Grace Alive: a Christian Romance

Grace Alive

Copyright © 2013 Natasha House

Smashwords edition

All rights reserved. This
book contains material protected under International and Federal
Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of
this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system without express written
permission from the author/publisher

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Café House Publishing

For: my best friend Mandy.

This one’s for you, girl!

It was always nine o’clock. Why was it always
nine o’clock? I swear nine o’clock hated me. One more hour of
retail torture. Can you tell I loved this job? I stared at the
crafty supplies that lined shelf after shelf. They mocked me, those
little googly eyes that said,
your life is pointless, Zoe,
absolutely pointless.
A ding-dong rang through the small craft
store, and I looked up. Who the crap buys glue sticks and glitter
at nine o’clock? A little girl ran in. Great. It’s not that I don’t
like kids. Kids are great. It’s them knocking over everything in
the store that annoys me to no end. Next, another little girl ran
in with blonde hair. They were identical.

“CC, and, Evie, don’t touch!” a man said as
he held a baby girl in his arms, her wild red ringlets bouncing as
he jogged to catch up to the rugrats that just ran amuck in my
store.

“Hey! Where did you girls go?”

I watched the man chase the two little girls
down the toy aisle. We have a very small toy selection. It mostly
consists of toy parts, but kids always run that way. I smiled
despite myself. It was pretty funny to watch. It reminded me of a
bunch of runaway monkeys at the zoo. The guy was…half cute too.
Hey, I’m female I notice these things. The little girl in his arms
squealed with joy as he caught up to the twin girls, who looked
about three-years-old. The little girl in his arms was roughly
around nine months if I was guessing. He grabbed a cart, picked up
the twins, and put them inside. The little girls started hugging
each other. That was adorable. At least I think they were hugging
or choking each other, I couldn’t tell. There were a lot of giggles
going on.

“We just need milk, guys. Milk.” I heard the
amusement in the man’s voice. I followed their little entourage
with my eyes as they zipped down the wrong aisle. Milk was the
other way. I slipped out from behind the counter. I walked quickly
toward them and went around the corner. I kept my eyes on the guy
and wasn’t watching where I was going when
bam!
I slammed
into a display of cans. We also carry canned food. I know, it’s a
weird craft store. It’s called Little Bit of Everything. The name
fits too. We even carry toilet plungers in aisle three. The man and
his kids turned around at the ruckus I just caused. I blushed two
shades of red as he whipped the cart around toward me.

“Are you alright?” His twins started
scrambling out of the cart, trying to pick up the cans that were
rolling under the counter and down the aisle like mini
racecars.

“Milk! Milk!” the twins chanted. Oh man. I
had made a huge mess for myself. I slapped my hands over my face
and let out a breath. Okay, Zoe, you can do this.

“I’m fine, thanks. I was…just going to tell
you the milk is the other way.” I should have just let him wander
around the store. So much for being helpful.

He laughed. “Thanks.” He stuck the baby in
the cart and strapped her in. “CC, Evie, let’s help okay?” he said
to the little girls that were chasing the cans all around the
place. It was the cutest thing in the world. I giggled. It was
really funny. We started restacking the goofy cans of only
God-knows-what. I think they were cans of spinach. Where was Popeye
when I needed him? The little people helped gather the runaways and
giggled the whole time. Their dad made a game out of it, which I
thought was amusing. Soon my whole display of cans was back in one
piece.

“Thanks,” I said still feeling flushed. His
warm brown eyes were staring at my face. He was wearing a black,
light weighted, zip-up hoodie, and dark jeans.

“You’re welcome…um…?” His kids started
playing with the bags of toys hanging up behind us. These girls
were sure active!

“Zoe.”

“Branson. Do you…ugh…Evie, CC, don’t put that
in your mouth!” He flashed me a nice straight smile, his sandy
brown hair was slightly spiked in the front. I did a quick glance
at his left hand and ring finger. No ring. Whoa. Was this guy just
a major player or what? Or did he just not wear his wedding ring,
like some of the other married men I’ve known. I let out an inward
sigh. I’m 26 and counting. More than once, my parents have reminded
me of this fact. I’ve seen almost all of my friends marry off and
multiply like rabbits.

“Milk?” he asked and tickled his little
girl’s neck. She giggled and waved her hands around.

“It’s over here, I’ll show you.” I blushed as
I led the way to the other side of the store. I still felt like an
idiot about the stacked cans. Branson reached into the cooler,
grabbed a gallon of milk, and placed it into the cart. He then
raced to the front of the store, making his kids scream with glee
as they followed behind him. I rang him up and smiled at the little
munchkins. They were so adorable. The twins made my heart melt.
They were wearing matching purple dresses that looked like some
sort of Disney princess, and I could see the leftovers of little
kid makeup on their cheeks. They had round,
Dora the
explorer
faces, that you just wanted to kiss. Ah! So cute! The
baby was petite, with red curls, big green eyes, and she was
wearing a little pink jump suit with bugs on it.

“Milk, milk! Daddy, we got milk!” the twins
said together, running in little circles. They reminded me of two
little puppies chasing their tails. Cute as heck.

“It was nice to meet you, Zoe. Say goodbye to
Zoe, girls!” He tickled the little baby’s chin again. She giggled
and clapped her hands, her two little teeth showing when she
smiled. The twins bounced up and down. “Bye, Zoe! Bye!”

“Bye, guys!” I said smiling, their joy was
infectious.

***

I walked into my parents’ house after 10
still thinking about Branson and his little motley crew. I hung my
purse up on a hook by the door and kicked off my shoes. I let out a
long sigh. It was good to be out of work. The house smelled like
cinnamon and apples. Mom must have been baking some muffins for
breakfast tomorrow. Our house has a very homey feel, thanks to my
mom. It was two-stories, with tan carpet, wooden floors in the
kitchen, four bedrooms, and a closet under the stairs. When I was a
kid, my brother and I would pretend the closet was a cave.

“Hey, sweetheart, how was work?” my mom asked
from the kitchen. Sure enough, she had her apron on and a little
smidge of flour on the front. My mother is the neatest cook I’ve
ever seen in my life.

“Work.” I sauntered over to our brown leather
couch with a wooly afghan thrown over the top of it. I flipped the
TV on and absentmindedly went through the channels. I should be
writing my book. Ugh. I never felt like I had the energy to finish
that thing. When I was a teenager, I’d been told I had a talent for
writing, and it had become my whole world for awhile. Then I got a
job. Jobs suck. Now all I wanted to do was pass out when I got
home.

“Anything exciting happen?” My mother Carol
walked into the living room wiping her hands on her apron. My mom
is a pastor’s wife. She’s got manicured fingernails, a blonde bob,
respectable clothing, and the perfect manners.

“No, not really.” For some reason I didn’t
want to tell her about Branson. I wouldn’t be able to talk about
him without blushing, and then she’d think I was some kind of
sinner for liking a man who was probably married. I already felt
weird enough about it. Can’t a girl just admire someone’s good
looks without getting nailed on the head with a hammer? My dad
walked in behind my mom and gave me a nod. He was wearing a button
down black shirt, with a gray tie, and black dress pants. I hardly
ever saw my dad in like say,
Sponge Bob
pajama pants. He’s
just not that way. My dad is grim. So, so, grim. I think it’s
because he listens to people whine all day. I couldn’t do his job;
I’d want to kill someone.

I was surprised they were both up this late.
Most the time when I got home they were asleep. Something must have
been keeping them up tonight. Once and awhile my dad had meetings
with members of our church that ran long. I just wanted to be alone
really. My mind was still spinning about Branson and who he was.
Did anyone I know, know him? Our city wasn’t that big. I felt like
my parents wanted to talk
,
so I ignored Netflix for a
minute.

“How was your day today, guys?” I asked them.
My mom looked distracted and moved around the room like she wanted
to go back to the kitchen to clean it for the third time. I felt
her anxiety. Weird.

“I counseled with Mia today, it seems her and
Tomas have been getting along better than they used to.”

Mia is my best friend. She’s crazy and
awesome. She and Tomas have been dealing with some marriage stuff
lately that has concerned me. My dad has been really helping her
through it, or so she tells me.

“Oh, that’s great, Dad, I’m sure she really
appreciates your time.” I gave him what I hoped was a decent
looking smile. It could have come out more like a smirk though
because my facial muscles felt tired.

“Did you have your quiet time today, Zoe?” my
dad asked with a serious tone that would make a baby cry. Man. Had
I? I didn’t even remember. I had been running late before I’d left
for work, because my alarm hadn’t gone off, and I’d taken a nap.
Yes, I lived with my parents. I know its super lame. But, living on
my own in my city is impossible. If I said, ‘No I forgot’ I would
get an hour lecture about prayer, if I said, ‘Yes’ would I go to
Hell for lying? I had no freaking clue. I had read a scripture on a
billboard, did that count? I was exhausted and not really in the
mood for an hour lecture.

“Yeah.”

He gave a satisfied nod and turned from the
room. My dad is like a bulldog. If you get him latched onto
something he won’t let go until he rips it apart. Which is good
when he’s facing the devil and all that. My dad’s church has over
500 people in it, which is huge in Northern Michigan. People call
him the ‘no nonsense’ preacher. He doesn’t put up with bull in
other words. Problem is when you’re his kid, you get a lot of bull
knocked out of your head. I know my parents are disappointed in
me.

I mean, I’m 26, unmarried, living in their
house, and working at a lame craft store. I did try to go to
college ages ago. They called that my
wild years
or
whatever, because I chose to go to a college that wasn’t Christian
based. It didn’t really work out though. I mean look where I am
now. I sighed as I watched my dad walk away, and my mom soon
followed after him. They were good people; just sometimes I wanted
a break from all these rules.

I finally found a show that was half-way
decent and let my mind relax. I watched a guy and a girl flirting
with each other. Branson’s face flashed through my head. Shoot.
There I go thinking about him again. Why in the world did he keep
popping into my head like a jack-in-the-box?

After an hour of some cheesy TV, I made my
way toward my bathroom to get ready for bed. I ran a brush through
my mid-length reddish-blondish hair, brushed my teeth, and went to
the bathroom. Ugh. I felt like a zombie. I went into my room,
slipped into my pajamas, and fell into bed. Literally I fell. I
clutched my pillow to my head and felt my exhaustion overwhelm
me.

“Zoe! Get out of bed, or we are going to
leave without you!” my mom said at my door. I forgot today was
Sunday. Oh man. It’s not that I don’t like church, it’s just that
it’s early, and I’m tired.

“I’m up, Mom!” I said, so that she wouldn’t
barge in and shake me. My mom is a morning person to the extreme.
She wakes up at like four in the morning. I’m not even kidding.
When I was a kid, she’d wake me and my older brother up and get us
ready for school like three hours early. After awhile, she realized
that, that was a terrible idea and let us sleep a little
longer.

I thought about Jonathan. I missed him. He’d
moved to Texas the first chance he’d got. He was married when he
was 25 to this girl, who was really sweet. He’s the
perfect
son in my parents’ eyes, probably because his wife popped out three
kids already. They only see them through Facebook, but my mom still
gushes on and on about her little angels. Jonathan has only come
back twice since being married. If that tells you anything about
anything.