17. Chapter Twelve George Devereaux
Chapter Twelve: George Devereaux
T hat Sunday, for what was probably the first time since my sister’s wedding, I stepped foot in a church.
My church attendance wasn’t completely out of the blue. Nor was my change of heart spurred by a sudden religious conversion. It was out of practicality: Pastor Tony had said he wanted to speak to me, and rather than making the man go out of his way again, I figured I would go to him.
Plus, since he had been so helpful in teaching me more about art history, I had figured that I had to show up to at least one service for us to be even.
That was how I justified it to myself as I adjusted my collar in the men’s bathroom, straightening my cobalt tie over my periwinkle shirt and dark wash jeans. Was there too much blue in my ensemble? It didn't matter; it was too late to change now.
Walking out of the bathroom, my eyes widened and I had the strangest urge to duck out of sight as I saw a familiar blonde standing with my sister, Alexander, Abigail, and the Steeles’ younger sister, Allie. Georgia. As far as I knew, she wasn’t a Christian, although Katerina had told me, in a surprised tone, that Georgia had come to Bible study the other week. When I’d met her in Italy, Georgia had never mentioned religion.
Neither had I, except to discuss the art we’d seen at the museums we wandered around.
“George!” It was too late for me to duck. Emani, Abigail’s husband, had spotted me and was waving me over.
As I made my way over to their group, I noted that my outfit matched Georgia’s—she wore a cap-sleeved dress made of navy blue cotton with white heels.
“Hi, guys.” I accepted Katerina’s hug and shook the men’s hands before hugging Abigail as well.
Abigail, being the friendliest and most bubbly of the Steele clan, was a hugger. As for Georgia—well, I wouldn’t risk hugging her. She carefully avoided my gaze, so I gave her the space she wanted.
“What are you doing here?” Alexander asked. To my amusement, I noticed that he wore a baby carrier and his son was sound asleep on his chest. When I’d first met the man, he had never seemed like the type to crack a smile, let alone be affectionate and cuddly. Now, however, it appeared that fatherhood had softened him.
“Pastor Tony wanted to talk with me about something, so I figured I would catch him after service.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you kept in contact,” said Katerina, arching an eyebrow.
“We talk about art sometimes.”
“The service is starting,” Georgia said, checking her watch. It slid down her wrist. Her too-slender wrist. Everything about her looked too thin these days—gaunt, almost, rather than lively and vibrant. It worried me .
We filed into our seats at Georgia’s reminder. Allie, Abigail, Emani, Katerina, and Alexander took their seats in a row of six chairs. Georgia sat next to them and I found myself on the end of the row, next to Georgia. Almost as if we were a couple. Of course, I should have known better than to let that thought cross my mind.
After everyone stood and a man with a guitar, along with a woman at a piano, began singing about God’s love, I nudged Georgia. “What are you doing here?”
She scowled at me. “It’s impolite to whisper during church.”
“Yet you’re whispering back.” I couldn’t help my delight in winding her up even when I knew I shouldn’t have.
“You started it,” she hissed back, “And if you must know, I’m having brunch with the girls after this.”
That satisfied my curiosity and I fell silent, focusing on the lyrics. They told of a God who loved His people even when they didn’t love Him in return. A God who was faithful even when His people left Him. A God whose love stretched to the ends of the earth and whose mercy knew no bounds. Whose love could overwhelm any sinner even after His judgment had been pronounced on their sins.
It sounded comforting, but surely it couldn’t be true. Not when I remembered the things I’d done. The crimes I’d committed.
After all, if a court of law still had yet to judge me for my crimes, how could I be so confident that God hadn’t already done so and was waiting for the right time to strike? To smite me from the earth and punish me for what I’d done?
I had abandoned my sister and my father in their time of need, causing Katerina to go through with an arranged marriage. I’d made my father’s battle with cancer even more painful than it ever needed to be. And on top of that, I’d unwittingly allowed Sebastian Cavalli to use me for a money laundering scheme that had harmed others. Sure, I’d never been convicted, arrested, or so much as called to the stand as a witness regarding the case. Yet that didn’t change the guilty stain on my heart.
“You may be seated,” said Pastor Tony as he came up to the pulpit. “Today, I’m going to preach about the story of King David.”
Next to me, I saw Georgia stiffen slightly as Pastor Tony spoke, her slumped posture becoming alert.
I filed away that observation for later and tried to pay attention to the sermon. Pastor Tony told us about how King David had slept with another man’s wife, gotten her pregnant, and after that, had sent her husband away to die on the front lines. So adultery and murder. Not exactly the pleasant, uplifting Sunday sermon I had been expecting to hear, but at least it made for an interesting topic.
“Are you like David?” asked Pastor Tony. “Have you committed crimes that you think are unforgivable? Were you prideful? Selfish? Have you taken what you wanted, without caring if others might be hurt by your actions?
“Somehow, after all his mistakes, David was still called a man after God’s own heart. That’s right. Even after his grave sins of murder and adultery, David was still called a man after God’s heart. And do you know why that is?”
I found myself leaning forward in my seat, my knees brushing the chair of the person in front of me. I’d thought after my meeting with Pastor Tony that I’d like to be forgiven by God, but it still felt like a far-off hope. A wishful dream.
“He didn’t just remain in his sin. He acknowledged his faults—and he also acknowledged that God’s mercy was enough to wash him clean. God didn’t take away the consequences of David’s actions. But God restored David to a right relationship with himself, and in Psalm 51, David knows that. He knows that God will wash him clean and that although his sins were once like scarlet, they will be made like snow.
“Our God is a holy God. He’s a God of justice. He is a God who hates sin, have no doubts about that. He is also a God who loves us and is waiting for us to come to Him as we are. Not to try to clean ourselves up first or to fix ourselves or wallow in self-pity and self-condemnation. He’s here, and He wants us to accept His forgiveness. And it would be an insult to His mercy not to.”
His words rung out in my ears—and in my heart. As the service continued, with some members taking communion and dropping envelopes into the offering basket that was passed around, I was still frozen to my chair. God loved me enough to forgive me of my sins—even if I’d done something truly awful?
Did He really want my repentance? Did He not just tolerate me, but loved me?
I would need to talk with Pastor Tony about this after service. Apparently, there was more than art on the table.
***
“George! Thank you for making the time to see me,” Pastor Tony said when I sat across from him in the same diner we’d gone to before. It felt odd to sit across from him like a friend, as though he hadn’t just given a sermon that had shaken me to my core.
“It’s always good to talk to you, Pastor Tony,” I said. My coffee and a Reuben sat in front of me, untouched.
“Yes, I wanted to tell you about a new job we have opening up soon at the church. I’m looking for someone to run the local arts program at the community centre for disadvantaged kids. And I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
“Me?” My eyes widened.
“Yes. I think the pay might be a little less than you make in your current position, but you might also find the job more rewarding.”
“But, why me?” There must have been so many more qualified people in his congregation. “I hardly have any teaching experience, much less with kids.”
“The program is for youth from the ages of twelve to seventeen. You would teach them how to paint and keep them out of trouble.” Pastor Tony’s knowing look said he knew I’d seen my fair share of trouble as an adolescent. “I think you should apply. You wouldn’t have to do it by yourself—there would be another person watching the youth—and you’d need a police security check, but—”
A police security check. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do it.”
There was no way the NYPD wouldn’t discover my background in Italy. Right?
I mean, sure, I’d never been arrested—only the guys Sebastian had set up to take the fall for our crimes had been—but surely somehow they would discover my involvement. What kind of role model could I be anyway?
“George, I’m not asking you to say yes right now. Think about it. Pray about it.”
I sighed. “The truth is, Pastor…” Was I about to tell him about my sordid past committing money laundering with a notorious gangster? If I knew anything, I knew that was probably a terrible idea. “The truth is, I’ve never worked with kids before, like I said. Even teenagers. I’m not sure I’d be any good at teaching them how to paint.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, George. At least think about it. Please.” His brown eyes were sincere and pleading .
“I’m not sure why you’re asking me this, Pastor. I mean, surely there must be someone in your church who has artistic skills, right?”
“There are, and they will volunteer for the community centre. With your background, though, I think you could be a real asset—”
“A great example of what not to do, huh?” I scoffed.
“George, your background and history may not be the most squeaky clean. But that’s why they could relate to you. They need to know that you’re not perfect. They can’t learn from someone who is.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got the wrong guy, Pastor.”
He sighed. “Well, thank you for hearing me out anyways.”
The conversation moved on to a safe topic: Michelangelo’s Pieta .
Despite my protests, I couldn’t help but feel regretful over declining his job offer. Maybe it would be something that I would’ve enjoyed, if I didn’t have past involvement with Sergio’s schemes. What if I could’ve been someone different?
No, don’t get your hopes up, I reminded myself. You’ll only let yourself down as always.