My Vows Are Sealed (Sealed With a Kiss)

by Carmen Richter

  “Same, actually,” I chuckled. “Wrangling Nate is more of a workout than the team got today.”

  That made her smile. “You’re an amazing big brother.”

  “I try to be. He needs someone to teach him love and acceptance. God knows my parents won’t.”

  “He’ll turn out okay. He has you,” she told me, stopping right outside the door to the children’s room and turning to look at me. “You’re a good guy, you know. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, I guess.”

  She opened the door and held it for me, and I walked in to find Nathan sitting in front of the TV watching those stupid singing vegetables, while the girl I couldn’t get out of my head was sitting at the craft table talking to Naomi.

  Why was it that every time I looked at Darla lately, it seemed like time stopped? She was younger than me, and even though she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions and mature enough to understand what they meant – unlike what her father seemed to believe – I still couldn’t help but feel like it was wrong to look at her this way.

  But how was I supposed to stop? How was I supposed to pretend these feelings didn’t exist?

  Please, Lord Jesus, help me, I prayed. Keep me on the path of righteousness and keep my thoughts pure so I won’t sin against You. I need Your help, Lord, because I can’t do this alone. I’m not strong enough.

  Chapter 4

  Darla

  Personal Jesus

  My chest tightened and my breathing came in short gasps as I watched Ethan storm out of the children’s room. I couldn’t explain why, but something about his tone of voice and the look on his face scared the hell out of me. It was like he wanted to hit me where it hurt, no matter what he had to do.

  “Hey,” Naomi murmured, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  I jumped a little at the unexpected touch and my heart rate kicked up a few notches. But then I turned to face her and saw her wearing a sad smile, like she understood exactly what was going through my mind right now.

  Then again, she probably would have understood better than almost anyone else in this church. Her family was from South Korea, and she was the first generation to be born here in the States, so she was kept on a pretty tight leash too, although her mom was way more easygoing than my parents were. Her parents owned a small Asian market here in town, and pretty much any time she wasn’t at church or at school, she was there at the market “working.” Not officially, of course, because she was my age, so she couldn’t legally have a job yet. But she got an allowance for helping out there, so it wasn’t like it was slave labor.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “I guess,” I said, trying to force a smile.

  I was anything but okay. I knew that if my dad found out about my new friends, I’d never hear the end of it. And I’d probably have a huge goose egg on my head by the time he was done “teaching me a lesson,” as he called it.

  “I’ve never seen Brendan like that before,” she chuckled. “I think someone’s got a crush.”

  My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I couldn’t even begin to let myself go down that road. Even if I’d been allowed to date – which I knew would only happen over my father’s dead body – the fact remained that I was a freshman and Brendan was a junior. Besides, we’d known each other for pretty much our whole lives. I knew he loved me, but like a sister. Not the same way I loved him.

  “No. He just didn’t like Ethan talking like that in front of Nate,” I countered.

  “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she snickered. “Is it true? About your friends?”

  I sighed. “Kate and Ashton are both bisexual, and Ashton’s…I don’t really know how to describe them. They’d say they don’t identify as either male or female, and they go by ‘they’ instead of ‘he.’ And the two of them were pretty much the only ones other than Heather and Brendan who were actually nice to me on the first day of school, so I honestly don’t care how they identify. They’re good people, and that’s all that matters to me.”

  Naomi smiled. “I wish more people were like that. Accepting.”

  The door opened, and Brendan walked back into the room, followed by Heather. Naomi’s face lit up for a second, and then she quickly turned away as her cheeks darkened.

  Oh, my gosh. I was completely blind. I’d known her for years. How had I never realized she was crushing on Brendan too?

  Then again, it seemed like every girl in the youth group had a crush on Brendan. But as far as I knew, he’d never dated anyone, and he would have had his pick of half a dozen different girls in our youth group if he’d been so inclined. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in anyone here.

  “You okay, Dar?” he asked as he sat down next to me.

  Why did I like hearing him call me that so much? I hated anyone else calling me “Dar,” but somehow when he said it, it was different. Almost like a term of endearment.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Not like Ethan being a jerk is anything new.”

  “I think that might be my fault,” he mumbled. “He’s in my Team Sports class and he started pulling the same crap with me on the first day of school. I tried to tell him to back off of you and your friends, but I could tell all I accomplished was pissing him off even more. I’m sorry.”

  My lips curved up in a smile. I couldn’t help it. Hearing that he’d stood up for me and my friends when he didn’t have to, and when we weren’t there to see it, gave me butterflies in my stomach. It was no wonder I had it so bad for him. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was a genuinely good person and he had a huge heart.

  Darn it. I had to screw my head back on straight. He saw me as a kid sister, not as girlfriend material.

  Well, actually, it wasn’t screwing my head on straight that was the issue. It was getting my heart to get the memo.

  “It’s not your fault. Your heart was in the right place,” I told him.

  “Yeah, but all it did was make things worse,” he countered.

  “I’m more worried for Ash. I don’t think Ethan would actually do anything to hurt me because I’m a girl. But Ash is…” I trailed off.

  “I know,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug. “I wish I could do more to make sure Ethan doesn’t mess with them, but I don’t know how.”

  “I don’t either,” I admitted, allowing myself to lean further into his embrace even though I knew nothing good would come of it.

  “Darla Esther Jones!” my father’s voice boomed, making me jump as my stomach dropped to the floor.

  Brendan’s arms tightened around me for just a second before I backed up. When I turned to look at my father, his glare pierced right through me like a thousand daggers. My chest tightened, and the feeling I’d had before of not being able to breathe returned tenfold.

  “Yes, Dad?” I choked out.

  “My office! Now!” he barked.

  “Is there something wrong, Pastor Jones?” Marie asked softly.

  “Nothing that concerns you,” he bit out. “This is between me and my daughter.” Then he looked back at me. “Darla, now!”

  It felt like I was frozen in place, but I somehow managed to convince my legs to support me as I stood up and rushed out of the room. I dashed through the lobby and opened the door that led to the offices for all the church officials. The closer I got to my dad’s office, the more my feet felt like lead. He’d have something to say about catching me hugging Brendan at the very least. But I knew – I just knew – that wasn’t the only thing he was upset with me for. Ethan had to have told him about Ashton and Kate.

  I opened the door of the office and shut it behind me before going to sit on the couch he kept there. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as I waited for him to join me.

  I didn’t know why it surprised me that it took almost five minutes for him to decide to join me. This was hardly a new thing. Every time he wanted to punish me, whether or not I’d actually done anything wrong, it was like the anticipation of wh
at was going to happen was part of my punishment. I could have sworn he actually enjoyed drawing it out, no matter how much he used the age-old “this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you” line.

  As my father’s huge frame cast a shadow in the doorway, I couldn’t help averting my eyes and cowering into the couch a little.

  “I told you I would find out what you did at that school,” he said, low but deadly. “I warned you that I always find out. And what did you do? You fell in with the Sodomites!”

  “They’re not Sodomites, Dad,” I murmured. “They’re the only ones who were actually nice to me.”

  “That boy Ethan tried to tell you who they were, and you chose not to heed my warning or his! Satan’s temptations come in all forms!” he exclaimed. “‘If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death!’”

  Really? That was the best he could do? Because as far as I could tell, that wasn’t even going to happen in this case – not that I would have cared if it did. But it was beyond obvious that Ashton was head over heels for Kate. And she’d get there eventually, too. Actually, I had a feeling she already was there, but she just thought they were teasing when they talked about waiting for her to realize she was madly in love with them.

  “Dad, they’re not gay,” I said quietly.

  It wasn’t a lie. It was just an omission of the whole truth about both of their sexual orientations.

  His Bible landed a blow on the side of my head, and I bit my lip to muffle my whimpers. If anyone heard me crying out in here and came looking, I knew I’d get it even worse when we got home.

  “And when I walked into that room, you were succumbing to the desires of the flesh with that boy!” he continued. “‘But each one is tempted when he is carried away and enticed by his own lust. Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it has run its course, brings forth death.’”

  Wow. Now getting a hug was “succumbing to the desires of the flesh”? Really? What was next? I wasn’t allowed to even look in a boy’s general direction?

  “Dad, Brendan was just giving me a hug because I was upset that Ethan was harassing me,” I protested.

  “Do not fucking talk back to me, young lady!” he growled. “You are not allowed to participate in the children’s service tonight. You will come into the main service so I can keep an eye on you, since I obviously can’t trust you not to fall into temptation, even in the presence of other people of faith. And we’ll continue this when we get home.”

  My eyes stung, and I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought of not being able to spend time with my friends tonight just because I’d dared to make friends with the only people who were nice to me in Charleston High School. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, so I just nodded.

  He whacked me with his Bible again. “You are to acknowledge my instruction verbally!”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

  My dad turned and walked out of his office, and I stayed for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose myself. I knew I couldn’t let on to anyone what had happened in here. He’d told me numerous times that what happened in this office and at home was a family matter and it was not to be discussed with anyone else. I’d had to lie and explain away so many bumps and bruises to teachers and friends that it was just habit now. I’d faced the consequences of talking one too many times, and I knew better now.

  Not even a minute after I took my seat, the pianist started playing. The choir director, Larry, stood up and motioned for the choir to stand as well, signaling the start of the service.

  As they started to sing one of my favorite hymns, “Shine, Jesus, Shine,” I couldn’t help thinking about how ironic it was. It had been a long time since I’d seen Jesus’s light and love shining in this place. Now, all I saw here was hypocrisy and judgment. The loving and gracious God I’d been taught about in Sunday school for as long as I could remember seemed to have abandoned this congregation a long time ago.

  “Darla. Bedroom. Now,” my dad barked at me as we walked back into the house. “Get ready for bed and wait for me to come discuss your punishment with you.”

  “Can’t we just talk about this now, Dad?” I asked. “I’m tired, and I still have school tomorrow.”

  I felt the sting of the slap on my face before I even registered that he’d raised his hand. I yelped and squeezed my eyes shut as I flinched away from him, and that only made him grab my hair and yank my head up.

  “Open your fucking eyes and look at me!” he growled.

  Despite my efforts to keep them back, tears leaked out of my eyes as I bit my lip to suppress my cries.

  “You rebellious, disrespectful child! You will fucking look at me when I speak to you!”

  I forced my eyelids open, and found myself looking into hard, angry, almost maniacal eyes that I almost didn’t even recognize as belonging to my father. He lowered his face until it was less than two inches from mine.

  “‘Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged on the land which the Lord your God gives you,’” he spat, spraying his spittle on my face. “Disrespectful and rebellious children are not blessed with longevity. You will only be allowed to attend school and church for the next two weeks. There will be no socializing, and you will not be allowed to participate in the children’s program on Wednesdays. You are not permitted to speak to anyone when you are not in my presence. If an elder speaks to you, you may give them a respectful, concise answer, but that’s all. And if I find out that you’ve disobeyed my directives or that you’ve still been associating with sinners and Sodomites, there will be much more severe consequences.”

  I couldn’t help it. A sob tore out of my throat as more tears streamed down my cheeks.

  All I’d done was befriend two people who were nice to me and accepted them without judgment. How did this punishment fit my crime? For that matter, how was what I’d done even a crime? How did he consider that an act of rebellion?

  Sometimes I wanted to do something like get drunk or go tag a building with graffiti, just to show him what rebellion really looked like. He accused me of being rebellious all the time, but I literally did everything he said without question. Except for not judging people who were different from me, and in that, I was obeying Jesus, not him.

  “You are not allowed to cry!” he growled. “You disobeyed the Lord’s commands, and now you must accept His discipline!”

  “Yes, sir,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes as I attempted to stop my tears.

  “Go! Get out of my fucking sight!” he roared.

  He raised his arm, and I automatically flinched away in anticipation of another blow, but when I looked again, I found him pointing in the direction of the hallway.

  “What? Do you think I’m going to hit you?” he scoffed.

  “You did a couple of minutes ago,” I whispered.

  That did earn me another slap, and I couldn’t help yelping at the sting that accompanied it.

  “‘But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak,’” he growled.

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled.

  I sprinted to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, then sank down to the floor and hugged my knees as I finally allowed my tears to break free.

  As usual, my father had taken the part of a Bible verse that served him while ignoring the rest of it. The entirety of that verse from James that he’d quoted was, “This you know, my beloved brethren. But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”

  Right. Slow to anger. Like that would ever happen in the house of the esteemed Pastor Abraham Jones.

  But I couldn’t tell anyone about his anger management issues, or how he always seemed to take it out on me and my mom. I’d tried to a few different times, but no one had ever believed me. But then, why would they when my dad always did damage control and told them that I was acting out because of my
mother’s illness and made up stories to get attention?

  God, I know You have a plan for everyone, I prayed. But I need Your help. Please work in my dad’s life and help him to control his temper. Please remind him of what Your Word says about how fathers should treat their children. I know You never give us more than we can handle, but I don’t know how much more I can take.

  Chapter 5

  Brendan

  Disappear

  As I watched Darla rush out of the children’s room, I felt my stomach dropping to the floor. I knew I hadn’t been imagining her flinching at the sound of her father’s voice, and I hadn’t been imagining the look of abject terror on her face either. I had no idea why in the world the head of this church thought it was acceptable to explode on his daughter like that in public, and especially in front of a bunch of kids.

  Speaking of the kids who had just witnessed the exchange between Pastor Jones and his daughter, my brother got up from where he was sitting in front of the TV and walked over to me. I tried to force a smile as I lifted him onto my knee and grabbed a coloring sheet and box of crayons for him.

  “Why was Darla’s dad yelling at her?” Nathan asked as he started to color the cartoon Jesus blue.

  Damn it. What was I supposed to say to him about this? All he’d seen was me giving Darla a hug and then her father coming in here and yelling at her. And the last thing I wanted him to think was that it wasn’t okay to hug someone if they were upset. He was such an empathetic kid, and I didn’t want to limit any part of that.

  “I don’t know, bud,” I sighed. “Sometimes people just get mad and they yell. Kind of like that kid we saw in McDonald’s today who was yelling and crying and we didn’t know why.”

  “But Pastor Jones is a grown-up.”

  I chuckled weakly. This kid was too smart for his own good.

  “Yeah, he is,” I agreed. “Everyone’s human and makes mistakes. Even grown-ups have a hard time controlling their temper sometimes. But that’s why Jesus came to Earth and died for us. So that even if we do make mistakes, we can be forgiven.”