by Jessica Kate
Jem plunked down into a chair as the hackles on the back of his neck rose. Again. Yeah, thanks for pointing that out.
“She doesn’t have to.” He propped his feet on another chair. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Anymore.
Dad snorted. “And whose fault is that?”
Great. After that brief moment of sympathy on the floor of the gym, Dad was back into criticize mode.
“You could’ve had a family by now, not”—Dad gestured around the sparse apartment—“this.”
A retort raced to the tip of Jem’s tongue, hot and fast. He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud. So Olly wasn’t family? And his leaving Natalie was straight-up selfish?
He ground his teeth. He needed to hold it in. He needed to forgive. He—
“Finfe I hated you fo much I had to leave, I’d fay the fault’s at leaft firty perfent yourf.” Jem stood and snatched the tea towel of ice from Dad’s hand. If his sore tongue hadn’t destroyed his pronunciation of s, that retort might’ve been more satisfying. “Fo fank you for da punch in the fafe, Dad, and good night.” He wrenched the door open and held Dad’s gaze.
Dad’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised, before the granite mask slipped back into place. “Good night.”
He walked out the door, posture stiff, and Jem swung it shut behind him, the pressure just short of a slam. He dragged his tired body to his bedroom door to check on Olly. Sound asleep. He made it to the couch and lay on it, eyes shut, the wrapped ice wet and cold against his jaw.
Dad’s startled eyes replayed in his mind’s eye. He’d actually looked . . . hurt.
And what Jem had said hadn’t even been true.
Sure, he couldn’t stand Dad controlling him. At twenty he couldn’t comprehend letting Dad’s God control him. But he’d made his own choices. Dad hadn’t forced him to leave. Hadn’t made him break up with Natalie.
Ironically, Jem’s rebellion against Dad—and God—had driven him into some of the worst choices he’d ever made. That was just as bad as being controlled, if not worse.
He punched the cushion under his head, trying to mold it into a more comfortable shape. Tonight was another prime example of Dad’s goading and Jem’s resulting bad choices.
If he couldn’t break this habit, what else would he mess up?
18
Today was the day.
Lili cringed at the footsteps echoing down the church hallway on Sunday morning. She dashed across the Kids’ Church room, snatching up spilled candy and scattered markers as the footsteps drew nearer. If Nick was looking for her, she had no time to talk.
Sweat edged her hairline. She’d already handed out three hundred goodie bags for Natalie’s Wildfire festival launch, run a Kids’ Church class, and now had less than ten minutes to finish packing. After almost four weeks of instant messages and the occasional phone call, Dad had convinced her to go to lunch with him.
The door to the room creaked open, and a brown mop of hair poked through, followed by a pair of hazel eyes.
“Hey.” Nick strolled in, a faded Nerd Machine T-shirt stretched across his broad muscles. “Why does this room smell like gummy bears and feet?”
She jammed a loose chunk of hair behind her ear and prayed none of little Bobby’s boogers had attached themselves to her best cream shirt. “We played a game with the kids’ shoes. And then we ate a lot of gummy bears.” The sweet tang still danced along her tongue.
She grabbed two sweaters and one shoe—one shoe?—and tossed them into the lost property basket in the corner. She’d have to clean while she talked. She couldn’t be late. Today wasn’t just about lunch.
It was about convincing Dad it was time for her to come home.
Nick came a few steps closer. “You haven’t been around much lately.”
She scooped up a pile of craft supplies and scratched at the glitter tickling her finger. “Sorry, been busy.” Busy proving to Dad that she could be a part of this family’s healing process. Her grades had risen, she’d been an angel at Jem’s house, and she had more responsibilities than ever at Kids’ Church. If that didn’t prove she could be a help to the family, what would?
Nick snagged a glue bottle that threatened to topple from the pile in her arms. “Busy? For an artist that’s not very creative. What happened to our tutor swap?”
Lili glanced around. The corridor was empty. “I’ve just had some stuff going on at home.”
“Oh. That sucks.” The corners of Nick’s mouth pulled up in a sympathetic smile. “It helps to talk to a friend.”
She scooted toward the craft supplies cupboard. “You really don’t want to hear all of it.”
“Sure I do.”
She turned around and almost bumped into him. His gaze bored into hers. The urge to spill her guts and drink in his compassion almost overwhelmed her, but she swallowed back the words. She couldn’t risk ruining the one positive relationship he had in his family. “I’d cry.”
“I’d grit my teeth and bear it.”
Her hand went to her hip. “You’re a weird guy, Nick Kent. Why do you want to get involved in a sixteen-year-old girl’s problems?”
“Well, she fixes my shirts, for one.” He nodded to her handbag. “I can see it poking out.”
“Oh. Here.” She plucked the shirt from her self-made denim-and-green-vinyl handbag. “Sorry it took so long, I accidentally sewed through to the front of your shirt the first time.”
“That’s okay.” His fingers brushed hers as he took it. He paused. “I think you’re worth getting to know.”
Lili picked up a stack of memory-verse sheets and clutched them to her chest, hand tingling from his touch. She stared at the floor for a long moment. “It’s a long story,” she finally said. “But thanks for the offer. I’ll . . . I’ll let you know when I want to take you up on it.”
“You better.” He backed toward the door. “You’ve got my number.” He exited, then poked his head back through the doorway. “You’ve also got some gummy bear in your teeth.” He winked and left.
She ran her tongue over her teeth and scowled, then dumped the stack of papers in a recycle bin. One stuck to her chest. “Oh nooooooo.” As she pulled at the sheet, pink chewing gum clung to her shirt, and the paper tore.
She prayed for a heavenly lightning bolt—or at least a vigorous zap from static—to avenge her shirt as she scraped the worst of the gum away with her fingernails. A sticky pink stain remained. She jammed her arms through the sleeves of her red cardigan just as her phone alarm went off.
Showtime.
She scooped up her handbag and jogged down the hall, around a corner, and down another corridor in the direction of the church offices. Her steps slowed as another figure walked toward her.
Recognition hit, and she jerked to a halt. “Miss Kent.”
The woman stopped, then walked a few tentative steps closer. Her perpetual smile wilted. “Lili. Hi. How are you?”
Lili steamed at the fake politeness. “What are you doing here?” Sure, the woman was a member of the church, but to keep attending after Lili had caught her with Dad—that was just rubbing it in. And now, to be walking suspiciously close to Dad’s office . . .
“Going to church.” Miss Kent’s tone tried for sunny but fell somewhere between limp and pathetic.
Lili folded her arms. “Go to a different church.”
Devil-red lipstick shone like a beacon on the teacher’s pale face. The same woman who encouraged her students to embrace their natural beauty. Lili curled her own lip in disgust.
“Lili? I’ve got dessert coupons.” Dad appeared from his office door at the end of the hall.
Lili pushed past Miss Kent and stomped to her father. “Did you know she was here?”
She flung a hand toward where Miss Kent had been, but the teacher was fleeing back down the corridor.
Dad’s smile faded as she approached. “No. I didn’t even know she came this morning.”
“Why was she down here then?”
“I
have no idea. The ladies’ bathroom is near here. Maybe that was it.”
Lili scanned him. What were the signs of a liar? Pupil dilation or something? She squinted at his eyes. Nothing.
Dad gestured toward the door. “Did you want to come to lunch?”
She gave a cautious nod and headed for the back exit, which opened right next to where he parked his car. But with each step, the need to have everything out in the open pressed on her. She sucked in a big breath and released it. Was he still seeing Miss Kent? She couldn’t fake her way through an hour-long lunch, not now.
As they slid into Dad’s car, she spoke. “Am I allowed to come home yet?”
Dad’s hand, poised to insert the key into the ignition, stilled. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What’s to talk about? I’ve been good. How does keeping me away help anyone?” Her voice broke.
Dad turned to face her, eyes pleading. “Just another week and a half. Mom’s away at a women’s conference in Philly on the weekend, and I’m fully booked up. You’d just have to shift back to Jem’s for four days anyway.”
She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “Then I can come home?”
Dad scratched his head. “I haven’t told Mom yet.”
She gaped. “About Miss Kent? You promised!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do it before you get back.” He fired up the engine and reversed. “I promise, kiddo.”
She sulked back into her seat. He’d already broken one promise—not to mention possibly his wedding vows—so why should she believe him about this one?
A buzz sounded from Dad’s pocket as he waited at the edge of the parking lot, indicating to turn right. He fished out his phone. “My battery’s dying. Can you get my charger from the glove box?”
She opened the compartment and poked around. Just some registration papers and a brown paper bag. She tugged the bag open and peered in.
Cigarettes?
She whipped out the box. Icy tentacles wrapped around her lungs as she stared at the Philip Morris label. “Cigarettes, Dad? Really?”
His gaze darted to the pack. “What? I— That’s not mine.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I swear. I picked up a few people for church this morning. Someone must’ve left it in here.”
The box crumpled in her fist as she squeezed it. Dad always prided himself on his honesty, but after recent events she wasn’t so sure. “I remember you gave Mom your lighter when you quit. Did you buy a new one?” She held out a hand. “Empty your pockets.”
Dad let the car roll forward a little. One last car approached, and then the coast would be clear to drive onto the road. “Lili, I really don’t think—”
She cracked open her door and jumped out of the car onto the sidewalk.
Dad jolted, then lunged for her, but she darted away.
“Show me.” With every fiber of her being, she prayed those pockets were empty.
Dad pulled the door shut and glared at her though the window. He backed the car up to a safe place in the parking lot and jumped out. “Don’t you dare do that again.” His voice boomed loud enough for people in the parking lot to turn and look.
Her cheeks burned hotter than a forgotten iron. He made it sound like she was the one out of line. And this whole time, he’d been lying. About the cigarettes. About telling Mom.
About Miss Kent too?
“How could you?” Her plans for the day crumbled like stale cake. No way could she go home if this was still going on.
A new thought arose, and she held her breath to cut off the sobs that threatened.
If he was still doing stuff like this . . . did he even want her home?
Dad stepped closer and gentled his tone. “We’re a family, Lili. We can work this out.”
She shook her head. “Show me.”
His expression darkened. “This is not what you’re thinking. This whole thing is nothing. Stop turning it into an issue.”
She lowered her own voice. “If you don’t show me right now, I’m going straight to Mom.”
He jerked back, shook his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic blue lighter. He thrust it toward her. “Fine. Are you happy?”
The air left her lungs. A roar filled her ears, and every nerve ending turned cold. He had lied. He’d lied to her. “‘This family tells the truth.’” She repeated the words he’d often spoken to her. Dad’s face turned fuzzy as tears built up in her eyes.
“Lili, let me expl—”
She snatched the lighter from his fingers and, for the first time in her life, swore at him.
She fled through the parking lot, the cigarettes and lighter clutched in her fists.
She glanced back as she pushed through the back door of the church. Dad slumped against the car, dessert coupons on the ground.
She charged on and didn’t stop till she reached the safety of the Kids’ Church room, where she curled up in a pile of giant neon cushions as sobs tore free. Her whole body rattled. After a few minutes, she propped herself up on one elbow and pegged the lighter at the wall. Then the cigarettes.
Dad had quit when she was a little girl, had claimed that now even the smell of smoke made him sick. He’d always said how he was so glad prayer had helped him kick it. There’d been plenty of chances to smoke at school in the past, but she always steered clear. She couldn’t disappoint her daddy.
She disentangled herself from the cushions and walked over to where the lighter and cigarettes had landed. What was the point? She’d been good her whole life, and it hadn’t made any difference. Dad was choosing Miss Kent. Over Mom and her.
Maybe it was time to try bad.
She pulled one cigarette out of the packet, considered it.
Then strolled toward the church auditorium, lighting the smoke as she went.
* * *
She’d done it.
After the craziest working week of her life, Natalie had pulled off the Wildfire festival launch.
She sank into a chair in the church auditorium as the congregation hummed around her, still chatting after Mike’s rousing sermon on integrity—and the Wildfire festival announcement. In six days’ time, a team of motocross riders would wow crowds at Charlottesville High’s football field, while those less interested in death-defying motorbike jumps could enjoy the gaming zone, graffiti art wall, free food, or the sports zone. Then Sam would close the event after the last big motorbike stunt with a short testimony to the crowd.
Six people, including two church elders, had congratulated her on the idea. She’d had a dozen people volunteer to help.
She breathed in deep, relishing the scent of twenty different old-lady perfumes. The scent—such as it was—of success. Nothing could ruin this happy day. Not even the weight of exhaustion pulling at her eyelids.
Someone coughed like their lungs had mutinied against their body. The sound plucked at her memory. She jerked her gaze up and scanned the auditorium. Lili?
She jumped up and searched the room. She looked past the Taylor triplets, past old Mrs. Prior and her KJV Bible with Chris Hemsworth photos taped inside the cover. There was Lili, on the other side of the sanctuary, coughing her lungs out.
Natalie dashed down the aisle, dodging parishioners in her path. Not easy in wedges and a just-long-enough-for-church skirt. Why was Lili coughing like that?
The smell hit.
Smoke?
Shock rooted Natalie’s feet to the ground. She stared at Lili, bent over double, a glowing cylinder clutched between two fingers. Definitely smoke.
Natalie made it across the packed auditorium in five seconds flat.
“What are you doing?” She swiped the cigarette from Lili’s hand. The smell coated Natalie’s tongue in grit as she rubbed Lili’s back and bent over to get a look at her face.
Hands on her knees, Lili tried to suck in air. Deep hacks sounded from her chest instead.
The eyes of two hundred churchgoers seared into Natalie. St
eph was going to kill her.
Jem appeared by her side, face covered in purple splotches from Friday’s boxing. He’d ’fessed up about the match on Saturday when she dropped in for the goodie bags and his puffy face scared her half to death. Now the discoloration emphasized the worried crease of his brow. “What’s going on?”
“Code Beetroot. Take this.” She shoved the cigarette at him.
He disappeared to do her bidding.
Natalie gripped Lili’s arms. “Slow down. Deep breaths. Don’t panic.”
Lili nodded, eyes watery, and gulped in one breath, two.
A small crowd gathered around them. Not good. She grabbed Lili’s hand and pushed a way through toward the doorway.
Lili still coughed, but at least it wasn’t the rib-rattling sound from a minute before. Still, her arm trembled beneath Natalie’s grip.
A familiar whistle sounded. She searched the room as she strode toward the door. Jem waved from twenty feet away, cigarette gone. He held Oliver but not the diaper bag. He tossed her his car keys.
She plucked them from the air one-handed and hustled outside.
At Jem’s car, she grabbed a water bottle and shoved it at Lili. “Drink this. What were you thinking?”
Lili didn’t respond, just chugged down the water.
Jem jogged over, juggling baby and diaper bag, as Lili emptied the rest of the bottle onto her hands. Natalie read the silent question on his face and nodded. Of course she was coming. She could get her bike later.
Lili finally got her breath back and slipped into the car without a word.
Natalie rubbed her temple as she eased into the passenger seat while Jem buckled Olly in. She had zero brain capacity to deal with drama today. What had possessed Lili to do such a thing?
Jem climbed into the driver’s seat as Lili clicked her seat belt. He glanced at Natalie, eyebrows raised. The silent conversation continued.
What’s going on with her?
She shrugged. Don’t know.
Jem rolled his eyes.
She understood. She wasn’t prepared for dealing with teenage girls either.
The car ride home was silent, apart from Olly’s “Da-da-da-da-da” and an occasional splutter from Lili.
