Grace Alive: a Christian Romance Read online

  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.

  Chapter 6

  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 lo
ve 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!

  Chapter 7

  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.

  “I’ll take a mocha with lots of whipped cream,” I said. He walked up to the counter, ordered our coffees, and came and sat back down.

  “So, tell me about your book,” he said. My book? Oh man. He was going to think I was a weirdo if I told him about my love story I’d been writing for like twenty years. Okay, not twenty, but close enough.

  “It’s a love story.”

  “Yeah? Awesome,” he said with genuine interest. Normally I tell a guy I’m a writer and that I’m writing a love story, and they glaze over like a krispy kreme donut. I began to tell my main plot points and could feel my excitement growing. Whenever I used to tell people about my books, I’d always feel so excited and happy. I hadn’t really talked about my writing with anyone in ages. It felt nice. When I was done rambling, he leaned back.

  “Wow, I’m impressed. I think you’re going to be the next J. K Rowling.”

  I laughed nervously. “Yeah right, I don’t think so.” Our coffees were done, so he went up and grabbed them from the counter. I sipped at my mocha and got lost in its yummy, yumminess. When I came out of my chocolate world, he was smiling at me.

  “Are you back on earth now?” He sipped at his black coffee with a teasing smile turning his lips.

  “Not quite yet, hold on.” I sipped it again and made loud yum noises. “Okay, I’m back.”

  He laughed, folding his arms across his chest.

  “So where do you work?” I asked him, trying to think of a good subject to talk about to somebody I barely knew.

  “I work in advertising for Bill and sons.” He took a drink of his coffee.

  “I’ve heard of that place. You design websites?”

  “Kind of. Mostly signs and little errands for the boss. It pays the bills.” It seemed like there was something else lingering behind what he was saying.

  “How long have you worked at Little Bit?” he asked me.

  “Little Bit?” I laughed.

  “I nicknamed it, because Little Bit of Everything makes me tired when I say it.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “The twins just call it everything, because they think they can touch everything in that place.”

  “I’ve worked there four years,” I said, remembering coming back from college and desperate for a job. Mom and Dad knew the owner quite well, and I was hired within a day.

  “You like it there?” he asked.

  “Eh, it’s okay.” I got lost in my mocha again for a moment. I really didn’t want to talk about my crummy job. But, what did I want to talk about really?

  “I don’t even think I know your last name,” Branson said.

  “Reed.”

  “Reed. Okay, now I can stalk you on Facebook. My last name is Tate. Branson Tate. In case you were wondering,” he offered. He looked around the room at the people who were lazily drinking their coffees and chatting.

  “I was dying to know,” I said with a grin. Technically I was curious. I wanted to find him on Facebook and snoop around his page.

  “Do you want to know my middle name too? I mean you can learn a lot about a guy by his middle name.”

  “Sure, why not,” I said and sipped my coffee again. The whipped cream smeared my lips.

  “Branson Quaker Tate.”

  “Quaker? As in Quaker oats?” I laughed even though I tried really hard not to.

  “My parents loved oatmeal.” He shrugged, a
good-natured look on his face.

  “I’m Zoe Grace Reed. Well, now that we are all officially introduced and stuff…” I let my voice trail off as I sipped my coffee again. What did we talk about? Silence stretched between us. This was getting a little awkward. My mind drifted to the mixer from the night before. I just wished Jacob would take a giant hint! I was surprised when Branson started talking again.

  “I know you’re dying to know about my kids, so I’ll just talk about the elephant in the room.” He looked slightly uncomfortable, but was holding his own.

  I hadn’t been wondering about that at all. I was just wondering what I’d do if anyone from our church saw me with Branson.

  “Oh! You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s totally fine.” I mean this was a first date!

  “I’m not married, never have been either.” He held up his ring finger. “You probably think I’m some sort of player, so I might as well talk about it.” He fidgeted slightly. He looked uncomfortable, but then he took a deep breath.

  “Okay, here goes. I was a player. Big time.” He took a drink of his coffee and looked out the window. Cars whizzed by in streams of color. I let myself follow his gaze.

  “Was?” I asked.

  “Was. Yeah, about a year and a half ago a girl from my work invited me to Grace Alive Church. I’d just found out my girlfriend was pregnant, and she was really upset with me. I’d hit an all time low in my life. I was thinking about ditching all my kids and moving to Florida.” His expression shifted, and I saw that he was happy that he hadn’t acted on that. I listened carefully. I’d heard of Grace Alive. My dad said the preacher over that church preached greasy grace stuff. His words not mine. My dad had even preached against that church before. I inwardly winced. I don’t think I’d mention that to Branson.