Noah followed her gaze. “I could have sat by myself, you know.”
“It’s okay.” Elisa shook her head. “I know it’s not easy for you to be here in the first place.”
His gaze softened. “It’s not all bad.”
She swallowed, looking away. Refusing to give in to the push-pull between them that never seemed to end. “Good.”
The music minister motioned for everyone to stand as the first phrase of the chorus began. Elisa closed her eyes, letting the joyful voices of the congregation swell around her, calm her heart. She wasn’t just here for a treasure hunt—she was here for worship.
As the closing strains of the chorus receded, the congregation resumed their seats. Elisa tried to make sure she landed far enough away from Noah to not risk brushing his arm, but also not be obvious she was creating distance.
She had to play it cool around him. He didn’t need to know how she felt—that their courthouse kiss was a mistake, yes, but also the best thing that had happened in over a decade. Or that every time she saw Noah, she wanted to merge the past with the future and create a new timeline. One where they didn’t screw it up.
But he was leaving. And she wouldn’t be left standing alone again, watching him walk away and choose a different life without her in it.
No, best to, as usual,be a good girl.
On the stage, Pastor Dubois greeted the congregation with a hearty welcome and read a few announcements from the bulletin before opening his Bible.
“I prayed about what to say this morning for our Scripture reading time, and I’ll be honest, I had something pretty eloquent prepared.” He adjusted his tie with a sheepish grin. “But I felt the Holy Spirit nudging my pride away and giving me a new direction. Figure I better go with that.”
The congregation chuckled.
“Turn with me to Romans 8, please.”
Pages shuffled. Elisa opened her own worn Bible, noting Noah struggling to find the designated book next to her. She gestured toward the back, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
Pastor Dubois cleared his throat away from the mic, then began to read. “Romans 8:35 and following. ‘For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”
For I am sure…Elisa ran her finger over the words on the page, smooth under her finger. The congregation fell silent, save for Noah’s shifting on the pew next to her. Across the room, someone coughed.
The pastor looked up from his Bible, a peaceful smile on his face. “Can we let that soak in? God loves us.” He paused. “We might not all have ideal father figures, in fact, I’m sure we don’t. I know I fail my own adult children daily.”
Noah shifted again, the pew squeaking under his weight. She shot him a sideways glance.
Pastor Dubois tapped his open Bible on the podium. “But God loves with aperfectlove—one we can’t lose because it’s not dependent on us to earn it or keep it. And one that never quits.”
A muffledamensounded from the back of the room.
“Don’t get me wrong, God hates our sin—but he dealt with that through Jesus.” Pastor Dubois gestured toward the cross mounted in the baptistry behind him. “And if you’re a believer, then your debt is paid, and you’re accepted. Right now. Just like you are, flaws and all. The real you…not the image you present on Sunday.”
Elisa’s heart beat faster. Those were almost Delia’s exact words from Chug a Mug.You know the right man will love you for who you are…not the image you present…
Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong so far—trying to please men and earn love. Her father. Noah. Trey.
Yet God beckoned with a love that came with zero conditions. Did that mean she wasn’t too much? That God didn’t find her dramatic and exhausting when she shared her feelings?
Somewhere along the way…after her mom’s death…she’d stopped praying regularly. She’d assumed she’d become gun-shy, afraid to ask for anything else after her pleas for her mom’s health hadn’t been answered.
But maybe she’d stopped praying because she was afraid God wouldn’t want to see her disappointment.
“I hope you’re warmed by the embrace of God’s love for you today.” Pastor Dubois’s voice quieted.
Elisa traced the bold number 8 on the page with her fingers, her heart racing. Maybe she could risk being real again. With God, anyway.
Just to start.
* * *
