“Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“I'm your loving daughter who, we can both agree, has done a lot for this family. I don't ask for many favors, but I'm asking for this one. I'm dating Jude McConnell from Rhode Island and he's great.”
“Heisgreat.”
“And yourself? How are you doing?”
They chatted in the usual way for several minutes, then ended the call. Gemma's nerve endings buzzed. Did she need to tell Jude about her mom's suspicions?
Yes. Which gave her a valid reason to restore communication between them.
She lifted her phone to call or text him—
Then stopped. Why call or text when Mom's suspicions provided her with an excuse to pay him a visit tomorrow?
She'd never been to his house. In fact, she'd have to do some digging to locate his address but was confident she could overcome that obstacle.
A sense of rightness was gathering inside.
Finally—an excuse to see Jude.
* * *
“It’s almost impossible for people to separate God from the hurt the church caused them.”That's what Gemma had said to him once.
It had been a long time since she'd spoken those words. But Jude remembered them exactly. They'd been slipping into his head in unprotected moments ever since.
Other things had been dredging this subject up, too. Twice this week when he'd hit the scan button on his radio, it had landed on Christian worship music. He'd driven by a billboard he'd never seen before advertising John 3:16. Yesterday he’d talked to his mom on the phone and she'd brought up the subject of church and encouraged him to find one in Bangor.
Mabel ran to where he was standing outside his house and dropped her tennis ball. Panting, she grinned up at him.
“How you doing, sweetheart? Well? Yeah?”
Her wagging tail assured him she was doing very well. He heaved her ball into the trees and she streaked after it.
He'd spent his Saturday wisely. After sleeping in, he'd taken Mabel to a bakery that served excellent chocolate chip croissants. He'd played a round of golf with Jeremiah. He was about to settle in for an hour of reading before meeting friends for dinner.
And yet.
And yet he hadn't been right since he'd said goodbye to Gemma. And thinking about his issues with God made things even less right. So though he was doing all the things that should add up to a great Saturday, he was miserable inside.
Mabel returned. He spent time giving her a good scratch, then sent her ball flying again.
Without his permission, his mind slid back in time, pushing a memory at him that he hated revisiting.
He'd been sixteen and the owner of a brand-new driver's license. In those days, he'd made it to parties rarely because he was needed at home. But that night, Mom had been doing well, so he'd gone to a party.
Things had been in full swing when he'd arrived at Charlie DuPont's house. Music pounding, girls in tiny skirts, drinks flowing, dancing, laughter. His friends had welcomed him enthusiastically. Instead of feeling grateful about that, he'd envied them. Their lives were so much simpler. They weren't responsible for their parent's welfare. Max, his best friend, no longer lived in Groomsport. The guys that were left were better friends with each other than he was with any of them. He didn't party as hard as they did. He'd turned down two spring break trips in a row with them. They had stories about things they’d done together when he hadn’t been there. They had inside jokes.
Resentful over the things he'd missed and angry at the pressure he constantly felt to keep his mom together, he'd down-shifted into a serve-me-all-the-alcohol-you-have type of mood. Soon, his worries had disappeared on a sea of drunkenness.
It had been unbelievably stupid. Rebellious. Self-destructive.
The remaining details of that night were hazy. There'd been a pool glowing pale blue in the night. A brunette he'd made out with. A choice not to return home. He'd ended up tossing his phone into a bush and passing out on Charlie's sofa.
Rays of sunlight had woken him the next morning.
