“I don’t know. Christians come in all shapes and sizes. Some Christians would never talk about their faith in public at all. But given whose Hannah’s father is, I’m sure Hannah has grown up with the idea that you’re supposed to evangelize other people. And if you’re not careful, you might do the same thing to her.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Elizabeth glanced at the time on their oven. “Oh, that’s probably Justin. He said he wanted to visit.”
She stood and walked toward the door. Curt contemplated his mother’s words in silence. What if these moments with Hannah weren’t as honest as he’d first imagined? What if they had been manufactured to demonstrate the love of God to a poor, lost sinner?
When his mother reentered the kitchen, Justin followed her. He took one look at Curt and demanded an explanation for the bruises on his face. So for the second time that night, Curt narrated the events at the church.
“These people can’t get away with this stuff,” Justin exclaimed, pacing around the room like a big cat. ”I’m going to pay a visit to Jake Ankiel.”
“No, you can’t do that,” Curt protested.
Though a reasonably large and fit individual himself, Justin would struggle to go toe to toe with the hulking Jake. Even if Justin somehow got the upper hand, such a confrontation would only cause further problems for Curt and his family.
“I’m so tired of them,” Justin repeated, his fists clenched at his side.
The young man’s frustration didn’t only stem from Jake’s assault on Curt or Samuel’s mocking of Curt’s father’s death. This frustration originated in Justin’s conflict with his family. Curt always tried to remember that about Justin—he wasn’t simply a hothead who couldn’t control his temper: he’d been wounded.
Next, Curt’s mom took her turn at talking Justin off the ledge of retaliation. By the time she finished, Justin seemed to be calmer. He actually joined them at the table. They chatted for almost an hour, talking about life in the present moment and reminiscing about Curt’s father. Mostly, the stories were fond. But these memories couldn’t sweep away the sorrow that had infected each one of them. Justin left an hour after he had arrived.
When Curt settled into bed, he no longer feared a reprisal from Justin against his attackers. Instead, his mind settled on Hannah, hovering over that brief second when the two sharing a kiss seemed like a real possibility. But maybe he’d read her wrong. Perhaps to her, he was just a person to proselytize. Still, Curt couldn’t stop thinking about her.
16
Guard Your Heart
Across town, Hannah stepped into her own confrontation with a parent.
“Where were you?” Caleb Wilson asked, sitting in the darkened living room when Hannah walked through the door.
She froze in her tracks. It was only a little later than she normally would have gotten back from Youth Group. Perhaps Samuel had already relayed what happened at the meeting to their father. Always unable to pull off a lie to the reverend, Hannah went with the truth.
“I walked a friend home after youth group,” she said. That didn’t count as a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth, either. Hannah had little hope her father would stop there.
“Which friend?”
Hannah swallowed hard. “Curt McDonald.”
A mixture of shock and anger manifested in Caleb Wilson’s expression. “Curt McDonald is your friend? Since when?”
“We’ve been talking after his father died. I’ve been trying to reach out to him.”
In her mind, that should have alleviated her father’s annoyance at the situation. Christians were charged with sharing their faith with others. Caleb Wilson’s expression didn’t change though he said nothing.
“I invited him to youth group,” Hannah started, remembering Curt’s ill-treatment at the hands of Jake. “And Jake punched him. Twice. With Samuel watching.”
Subconsciously, this might have been a ploy to divert her dad’s attention from the fact she walked across town alone with a boy. However, she also wanted Jake and Samuel to pay for the injustices they committed against Curt.
Caleb Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Jake punched him?”
“Twice. In the face.”
“I can’t imagine a godly man like Jake would punch someone in the face unless he had a good reason.”
“What good reason could he have?” Hannah asked, surprising herself with the level of anger in her voice. “Aren’t we supposed to turn the other cheek and pray for those who persecute us? Not that Curt was persecuting anyone.”
Even if Curt insulted Jake’s intelligence, that didn’t count as persecution, particularly when Jake had made inflammatory statements about Curt’s father that sparked the confrontation.
Her father didn’t respond, though he seemed to be mulling over Hannah’s words—which were actually a paraphrase of something Jesus said. It was hard to refute Jesus.
“I invited him to youth group so he could hear about Jesus. What’s he going to think about Jesus after this? Do you think what Jake did is right?”
Her father shook his head. “No. It’s not right. I’ll talk to Jake.”
“And Samuel was standing right there, too. He never lifted a finger to stop Jake.”
Hannah felt a bit guilty for implicating her brother. But his lack of intervention had bothered her greatly.
“I’ll talk to him, too.”
“Thank you.” Hannah stepped in the direction of her room, hoping the conversation would end there. It didn’t.
“Hannah, wait.” Caleb Wilson rose from his seat and moved toward Hannah. “You need to be careful about spending too much time with this boy.”
Hannah blushed. “Nothing’s happening between us, Dad.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “That might be your intention. But our hearts can deceive us. You’re a compassionate young woman, Hannah. Your desire to comfort Curt might distort your own feelings.” He sighed. “I wish your mother was here to have this conversation. She would have said this better than me. If we spend too much time alone with someone, it creates intimacy. I just want you to guard your heart.”
Hannah swallowed and nodded. “I will, Dad.”
Like him, she wished her mother was there to have this conversation, too. Would Hannah’s mom had said anything different than her father? Maybe not. But she missed that voice and her mom’s touch. She imagined her mother might have sat next to Hannah, her arm around the young woman’s shoulder.
“And this boy isn’t a believer,” Caleb Wilson continued, drawing Hannah back to the present moment. “You can’t expect him to respect you like a god-fearing man would.”
“He’s not like that, Dad,” she protested, realizing after the fact it might have been unwise to defend Curt before her father. But she couldn’t help it. Not after Curt had taken her hand in his and asked permission to take the next step, retreating when she didn’t verbally grant that permission. And afterward, despite his disappointment, he’d been polite instead of sulking.
“Perhaps not yet. But boys tend to have one thing on their mind and can be very charming and nice before they get it.” His tone was ominous.
The reverend never said if ‘god-fearing’ young men like Jake and Samuel suffered from the same masculine affliction or if it only applied to ‘heathens’ like Curt. Hannah nodded her head. She didn’t want an argument and wanted to discuss sex with her father even less.
Now apparently satisfied his daughter would toe the line and not risk her precious heart further, Caleb Wilson issued her a soft “Goodnight” before retreating to his first-floor study. No doubt, he’d be praying for her—particularly for her chastity. Hannah wondered if the reverend would also pray for Curt, besides for him to stay away from his daughter.
Hannah walked upstairs. Once she ascended to the top, Samuel’s door opened and he stepped into the hallway. She stopped as Samuel stared at her.
“You shouldn’t have let Jake punch Curt,” she said, an edge to her
voice.
“What are you doing with him to begin with, Hannah?” The tone of his voice and the narrowness of his eyes insinuated accusation.
“I invited him to youth group so he could hear the gospel.”
Samuel closed the distance between them, invading her personal space. “And what were you doing with him a few nights ago, just before dawn?”
“I...wasn’t-” she sputtered, trying to spit the lie out.
“I saw you. I saw him walk you to the door. In the middle of the night. Did you sleep with him, Hannah?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, casting a nervous glance down the stairs, fearing that their father would appear and overhear their conversation.
“Then what were you doing with him?”
She held her hands up, partly to stop him from getting any closer. “I went to watch the meteorite shower with him. He normally watches it with his father, but, well, you know.”
“Did he invite you?”
“No. He didn’t. I went on my own. Curt never even suggested that I come.”
He narrowed his eyes even further at her as if this action would somehow allow him to behold the truth. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t want him to be alone.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you, Hannah. And I don’t like the way you look at him.”
“Nothing’s going on,” she said. “I’m just trying to be nice. I thought he needed a friend.”
“He’s got that dyke friend of his. Let her keep him company.”
“Please don’t tell, Dad,” she begged.
A small smile creased his lips. “I won’t. As long as you don’t see him anymore.”
“But that’s not fair,” Hannah blurted out.
Again, the reaction surprised her. Was this anger because Samuel was bossing her around or because she wanted to see Curt again?
“Hannah, you’re just a conquest to him. He wants your virginity. Once he gets it, he’ll toss you to the side. I’m only doing this for your benefit. I’m looking out for you. Like a big brother should. So if I see you two together once more, I’m going to tell Dad about what happened a few nights ago.”
With that, Samuel disappeared into his bedroom. Hannah remained in the hallway for a moment, seething in anger. By the time she reached her own room, hot tears simmered down her cheeks. Once again, she didn’t understand the source of her tears. But the memory of Curt’s gentle touch settled her unrest and deepened her resolve. She would see him again, no matter what her father or brother said.
17
Browser History
It hadn’t been enough.
Broadcasting the explicit material from Wilson’s internet search history—though it probably caused a great deal of hand-wringing and general moral panic within the histrionic Christian women of Beaumont Baptist—hadn’t been damaging enough. If anything, it fed into the normal Christian persecution narrative. This kind of diet opposition proved orgasmic to most Evangelical Christians, reinforcing the idea that the world hated them because they were special. Besides, Justin hadn’t been able to look Wilson in the face when the lust he nursed in the shadows was thrust into the light.
Now, after the assault on Curt at Beaumont Bible Church, Justin needed a bolder stroke. One that would leave marks and shatter the congregation’s perception of their own righteousness.
Justin stared at the reverend’s search history. What was the best way to weaponize this information? His analytical abilities were hampered by the anger coursing through his veins, which heightened his sense of urgency to do something now.
He picked up the phone and dialed Wilson’s number. This rash decision would spark numerous, undetermined consequences. He didn’t care. Justin only thought through his actions enough to block caller ID from letting Wilson know who was calling.
“Hello?” said the deep and authoritative voice on the other end. It was after ten. As a pastor, Wilson had to answer the phone, in case one of his precious sheep had gone ill or gotten into a car accident.
“Reverend Wilson,” Justin said slowly, leaving the words hanging in the air.
“Who is this?”
“Did you enjoy the show on Sunday?”
“What are you talking about?”
Justin cued up the video he played on Sunday, jacking up the volume so Wilson could clearly hear the heavy breathing and orgasmic moans, punctuated by an “Oh God!”
“Almost sounds like they’re worshiping, doesn’t it?” Justin asked with a chuckle.
“You’re the one who piped in that filth to our service,” Wilson said in a low growl.
“Filth? Was that what you thought it was on May 5 at 10:39 pm? Because that looks like the first time you saw it.”
“What are you talking about?” Wilson still hadn’t lost his bluster.
“Really, you didn’t recognize it? Maybe because you’ve watched so many of these kinds of videos in the last month. I know, they can kind of blur together. If you’ve seen one naked blonde, you’ve seen them all.”
“I did no such thing!”
“Not according to your browser history. In fact, you’ve watched a lot more of these videos.” Justin chuckled as he read off the salacious titles Wilson had consumed. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed by your selection. I was hoping for something...gayer. Guess that’s not your kink. Of course, I could make some additions to your history. People would probably believe that. This day and age, people are prepared to believe almost any scandalous thing a pastor does.”
“You’re lying. I never watched these sinful videos,” Wilson insisted.
“Well, we can let the public decide that. Maybe not everyone will believe it. I imagine many in your congregation will think this is some kind of attack from the evil one. No, their holy and pure reverend would never watch such things online. But a lot will believe it. Or at least be suspicious.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” the reverend demanded.
The thought had occurred: threatening to reveal his browser history unless Wilson withdrew his support of the Ten Commandments monument. Holding that kind of explosive knowledge of Wilson that he could drop anytime the fancy struck did offer a certain appeal to Justin.
“No, blackmail is illegal. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Tonight, this browser history, complete with links, will be emailed to everyone in your congregation. Plus, the town council, local newspapers, local facebook groups, other churches in town. And anyone else I can think of,” Justin said cheerfully.
“I never looked at any of that filth!” Wilson’s voice quivered with rage.
“I appreciate the consistency, but your browser history doesn’t lie. I mean, you do know you can erase that, right? It only takes a few clicks.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s simple. So every time you get up in front of your church, people will wonder if the night before you were jacking off in your office. So every time you get up there and blather on about the evil in the world, people will know the real dirt on you.”
“Are you trying to ruin me?”
“Not really. If I ruined you, they’d just find some other self-righteous blowhard to replace you. It’s more fun to watch you struggle through this. My advice: admit to your congregation that you have a problem. You’re a sinner and you need the grace of God. That should play well to your crowd, right? I mean, I’m sure they won’t judge you or wash their hands of you when they find out you’re not perfect.”
Justin exhaled. “Okay. I think that’s enough for now. Oh and good luck standing in front of the town meeting next week. That could be a little awkward.”
Justin abruptly hung up. Once again, he wished he could have seen the mix of terror and fury in Wilson’s eyes. Not just to see the ultimate defeat and impotence, but also so that Wilson knew who had toppled him. Oh well. That night, it was enough for Justin to know the misery he had set in motion. Wanting anything else would have made him greedy.
&nbs
p; 18
Waiting for Marriage
Hannah skipped down the stairs in a flurry of motion. She’d been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that there would be no breakfast for anyone else in the house, beyond what they could scrounge for themselves. Grabbing a red apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, Hannah bounded into the living room.
She had to see Curt. To explain what happened the night before when he’d asked for permission to kiss her. An urgency animated her actions. She didn’t want to consummate what he’d initiated, but rather ensure he understood her motivations.
Hannah stopped short when she saw her father, sitting glumly in one of the chairs in the dim living room. He appeared dejected. Listless. Like he hadn’t slept and had remained in that same position for the entire night. The scene reminded Hannah of the month after her mom died, when Caleb Wilson watched the house go dark around him as he sat alone in the living room.
“Is everything okay, Dad?”
The question broke the spell—a little. He forced a smile. “Yes, sweetie, I’m fine.”
She stared at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Have a great day at school.”
His voice rose in enthusiasm but only minimally. Hannah held her position. A twinge of guilt struck her. It almost seemed like her father knew she was going to see Curt and was preemptively disappointed that his daughter seemed poised in his eyes to abandon the path of the straight and narrow. She glanced once more at him before exiting through the front door.
Outside, the sweet and warm air of late May greeted her. She stopped to admire the rose bushes her mother had planted the spring before she grew ill. The first blossoms had opened. Hannah cupped one in her hand and inhaled the flower’s sweet aroma. Then she hustled to school.
Once there, Hannah chickened out. At least in the morning before homeroom. Too many people jostled about the hallway. Jane chattered away on her right. She loved her friend but wondered if she’d become an informant against her. Hannah doubted Jane would intentionally rat her out to Samuel, but her brother wouldn’t hesitate to thrust Jane into the middle of the situation. And if she asked Jane not to say anything about her talking to Curt, then her friend would definitely suspect something was up.
Across the Western Sky Page 9
