m curious what she might have to say that would relate to my life.
“Today I have the pleasure of introducing you to our new minister to the homeless. He’ll be sharing his vision for reaching the needs outside these walls, and he’s already been connecting with the community.
Please join me in welcoming Liam Paulsen. ”
She opens her arm to display the guest speaker. And that’s when I see the homeless man I’d run from climbing the stairs to take the pulpit.
My mouth falls open. My mind rewinds to the day I broke my toe running from this guy. Had he not been trying to scratch my retinas?
Angel and Nathan turn to stare at me in unison. I cover my gaping mouth, and my gaze ping-pongs between them in horror.
Nathan squints. “Are you sure he’s the one who chased you, Claire?”
I nod, then drop my hands to whisper. “But maybe he’d wanted to invite me to join his ministry.”
I look back up at the man at the pulpit. He’s dressed scruffily, like a homeless person, but he’s well-spoken and enthusiastic.
Nathan speaks into my ear. “Did he see you fall?”
I shake my head. “I yelled for him to back off, and he went into the 7-Eleven. That’s when I tripped.”
Angel bites her lip. I’d be speechless too if I were her.
I’d yelled at a member of the clergy. I’d broken a toe because I was running away from a pastor. It was a tragedy that could have been averted had I used discernment rather than judgment.
Hopefully, Pastor Paulsen won’t judge me as harshly.
After the service I go up to him to make amends. All the stories he’d just told about building a homeless center are beautiful and also make me feel a bit elitist.
I wish I’d worn Angel’s flat-brimmed hat to church so I could take it off and approach him hat in hand. Instead I’m clinging to my purse. Only this time it’s not because I’m afraid he’ll snatch it from me.
“Pastor Paulsen?” I inch forward in my walking boot.
He turns my direction, gray eyes clear and caring from behind all his scruff. If only I’d looked into his eyes when he’d called out to me on the street.
“You can call me Liam.” He extends a hand to shake. “And what’s your name?”
I grasp his palm for two strong pumps, then return to scrunching my handbag. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m the flight attendant who yelled at you earlier this week.”
His eyes light with recognition. “Oh . . . I’m sorry if I scared you. I had simply wanted to hand you an invite to today’s service, but it looks as if you already attend.”
I clear my throat, buying time to answer.
It’s not like I can explain that I’m only here because after he scared me, I fell and broke my toe and had to call Nathan to rescue me, which made my boyfriend jealous, inspiring me to set Angel up with Nathan, who invited her to church, and then she in turn dragged me here.
“This is my first time. I’m not in town very often, but a friend invited me.” I turn sideways and tilt my head toward Angel and Nathan, who are in deep conversation with Vincent and Desiree. I’d prepared myself for being the third wheel, but apparently I’m a fifth wheel now.
Liam glances at my friends. “Oh, hey. You know Vincent and Desiree? They’re the ones who invited me on the mission trip that inspired me to serve the homeless in the first place.”
One corner of my mouth turns up at the fitting connection. “They seem to make a difference wherever they go.”
Vincent’s hearty chuckle drifts over. His radiant smile follows. “Claire, you ran from Liam because you thought he’d scratch your retinas?”
I glance apologetically to the pastor. “I hadn’t told him that part yet.”
Liam tilts his head in confusion.
“Long story.”
Vincent motions us to follow him. “How about we all go to lunch? I’m hungry.”
We end up at a barbecue joint, and if my stomach weren’t nauseous from having to confess my judgments to a pastor, my mouth would be watering from the savory aroma of grilling meats and tangy sauces. According to the menu, they serve their brisket in everything from street tacos to mac and cheese.
I go basic by ordering the boneless buttermilk fried chicken, and Nathan makes me smile by ordering the burger with Walla Walla sweet onions. Either he’s remembering my birthday or he’s become a sweet-onion addict.
I’m not sitting next to him this time, but with Angel seated at the end of the high-top table in this warm but sleek establishment, he’s directly across from me.
And I’m feeling a little more open to that Scripture he gave me.
I mean, I feared harm enough to run from a pastor, but God is even using that for good. My toe may hurt, but I’m not harmed.
“So”—Liam turns to face me from my right-hand side—“what’s this about you being afraid I’d rip your eyeballs out?”
I guess I’d better focus on my purpose for this lunch. I cringe. “I didn’t think you’d rip my eyeballs out. I was just afraid I’d have to get retina surgery like our shuttle driver’s sister.” Not that that’s any better. “She was mugged after working a trip as a flight attendant.”