First Date (29 page)

“Thank you.” Addy smiled.

The camera crew adjusted their positions, forcing Addy and Jonathon to wait a few minutes before teeing off.

“Do you have any advice for us, David?” Jonathon asked. “We’ve come in way over par on both holes so far.”

“This is the shortest hole on the course. But don’t let that fool you. It’s tough. See there?” He pointed to the first green. “You want to hit that just right because the second green is much narrower. Even the pros have trouble getting past it.”

David helped Addy and Jonathon choose the best club for their shots. Both managed to get their golf balls near the spot David had suggested.

“Par.” Jonathon pumped his fist and pulled his golf ball out of the hole. “Yes.”

“Hey, quiet on the course.” David laughed. “We still have a ball in play.”

Addy held her breath as she prepared to putt.
Please, God, let me get this in. I’m so close
.

“I did it,” Addy shouted. “I made par. That’s it. I can leave now. This is perfect.”

“No way,” David said. “This is just the beginning. You haven’t even made it to Amen Corner yet.”

Addy knew that spot was where the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth holes were visible.

“All right,” Addy said. “But this is taking longer than I expected. It might be midnight before we get that far.”

David left the pair at the fifth hole, and by the eighth hole, Addy realized that she and Jonathon had barely spoken since he left.

Addy looked up after choosing the club for her next shot. “I don’t think we’re giving the editing crew much to work with. We’re not saying a whole lot.”

“They’ve got us talking with Senator Ray and David Sillet. That’s plenty. Besides, it’s kind of nice.” Jonathon smiled. “We’re getting more comfortable around each other. Remember our last golf game?”

“I’d rather not.” She groaned, reliving the awful pictures in the newspapers and speculations about what they had been doing off the course.

“Remember how we said we were going to play without talking but we couldn’t?” he reminded her. “We weren’t comfortable enough with each other to stay quiet. Now we are.”

Addy hadn’t thought of it that way, but Jonathon was right. The silence this time hadn’t felt awkward at all. She had been able to focus on her golf game because she wasn’t concerned about needing to make small talk with Jonathon.

“It’s getting dark already.” Jonathon grimaced. “I don’t think we’ll make it to Amen Corner, after all.”

“I agree.” Addy sighed. “This has been amazing, but I’m wiped out.”

“Not too wiped out, I hope. We still have to eat dinner.”

Back in the locker room, Addy wrapped a towel around her and called Lexi.

“You’re not finished with your date yet?” Lexi asked.

“Nope, we still have dinner. A fancy dinner too. Look at this.”

Addy turned her phone toward the dress that had been laid out for her.

“Wow,” Lexi said. “Look at that thing. It’s beautiful. My mom would love it.”

It was a soft pink gown that looked like a prom dress—thick satin straps at the shoulders, the bodice layered in tulle with tiny pearls sewn on vertically to the waist. A satin ribbon, matching the shoulder straps, lay at the waist, tied into a perfect bow in the back. The rest of the gown floated out in a tulle-over-satin skirt. Full, but not too full.

“So where’s the fairy godmother, Cinderella? And can I get one?”

“No godmother.” Addy picked up a piece of paper. “But it does come with instructions: ‘This dress is on loan from Nordstrom’s. The jewelry is on loan from Burnham and Lacy. Please wear with care.’”

“You’re like one of those celebrities at the Oscars.”

“I know.” Addy nodded.

“What kind of shoes do you have? Glass slippers?”

“Close.” Addy picked up a pair of silver sandals with delicate rhinestones and—she breathed a sigh of relief—low heels.

“Don’t turn into a diva on me now,” Lexi said.

“Not a chance.” Addy stepped into the dress. “I’d rather be in the golf outfit than this thing any day.” She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and turned. “But it is kind of fun to dress up.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Miss Davidson? I’m your stylist. May I come in?”

Addy opened the door to a woman who looked like she walked off the page of a fashion magazine. Ending her phone call with Lexi, Addy sat and let the stylist put on her makeup and fix her hair.

“All done” were the only words the young woman spoke to Addy, but her work was impressive.

Ruby would be quite pleased with her hair and makeup. Not too much, but enough. Addy looked herself over in the mirror and stared.

I can hardly believe how much I have changed, God, both inside and out, in the last month. You’ve forced me out of my shell, you’ve taught me more about you, you’ve stretched me in ways I didn’t know I could be stretched. And you’re not done
.

She shut the door behind her stylist and sat on the couch.

She still had to find a way to tell Hank the real reason she invited him. Which also meant letting Jonathon know she was a Christian. Addy knew he and his family attended church, but what did he believe? They couldn’t have anything more than friendship if he wasn’t a Christian.

Addy sighed and took one last look at herself in the mirror.

But I do like him, God
, Addy admitted to herself.
A lot. If this isn’t your will, help me not lose my heart
.

A knock on the door shook Addy from her thoughts.

“Addy?” Jonathon asked from the other side of the polished oak door. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sorry.” She grabbed the silver clutch purse and threw in her lip gloss and powder. “I’m coming.”

Addy opened the door and felt a pang of disappointment. Jonathon was prettier than she was. In a tailored, double-breasted black suit and gray tie, Jonathon looked perfect. Addy was speechless.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” Jonathon grinned, offering Addy his arm.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Addy replied as they began walking to the restaurant.

Jonathon laughed and Addy noticed that the cameras had caught that interchange.

Great. They would be here for that
.

Hank waited for them at the table and the three ordered dinner. Hank grilled the pair on their golf game. He worked hard to maintain a look of interest, though Addy could tell he had no idea what they were discussing. But Hank nodded and smiled at just the right moments, overjoyed when the conversation turned to his own afternoon. He regaled the pair with stories about the people he met, emphasizing how kind and gracious they were to sit down “with a nobody like me.”

As the salads were laid on the table and the cameramen took a break, Hank turned to her.

“All right, Davidson. Enough of the game. Why am I here?”

“Actually”—Jonathon laid down his fork—“I was wondering the same thing.”

Addy’s throat tightened.
This is it, God. Help me. Please, please, help me
.

Chapter 51

B
oth pairs of eyes glued on her, Addy wanted nothing more than to slink out of the room and never return.

Why is telling people who I am so difficult? Why can I talk about my aspirations to go to an Ivy League school with no qualms, but freeze up when it’s time to discuss my faith?

Addy cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten Caesar salad.

“Well, Hank. I did some research on you,” Addy began quietly, eyes still glued to her salad bowl. “I saw that you really hate Christians.” Addy looked up at Hank, who shifted in his seat.

“I do,” Hank said. “So?”

“Could you tell me why?” Addy’s heart was hammering in her ears so loudly she could barely hear Hank’s reply.

“You invited me here to find out why I hate Christians?” Hank wiped his mouth with the red linen napkin.

Addy remained silent, so Hank continued. “All right. I grew up in a home with all rules and no freedom. And the rules all came from something they called the ‘Good Book.’” Hank grimaced. “That Good Book kept me from enjoying life. My parents dragged us to church three or four times a week to listen to a preacher who would yell and scream from the pulpit, then come down and yell and scream some more. He was awful. And whatever the preacher told our parents to do, they did. He’d yell and scream about the love of God and then treat us with ridicule and contempt. I never heard that man say one kind thing in my life, and his attitude carried right over to my parents. My childhood was dark and dull and incredibly stifling. I left and never came back.”

“And you blame Christianity for that?” Addy asked.

“Religion in general has caused more trouble in the world than anything else.” Hank leaned forward. “Did you know that? More wars, more genocides, more destruction has been caused in the name of ‘God’ than anything else. And for what? What good has it brought? None.

“Belief in God is destructive. It’s a superstition that belongs in the Dark Ages, not in the twenty-first century.”

Addy waited. Hank was shaking with anger, and Addy felt herself soften toward this man who had been so injured by people who claimed to know Christ.

“Hank.” Addy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I think Jesus would agree with a lot of your thoughts. Religion in itself
is
destructive, but the terrible things that have happened in God’s name were not done by God. They weren’t condoned by God. Preachers like the one in your church don’t reflect the character of Christ.”

“What do you know about that?” Hank asked.

“I know because I am a Christian,” Addy declared, feeling a calming peace wash over her as the words spilled out. “I have seen God work in my life. I have felt him. I saw it in my parents. They were missionaries and they went to Colombia to help indigenous people. They helped meet physical needs, but they also brought spiritual healing. They told the people about Jesus, that Jesus is God in the flesh, that he came to earth to pay the punishment for the sins we’ve all committed. They told them Jesus rose from the dead so we can know those sins are forgiven—once and for all. They taught them that Jesus offers the free gift of salvation to anyone who is willing to believe. And Jesus changed their lives.”

Addy took a deep breath and looked from Jonathon to Hank. “My parents were killed because they obeyed God’s Word. They didn’t yell at people or treat them harshly. They just loved them and lived like Christ before them.” Tears began to fall down Addy’s cheeks, but she had to continue. “And I’m so, so proud of who they were. I’m proud to be their daughter. Honored. I hope that my life is just like theirs, that I love others and show that love, that I give grace and hope to the people around me. Christianity isn’t about following a bunch of rules, Hank. It’s about life. Amazing, full, exciting life.”

Hank looked at Addy with a mix of confusion, anger, and helplessness on his face. The men were silent. Addy wiped her eyes with her napkin and took a drink of water to calm her nerves.

“You invited me here to tell me that?” Hank asked quietly. Addy wasn’t sure if she heard rage or resignation in his voice.

“Yes.” Addy gazed into his eyes so he could see she was telling the truth.

“I don’t know what to think, Addy,” Hank said. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that. And you’re not yelling at me or even telling me what I’m doing wrong. That’s different. Not the kind of thing I’ve seen from the Christians I know.”

Addy looked hopefully at Hank, remaining silent so he could finish.

“But one good apple doesn’t mean the whole bunch isn’t still rotten. I can’t forget all I’ve seen in the name of God just because one little girl turns out to be halfway decent.”

“I’m not the only one, Hank,” Addy assured him. “There are others like me. Better than me. Don’t assume people who do things in the name of Christ represent who he really is.” Addy bit her lip and continued, “Would you do me a favor?”

Hank nodded, skepticism lining his face.

“Try reading the Bible. The book of John. I know you like stories, and that’s a story—about Jesus, written by one of his friends.”

“I’ve read it,” Hank bit out.

“Read it again. Not because you’re forced to, but because you want to. See who Jesus said he was, then you can accept or reject what he taught.”

Hank was silent, but Jonathon spoke up.

“I’ll read it.” He smiled. “Even if Hank won’t, you’ve convinced me. I’ve always gone to church, but I haven’t ever thought much about what any of it means. I’ve definitely never thought about Jesus all that much.”

“You’ve sure got your parents’ genes, Addy,” Hank admitted. “Who’d have thought we’d have a little missionary in the Top Five?” He laughed. “Tell you what, no promises, but maybe. I might look into the Bible. If I can find a copy in LA,” he joked.

Addy marveled at what had just happened. She shared her faith, Hank hadn’t blown up at her, and Jonathon wanted to read the Bible. And the whole thing happened in a formal gown and heels.

Hank decided to stay behind in Augusta until the following day. He wasn’t needed at The Mansion right away, and he had made some connections he wanted to follow up on. So Addy and Jonathon were the only passengers in the small plane flying back to Tennessee. Bull and Jeff were also there, but she had gotten so used to them, they seemed to just blend into the background.