Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)

by Andrea Randall

  Lifting my eyebrows, I take a deep breath. “You do? Care to share some insight?”

  Her face softens into a grandmotherly smile and she takes my hands. “You’re fierce, like both your mother and Roland. And, incidentally, both of them fight for justice, which I think you want to do, too. You just don’t know how. You want to do what’s right, but you’re trying to find your footing.”

  “Huh,” I whisper, my throat growing tight. “You’re good.”

  “I have something for you,” she says, pulling a small rectangular box from inside her coat. “I didn’t give it to you yesterday during all the present excitement because I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of everyone.”

  “I appreciate that.” And, I really do. I love surprises, but I hate having to manufacture a reaction.

  She extends the package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. I tuck it under my arm while I take off my mittens.

  “You don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to,” she says without sounding like she’s committed to the words.

  I grin. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

  Sliding my finger under the tape, I take a moment to admire the simple, yet elegant wrapping. Judging by the crafty, Americana feel of the inside of Nora’s house, I don’t even have to question if she wrapped this herself. Martha Stewart would be proud. Actually, she wouldn’t even bat a perfectly-placed eyelash. Martha’s not a very nice person, and her garden parties are kind of boring. The stack of Martha Stewart Living magazines on the coffee table tells me to keep this information to myself—it’d just break Nora’s heart.

  Peeling open the paper, my eyes fall on a black, leather-bound Book of Common Prayer. This is the main prayer book for Episcopal churches. In it are all the prayers we say in every church service, as well as prayers for holidays, weddings, funerals, and other occasions. Seeing the gold cross embossed on the front reminds me how deeply I miss my Episcopal services. The stained glass, the hymns, the Nicene Creed, and prayer of confession. The pageantry always centered me, which is why the relatively bare walls of New Life and stripped down “you and God only” prayers were hard to adjust to. I’m used to it now, but this book feels like my entire religious experience all in one. More so than the Bible, honestly.

  “Nora,” I whisper, my mouth gaping and my eyes moving between hers and the book. “It’s … oh my … really?”

  She smiles, biting her bottom lip. “Is it okay?”

  Dropping the wrapping paper, I turn the book over and flip through the pages. On the bottom right-hand side is my name, in the same gold as the cross. Kennedy Sawyer.

  “Why did you? How …”

  “I grew up in the Episcopal church. I’ve always loved the prayers.”

  Meeting her eyes again, I step forward and give her another hug. “This is one of the best presents I’ve ever received. Thank you, Nora.”

  My mind wanders to the words of the Nicene Creed. I can no longer view them through Anglican lenses only. Especially the bit that states we acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. Growing up, I always just took that to mean one should be baptized. But, in the walls of New Life and CU, baptism is a whole other thing. For now, though, I’ll snuggle in the soft comfort of my religious roots.

  “You’re welcome, Dear.” Inhaling deeply, she pats the back of my head and squeezes me once, really tight, before letting go.

  Quietly, she slips inside, and I lean against the rail, snapping a picture of the book and texting it to Mollie.

  Mollie: From Gramma Abbot?

  She’s fluid with terminology.

  Me: Yes. Sweet, right?

  Mollie: I like what I’ve seen so far. How’s the rest of the fam?

  I pause a moment before I answer. The kids have been great, as I guess kids usually are, but after spending most of my life as an only child—since Jenny lived with her mom 75% of the time—I don’t really have a kid barometer.

  Me: They’re interesting. And interested in me. I play with them, so it’s not really that hard.

  Mollie: And the brother and sister?

  Me: Julia (sister) and her husband Carl have been great. Joking around with me. The brother’s wife Lindsay has been sweet, but Geoff seems a little weird. Not rude. Just … weird.

  Mollie chimes back rather quickly.

  Mollie: Need I remind you that they have kids named Jacob and Marley?

  I laugh, loving how Mollie found it as ridiculous as I did. Glancing up, I see said awkward relative shuffling toward me, alone with his hands in his pockets.

  Me: Point taken. He’s here, though, gg. XO

  Mollie: XO

  Tucking my phone into my sweatshirt pocket, I look up to greet Geoff, only to find that he’s plodded down the steps and lit a cigarette by the pool, noticeably out of view of any windows.

  Alrighty then …

  I bend down and pick up the wrapping paper I’d let fall earlier, and when I look up, Geoff is eyeing me through a cloud of smoke seemingly suspended in front of his face.

  “Don’t tattle,” he says, kind of lightly. His accent is much thicker than the rest of the family’s, and it’s hard for me to tell when people with southern accents are joking.

  I just hold up my hands and shake my head, miming that I don’t intend to. I make for the door, but his voice stops me.

  “I’m sorry if I seem rude. This isn’t easy for me.”

  Oh, not easy for you? Here, let me console you …

  Stop.

  “What?” I ask, trying to sound innocent as I walk over to his smoky corner. Like I hadn’t heard his words clearly and then judged him without mercy.

  Geoff takes a deep inhale and keeps it there, starting his sentence with a lung full of smoke, slowly exhaling as his words go on. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. It wasn’t always good.”

  Tell me more about how my recovering alcoholic, pastor birth father wasn’t always on the societal up and up.

  Seriously, Kennedy, stop. Before it flies out of your mouth.

  “I, uh, can imagine.” I shrug and cut myself some slack, letting a little slide out of my mouth. “Given he signed his rights away … and didn’t really know about me until I was five … and didn’t meet me for a few years after that.”

  Holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, Geoff takes one last drag before stomping the butt into the gravel beneath his feet. Once it’s out, he picks it up and shoves it in his pocket, I assume to avoid getting caught somehow, though his smell should give him away.

  He looks at me with pursed lips as though I’ve somehow been offensive. “You got off easy.”

  Lifting my eyebrows, I cock my head back. “Okay, then. Nice talking with you.”

  I can’t take any more of this conversation without turning into someone I’d rather not be, so I clutch my gift from Nora to my chest and reenter the warmth of the house, slipping off my shoes before retreating to my room fibbing about my need for a nap.

  In reality, I lay on the bed facing the ceiling, my book still in my hand as I think about a teenage Geoff trying to navigate high school with his former all-star brother drying out on his parents’ couch. A picnic? No, I suppose not.

  But neither is abandonment.

  “Sounds like Geoff can pack his sanctimonious attitude and take a flying leap.”

  “Eden!” I yelp, burying my face into the pillow to muffle my laughter. “That’s not nice.”

  “Sure it is,” she says, pushing my shoulder. “I didn’t say what I thought. And, he wasn’t nice, either. Honestly? It’s Christmastime. And he’s there with his whole family to meet you, and he tells you that you got off easy? Really?”

  Eden’s parents were more than happy to drive her to Roland’s parents’ house so we could have some serious girl time before Roland and I head to Georgia. Her parents stayed and chatted up Roland, Nora, and Tim, before returning home, leaving Eden and I to have free-range girl talk.

  I sigh, propping my bac
k against the wall. “I don’t know. But, if I picture the worst image in my head of Roland during that time, and then try to see it through the eyes of someone only two years younger than me who once worshipped his older brother? It had to be depressing.”

  “Still,” Eden huffs, “has he ever heard of compassion? How was he around Roland? Snobby?”

  “No,” I say, surprised at my answer. Thinking back on the past few days, Roland and Geoff seemed to get along like any other adult brothers that belong to a loving family. “Maybe my presence just drudged all the yuckies up. Like it did with Joy, and Dean Baker …”

  “Don’t,” Eden snaps. “Stop doing that to yourself. You can’t control how other people feel or behave, especially if they don’t even know you.”

  I take a deep breath, and nervously ask her the question that’s been on my mind for months. “What was your first impression of me?”

  “That you were gorgeous,” she answers quickly.

  I laugh. “Seriously.”

  Her eyes widen as she gestures to me. “Seriously! I may or may not have thrown up a prayer that Jonah wouldn’t notice you the way I did. I know we weren’t together then, but sheesh!”

  I wave my hand. “Even if I had liked him I still think there wouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’re far more his type than I am.” I’m past the point of thinking Jonah—or anyone else for that matter—is too good for me. It’s not about “good” or “bad.” It’s a simple fact of where I come from, geographically, politically, and spiritually. I’m just as good for them as any other girl is, even if they don’t know it.

  Maybe they do. You’re kind of scary in that inciting way.

  Eden seems to read my mind. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. Maybe if we were all in our thirties and in an environment like this, it would be different. When people are supposed to know what they want. But, up until now, people from my world have been told what they want. Wait, haven’t you, too?”

  I huff through my nose. “Yep. You’re right. And what I’m supposed to want doesn’t usually involve anything in, or around, CU.”

  “And what I’m supposed to want is the version of Jonah all the parents see and love.” Her eyes fall, taking my stomach with them.

  I clear my throat. “Um … what?”

  Everyone’s got a closet. Maybe Jonah’s is filled with something Eden can’t bear. Or the other way around? No. Definitely not the other way around.

  She puffs out her cheeks, eyes scanning the room through her exhale. “How long till he gets here?

  “Tomorrow. I think you’re safe.”

  In breaking news, Jonah will be joining Roland and me on our trek to Georgia. Apparently Jonah worked his dad for months to allow it—since his dad is far more conservative than Roland. But, once his dad realized they’d be attending the most conservative thing in America since George W. Bush’s inauguration, he okayed it.

  “You’re not worried that he and I—” I try to project her hesitation onto my pending road trip with Jonah. Matt’s family has a guesthouse, where Roland and I will be shacking up, while Jonah will be in the main house with Matt.

  Eden violently shakes her head. “God no, nothing like that. I trust you, Kennedy. It’s just …”

  “You want the version of Jonah all the parents see and love, even if you try to not want it?”

  She nods, slowly.

  “I’m relieved,” I admit.

  “Why?”

  “To know you’re normal. It’s normal to rebel and it’s normal to feel okay in your skin. You want the all-American pastor for a husband.”

  She nods again.

  “And that’s okay,” I continue. “But, what I’m wondering, is why you’re suggesting that this version of Jonah is, in fact, a version, and not who he is.”

  “At first,” she sighs, “I thought it was just him experimenting with his expectations and his parents’ expectations. Maybe some general questioning.”

  “Okay …”

  She shrugs, her eyes pinching at the sides, letting a few tears out. “I don’t think he’s who I thought he was. He’s been questioning a lot lately.”

  “Which is okay,” I try to reassure.

  “I know. But,” she sniffs, “I feel like rather than questioning and circling back around to me or us, he’s swirling further away. I mean, I question, too. But, I question God with God, you know? Like I ask him what the heck. Jonah is questioning from a different place. One of disbelief rather than searching. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  I put my hand up. “I get it.” I don’t, really, but she’s spinning out of control. “What’s that look on your face?”

  Eden shifts so she’s sitting next to me, and presses her forehead into my shoulder. “I don’t know if I want to be with him anymore,” she sobs.

  Jesus …

  While they’ve only been together for a few months, I know that this is way more complicated than that. Jonah and Eden have known each other for the better part of a decade, their parents seemed to get along really well at Parents’ Weekend, and I truly believe Eden sees—saw—wedding bells every time she looked at Jonah. This wasn’t just dating for Eden. It’s always been like some sort of pre-engagement.

  I place my arm around her shoulder, and she sinks lower, her head resting on my lap. “Jesus, Eden,” I whisper when her sobs grow deeper. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do here. Have you and Jonah talked about any of this?”

  She shakes her head and speaks into my leg. “A little, maybe. I’ve been asking him if everything’s okay for weeks, but he just seems distant. I think he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings if he thinks he’s not living up to my expectations.”

  I nod, even if she can’t see me. “That sounds like a Jonah courtesy.”

  She chuckles, sitting up and wiping the wet away from her cheeks. “Except for the fact that for about a month I’ve been tagging along in a relationship that clearly isn’t mine anymore, and he’s afraid to pull the trigger.” She looks at me with the hopeful eyes that once begged me to ask him out for her.

  I widen my eyes. “I’m not breaking up with him for you,” I state flatly. “If he thinks you’re too fragile to break up with, this is your chance to own your feelings about it and stand up for yourself. You might want to bear the role of a pastor’s wife, Eden, but I know plenty of kick-ass ones that don’t fall quietly by the wayside.” I’m just assuming here that these alleged women do exist. And, I need Eden to believe it, too.

  “You’re right,” she answers, quite to my surprise, even though she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “You’re right,” she says again with more resolve. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “When?” Tomorrow morning Jonah’s parents will be bringing him here, and we’re supposed to drop Eden off at her house on our way through, down to Georgia. “When, exactly, do you expect to accomplish this?”

  She shrugs. “Before we get on the road.” My mouth hangs open in silent protest, but she continues. “Unless you want me to do it while we’re all in the car together? Or wait until … some other time?” Eden arches an eyebrow.

  “I’ll distract Roland while we’re packing the car and saying goodbye to everyone.”

  Before we can hash out any more details, there’s a knock on the door. “Kennedy? Can I come in for a sec?” Julia asks, her bright tone ever so slightly hesitant.

  “Yeah,” I reply, crossing my legs in front of me.

  Julia closes the door behind her and sits on the corner of the bed, her long, blonde ponytail swaying past her shoulder blades. She’s been quite nice to me since her arrival, but we haven’t had a ton of time to talk since there are so many little kids around.

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, she eyes me intently. “I’m sorry Geoff’s such an ass.”

  In one motion, Eden slides off the bed and excuses herself from the room. “I’m going to get some hot chocolate,” she politely utters before disappearing. For a second, I stare at
the empty space next to me.

  “Sorry for blurting that out in front of your friend,” Julia says in a delightfully not-sorry sort of way. “But, honestly, I am sorry for him.”

  Slowly, my eyes work their way to her. “I don’t …”

  She waves her hand. “You know what I’m talking about. I saw you two talking yesterday outside. And I saw the look on his face and the attitude he had when he came back. Just know that it’s not about you.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Seems like it was,” I admit.

  Julia shakes her head. “It’s not even really about Roland,” she says rather dismissively.

  “So what’s it about?”

  “God.”

  I huff. “Of course it is.”

  Julia’s lips turn up into a comical half-grin. “I’m serious.”

  “Me too.” I roll my eyes and stretch my legs out straight.

  “When Roland left school and came back home to unsuccessfully dry out, it turned our whole life upside down. Geoff was heartbroken to see his brother like that.”

  I nodded. “I thought that had something to do with it.”

  Julia scrunches her eyebrows, revealing deep “thinking lines”—as my mom calls them— just above the bridge of her nose. “It seemed to get worse when Roland turned around, though.”

  My turn to scrunch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Julia bites her lip. “Sometimes miracles aren’t as miraculous for those around the receiver, I think. Long story short? Roland’s healing didn’t heal the rest of us in the same time. Roland’s sobriety and subsequent success as a pastor gave all of us some relief but it didn’t really …” she struggles over her words.

  “Heal anything?”

  She nods. “Yep.”

  “I get that. But, has he … or you … listened to any of Roland’s sermons? His wounds are still oozing quite nicely if I’m hearing correctly.”