He almost leaned over and told her how beautiful she looked, but at that moment, her brother’s voice came over the church’s sound system.
Leah turned toward the front of the church, and Austin followed suit.
As he went through the familiar motions of the service, he worked to steel his heart against what he was hearing. Just because he was here didn’t mean he was going to fall for all this mumbo jumbo again.
Every once in a while, he allowed himself a glance at Leah, who appeared to be loving every moment of the service.
Austin almost envied her. His life would certainly be simpler if he hadn’t had to learn the hard way that God was no more than a fairy tale or a nice idea.
At the front of the church, Dan stood at a small podium.
He took a moment to look around the crowded sanctuary. “So, how’s your Thanksgiving going so far? Do you have a lot to be thankful for? Food? A home? Family?” Dan bobbed his head up and down a few times, as did many of his listeners.
Austin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Could this be any more cliché?
“Yeah, me too.” Dan braced his hands on the podium and leaned forward. “Now, I know it’s Thanksgiving and all, but let’s be real here for a second. Are there some things you’re unthankful for? Things you’re maybe angry with God for?”
Austin stilled. Were preachers allowed to say things like that in church?
“Maybe you lost your job this year,” Dan continued. “Or maybe you’ve had some health issues. Maybe someone close to you died.”
Tension zapped through Austin’s body, and he winced as a phantom pain sliced his missing foot.
“So what are we supposed to do with those things? Say, ‘Thanks God, but no thanks? I’ll thank you for everything else, but I can’t really be grateful for that?’”
Dan paused, as if thinking, then picked up his Bible. “Actually, listen to what God calls us to do. In First Thessalonians, Paul says we are to ‘Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.’”
Dan closed his Bible and shook his head. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? You’re telling me God expects me to give thanks in everything―even the bad things? Not only that, but he wants me to rejoice in them? What is he, crazy?” Dan held up a hand. “I know, I know. You’re thinking I shouldn’t be standing up here calling God crazy. But you know you’re thinking it too. You’re thinking, if God wants me to thank him for those things, he can think again.”
Dan stepped out from behind the podium to pace in front of the church. “But that’s exactly what God is saying we need to do. He says, ‘Give thanks for everything.’ Even the bad things.”
Dan ran a hand through his hair. “But why? Why would God want us to thank him for the bad things that happen to us?” He stopped pacing and scanned the congregation.
Austin wanted to make himself look away, but he couldn’t. He had to know―why would anyone give thanks for all the bad that had been heaped on them? Why should he give thanks for losing his leg and his friends?
“It’s because―” Dan spread his arms wide. “It’s because those things are blessings too.”
Austin let out a harsh breath and shook his head. Unbelievable. It was one thing to say he should be thankful that he’d lost so much. But to say it was a blessing? That was taking things too far.
Leah glanced over at him, but he couldn’t face the concern in her eyes. He needed to pull it together, think about something else until Dan was done talking.
But he couldn’t shut out Dan’s voice. “I’m not saying we’re always going to see these things as blessings. Maybe we’d be better off calling them blessings in disguise. And sometimes the disguise is really good. So good that we might never see how they could be blessings while we’re on this side of heaven. But God sees. God knows. He knows how even these hard things, these things that make us so angry, are working for our good. In Romans 8:28, Paul writes, ‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.’” Dan looked up, and Austin could have sworn that his eyes traveled straight to the back of the church. “It’s pretty easy to see that, to believe it, when things are going well for us, isn’t it? When we have the dream job and money in the bank and a healthy family. When we’re coasting.”
Austin tried to remember the last time he’d felt like he was coasting. Maybe before Mom died? Maybe longer ago than that?
Dan started pacing again. “But what about when things go wrong? What about when we hurt? What about when the people we love hurt? Is that all for our good? Because if it is, maybe I don’t want all things to work for my good, right? I’ll take okay, I’ll take medium instead of good, if it means I don’t have to have all these heartaches, right?”
Austin’s jaw clenched until his teeth ached, and he was suddenly too aware of the press of bodies around him.
Only fourteen steps to the exit. It was no big deal. He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t in danger.
And yet.
He couldn’t sit here another second.
He half rose, and Leah leaned closer, whispering, “Are you all right?”
But he could only shake his head and try to remain inconspicuous as he climbed over first Jackson and then the three people at the end of the row.
Eight more steps.
He pushed through the doors into the lobby, sucking in a deep breath as they closed behind him. Away from the press of bodies, Austin’s pulse slowed, and the squeezing in his chest loosened. But the lobby must have had speakers because Dan’s voice had followed him out of the sanctuary.
“But God doesn’t want okay for you,” Dan was saying. “He doesn’t want medium. He wants good for you. Eternal good. And sometimes the way he brings about that good is through blessings in disguise.”
Austin eyed the exterior doors. Maybe he should wait outside. He took a few steps toward them, but something in Dan’s voice made him slow and then stop. He dragged himself to the far side of the room, where a comfortable looking couch sat in front of a large stone fireplace.
“I’m going to ask you to do something now. Something that it’s going to feel really weird to do on Thanksgiving. But humor me.” Even from out here, Austin could hear the congregation’s gentle chuckle before Dan’s voice picked up again. “I want you to close your eyes.” He waited a second. “Go ahead. If everyone does it, no one will look foolish.” Another twitter from the crowd.
“Good. Now―” Dan continued. “I want you to make a list in your mind of all the things you’re not thankful for this year. The things you’re mad at God about. And I want you to confess those things to God. Tell him, ‘God, I’m mad about this.’ Don’t worry, he’s a big God. He can take it. I’ll give you a minute for that.”
Austin stared at the rough stone of the fireplace. He wasn’t going to close his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from making a list. He was angry about his leg. And Tanner. And Isaad. He was angry that Jackson had found his mother dead and had grown up without a family. He was angry that he’d grown up without a father. He was angry that he was too broken to ever be fixed.
“Got your list?” Dan’s voice came over the speaker again, and Austin let out a shaky breath.
It wasn’t rational. He knew that. How could he be mad at God when he didn’t believe in God anymore?
But that didn’t change the fact that he was.
“Now―” Dan lowered his voice, but Austin could still hear him too well. “Here’s the tough part. I want you to surrender all of those things to God. Ask him to change your heart and to give you peace with each one of those things. Ask him to help you see them as blessings in disguise.”
No.
Thankfully, there was no one else in the lobby to see how hard he was shaking his head, to see him get up and pace in front of the fireplace.
No.
This was where he drew the line.
He could maybe admit that he was mad at a God he c
laimed not to believe in. But he wasn’t about to ask that same God to give him peace with those things. He didn’t want peace with them.
He wanted to be angry.
He had a right to be angry
He worked on tuning out the rest of the service.
It didn’t matter what Dan said.
It wasn’t like Austin believed any of this anyway.
Chapter 22
Leah’s eyes tracked to Austin.
Again.
Instead of working on the serving line with her, he’d chosen to stay in the kitchen, filling glasses of milk and juice. She’d tried to talk to him after church, to make sure he was okay, but all he’d say was that he’d needed some air.
But there was more to it than that, she could tell. That haunted look, the one that had started to fade over the past couple weeks, had overtaken his expression again.
She forced herself to dollop mashed potatoes onto the next plate. With one hand, she gripped the edge of the table to hold herself upright. She’d never tell anyone, but her head had started to pound again, and the whole room seemed to be swaying.
As she scooped another batch of potatoes, a warm hand covered hers. “Why don’t you take a break?” Austin’s voice was low and close to her ear, and a warm shiver went down her back. “I’ll take over for you.”
She shook her head. She hadn’t been able to help prepare the meal. The least she could do was serve it.
But Austin had already stripped the spoon out of her hand.
He dropped a serving of mashed potatoes onto a plate. “I promise we’ll come find you if we need anything. Why don’t you go lay on that comfy couch in the lobby?” He rested the potato spoon in the bowl and stepped back from the serving line. In one deft movement, he pulled his blue sweater over his head, revealing a plaid button-down underneath. He held the sweater out to her. “Use this for a pillow. Or a blanket.”
Leah took it, trying not to notice that it was still warm from the heat of his body. Or that it carried his pleasant scent.
She should argue, but the prospect of lying on a couch right now was too tempting. Reluctantly, she took off her apron and slipped out of the kitchen and through the quiet hallways to the lobby. Being sick for Thanksgiving hadn’t been part of the plan. But at least she had people she could rely on to take care of things.
People like Austin.
It was her last thought before she nestled her head into Austin’s sweater, closed her eyes, and was out.
She was pretty sure it was only ten minutes later that someone was shaking her.
“Leah.”
The voice whispering her name was familiar, comforting, and her lips slid into a smile.
“Leah.” The voice was more insistent this time, and she cracked her eyes open to find Austin’s face inches from hers.
“Hey.” His mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Going to sleep all day?”
She blinked, trying to focus. “Sorry. What do you need?”
“Nothing. Just you.”
Her eyes snapped open all the way, and he seemed to realize what he’d said. “I mean― To take home― To come with me so I can drive you home.”
Leah was pretty sure her face must be as red as his, but she pushed herself into a sitting position. The moment she did, the headache that had eased while she slept returned with renewed vigor. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.
“Here. Let me.” Even without opening her eyes, she could feel Austin step closer. His hands gently nudged hers out of the way, then his fingers were pressing gently into her temples, moving in slow circles.
Leah’s shoulders tensed, but the motion eased her headache, and after a second, she relaxed into it. Austin’s hands slid further back on her scalp, into her hair, still moving in those slow circles.
“That’s much better,” Leah murmured.
“Good.” Austin’s voice was low, but he kept massaging.
Leah should tell him to stop. Her headache was almost gone now. But having his hands in her hair felt too good.
“Dan sent me up to see what was taking so . . .” That was Peyton’s voice. Leah would recognize it anywhere. Along with the laughing, I-told-you-so note to it as she trailed off.
Austin’s fingers jerked out of her hair, and he took three quick steps backward before bumping into a chair.
Leah could only pray Peyton wouldn’t say anything stupid that would make her friendship with Austin awkward.
As Peyton reached them, her eyes flicked from one to the other, and she could barely suppress her smile. But apparently God had heard Leah’s prayer because Peyton simply said, “Dan wanted you to know your mom can’t make it to dinner because of the storm. And he said to tell you not to feel obligated to come if you’re not feeling up to it.”
Leah had never missed Thanksgiving dinner with her family. But right now the idea of doing anything but going home and snuggling into bed was more than she could handle.
“I do have a headache.” Leah rubbed at her head again to show Peyton that was why Austin’s hands had been in her hair. And for no other reason. “Is it really that snowy out?”
“There’s a good eight inches out there already.” Austin glanced toward the church doors, where the afternoon was quickly darkening into dusk.
“Maybe I better skip it this year.” She turned to Austin. “Unless you wanted to go? I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Austin shook his head. “I think we should get you home.”
Leah pretended not to notice the pointed look Peyton directed her way.
“I’ll send Jackson up.” And with that, Peyton was gone again, though Leah was almost sure she saw her friend shoot Austin a wink as she sauntered down the hallway.
An awkward silence descended on them. Leah started to rub at her temples again, then dropped her hands into her lap. The last thing she needed was for him to think she wanted another scalp massage.
“I’ll go pull the truck up,” Austin finally said. “That way you won’t have to walk through the snow.”
“That’s all right. I’ll be―” But Austin was already on his way out the door.
A minute later, his truck pulled up outside, just as Jackson entered the lobby.
“Hey, dude.” Leah tried to gauge Jackson’s mood. “How did you like helping with the meal?”
Jackson shrugged, but his eyes looked brighter than usual.
The moment they stepped through the front doors, Leah gasped. She knew Austin had said they’d gotten eight inches of snow already. And she’d seen eight inches of snow plenty of times in her life. But the world had been completely transformed between the time she’d gone into church this morning and now.
The parking lot had been recently plowed, but a thick layer of snow covered the few remaining cars. Snowflakes filled the sky as well, sparkling in the streetlights that had just turned on. One landed on her lashes, and she blinked it away, smiling. Winter had always been her favorite season, and she was fine with it coming early. It made everything feel more Christmassy.
Austin already had the passenger door open for her, and she climbed into the truck. They rode in silence for a while, but finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. “So, are you going to tell me where you learned to cook like that? People were raving about how good the turkey was.” More than they usually raved about her turkey. She’d have to get him to spill the recipe.
“Picked it up here and there.” He turned down the street that led to her house.
“Well, I feel like a sucker, making you dinner all these nights.” Leah kept her voice light, so he’d know she was joking. She enjoyed making food for people, whether or not they knew how to cook for themselves. “Why were you always getting takeout if you could cook like that?”
Austin’s shrug was easy, but the line of his jaw tightened.
Apparently, cooking was a touchy subject.
She closed her eyes and snuggled into the warmth of the truck. But too soon, she felt the vehicle slow and turn, a
nd then the engine shut down.
“We’re home,” Austin whispered. A second later, he was opening her door and reaching to help her down. Against her better judgment, she set her palm into his. She was too tired to trust she could step down herself without landing on her face. A zip of recognition flew up her skin at the touch, but she pretended not to notice it.
As soon as she was down, Austin let go of her hand, but instead of moving ahead of her through the snow, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. She should protest. But she was too sleepy. And his warmth felt too nice.
At the door, Austin let go of her, and the night air crawled down her neck. She shivered.
“I know you’re tired.” Austin opened the door for her. “But could we talk for a minute?”
Everything in Leah told her to say no.
Austin had hurt Jackson with his refusal to participate in the father-son event the other day.
But he’d also gotten Jackson involved in helping out with the community dinner.
And he’d pretty much saved the whole meal from disaster.
The least she could do was take a minute to listen to him.
Chapter 23
Austin sat on Leah’s couch, cracking his knuckles as he waited for her to make the tea she’d insisted they needed.
Now that he’d decided to do this, he just wanted to get it over with.
Not that he was sure doing this was the best idea. But he owed her an explanation for what had happened with Jackson the other night. And if he was going to ask her to consider a more-than-friends relationship with him, she needed to know the truth.
But the longer she took, the less certain he was that he should do it. Not the part about telling her about his leg. That he was going to do one way or the other. But what he wanted to do after that―asking her on a date―that he was a lot less sure of.
“Here we go.” Leah’s voice sounded strained as she carried two mugs into the living room, and he rose to take them from her, setting them on the coffee table and gesturing for her to sit.
She looked tired.
Not Until Christmas Morning (Hope Springs Book 5) Page 14
