Chapter 14
Evie
Grandma almost has a conniption when I remove my peacoat and drape it over my arm. “Genevieve Montgomery,” she hisses under her breath, pursing her lips as her eyes drag down my scantily clad form.
“What?” I smooth a hand down my dress and look around the church’s crowded entryway. “You said to wear a dress.”
“A dress, not a slip. Goodness gracious, young woman.”
Lifting my chin, I adjust the sheer lace tights I’m wearing beneath my satin slip.
I bought this garment from a luxury lingerie boutique, which means I’m wearing underwear in public.
And not just any underwear—a slip so form-fitting that my nipple piercings are protruding beneath the shimmering fabric.
A few older women glance our way. They don’t react like I expect them to—with scoffs, turned up noses, and secretive smirks. Instead, they clutch their Bibles closer to their chests and avert their eyes like I’m flashing them.
In a way, I guess I am.
Shifting on my feet, I glance away, suddenly wishing I had worn something more sensible and brought the cane with me, too. Honestly, I thought wearing this dress would make me feel more powerful. Like I was reclaiming something.
Turns out I just feel like an idiot.
Worst of all, I’m struggling to comfortably remain upright without the help of that dumb cane. I need to sit down.
“What were you thinking?” Grandma whispers.
I can’t answer her because I honestly don’t know. “I thought Jesus didn’t care about the clothes on our back.”
“If you had nothing else to wear, fine. Come as you are.” Grandma’s voice is uncharacteristically hard, and it makes my stomach pinch tight. “But intentionally dressing in a provocative manner?” She tusks. “Evie, I’m disappointed in you.”
Heat crawls up my spine as I frown down at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me. I’ve never made Grandma truly mad before, so I have no idea how to respond.
And she’s not finished.
“This is disrespectful, Genevieve.” She grabs my elbow and spins me toward the exit. “Let’s go. You’re changing.”
We’re halfway to the door when someone calls Grandma’s name. “This must be Evie!”
We both pause and turn.
“Hi! Evie?” A man with an infectious, crinkly eyed smile rushes over and extends his hand.
He has short, curly hair and a wedding band on his ring finger.
Tentatively, I turn and give him my hand, and he gives it a friendly, gentle squeeze.
“I’m Pastor Mark, and this is my wife, Merilyn.
” He lifts his arm as a blonde woman sidles up to him.
Merilyn slides her arm around Mark’s waist. “Evie? I’m Merilyn. We’ve heard so many wonderful things about you!”
Pastor Mark nudges Grandma’s shoulder. “I also heard you joined Maggie’s Bible study on Wednesday.”
“Um . . .” Quite honestly, I’m surprised I’m not on fire. I’m half naked, talking to the pastor and his wife. “Yes, I did.”
Mark and Merilyn chuckle in jolly unison. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Mark asks. “Maggie’s Bible studies are the talk of the parish.”
One look at Grandma, and I can tell she’s mortified.
Frankly, I don’t blame her. She’s been trying to get me to come to church with her for years, and when she finally has a chance to introduce me to her pastor, I’m in my underwear.
Figures. But I might as well be naked; Pastor Mark and Merilyn aren’t paying any attention to the clothes on my back. Or . . . lack thereof.
“It was good. Different.” Mark and Merilyn continue staring at me expectantly, so I feel it necessary to tack on more information. “But . . . I have questions.”
Merilyn nods eagerly. “And I’d love to answer them.” She’s already pulling her cell phone out and handing it over. “Can I get your number? We can grab coffee sometime.”
I hesitate. I cannot believe the pastor’s wife is asking me to meet her for coffee while I’m standing here looking like some kind of Jezebel sent straight from the depths of hell to tempt her husband to sin.
Cautiously, I take her phone and punch in my number.
All the while, she’s smiling at me like she genuinely can’t wait to get to know me and answer my silly questions.
It’s . . . nice. I give her a quick once-over.
She’s in her mid-thirties at most, and she’s so .
. . vibrant. She’s not wilting under the shade of her husband, who seems like a celebrity with all these churchgoers jockeying for a chance to chat with him.
Instead, she’s holding her own; she’s all bright teeth and pastel colors and tinkling silver jewelry.
I decide at once that I like her.
Someone else is vying for the couple’s attention. Pastor Mark tells me that he hopes I enjoy the service, and then they’re off to mix and mingle with the next group of people.
Grandma looks up at me, her face troubled. “Evie—”
I hold my hand up as I shrug my coat back on. “It’s okay, Grandma. I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want some?” She shakes her head, and I shoot off.
I’ll face the rest of her wrath later.
Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I scroll through Pinterest while I wait in the refreshments line, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. I don’t know who just saw me half naked, and I don’t care to find out.
When I notice the refreshments line still hasn’t moved much after a few minutes, I poke my head around the person in front of me to see what the hold up is—then freeze.
Chatting like they’re the oldest of pals, Adam tosses a stack of paper cups at Brandon.
He catches it and spins toward the expectant crowd, a charismatic smile fixed to his face as he apologizes for the wait.
Everyone cheers when they realize they aren’t out of paper cups.
“Phew!” the guy in front of me belts. I cower behind his frame in search of an escape. “Two things I can’t go without every morning—coffee and Jesus!”
Tilting my head down, I move out of the line as stealthily as I can and head into the sanctuary.
Once the double doors close behind me and I’m shrouded in darkness, I relax a little.
It’s a few degrees warmer in here, and gentle notes of music dance in the air as the worship band warms up.
I scan the rows of chairs for Grandma, and that’s when I see them—my entire family.
Dad, Francine, Jamie, Rebecka, Isabelle, Grandma.
Chatting and laughing like they’re one big, happy family.
And I suppose, if you take me out of the equation, the Montgomerys are happy.
Dad throws his head back with laughter over something Jamie says, and I hate the misplaced pang of jealousy that strums across my ribs. I love my brother dearly, but he’s also a sore reminder that I’m the black sheep of the family who has never done a single thing right.
Ugh.
I pull a pair of sunglasses out of my coat pocket and pop them on before slinking toward the back of the sanctuary. There’s a raised platform that looks like it’s meant for a DJ, and I walk up the steps and sink into one of the chairs resting against the back wall so I’m hidden in plain sight.
A guy walks up behind me, smiling as he gestures to the gadgets. “Are you manning the projector this morning?”
Confused, I shake my head.
His attention shifts to something behind me. “Oh, hey, Brandon.”
I stiffen at the name and peek over my shoulder. Oh, for crying out loud. Slinking down into the chair, I pick up a stray Bible resting on the seat next to me and flick casually through the pages, trying to calm my racing heart as they catch up.
“Do you know who’s working the projector today? I haven’t seen Jake anywhere.”
“He’s sick, so I was asked to take over,” Brandon says.
“I thought you were on coffee duty.”
“I was, but the Lord needs me here this morning, apparently.”
The man laughs. “Nice. I can go help Adam clean up the coffee bar.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”
They exchange a few more pleasantries before the man leaves, and then Brandon sits down in front of the control panel without acknowledging my presence.
After several minutes have passed and the worship portion of the service is over, I assume we’re just ignoring each other.
Or maybe he needs to focus on timing the slides right.
Either way, fine by me.
But when Pastor Mark is warming up, Brandon tilts his head in my direction. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking out of line earlier, Spitfire.”
When I don’t respond, he glances over at me. “And what’s with the shades and the coat? If you’re looking to sell something, you won’t find your desired clientele around here.”
I bite. “Why would they come to me when they could get a prescription from you?”
Bemused, he frowns. I snort, amused as I refocus my attention on Pastor Mark. I’m surprised by how charismatic and engaging he is. When I was a kid, church was so boring that Francine had to wave essential oils under my nose to keep me alert.
But Pastor Mark is far from boring. He’s all over the stage, flailing his hands, jumping with joy, insisting God will never leave us, never forsake us.
He proclaims with gleeful, childlike enthusiasm that Jesus is the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine in pursuit of that one lost lamb.
He paints an image of Him draping us around His shoulders and bringing us to higher ground, like carrying a toddler back to safety.
It’s touching.
He scans the crowd now, and I freeze when he finds me, despite my hiding place.
“Our heavenly Father is waiting for us with open arms. He wants to lift you up, place you up onto His shoulders, and give your soul some much-needed respite.” A chill goes down my spine.
“So cast your burdens onto Him, child, because He cares deeply for you. His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. He will never leave you. Never forsake you. He is a good, trustworthy Father who always pursues His beloved.”
I’m the one who has to break eye contact first.
My eyes slide to Brandon, the wheels in my mind dredging up memories like mud at the word beloved.
I think about how he stayed by my side in the ER, how he pursued me in the middle of a snowstorm to ensure my safety.
The mere thought of his concern for me makes my entire body glow with love—the love I’ve tried so hard to deny feeling, and for so long .
. . And then he was there that next morning, too—lifting me up into his arms, carrying me back toward safer, higher ground . . .
Brandon scratches his ear and smiles sheepishly at something Pastor Mark says, and that stupid, simple action makes my heart constrict with senseless emotions. Why do I have to love him like this? Why can’t I hate him?
Accepting the job as his administrative assistant was a grave mistake. Because Brandon is most certainly not my beloved, and I can’t trust him, either.
Besides, I’ve been there, done that, and he left me. Totally forsook me.
He took a part of my soul with him when he left, too.
It’s a part of me that I’ll never get back.