Never Miss

by Melissa Koslin

  “No.”

  He nodded once and turned toward the row of pews on the left. He sat down, leaned back, stretched out his legs, and ran his hands over his face.

  She sat a few feet from him. “Eyes tired? Night driving can be hard.”

  “Mind tired.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “I’m having difficulty getting it to slow down. It’s becoming a constant problem.”

  “Want to talk a little?”

  “You’ve got to be exhausted.”

  She shrugged.

  “Right,” he said. “You’ve probably gone days without sleep before.”

  “It was a contest when I was little—go longer than my cousins without sleep. Loser went a day without food.”

  “Sounds like child abuse.”

  She shrugged again. She didn’t understand why she talked so easily with him, and it was getting worse. It had to be the loneliness finally getting to her.

  “Did you ever lose the contest?” he asked.

  “Once when I was five. I was the youngest, and I hadn’t yet learned the tricks to staying awake.”

  “You never lost again?”

  “I didn’t want to see that look on my father’s face again. Disappointment, embarrassment.”

  “I’m trying to wrap my mind around what your childhood was like.”

  “It was what it was. Yours was no picnic either.”

  “I had loss. That was hard because I loved them so much. I never lived in the same fear you did.”

  “I didn’t live in fear. I got over that real fast.”

  He looked away from her toward the altar. Just visible through the darkness was a huge white cross on the wall, almost up to the peak of the rafters.

  A few minutes passed. She kept waiting for him to stretch out across the pew.

  He remained focused toward the altar, toward that big cross.

  “Why do you keep staring at that thing?”

  He looked at her but didn’t answer.

  “The cross,” she said. “Is that what you keep looking at?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  His brows twitched. “Why does that bother you?”

  “Why do you keep looking at it?”

  “It’s a reminder.”

  “Of what?”

  His brows pulled together.

  “I know what religion is,” she said. “I get that some people are drawn to it. Maybe because it makes them feel like there’s some kind of order to life or something. But why would you care about it?”

  “What do you mean why would I care about it?”

  “You’re a scientist. You’re educated. You’re the most logic-driven person I’ve ever met.”

  “Exactly.”

  She stood and walked toward the center aisle.

  “Why are you angry?” he asked.

  She turned around. “Because I thought I understood you.”

  “I think you do.”

  She pointed at the cross.

  “Have you ever studied it?” he asked.

  “I know plenty about religion. I lived among terrorists who used it to justify bombings for ten years. Religion is just a way to control the masses.”

  “Would you sit with me for a few minutes? I’ll explain why I think the way I do.”

  She stayed where she was.

  “This isn’t some attempt to convert you,” he said. “If I explain my logic, you’ll see you understand me just as well as you thought you did.”

  She sat down on the end of the pew. “Are you telling me you believe in God?”

  “I thought about it for a long time, and that’s the logical conclusion I came up with.”

  “What about science?”

  “What about it?”

  “It refutes the existence of God.”

  “Where?”

  “The big bang theory.”

  “How does that refute God?”

  “He didn’t bring the universe into existence.”

  “We don’t know for sure what brought the universe into existence, but the big bang theory is the most agreed upon. If that is how the universe began, why is it logical to assume God didn’t put it into motion? To make an assumption that God does not exist and did not cause the big bang is unscientific. Plus, we have the law of cause and effect. Every effect must have a cause. The only thing that could possibly be the beginning of everything is an intelligent Being that has always been and therefore has no cause himself.”

  “There’s no such thing as something that has always existed. Everything has a beginning.”

  “That’s an assumption. Do you have any evidence it’s impossible?”

  “You just said the law of cause and effect means everything has to have a cause.”

  “If God is the one who created this orderly universe, including the law of cause and effect,” he said, “it stands to reason he is the only thing that can exist outside of its laws.”

  “You don’t have any evidence God exists, any more than anyone has proof he doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s why I’ve analyzed everything I could so carefully. Study just a few things about this universe, and you’ll see how perfectly designed it is. The human eye, for example, is staggering in its precision. And there are millions of other examples. That’s evidence for intelligent design. I can’t prove it, but the hypothesis of his existence is much stronger than the assumption he does not exist. There’s more logic on my side.”

  “Okay, you think it’s possible God exists. But why are you looking at that cross like it can jump down off the wall and help you?”

  “My thoughts on Jesus are a little different.”

  She smirked.

  “I’ve studied all the evidence that shows he did actually exist, and the Bible appears to be accurate in its portrayal of his life. But none of that is what matters most.”

  “Are you throwing logic out the window now?”

  “Before Jesus came, the world was pretty horrible. The Jews lived by the Ten Commandments, and don’t get me wrong, those are immeasurably important. But Jesus is the one who brought the concepts of kindness, humility, compassion. He taught that we should love everyone—no matter their race, gender, wealth, social standing. His disciples spread his teachings, and people all over the world intuitively realized the value. The disciples were poor and didn’t have authority to require people to follow those teachings. In fact, they were horribly persecuted, and most were eventually put to death. But the people chose to believe those teachings.”

  “Christians have done some horrible things in the name of their God.”

  “Humans are not perfect. Bad people will use whatever they can to get what they want. Throughout history, people have tried to steal the power of Christianity. It’s a horrible sin, but it’s the sin of those people. If someone stole your car and rammed it into a crowd of people, is that the car’s fault? Is that your fault? No, it’s the driver’s fault.”

  Kadance stared straight ahead and didn’t respond.

  “For me, Jesus is more than logical. His teachings do make the world a better place—you can find empirical evidence for that. But even stronger than that, for me, is that his teachings reflect who I want to be. I probably fail more than I succeed, but I keep trying.”

  Quiet.

  She watched as Mac walked around the church, smelled every surface, and investigated every crevice.

  Her voice was quieter, no longer abrasive. “But why do you keep trying?”

  Peripherally, she saw as he looked over at her. “The same reason you do.”

  She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it.

  But one thing she couldn’t deny was that she trusted Lyndon’s intelligence and honesty.

  “I would never tell anyone they should believe anything simply because I said so,” he said. “People should study for themselves. Read both theologians and atheists, read the history and the science, and then make your own logical conclusions.”

  She
still kept her gaze straight ahead. “But why do you seem to take comfort in it?” It seemed like a lot more to him than research and hypothesizing.

  “Because I’ve felt his presence.”

  She looked over at him.

  He added, “I think you have too.”

  She stared at him.

  He turned and stretched out across the pew.

  I don’t understand. Her entire life, she’d believed all religions were the same just with different wrapping, but he was right: she’d made assumptions; she’d believed anti-religion, and most specifically anti-Christian, propaganda; she hadn’t really considered all sides.

  She sat there on that pew and stared at that big cross on the wall for a long time.

  twenty-seven

  LYNDON WOKE TO FAINT LIGHT starting to enter the church through the stained-glass windows. He sat up and realized Kadance was still seated in the same position. “Did you not sleep?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Then, at the sound of the door opening, they both looked behind them. She set her hand on her knife at her hip.

  A man entered, dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a work coat, and he stopped short at the sight of them.

  Lyndon stood. “We’re just leaving. We didn’t have any place else to stay.”

  The man continued down the main aisle. “Much too cold to stay in your car last night.”

  The man passed, and Kadance took her hand off her knife, stood, and moved toward the aisle.

  The man stopped and looked back, seemed to look at them more closely. “There’s a shower downstairs. Not the fanciest, but if you want to use it, you’re welcome.”

  “We need to get going,” Kadance said.

  Lyndon came up behind her and murmured in her ear so the man wouldn’t hear. He was careful not to touch her, but he felt her body heat and could smell her natural sweet scent. “We’ll be meeting the FBI today. We should try to look as presentable as possible if we have any hope of being taken seriously.”

  She nodded, stepped away from him, and addressed the man. “Thank you, sir.”

  “It looks a little grungy, but it is clean.”

  She smiled. “A little grunge doesn’t bother us.”

  “Stairs are just through there.” He pointed to a hallway off the sanctuary. “Just holler if you have any trouble.” He kept walking and disappeared through a door to the far left of the altar.

  “I’ll grab our bags.” Lyndon slipped by her and out the door. After being so close to her, he needed the rush of cold air.

  A few minutes later, they’d found the old bathroom in the basement. It was a small room off a larger room filled with rows of folding tables and metal folding chairs. Lyndon insisted Kadance shower first.

  While he waited, he sat in one of the folding chairs. She hadn’t spoken directly to him at all this morning. He wasn’t sure if she was angry or pensive. Or maybe both.

  Lyndon heard footsteps on the stairs and looked over as the man entered the room.

  “Find everything all right?” the man asked.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you again.”

  The man pulled a chair out and sat down next to Lyndon. “I’m Errol, by the way.”

  “You’re the pastor here?”

  “That I am.” Errol leaned back in his chair. “Do you need something to eat?”

  “Thank you, but no. We have some money. There was just no hotel around.”

  Errol nodded.

  They sat for a moment in comfortable silence.

  “She’s important to you,” Errol said.

  Lyndon looked over at him. Errol’s expression was kind. Something about him reminded Lyndon of his father.

  Finally, Lyndon admitted, “She is.” He turned away from Errol, looked straight ahead. “But she’s not mine.”

  Lyndon felt Errol looking at him.

  Errol nodded but said nothing more.

  The bathroom door opened, and Kadance came out, fully dressed and hair already braided. Some part of him was disappointed not to get to see her hair, the way it flowed like a calm black river. But then he reminded himself it was for the best.

  She glanced at him and then walked over and set her bag down several chairs away. Her expression didn’t appear to be angry, but she was the master of controlling her expression.

  He stood, picked up his bag, and headed into the bathroom. He had a wild thought that she might just leave him while he was in there.

  KADANCE SAT in one of the folding metal chairs.

  “I’m Errol,” the man said. “The pastor here.”

  “I’m Sarah.” Her alias came to her lips easily, even after using her real name with Lyndon these last several days. It struck her how much of a relief it’d been to be herself. Though she knew it wouldn’t last. Even if she wanted to stay with him longer, have a real friendship, she couldn’t do that to him. She was a hand grenade waiting to explode.

  “You have a lot on your mind,” Errol said.

  She looked over at him and donned her sweetest smile. “Don’t we all?”

  He tilted his head. “Some more than others.”

  “If only we all had simple lives.”

  “Ah, but adversity is how we best learn. Blessed are those who have struggled.”

  “Not everyone learns from their struggles.”

  He nodded. “But at least they have the opportunity. No one can be forced to learn.”

  They were quiet for a couple of minutes. She listened to Lyndon’s shower running and tried not to remember what he looked like with his shirt off. She forced the thought out of her head, and she picked up Mac, who’d followed them downstairs. Thankfully, he hadn’t growled at the pastor.

  “I can see you’ve struggled in your life, Sarah.”

  She looked over at him. She briefly considered if he was perhaps a plant, come to take information back to the mastermind, but she dismissed the idea. There was no way she could’ve tracked them here, and no alarm bells went off in her head when Errol spoke. He was just a nice older man, who was maybe a little lonely all alone in this church.

  “No more than anyone else, I’d guess,” she said.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s quite right.” He smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled with kindness. “Have you learned from your struggles?”

  She took a slow breath.

  “Sounds complicated,” he said.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “But recently your view has changed?”

  “Something like that.” She really wasn’t sure what to think right now.

  “Sometimes a change of view is just what we need.”

  The shower turned off. Mac sat up on her lap and watched the bathroom door.

  The pastor smiled at Mac. “Your cat misses his friend already.”

  She petted Mac’s head then down his back, and his tail wagged. She worried he was getting too attached to Lyndon.

  The bathroom door opened, and steam wafted toward them. Lyndon walked out, bag in one hand, shoes and shirt in the other. Nothing on but jeans. His lack of a shave the last few days accentuated his strong jaw.

  He set his bag down on the table between her and Errol and dropped his shoes on the floor. While he leaned over the table looking through his bag, his stomach and arms flexed a bit. He’d mentioned once that he liked running. She could see it in his build—lean and muscular, thighs and backside that perfectly filled out jeans. And he probably ran shirtless—he was evenly tanned down to his waist.

  He pulled a hand through his wet hair, then glanced over at her. She realized how closely she’d been looking at him and turned away. What’s wrong with me?

  He put on his shirt and then his glasses. Then he sat in a chair to put on his socks and shoes.

  “Ready?” he asked her.

  She stood and picked up her bag. She realized she hadn’t spoken to him since last night. She wasn’t sure what to say yet.

  They thanked the pastor and were out in the car a few minutes later, with Ka
dance behind the wheel.

  They drove in silence.

  Finally, Lyndon broke the quiet. “Are you angry?” He didn’t sound apologetic, just like he wanted to understand her emotional state.

  She paused, thinking. Usually, her emotions were easy to manage—she didn’t feel much. “I’m . . . No, I’m not angry.”

  “Are you all right?”

  She liked how kind his voice was. She wondered if he realized he sounded a bit different when he spoke to her than with anyone else.

  She answered with “I’m thinking.”

  He nodded and was quiet.

  She thought about asking him not to go shirtless anymore. But she didn’t.

  She drove. As civilization thickened, so did her tension. Her gaze snagged on every camera.

  Lyndon looked up directions on the phone and guided her. He also managed to hack the FBI to make sure he wasn’t flagged in their system due to the incident at Dr. Ibekwe’s house. Finally, they parked, made sure Mac was okay in the car, and walked toward the FBI headquarters, a large concrete building with windows that made it look like an oversized waffle—a waffle that would chip your teeth.

  She spotted a man leaning against a pillar and shifted to Lyndon’s other side, closer to the pillar. The man seemed to be watching peripherally.

  They passed, and she kept watching out of the corner of her eye.

  WHEN KADANCE SHIFTED to his other side, Lyndon looked more closely around them. She made no motion to indicate it, but he was sure she was watching the man behind the concrete column.

  The man stepped out behind them.

  She swung around and set her hand on her sheathed knife.

  The man froze.

  Surely, the man had assumed he’d take them off guard.

  “What do you want?” she demanded in a quiet but deadly voice.

  Lyndon moved to her side. He knew it probably annoyed her. He would let her handle this as she saw fit, but if that man attempted anything against her, Lyndon would drive his fist down the man’s throat.

  The man’s focus flickered to her hand resting on her sheath. Then he smirked, showing missing and brown teeth. Splotchy facial hair grew from his papery skin. Lyndon noticed a little black dot on his coat.

  “What d’you got there?” the man said. “Lipstick?”