2. Christa

I preparedthe music for tomorrow night, sighing as I thought of the kids coming to practice. Looking around my small music room in the basement of the church, an overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over me. For years, I’d been working toward the goal of having this position in the church. But now that I had it, I felt trapped.

Shuffling the music in order, I stood and walked around the room, grabbing the choir folders I would need. I took a deep breath and began stuffing the music in each student’s folder, stacking them in order of seating. With that done, I focused on Sunday’s music. Rehearsal was Wednesday night, taking up yet another evening. I shouldn’t be so resentful. The job had flexible hours, but unfortunately, half my nights were taken with rehearsals and ministry work.

That was the life of a pastor’s daughter.

I loved the church—I really did—but I always felt like every decision I made was based on the church instead of myself. But God was guiding me. That had always been my belief, and I would continue to follow the path he laid out for me.

A sharp rap at the door drew me out of my musings, and when I glanced up, I smiled at my father.

“Hard at work, I see,” he said, walking in with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Just getting everything ready for rehearsal tomorrow.”

He chuckled knowingly. “Hopefully, Jacob doesn’t show up.”

Jacob was hell on wheels, and everyone in the church knew it. If there was something to be broken, he broke it. If there was a rule he didn’t like, he didn’t follow it. But that all came from the terrible home life he had. Now, he was with foster parents who were struggling to rein him in.

“I’m not sure how that would help Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs. I think they need the break when he comes here. I heard that his mother is trying to get visitation.”

My father nodded slightly. “Yes, I heard the same. I can’t imagine that would be a good option for him, but God works in mysterious ways.”

He did, but no child should be forced to go back to a mother like that. “But don’t you think we should do everything possible to prevent Jacob from going back to his mother?”

“What if she’s redeemed herself? Is it really our place to decide if she should get a second chance? God forgives, and so should we.”

“But this woman abused her son,” I said incredulously. “Hasn’t she given up her right to him? God may forgive, but why would he ever place a child back in the care of someone so horrible?”

“God isn’t placing him there.”

“You know what I mean,” I huffed.

“I do, but remember, it is not your place to judge.”

As much as I loved my father, I could never see this situation the same way he did. I didn’t believe God wanted us to allow this woman a second chance. I believed he put people like us on earth to help those who couldn’t help themselves, like this child. He was defenseless and needed someone to intervene on his behalf.

“Well, I should let you get back to work,” my father smiled. He turned to leave, then stopped and hesitated as he spoke. I knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips. “I hope we’ll be seeing Paul again soon.”

Heat flushed over my cheeks as I remembered what Paul had done. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my parents why Paul was no longer my fiancé. We’d been together for five years, and as it turned out, that was five years too many for Paul. Not that he ever hinted that he was unhappy.

Maybe unhappy was the wrong word.

Miserable. He was living a lie, one that he hid from everyone, from his parents to the rest of the town. And I bore the brunt of the fallout. Everyone looked at me with judgment when they found out I ended our engagement. How could I do that to the poor man? I broke his heart and half the town’s because of my choices.

Paul’s parents were especially put off, seeing as they were my parents’ close friends. They had it in their heads that this would seal the union of our families. Little did they know what was really going on. As much as I didn’t want to be the talk of the town, I couldn’t betray Paul’s confidence. It would hurt his family and him.

“Dad,” I finally said with a heavy sigh. “Paul and I aren’t going to work out.”

“Surely you can work out your differences,” my father said, turning and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Trust in God and?—”

“Dad,” I interrupted. “I know you wanted this to happen, but it’s over.”

“If only I understood why. Your mother and I thought you were so happy.”

“So did I,” I answered quietly.

“Then tell us what happened. Maybe if you went to counseling or?—”

“No,” I laughed humorlessly. “Counseling won’t help.”

“You don’t have to see me. That would be unwise, but I can recommend someone who could help.”

I was so tired of this argument, and it had only been a few months. How was I supposed to convince them that things would never work with Paul? The only way was to tell them, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. Yes, my parents would keep it to themselves, but everything would change after that. The town would know that something else had happened with just one look at my father’s face. He wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions.

“Please,” he pleaded, stepping forward. “Just a few times. It would ease my mind to know that you tried everything you could to repair whatever is broken.”

I couldn’t keep fighting him. My father always wore me down, no matter how much I tried to prevent it. “I’ll talk to Paul.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, walking forward and gripping both arms. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, happier than I had seen him in months. Once he was out of the room, the smile slipped from my face and I packed up my things. This was not a conversation to have in a church. Marching out to my car, I waited until the door was shut and I was sure I was alone. Then I pulled up his number and took a deep breath before dialing.

The line rang too many times before he finally answered. “Christa?”

“Paul. I’m going to make this short and sweet. My father wants us to see a counselor. I’m going to find one and we’re going to go to three meetings. After that, I never want to hear from you again.”

“Why would I go to counseling with you?” he retorted.

Hell, he was such a jerk. “Because unless you want me to tell my father why I broke things off with you, we need to appease him.”

The line went silent as he considered this. “Fine, but three and no more.”

“Trust me, there’s not a chance I would go to more than that with you. And I will be the one to come up with the reasons why this won’t work despite counseling. Are we clear?”

“So you can smear my name?” he said in disgust.

“If I was going to do that, I would have already told them the truth. Then they’d know the snake you really are.”

“Look, I know you want to pin this on me, but you were the one who had these grand ideas in your head of the life we’d have together. I never once asked you to marry me.”

I scoffed in disbelief. “Is that what you tell yourself? What did you call the ring you put on my finger?”

“That was nothing but pressure after you went and told your father we were getting married.”

“Because you said you wanted to marry me!” Yes, I may have jumped the gun, but I stupidly assumed that when a man said he wanted to marry you, it meant it was an actual proposal. Now that I knew better, I would never make that assumption again.

“Christa, you’re so naive. I only said I wanted to marry you because you wouldn’t stop asking about the future. I thought if I told you I wanted to marry you, you’d back off a little. Maybe give me some time.”

Sharp daggers still pierced my chest every time I thought of how stupidly I’d behaved. How had I not seen this side of him sooner? How had five years passed with my head stuck in the clouds, thinking we were happy?

“Well, you can be sure I’ll never think that again. I’m well aware this is over, and I have no plans to pick up where we left off. I just want my father off my back. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both move on with our lives.”

“Just don’t make me out to be the bad guy,” he grumbled. It’s bad enough I’ve had to put up with years of your father acting like I was the Second Coming of Christ.”

Leave it to Paul to act like anyone actually revered him that much. “I’m sure I can think of something to tell him,” I said snidely. Well, in my head it came out snidely. To him, I probably sounded weepy and pathetic. “I’ll be in touch.”

I hung up, staring out the windshield at the empty parking lot. I would move past this and find a better life. But even as I told myself that, I wondered if I could ever trust my judgment again. I had been so fooled by Paul. I cried for the loss of our relationship, but mostly, I felt sad and pathetic for allowing myself to be fooled by him for so long.

I would be over him soon enough, but regaining my dignity would take longer.