CHAPTER 3
The flight home felt both endless and too short. Now, parked in her parents’ driveway with a gas station coffee in hand, Beth stared at the house that had always made her feel safe.
She leaned back in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and dipped her head just enough to get a better view out the windshield at her childhood home.
She had always loved this house—the sprawling yard, the wraparound porch she and her sister used to play on, the forest green paint now faded, and the once-bright yellow door dulled with age. She loved every last detail.
What have I done, Lord? How could I have been so foolish? The question was on repeat in her mind and on her lips.
Beth climbed out, walked up the steps, and crossed over to the porch swing—her favorite part of the house. She sat down and slowly pushed herself with her feet.
From her childhood into her teen years and even her early twenties, Beth could usually be found on that swing. Summer or winter, it didn’t matter. She came here to think, pray, read, or marvel at the majesty of the Rocky Mountains.
She was on this swing when Grandma Jean read from Romans and Beth recognized her need for a Savior. She had only been six, but when Grandma read chapter ten, verse nine, something stirred within her. Beth asked her to read it again.
“... that if you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”
The second time, the words hit even harder. Could it really be that simple? Believe and confess? She’d told her grandmother that she wasn’t entirely sure what “confess” meant, but she already believed in God.
“Then you, dear girl, have the gift of salvation,” Grandma Jean had said, her voice warm with certainty. “The confessing part is just admitting that you believe Jesus is who He says He is.”
That day, she had. Sitting cross-legged beside her sister, Beth had prayed to accept the gift Grandma Jean had explained so clearly.
She remembered telling her grandmother how surprised she was that she didn’t have to do anything for God in return.
Grandma Jean had smiled and gently explained why that mattered so deeply—that salvation was a free gift, so that no one could boast in themselves, but only in the love that flows from the Creator of love.
Jesus was God’s gift to mankind—not something to be earned or lost.
That truth settled into Beth’s heart, and she had never forgotten it.
Lynn had only been one at the time, a bundle of copper curls and bright green eyes sitting beside her on the swing, far too young to understand the moment unfolding.
But Beth had leaned down, her little hands cradling her baby sister’s face, and whispered into her cherub cheeks, “When you’re older, I’ll tell you all about Jesus.
I promise. And I’ll always—always—point you to Him.
” Then she’d pressed a kiss to Lynn’s forehead, as if sealing the promise with love.
It was on this swing that she’d told her parents she was taking a year off nursing school to volunteer at an orphanage in Belize. They’d been thrilled, fully supportive—proud, even.
It was also where she had her first kiss—with Matthew, her childhood friend and only boyfriend.
That night had been her first night home after freshman year. She and Matthew had gone out for ice cream, and afterward, he walked her to the porch. They’d sat on the swing and talked, the porch light casting a warm glow over everything, and he kissed her.
Then he’d whispered that he loved her. She hadn’t said it back.
The sadness still lingered. Not because of the kiss, but because of everything that came after: the accusation that she’d led him on, his angry exit, the breakup that followed—like dominoes toppling in slow motion.
She forced herself to stop the thought before it unraveled further.
Beth shook her head, trying to chase away the memory. “Goodness gracious, I haven’t thought about that night in years. Why now?”
“Still talking to yourself, honey?”
Beth looked up to find her mom in the doorway, and despite the heaviness pressing on her chest, she smiled.
Sue Stoner hadn’t changed much over the years—maybe a few more laugh lines, but not a single strand of gray.
Before she became pregnant with Beth, she’d danced professionally, a career that had shaped more than just her posture.
She still moved with that same quiet authority, like someone who could command a stage with a glance.
With her long black hair parted down the center and hanging straight past her waist, she bore an almost uncanny resemblance to Cher.
At six feet tall, she carried herself with both the strength and grace ballerinas admired—shoulders back, chin lifted, every movement fluid.
Even now, she looked like she could step into a spotlight and take a bow without missing a beat.
“Hey, Mama. I was just about to come in.”
Sue stepped aside, letting her daughter pass through the front door after a quick hug.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Nice to see you too, darling,” Sue teased, following her daughter into the kitchen. “No ‘how was your day, Mom?’ or ‘did you enjoy dinner?’ Just straight to ‘Where’s Daddy?’”
Beth grinned. “Hi Mom. How was your day? Did you enjoy dinner with Lynn and her new guy?”
“Busy day. Food was good. Dinner with CaroLynn was... intense. Thank you for asking, even if it was in mockery. Your father’s in the basement.
Sue laughed and handed Beth a mug of fresh coffee. “Go tell your father dessert is in the living room.”
Beth headed downstairs and found her dad at the baby grand, eyes closed, head tilted toward the keys as if hearing something deeper in the music. Donald Stoner lived and breathed melody. A music professor by trade, he could always be found near an instrument.
Beth waited for him to finish his piece before joining him on the bench. “Hi Daddy,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“LizzyBeth,” her father said with characteristic precision, blending the two shortened forms of her name into one. “I did not hear your arrival. How long have you been here?”
“I just got here. Mom says dessert is in the living room.”
“Very good, very good. I admit I was concerned when I saw her bake red velvet cake—I thought I’d forgotten her birthday.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
As they headed to the stairs, he mentioned that one of her cousins was expecting again.
“How many is that now for Jamie, four or five?”
As they walked, Donald said, “To my recollection, that makes five children. According to your mother, their church family expressed what could only be described as exceedingly high spirits over the news.”
“Jamie’s so sweet. And I don’t think I’ve ever heard Russ say a rude word. Good quality in a pastor.”
“Agreed. His sermons are biblically grounded and always challenging.”
They stepped into the living room, where Sue was already seated on the brightly-colored couch. Donald eased down beside her while Beth crossed to one of the familiar leather chairs and sank into it.
Once everyone was settled, Donald looked at her with quiet intent. “However, I suspect your visit this evening is not prompted by familial updates.”
“You’re right,” Beth said, offering a small smile. “But I liked the detour.” Beth took a deep breath and stared at her coffee before meeting their eyes.
“There’s no easy way to say this. Last night, after the final conference session, we went out for food... and ended up at a tequila bar, I mean, it was also a Mexican kitchen, I’m pretty sure it was called Chayo, but anyways it was also a tequila bar.”
Beth paused long enough to take a fortifying drink of her coffee, allowing the strong brew to slide down her throat and build up her courage to continue.
“I let myself be talked into having drinks with them… that’s not entirely true, I mean…
it’s not like they pressured me, they just asked if I wanted a drink.
And I said no at first, but then, well then, I…
I didn’t say no. I kinda said the opposite of no.
I’d never had tequila before and… well, when Eric said to help myself if I changed my mind…
I did... change my mind. I tried it. It was surprisingly good and then, well, I didn’t feel anything so…
I had another. I don’t remember how many I ended up drinking, or how we got back to the hotel.
But I’ll never forget waking up this morning. ..”
Sue’s brow lifted, but her tone was suppressing laughter. “Beth, you’re twenty-six. That’s what had you so nervous to tell us?” Releasing a chuckle, Sue relaxed further into the plush couch, clearly finding humor in her daughter’s overreaction.
“I’m not thrilled you got drunk,” Sue said gently, “but you’re not sixteen. You don’t have to confess it to us—it’s between you and God. Apologize and move on. One mistake doesn’t define you.”
Beth shook her head. “I wish that was all. That would be easier. But the drunk part? That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
She hesitated, cheeks already flushing. “I didn’t wake up in my room, Mama. I woke up in Dr. Jensen’s hotel room. We were, uh… um…” Her voice trailed off as her face turned bright red.
Sue inhaled sharply.
“We woke up married,” Beth rushed on. “There was a marriage certificate on the desk.”
The words tumbled out faster now.
“Apparently, in Vegas, you can get married while intoxicated. I didn’t know. I—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Her parents stared at her. The room fell silent.