The Secret Life of Sarah Hollenbeck

by Bethany Turner

  Or something like that.

  I flagged down our waiter and paid the bill, then I grabbed my purse and rushed out, certain my cheeks would explode if any more blood rushed to them. I didn’t see Ben when I stepped outside and I assumed he had left, though truthfully I knew he wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye. I was still trying to convince myself that I had overestimated our connection and our feelings for each other, but in the pit of my stomach I still somehow knew Ben Delaney.

  “Sarah?” he called out just as I opened my car door. “Please don’t go.”

  I turned around, so broken by the thought of losing him already, and so shattered by the pleading tone of his voice. I could see through the pool of tears just enough to notice that he was on his cell phone, but he quickly finished up, very quietly, and walked over to where I stood.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he approached.

  I laughed bitterly through the pain. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I should have told you. I’m really sorry about that, but mostly I’m just sorry that there is anything to tell. I wish I’d never written the stupid books. I really do.”

  He dug in his pockets to see if he had a tissue, but when he came up empty-handed, he wiped my tears away with his fingers.

  “I’m not judging you, you know.” He spoke so gently and carefully. “You know that, don’t you? I don’t care what you’ve done in your past. I honestly don’t. I have a past too.” I arched my eyebrow, incredulous that there could be more secrets to be revealed. He correctly interpreted the eyebrow and smiled. “Don’t worry. I don’t think there are any more things in my past bigger than what we already know.” The smile faded as he asked, “Is this the biggest one for you?”

  I took the question very seriously and really thought through everything before answering, “I think that’s safe to say.”

  “Good,” he said as the smile returned.

  There was a moment of silence, which I tried to decipher and couldn’t. I wanted to believe that somehow things could work out between us. I wanted to believe that somehow we could keep moving forward and see what could be. But each second that we didn’t communicate made it more and more difficult to believe, and if that was the case—if it just wasn’t going to work out—I desperately wanted to let him off the hook. I already cared for him, and that meant that I needed for him to walk away from this as unscathed as possible, even if I didn’t.

  “Ben—” I began.

  “That was Christa’s mom I was on the phone with. It’s funny. I never would have expected that when I need some honest advice, she would be the one I call, but that’s totally the way it is.” He leaned up against my car with his hands in his pockets.

  I didn’t understand why he was telling me that, but I couldn’t help but find it interesting. “You have a pretty good relationship with her then?”

  He nodded. “I do. My own mother is great, in her own way, but Christa’s mom gets it, you know?”

  I didn’t really get it at all, and I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to. After all, the honest advice he had called about was no doubt regarding what to do about me, now that my career had been revealed. And it didn’t really take a lot of analytical thinking to surmise what a mother-in-law would say to a man considering moving on from his late wife. What mother in her right mind would believe her dead daughter should be replaced by someone of my ilk?

  “I know that you’re not judging me. I do. But we both know that won’t stop every member of your congregation from judging me. As they should, probably. And it’s not fair for me to put you in that position.” I stood up straight with new resolve, determined to do the right thing for Ben. And isn’t it cute how I thought I knew exactly what the right thing was? “We can totally tell anyone who asks that you took me out to lunch to stage an intervention or something.”

  “That’s the first thing they teach us in seminary, actually. Interventions are most successful when they take place one-on-one, preferably in intimate little sushi restaurants.”

  “Don’t make fun,” I whispered sadly. I crossed my arms and matched his pose, leaning back against my car. It took too much effort to hold myself up.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t respond, so he nudged me with his elbow. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun. You’re just so . . .”

  What? Pitiful? Depressing? Laughable?

  “Adorable.”

  I scrunched up my nose at his word choice. Adorable evoked images of little girls and silliness.

  “No, no. Maybe that’s not the right word,” he said in reaction to my expression, and I prepared myself for what I was certain would be a patronizing attempt to claw out of bubble gum and pigtails imagery. But he surprised me, as he usually did.

  He stood up straight and faced me. “No, it is the right word. But not in the cute way, though you are unbelievably cute.” He winked.

  I just couldn’t take it. “Ben, I should go.” I wanted to stop leaning against my car, but he was too close in front of me. I knew that if I stood, I had no chance of not brushing against him, and I couldn’t risk being rendered defenseless.

  “Sarah, you are adorable. As in I adore you. Plain and simple. We’ve just met, and yet I am more comfortable with you than I have been with any woman since Christa died. You make me laugh and you make me think. You challenge me, and that was even before the Raine de Bourgh stuff. Now I’m really feeling challenged. And maybe I should walk away, for a million different reasons. I know that there will be some closed-minded people who will have a problem with it. I know that. And I’m supposed to lead the church, not cause problems within it.”

  I knew that he was audibly communicating his internal argument with himself, and I wanted to help him, somehow, but I didn’t even know what was right for me, much less what was right for him.

  But I couldn’t help but whisper, “Then why don’t you walk away?”

  He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Because all I can think about is what I might miss. Isn’t that interesting?” He smiled. “You just told me all of this stuff about your past and, admittedly, I don’t know how to wrap my mind around some of it. But I also don’t believe I have to wrap my mind around your past in order to focus on the present.”

  “But my past isn’t going to go away that easily, Ben.” I shook my head sadly. I looked away from him, too caught up in my own regret to accept the understanding he was offering.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you’re wrong. Your past . . . it’s already gone. And that doesn’t mean you won’t have to deal with things that were set in motion in the past, but the past is gone.” He took a deep breath as he placed a finger under my chin and encouraged me to look up at him. When I was once again looking into his eyes, he said, “It doesn’t seem like I’m getting through.”

  “It’s not that. I know you’re right. I know it’s in the past. It’s just that—”

  “‘It’s just that’ nothing, Sarah. If you won’t listen to the guy who’s already pretty crazy about you, listen to your pastor.” He smiled. “God doesn’t look at you and see Raine de Bourgh, and neither do I. I look at you and see someone strong enough to have found a way to survive some rotten breaks—and not only survive but come out better on the other side. And I see someone who has no idea how smart she is, and funny, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

  I couldn’t control the grin that crept onto my face as I said, “I’m not sure that’s an appropriate thing for my pastor to say.”

  “Actually, that was the guy who’s pretty crazy about you.”

  I laughed. “Oh good.”

  “I’m not willing to walk away, Sarah, so I hope you’re okay with that. I’m just not willing to miss anything.” After an intense few seconds of eye contact, he broke away and looked down at his feet. “Besides . . . and this is going to sound crazy . . .”

  “What is?”

  “No, I mean really crazy.” He chuckled nervously, still looking down
. “Like, certifiable.”

  I was pretty certain his crazy couldn’t match mine, but I was intrigued. “Bring it.”

  “Okay.” He looked around and then grabbed my hand. “Come over here.” He walked me to a bench a few feet away. It felt a little more private and secluded, but even then I realized he was trying to create a more comfortable environment for us, not just escape the glances of his congregation walking to their cars now that they had finished their lunch.

  We sat, and I tried to pull my hand away as Tom Isaacs, the man who apparently had wanted Ben’s job, walked past us to his car and said, “Reverend,” with a nod of his head.

  “Have a good week, Tom,” Ben said. “And Lenore, thanks for your help with the printer this morning.”

  Lenore just smiled and eyed me suspiciously. I smiled back, all the while trying to subtly pull my hand away from Ben’s. And all the while, Ben wouldn’t let go.

  After the Isaacses drove away, I started laughing a slightly unhinged laugh. Maybe he was crazy. “That was bad, Ben. That was really, really bad. That woman will do all she can to cause trouble for you. You can see it in her eyes!”

  “Sarah—”

  “No, I’m serious. I’ve met women like that before. My ex-husband used to work with this horrible woman just like that, and—”

  “You’re divorced?” he interrupted, and I had a moment of panic, but then he cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding. You told me that. But now that I have your attention, you may recall that I was going to tell you something crazy. May I proceed?”

  I cleared my throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging how unnerved I was for the brief second he’d had me convinced that I’d told him absolutely nothing. Instead I gestured for him to continue.

  “Okay. So that first day we met, there in the hallway at the church, I had no reason to be going that way.”

  I simply stared at him, waiting for something “certifiable” to come along.

  “Think about it,” he continued with enthusiasm and awe. “I was going one way when I bumped into you, but when we both left to go to the service, I went the other way. That was the way I was supposed to be going. There was no reason at all for me to be going the way I was going when I ran into you.” He shook his head. “Crazy.”

  “Are you . . . are you serious?” I asked, so underwhelmed that I didn’t know how to react, but at least the crazy crown remained comfortably situated on my head.

  “I told you it would sound crazy, and I wasn’t going to tell you for a while because that seems pretty intense, but I think it’s important that you know. I think you need to know how different and important this is to me. I’ve never had anything like that happen in my entire life, Sarah. Never.”

  I nodded my head, trying to appear impacted, but I didn’t know why I was supposed to feel impacted. Finally I could stand it no longer. I held a straight face for as long as I could, but ultimately the absurdity of it all, combined with how cute he looked when he was being all earnest and reflective, made the laughter burst out of me in a very unflattering snort laugh.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, completely cracking up. “You’ve never gone the wrong way down a hallway before?”

  He seemed momentarily bewildered by my question but then seemed to realize he’d left something out.

  “I didn’t go the wrong way, Sarah. I went your way. I had no reason to be walking down that hallway, and yet I had to walk down that hallway. I didn’t know why. I just had to. And then there you were.”

  The expression on his face was so sweet and loving, and I probably should have worked harder to reciprocate, but I was still so baffled. I was able to eventually bury the laughter, which suddenly felt very inappropriate set against his sweetness.

  “Oh. That’s nice. Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Umm . . . you’re welcome?” He was suddenly as baffled as I was, and I realized I’d hurt his feelings.

  “I’m sorry, Ben. It’s just that I was expecting certifiable, and you gave me quirky.” I began laughing as I realized why his declaration just wasn’t having the impact he had anticipated. “You want to hear crazy? A few seconds after you felt an urge to head the wrong way in the hallway, as soon as I bumped into you, I was picturing us in . . .”

  Oh no.

  I coughed and cleared my throat and wished I had more seaweed to choke on, to buy myself a little time. I couldn’t possibly allow myself to finish that sentence. At least not that way. I was picturing us in . . . what? In Cabo San Lucas, snorkeling? In matching sweaters? In a barbershop quartet? What crazy thing could I say that would somehow be less crazy than the crazy truth?

  “I mean . . . okay . . . so . . .”

  When would I learn? Wasn’t it obvious that situations turned out better when I didn’t speak?

  The amused, intrigued grin on his face made it clear that no amount of clumsy backpedaling would be enough to get me away from telling the truth.

  “You were picturing us in . . . what, exactly?”

  Cabo did indeed sound lovely. Just me on the beach, relaxing waves crashing in the background, plenty of sand to bury my head in . . .

  “Uh . . . love,” I quickly mumbled. “But, you know, someday. Like, probably way in the future. I mean, not when we’re old. Not that we wouldn’t still be in love when we’re old. If we ever were. I just mean—”

  “In love, huh?” He grew more entertained by the second, as was evident by the twinkle in his eye.

  I looked up briefly, hoping for a CUP-A-JOE sign to miraculously appear and finally finish me off, but I had only the sky to disappoint me this time. You can make it work, God, I prayed. A meteor would be awesome right now.

  “Okay, here’s the thing . . .” I began, with my eyes closed. I had hoped not being able to see his smirk would help with the embarrassment.

  It did not.

  “Yes. I pictured us in love. You know, with each other. I mean, obviously. It would be really weird if I just met you and started picturing us each in love with other people. Not that picturing us in love with each other wasn’t weird.” I squeezed my eyes closed even tighter, all the while listening for meteor warning signs. Nothing? And I asked for so little . . .

  “I swear I’m not crazy, Ben. Despite appearances. It was just . . . I don’t know. A thought.” I sighed. “With no thinking involved.”

  I wanted to keep my eyes closed forever—partially because I didn’t want to see his reaction, but mostly because I thought I should allow him to retain his dignity as he ran away as quickly as possible.

  “Sarah, will you please open your eyes?”

  Okay, he was still there. That was a good sign. I opened my eyes slowly and was greeted with a smile.

  “I get it now,” he said softly. “I understand why you weren’t too impressed with my story. But I also think maybe I didn’t tell the story in the right way. Can I try again?”

  I smiled and nodded my consent.

  “I had to go down that hallway, though there was no reason at all that I should have. I just had to. My feet had a mind of their own, and that’s all there was to it. And the really important thing that I forgot to add is that there has only been one other time that I can remember ever feeling so overwhelmingly compelled to do anything, and it was the very next time I saw you.”

  I tried to think about what he could possibly be referring to, but he didn’t give me much time to think.

  “I don’t typically kiss women I’ve just met, Sarah. Actually, just to be clear, I’ve never kissed a woman I’ve just met. Except for you.”

  For a moment we got lost in each other. I noticed every single detail of him, and each one attracted me more than the last. The small lines at the corners of his mouth that were clear remnants from years of smiling and laughter, and their severe juxtaposition with the less noticeable but still unmistakable creases on his forehead. How many hours had that brow been furrowed in worry and sadness to result in creases that im
pactful? His thick eyelashes that would make any woman envious, and yet on him conveyed nothing but masculinity. And, more than anything else, I noticed the way he looked at me.

  He took a deep breath and then exhaled a shaky one. “I don’t know how to do this, Sarah. I want to do it. No, I will do it. But I don’t know how.” He let go of my hand for the first time since he had pulled me away from the car, and then he stood and started pacing. “It feels like we’re already twenty steps ahead of where we are.” He turned to face me but kept his distance, and I understood why. “But I don’t know anything about your family. I don’t know what foods you like, apart from sushi. I don’t know where you went to college, or if you went to college.”

  I smiled. “DePaul. BA in Communication Studies.”

  “Good.” He smiled back. “That’s one thing we can check off the list.”

  “And you?”

  “Oh. Bachelor’s in Early Childhood Education from Vanderbilt, Master’s in Theology from Yale Divinity School.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “But the point is, this, whatever this is, just seems to go against the rules somewhat, and I just want to be very up front with you that I have no idea how to handle it.”

  I thought I understood what he meant. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  “No, Sarah,” he said, and then sat by me again. But still, he kept his distance. Then he looked around before very quietly saying, “I mean, I don’t know if I can handle, um . . . my attraction to you. This is really awkward, and I’m sorry about that, but I think I have to be honest with you here. I need for you to know that I’m going to need some help from you and a lot of help from God. How do I say this?” He rubbed his eyes again.

  “Hey,” I whispered, and grabbed his hands from his face. I leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I get it. Thank you for telling me that. Really. And I know you’re the theology expert and all . . . I mean, Yale Divinity School? Really?”

  He laughed and shrugged.

  “Nerd.” I smiled. “So yeah. You’re the expert. But here’s what I think. I think we’ll have to be careful, clearly. We’ll have to be very aware of the positions we put ourselves in. But at the end of the day, if we ask God to help us, he will. Right?”