A Touch of Grace (15 page)

She tapped him playfully on the arm. “All women want details. Competition is fierce out there.”

Competition? Though he probably shouldn’t, he liked the sound of that.

“When I was in college, there was this girl. Tamma. She was perfect.”

This time Gretchen raised both eyebrows.

“Yep. A perfect pastor’s wife. We dated seriously for more than a year. I proposed.”

“And she turned you down?”

“Actually, she said yes until I decided to open Isaiah House.” He rotated the thick paper cup between his palms. “You see, Tamma and I had different ideas about ministry. She wanted us to pastor a huge congregation
in an affluent area with lots of social activities and all the other trimmings.”

“And you couldn’t do that.”

He spread his arms wide. “Can you see me in that kind of position?”

“No. I can’t. They’d throw you out for wearing tattered ball caps in the pulpit.”

“Or tennis shoes?” He wiggled his foot, accidentally brushing hers beneath the table. She didn’t bother to move away. “Isaiah House is my calling. I’m where I belong. And Tamma is where she belongs.”

“She found her a big-time pastor?”

“One of my college buddies stepped right in as soon as we broke up.”

Gretchen reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Sorry I opened that old wound.”

“You didn’t. I’m happy with my choice. No regrets.” But if she’d hold his hand again, he might tell her more sad stories.

In reality, he’d hurt for a long time after his breakup with Tamma, had even questioned his calling, but the last three years of making a difference had healed him.

“Okay, then.” She diddled with the one shrimp remaining on her plate. “Your turn.”

“You won’t like the question.”

Gretchen’s pulse picked up. A funny feeling jittered in her belly. She had a good idea where Ian was headed with his questions.

“Then don’t ask it.”

He tilted back in the folding chair and crossed his
arms over a T-shirt bearing the slogan
Life Is Short, Pray Hard
. “A deal is a deal.”

“May I ask what it pertains to first?”

His long pause made her even more nervous. Finally, in that gentle baritone, he said, “Your faith.”

Defenses shot up around her like a force field. Fireworks went off in her head. “I believe in God.”

“You believe in Him, but you don’t like Him much. Why, Gretchen? What made you so bitter?”

Gretchen’s shrimp soured in her stomach. She twisted her soda straw round and round while a booming loudspeaker and the scent of fried vendor foods invaded their space.

She liked Ian. A lot. She wanted to be open and honest with him. But how did she explain the nightmare she and Maddy had experienced to a man whose suburban life had been nearly perfect?

“I can’t talk about this here.” Something so personal and ugly required privacy.

Disappointment filtered through Ian’s expression, but to his credit he didn’t argue. “Later then?”

She pushed back from the table and scooped up her trash. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

He reached out and caught her arm, stopping her sudden burst of nervous energy. “Did I upset you?”

“No.” She relented. “Yes. But you’re right. We do need to talk about this.”

She wanted him to understand why she would always be suspicious. Why she would always second-guess every ministry, every spiritual decision. She had to for her own protection and her own sanity.

Releasing her arm, Ian helped bus the table before leading the way from the crowded dome into the parking lot.

The February night was cool and a slight breeze carried the scent of the Mississippi into downtown. The moon hovered like a benevolent face in the inky sky.

“Cold?” Ian asked.

She wanted to say yes in case he was tempted to put his arm around her. “My jacket is enough.”

“The van’s this way, I think.” As natural as could be, he took her hand and tugged her close to his side.

At her age, she’d thought herself past that soaring sense of delight at holding hands with a member of the opposite sex. She’d been wrong.

After wondering if the man would ever make a move, the warm strength of that hand wrapped around hers was about the most satisfying romance she’d ever experienced. She, the strong, confident career woman who’d taken care of herself since she was thirteen years old felt fragile, protected.

When they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door, then bracketed her waist with both hands and helped her inside.

Seated, she turned to look at him. “If you keep this up, I’ll tell you
all
my secrets.”

Face shadowed by the security lights, Ian looked mysterious and oh-so attractive. He touched her cheek, his gentle voice going deep and gravelly. “Then get ready to tell me everything.”

Gretchen’s heart fluttered.

When they were on the road winding through the
busy streets of the city Ian slipped a CD into the player. Across the bench seat he once again found her hand.

“Want to know my favorite thing about tonight? Besides being with you.”

Though the words thrilled her, she playfully rolled her eyes. “Sweet talker. You really are after my secrets.”

His teeth flashed white in the dash lights. “We didn’t have one discussion tonight about the mission or the TV station.”

She noticed how he carefully avoided mentioning the prospect of an audit.

“I don’t want to believe anything bad about you, Ian. I meant that.”

He glanced at her, electric eyes serious. “I’m glad.”

“I want a life outside my career.”

“So do I,” he said. “Though sometimes I have trouble separating the two.”

“I can see that. Your faith
is
your job, but it’s also who you are.”

“Then maybe you can understand why it’s so important for me to know where you stand spiritually.”

Yes, she understood, and in doing so she accepted the fact that something was happening between them. Regardless of her job or Ian’s naysayers, regardless of her fear of being controlled by another preacher, she needed to find out where this thing with Ian was headed.

While the stereo played a soaring Celine Dion classic, Gretchen pulled away to stare out at the passing cars. Ian was wise enough to stay silent and let her do this in her own way.

Finally, hands clasped tightly in her lap, she blew out
the breath she’d been holding. “I’m going to tell you something, Ian. But first you have to promise not to judge me for what happened. Okay?”

He glanced at her. Passing headlights flickered over his concerned face. “I’d never do that.”

She hoped not. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“Anything that you’ve done or haven’t done won’t change the way I feel about you.”

The precise, careful phrasing gave her pause. She studied him for several thrilled and frightened heartbeats. She was no fool. All the signs had been pointing in this direction for a while now. Ian cared for her. And the revelation gave her the confidence to tell him what she’d never been able to fully share with anyone but Maddy.

“All right, then. Hold on to your ball cap.”

Jokingly, he clapped one hand on top of his head, but his eyes were serious as they flickered from the road to her and back again. “Ready when you are.”

“I’ve lived a strange life, Ian. Very strange.” She hesitated, heart pounding louder than the music at the Superdome. The shame and embarrassment of her past pressed against her rib cage. Everything in her screamed not to say another word. What would a steady, sensible man like Ian think?

“You can tell me anything, Gretchen. Anything.”

That was all she needed to hear.

On a rush of courage, she blurted, “Maddy and I grew up in a religious commune.”

Chapter Eleven

“A
commune?” Ian struggled to keep his reply composed and his eyes on the road. If he overreacted to her strange declaration, she might stop talking altogether. And he had a feeling he was about to understand Gretchen in an entirely new way. “Must have been an interesting way to grow up.”

“What a diplomatic way of saying we were weird.” When he started to protest she waved him off. “No, don’t apologize. We
were
weird. But you have to understand something. Maddy and I were kids. What did we know? Mother and Dad were happy, we were happy. Most of the time.”

He knew about communes. Unfortunately, he didn’t know anything good. “What went wrong?”

“We were taught to believe that our leader, Brother Gordon, was the right hand of God, maybe even God himself.” She gave a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t.”

She fell silent, reluctance written all over her. What
ever had happened in that commune had left a deep wound.

“When I look back at my life now,” she said, “the deception seems so clear. But at the time, all I knew was the Family of Love. The Family was everything, Brother Gordon was our prophet, and anyone who did not believe that was doomed for all eternity. His word was law.”

“Pretty scary stuff to a kid.”

“Tell me about it. Once I cried for a Barbie doll and was brought before the congregation as an example of worldliness and disobedience. My punishment was isolation. Days and days of isolation while I wrote and rewrote the mantra of obedience. Believe me, after that, I meekly accepted whatever I was given.”

“What was wrong with a kid having a Barbie doll?”

“Oh, the doll wasn’t the problem. Other girls had them, but Brother Gordon had preordained the purchases. They were his idea. As the benevolent prophet, he alone decided what we could and could not have. And one thing we were never allowed to have was a will of our own.”

Ian’s mouth quirked. “I can’t see that working too well with you.”

“It didn’t, obviously, though the Family tried to help ‘free’ me from my rebellious ways.”

“Gretchen, this is sounding a lot like a cult.”

“We
were
a cult, Ian. A cult. How could my parents have been so terribly deceived?”

By now, they’d reached Gretchen’s apartment. Ian pulled the van into the narrow strip of concrete parking and killed the motor.

“It happens,” he said, turning to face her across the long seat. “A lot more than any of us would like to believe. A group starts out with good intentions but somewhere along the way, the leader goes astray, the scripture is twisted, and the fight for control begins.”

A security light from the street cast a white glow into the van’s interior adding pallor to Gretchen’s already pale skin.

“Control. That’s exactly the word. Brother Gordon was a master at psychological manipulation. If anyone disagreed with his teachings that person was a gossip causing dissension and divisiveness among the Family.” Her lip curled in distaste. “‘Because of the Family’s great love’ we would bring the sinner to the proper understanding and restore him to the faith. As long as he saw things as the group commanded.”

She sucked in a long, shuddering breath that told Ian exactly how difficult this was for her. But now that the floodgates had opened, she seemed bent on purging the ugliness hidden inside for so long. He admired her courage.

“I hated my life, Ian, and didn’t understand why. I assumed, as I was taught, that I had a wicked soul, that there was something wrong with me. Do you know how confusing that is for a child?”

Ian felt helpless to say anything worthwhile. She’d lived through something he could never understand. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Especially for Maddy. She was never able to heal from the psychological damage.”

“And you were?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I never will. My parents are educated people, Ian, and yet they involved us in a cult. They were so blinded by their devotion to God that they…”

She stopped, her voice filled with unshed tears. Ian could hardly bear to let her go on. No wonder Gretchen struggled with trust. She was as confused about God now as she had been as a child.

He touched her shoulder. “Were your parents blinded by devotion to God? Or to their leader?”

Even though his tone was gentle, the question infuriated her. She jerked away. “It’s the same thing, Ian. Don’t you get it? It’s the same thing.”

He wanted to argue the point. But he couldn’t. He hadn’t lived the nightmare.

Instead, he reached out and pulled both her hands into his. This time she didn’t pull away. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed his comfort.

“Those places are notorious for holding on to their followers. How did you get out? When did you know you had to leave?”

She made a harsh, derisive sound in the back of her throat.

“Maddy and I reached what Brother Gordon called the age of accountability. We’d always done everything he said to do up to that point. After all,” she said sarcastically, “he was the enlightened leader who guided his flock with a strong, but loving hand. Everyone wanted to please Brother Gordon.”

Her lips twisted. “Along with other young girls, we took the oath of loyalty and obedience in an elaborate cer
emony. I’ll never forget. Maddy and I had long, flowing, white dresses and carried white candles. We were convinced life would get better now that we were leaving childhood behind. We felt so important when Brother Gordon declared us special emissaries of God. Until we found out exactly what that meant.”

Ian’s jaws tightened. He heard horror stories from the runaways all the time, but nothing angered him as much as the wolves in sheep’s clothing that took advantage and used the Lord’s name to do it.

“What happened?” he prodded gently.

She didn’t look at him again. Instead, she turned his palm over in hers and traced the lines with one finger.

“Faith without works is dead and there will be judgment without mercy if we fail. That’s scriptural, Ian. Everything we were taught came from the scripture. So we were taken out into public places. Malls, airports, colleges to recruit new members. At first, we only talked and handed out tracts. But then Brother Gordon began to pressure us to do more. To reach our higher purpose as he called it, by bringing more lost sheep into the fold, along with their worldly goods, of course.” She fidgeted. Her voice grew bitter. “That’s when Maddy and I realized that the teenage boys never became special emissaries. Only the girls. And we were expected to bring in the young men.”