Grace Alive: a Christian Romance (5 page)

“Thanks for the reminder, Mia,” I dryly said,
sitting down at one of the round tables, that had tiny mints in
these little paper shoes. Who took the time to make paper shoes?
They were really cute.

“Check it out.” I held one up to my best
friend. Pretty soon the meeting was starting. My mom stood up and
prayed over the food, we all ate, and then a lady with a graying
bun and a librarian-like face stood up.

“I have felt the Lord press on my heart to
talk about marriage. I know most of us are married in the
room.”

Except me. Yeah. I was the only single girl I
think in the room. Way to make me feel great. I frowned slightly as
the lady kept going. Her name was Mrs. Hudson. Her favorite subject
was marriage and how God had created us to be slaves for men. She
didn’t really say that, but that’s all I tended to hear come from
her lips. She seemed to just brag on and on about how perfect of a
wife she was, and how we all should live up to her. I tuned her out
most the time and just watched Mia’s face. Mia was turning red with
rage.

Tomas and she had a lot of problems. For one,
Mia hated cooking and cleaning. It caused a lot of tension, because
Tomas would tell her that he watched the kids, made dinner,
cleaned, and worked a full-time job. Mia worked too, but they
didn’t really share the load. Even though Mia just complains about
Tomas all the time, I feel bad for that guy. He seems like he
really tries to please her.

After the ladies conference, I took Mia home
and then drove home myself. I was not looking forward to this
singles’ mixer at all. I guess I could wear a gunny sack and no
makeup. That might keep Jacob at least somewhat at bay.

I walked into the church around seven
o’clock. I was not early at all for this event, and I didn’t care
one lick about that. I headed into the kids’ area with this feeling
of dread. I could hear ‘80s Christian music blaring. Oh gosh. Shoot
me now. I stepped inside the room. There was a spinning colored
light thing, a fog machine in another corner, and a lava lamp on a
table. I saw a small group of young adults and gave my best attempt
at a smile.

There was Jacob. Yippee Skipee. There were
the two girls who never moved. I think this was going to turn out
like the last mixer Pastor Mike organized that I’d been to. Pastor
Mike saw me and ran across the room with open arms. He wrapped me
up in this bone-crushing hug that took the air from my lungs.

“Zoe Grace! Welcome to our shindig! We are
going to have one Godly awesome par—tay!” He lifted his hands up
and brought them down in a fist pump. There were a few singles
who’d gotten tricked into being here. They looked like they wanted
to run for the hills. I headed toward them. One girl had mid-length
red hair, that looked like it had been dyed one too many times, and
really heavy eyeliner. She had this look on her face like,
I’ve
been duped
, and she looked like she wanted to punch somebody
for tricking her. A couple skinny guys were standing next to her
and whispering. I think they were trying to figure out who would go
and ask her out. Or that’s what I gathered. Pastor Mike was trying
to get a few of the young adults to play Chutes and Ladders. I
decided that the girl who looked annoyed was better company than
playing that game, so I inched toward her. She saw me and looked
kind of relieved that another girl, besides the ones who acted
mummified, was there.

“Hi, I’m Zoe,” I introduced myself with my
hand extended. She weakly shook it and gave me an attempt at a
smile.

“I’m Dana. I thought this was a young adults’
mixer? Where are all the young adults?” She eyed Pastor Mike like
he was a rotten piece of meat.

“Well…” I drew out, not really knowing how to
put this to her.

“We do have young adults; just none of them
come to this. Where do you work, Dana?” I asked her as I ushered
her toward a corner away from the weird boys, who kept staring at
both of us.

“I work at PetSmart. I shampoo all the dogs
and stuff. I’m going to kill my brother. He told me these mixers
had tons of single guys.” Her eyes darted around the room. She
fidgeted with her cell phone in her lap.

“Yeah, I got guilted into coming to this. I
usually skip it.”

“That guy isn’t half bad, and he keeps
looking over here at us. I might go talk to him.” She stood to her
feet and brushed off the front of her navy blue shirt. “Does my
makeup look okay? It tends to smear,” she asked me with wide
eyes.

“It looks great. Go get him.” She could have
Jacob all she wanted. Dana started heading toward him, and Jacob
started walking toward her. She turned around and grinned at me,
until he totally ignored her and came straight toward me. Shoot. I
tried to act like I’d had one too many pops and headed toward the
ladies restroom, but Jacob grabbed my arm on the way.

“Hey, Zoe, do you want to talk for a
bit?”

“About?” I asked and looked at Dana. She
looked heartbroken and kind of mad at me. I gave her a helpless
look.

“I think that girl over there wanted to talk
to you, Jacob.”

“Oh, Dana? Yeah I know her. She’s Isaac’s
sister. She’s weird.” He dismissed the girl as easy as a crumb on
his shoulder. Ouch.

“You shouldn’t judge people from their
outside, Jacob. You should talk to her,” I encouraged him. I
really, really wanted him to just let me be. I needed to find a
nice corner and just wait this mixer out. I never said how long I’d
stay anyways. I was going to get out of there at eight sharp.

“I’d rather talk to you, Zoe. I really like
you.”

Oh man. Now I felt awkward. I fidgeted where
I stood. I needed to make a break for the girls’ bathroom. Or just
leave. That was an even better option.

“I really gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll talk
to you later.” I walked as fast as I could out the door, toward the
girls restroom, thought better of it, and just headed out the door.
I was not going to deal with this anymore. I don’t care what Jacob
told my dad. I got in my car and just drove for awhile until
roughly eight. I came back home and headed inside our house. When I
stepped through the door, my dad was sitting on the couch with his
Bible opened up beside him. Oh man. Had Jacob called him?

“Zoe? Can I talk to you?” my dad asked as I
walked in the door, hung up my purse, and took off my shoes. I
picked them up and held them in my hand.

“Sure, Dad, let me just put these in my
room.” I did not want to face this conversation right now. I knew
what he was going to ask. He was going to ask me about Jacob again,
and if I had prayed and asked God about it all. I had begged God to
change His mind. I carefully put my shoes back in my closet and
changed out of my outfit and back into jeans and a t-shirt. I
walked into the living room, and there sat my dad.

I’m going to puke. Straight up, lose my
cookies. My dad was staring at me like he was God himself, looking
into the depths of my soul. You know that scripture that says
search my heart oh God?
Well, my dad was sure searching my
heart, and he just seemed to know stuff. Like he’s got some super
connection to God, and He tells him everything about my life. But
what was that voice? Hadn’t I heard God speak before? It sure
sounded like the same voice to me. But why would God tell me to
give Branson my number? Maybe to get him saved? Though, it kind of
sounded like he was already a believer by what he’d said
before.

“Zoe, are you alright? You look pale,
sweetheart,” my mom said as she came into the living room.

My dad wanted me to marry Jacob. I really did
feel like puking at the thought of that. Jacob was so churchy. I
know, I know I’m a PK. I’m supposed to love church and the things
of God with a fierce passion. Well, you try to face nonstop
critique from people. Don’t be hating on pastor’s kids they have it
rough!

“Have you thought about what I said, Zoe? I
really feel in my spirit that you need to heed my voice.” My dad
folded his hands together, giving me a most serious look.

Don’t puke, Zoe. I told myself over and over.
The thought of Jacob touching me made me want to upchuck.

“I really feel like I need to pray about that
some more, Dad. I mean I want to make sure it’s God.” Was that the
answer he wanted? He frowned at me and folded his hands into a
teepee.

“I see.” He sighed like he was disappointed
in the fact that I didn’t trust his hearing of God’s voice. This
was my life! He wasn’t the one marrying slimy Jacob! Something in
my mind snapped.

“I’ll see you later,” I said rather curtly
and headed toward my room.

I lay on my bed daydreaming. Maybe I had made
up the voice that had told me to give Branson my number. I got up,
wandered over to my desk, and sat down. I turned on my computer and
opened up Microsoft Word. I stared at my story for several
heartbeats. When you’re a kid you dream of doing anything in the
world. As I’ve gotten older, a lot of my childhood dreams have
died. Like getting married at 19, having kids by 21, and having a
dog. A big, fluffy, drooling dog, and finishing this stupid
book.

I rubbed my temples. Think, brain, think.
When I was a kid, I used to write hundreds of little stories all
about fairies, mermaids, princesses, and stuff. This was the book I
actually wanted to publish one day, but I couldn’t seem to find the
ending to the story. It’s a love story, but the girl in the book is
just stuck. Like me. I sighed and looked over at my phone. Did I
really want him to call? Yes. Yes, I did.

He has three kids, idiot!
I told
myself and sighed again. I looked at the clock and saw that it read
8:27.

Suddenly my phone buzzed on my desk, scaring
the crap out of me. I looked at who was calling. Unrecognizable
number. Oh no. Oh man! With trembling hands, I hit the answer
button.

“Hello?”’

“Hi! Is this Zoe?”

“That’s me,” I said with a little dorkish
grin.

“This is Branson, I was wondering if you’d
like to have coffee with me tomorrow around ten?”

What was tomorrow? Saturday? What was I doing
tomorrow? I raked my brain for a minute. I didn’t work til’ two, so
that could work.

“Yeah, I’d love to. Where at?” I asked as I
fidgeted with a pen.

“Espress’ Yourself Café? You know the little
one by Meijer?” He sounded excited. I grinned.

“Yeah, I know the one. I’ll meet you there.”
I picked up a pen and jotted down the information on a piece of
scrap paper.

“Okay, well have a great night!”

“You too! Talk to you later,” I said.

“Bye.”

We hung up, and I stared at my phone. What
had I just done? I should just shut down these feelings now, but I
hadn’t felt this excited about anything in years. I had a date. My
dad was going to kill me.

I started thinking about what to wear for my
coffee date, the rest of the night blurring by. Should I tell Mia
about Branson? I got on Facebook and opened up the messages. I was
about to write her a quick note when I stopped myself. This could
be nothing. Did I want to tell her about Branson when it was
certainly going to be judged? All the good Christians married
virgins. Not some random dude with three kids. I exited out of
Facebook. I think this was going to be me and God’s little secret
for now. I felt guilty about it, but that didn’t stop me from
grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning. I had a date!

I was so nervous! I’d spent two hours just
picking out my outfit this morning. Finally I had decided on a lacy
off-white shirt, a soft pink pearl necklace, black skinny jeans,
and high black boots. I’d curled my hair with a clamp less iron so
that it looked beachy or whatever, and I’d applied a little more
makeup than I normally do. I didn’t want to look like a bum. I was
clutching a tiny silver purse that held my wallet, keys, and cell
phone like it was my lifeline. I’d gotten there an hour early. I’m
a freak like that. I hated being late for anything. Even coffee. I
found a nice cozy spot in the corner, where I felt like it was
private but not overly private. What was I going to say to him? Hi
I’m Zoe, and my life sucks. No, I probably shouldn’t go with that
one.

Maybe, Hi, I’m Zoe, and I’m a pastor’s
daughter. Crap. That would probably make him run for the hills.
People are kind of afraid of pastors sometimes, and admitting that
I was the daughter of the
no nonsense preacher
of Northern
Michigan made people’s eyes fill with terror. I think they were
afraid that my dad was going to turn them over to Satan. Like those
guys in the Bible. Ugh! I’m so morbid!

I pulled out a notepad and started writing
down some random thoughts for my book. I’d had a few ideas this
morning as I showered and got dressed. I hadn’t had a chance to
actually write down my thoughts. I tapped my lips with my pen. I
needed to pull this ending together. How was she going to get her
happy ending? Pretty soon an hour flew by, and I heard the door
open. Branson casually walked in. He spotted me, gave me a smile,
and a wave. I waved back as he came over to me.

“Hi, Zoe,” he said as he pulled out the chair
across from me and sat down. I shut my notebook and set down my
pen. I had gotten so lost in my thoughts that I’d forgotten to put
that away before he came.

“What are you writing?” he asked. His sandy
brown hair was messily spiky but in a good way, he was sporting a
nice, black, long sleeved shirt with a small logo of a panther, and
dark washed jeans. He looked good. I realized he’d asked me a
question and blushed. Geesh.

“Oh, just thoughts for my book,” I said
before thinking twice.

“You’re a writer?” he asked, with an
interested tilt of his head.

“I…try…” I fumbled. Why did I leave that dumb
notebook open?

“I bet you’re great,” he said with a warm
smile. “What kind of coffee do you want?” He looked over at the
board and scanned the menu. I followed his gaze and happened to
look at his arm flexing. This was bad. I needed to not be looking
at this guy. He’s bad news. My dad would absolutely kill me. But I
felt such a strong pull toward him.