3
Sarah
“I’m sure you saw the news this morning,” Dad says when I enter his office at our church to say good morning and put my stuff down.
“No. Did something happen?” Worry creeps up my spine.
My dad might only be a pastor, but in this town, he might as well be the President of the United States.
The community looks up to him for both guidance and healing. Yes, we have a mayor and a city council, but everyone knows it’s really whathethinks that guides the city. The only reason we have the other positions is because of the separation of church and state. It’s no coincidence that he meets weekly with them all.
His jaw clenches, and I have a feeling this is about me rather than something involved with the city. His eyes roam over my outfit, which I’m sure he doesn’t approve of since it’s not a long skirt like most women wear here, and then to my shoulder, making mealmostreach up to make sure my tattoo is covered.
He’s ridiculed me for it, saying I have to get it removed but I refuse. It’s the only thing I have that’s left of the old me, and I’ll never get rid of it even if I have to spend my life covering it up.
“That awful music you listen to had a riot break out at a concert last night. Some band called Devil’s Breed,” he spits out once his eyes reach mine again.
My chest tightens for completely different reasons than before as my thoughts instantly go to Cailin. “Is everyone okay?”
“No, they aren’t. A few people even had to be taken to the hospital. When will these people realize what they’re doing is wrong? Their name states it clear as day—Devil’s Breed.” He shakes his head in disgust.
“But the band … are they okay?” I ask, placing my hand over my chest.
“Honestly, Sarah, why would you care about them? It’s people like that who are ruining this world and almost …” He thankfully doesn’t finish that thought. Instead, he tsks when he tosses me the paper as he heads out of his office.
The concert was Friday night in Texas. Pictures of torn speakers and broken railings with the headline “Rock Show Riot” shines across the front page.
It was obviously taken during the show. Adam is screaming into the microphone as people swarm the foot of the stage. Lights flash all around as fire falls from the drum set perched high. His hair is sweaty, and his shirt is ripped from a woman reaching up, trying to get a piece of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
The passion he feels for the music is as evident as ever.
I’ve seen so many pictures of him, but looking at this picture now, I try to find any part of Cailin I can. He’s aggressive and raw, as she’s frills and bows, yet from what Linda said, they have a close relationship.
It’s hard to imagine.
I scan the article. Glad to see the only injuries were minor, and the band was never in harm’s way. As I read, I learn the band actually helped to halt the riot instead of caused it, like my dad implied. They even visited the injured in the hospital before heading back on the road.
Of course, I don’t go after my dad to try to point that out to him. He will never see the other side, so there’s no point in trying.
I breathe a sigh of relief that Adam is okay and put my things down before taking my post at the front doors, so I can greet the people who enter my dad’s church.
I stop to say hello to my four-year-old niece, Emma, who’s playing in the pews before people arrive. “How’s my baby girl?” I hold out my arms wide as I crouch down.
“Auntie!” She comes running.
She always fills my world with that special happiness I thought I’d lost.
“Where’s your mommy?” I ask, smoothing the hair from her forehead.
“Over there.” She points to Emily, who’s slowly approaching us due to being six months pregnant.
I’m hoping my nephew fills the rest of the holes in my heart—at least until I can figure things out in my head.
“You okay there, sis?” I stand up, holding Emma in my arms.
“No, this boy is going to be the death of me. How I let Chris talk me in to having another child is still beyond me. I can already tell he’s going to be crazy like the Samson boy who’s constantly jumping during the service.”
I give her a side hug before rubbing my hand over her belly. “You’ll be fine. Only a few more mon—”
