Losing Faith (7 page)

Something about the sound instantly transported Cullen back to the Church of Saint Mary of the Harbor in P-town and the children’s Sunday morning Bible study. He felt his lips begin to curl at the edges until a full-on smile consumed his face. He remembered the sounds he’d heard every Sunday morning before service as parents dropped off their two- to five-year-olds. “Bible study” for them was more like arts and crafts time, but the themes always surrounded stories from the Bible, and the kids really loved it. Most Sundays, right after service, Cullen would say good-bye to his congregation, and he and Cole would run down to the basement classroom and spend a little time with the youngsters.

Without fail, when they reached the halfway point in the stairwell, he and Cole would hear the children’s laughter coming from the classroom. The laughter today, much like back then, warmed his heart. He and Cole had always wanted children.

No!
Determined not to ruin this moment, Cullen mumbled. “I’ll leave that disappointment for another time.”

Cullen looked at his watch and decided he had time to take a little detour. He followed the laughter and the aroma of grilling hot dogs and hamburgers until he reached a quaint little square. On the corner was a sign that read Franklin Square Park. In the center of the space stood a small gazebo, and he noticed a young couple setting up for what looked like a puppet show. There were at least two dozen little children running around and jumping up and down in anticipation.

Lingering at the edge of the park, Cullen stopped and took in the scene. It could have been Anytown, USA. The massive moss-covered oak trees spread over the grounds like a natural green leafy canopy. Underneath, picnic blankets spread out everywhere, and moms entertained toddlers and infants while dads played ball with the older children. It looked like a scene right off a Hallmark greeting card. Suddenly trumpets sounded, and all the kids stopped what they were doing and ran to the gazebo. They instantly settled down in front of the small puppet stage and waited patiently.

Apparently
not
their first time at a puppet show!

Music started to play, the curtain went up, and two marionettes dressed like a young prince and princess started singing and dancing, bowing and leaping. Cullen smiled as the kids squealed with delight. Everyone was having such a great time. A seemingly perfect Saturday morning in a perfect little town, with perfect little families, all leading their perfect little lives.

A stab of the familiar pain hit Cullen hard. His mood quickly turned solemn, and he was once again reminded of how much he’d lost. He had no husband, no children, not even his faith. Losing faith and leaving his church had been as hard as losing Cole. The church had been his life until God added Cole to it.

And then took him away
, Cullen reminded himself. God and his church had turned their backs on him, and now he had nothing.

Am I crazy? What kind of person begrudges people who are living and enjoying their lives?
His smile disappeared.
Crazy, bitter people! Just! Like! You!

In danger of being suffocated by the loneliness and emptiness, he turned and started walking away. As the aromas, music, and laughter faded into the background, Cullen’s first thought was to go back to the marina, ready his boat, and simply shove off. Charleston was looking better and better, and he could escape all of this if he just left. That was his plan for a few blocks. At least until his rational brain reminded him that he would be doing exactly what he’d done for the last year and a half: running away! And hadn’t he told himself over and over he was tired of running? Wasn’t that the reason for this trip, to try and bury his demons and attempt to get on with his life?

And what about Abel? Cullen had initiated this, whatever it was, and he’d promised he would stay in Southport a little while longer, so he couldn’t turn his back on Abel. Not now. That would be no different from God turning his back on Cullen. Abel needed something to hold on to. And Cullen realized he did as well. Cullen’s faith was already gone, but maybe he could help Abel hang on to his.

BY THE
time Cullen reached his boat, his mood had improved, but only slightly. He was still alone and bitter, and his endless mood swings were getting the best of him.

Although he was really trying to get his life back on track, the oddest things set him off, and he was beginning to think he would never feel well or whole again. He had turned into a sullen Jekyll and Hyde, and he loathed himself for it.

Luckily, he’d once again talked himself off of the proverbial cliff. As he sat in the saloon feeling sorry for himself, he made an attempt to focus his attention on what he
had
instead of everything he didn’t have.
You have a nice home in P-town. You have a thriving business. You have
T-Time
. And Cole left you set for life. You have so much more than most!

It dawned on Cullen that maybe he did want to do better for himself. And if he were being honest, he thought that Abel might have something to do with that. Abel needed him. And above all right now, Cullen needed to be needed.

Abel!
Suddenly remembering he’d invited Abel to dinner, Cullen rummaged through the galley. He was running low on supplies, so he made a grocery list, showered, and took the marina’s courtesy car to the local Food Lion to buy supplies. Since he’d agreed to stay a few more days, he bought enough groceries to last until then, and he would deal with the next leg of his trip when the time came.

When Cullen returned, he put his groceries away, straightened the saloon, and cleaned the heads. When all his chores were done, he was exhausted. He glanced at the clock: 4:15.

Cullen lay across his bed, intending to only close his eyes for a few minutes, but his body had other plans.

Cullen was again sinking into the dark abyss. His lungs were already filled to capacity with cold, salty seawater, and after the initial shock and the flailing that ensued, his body settled down and accepted its fate. It was just a matter of time now before his brain followed the rest of his body and started to shut down.

He blinked twice against the dark, murky water, and a shred of hope momentarily filled his heart. Cole! He could vaguely see Cole, an arm’s length away, sinking along with him. Cole had a soothing and peaceful smile on his face, and despite the iciness of the water, it warmed Cullen to his core.

Cullen used his last bit of energy and reached out for Cole. To be holding on to each other when they sank to their final resting place together was Cullen’s last hope. But as he had been for the last year and a half, Cole was always just out of reach. But wait. Not this time. Cole reached out to him and took both of Cullen’s hands in his. He mouthed, “Not your time, love. Live!” Cole looked up to the surface.

Cullen tried to make his lips form a word. One word: “No!” But it was no use. He was barely hanging on to life. Suddenly a smiling Abel appeared next to Cullen and hovered, like an angel of sorts. Abel’s expression was filled with such compassion and love that it confused Cullen. Cole placed both of Cullen’s hands into Abel’s and smiled. “Live!”

Abel propelled Cullen toward the surface. Cullen wanted to fight, but he had no energy. He didn’t want to leave Cole. Didn’t want to live without him. He kept looking down as he was being forced to the surface. Cole was disappearing, getting smaller and smaller but still looking up, arms stretched, smiling. “Live,” kept reverberating in Cullen’s brain. He and Abel broke the surface.

Cullen sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. He grabbed his throat and sucked in several ragged breaths. Forcing himself to relax, he inhaled deeply and slowly until his breathing was again under control. His eyes were wet with tears, and his hands were shaking. He jumped out of bed and paced nervously.

“What the hell was that about?”

His brain was on overload. Cullen had no capacity to even attempt to analyze that dream, so he went to the head and splashed cold water on his face. He passed the hand towel over his features and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were swollen and red, and his skin looked pale and almost pasty white.

Jeez, Cullen! What’s happened to you?

With no answers other than the obvious, Cullen decided to call Abel and cancel their dinner. He was in a foul mood and wouldn’t be good company for anyone, let alone a man of the cloth. But then he remembered he and Abel had never exchanged telephone numbers.
Use your head, Cullen! What about a telephone book? Directory assistance?
He picked up his phone and dialed 411. Then he cursed under his breath and ended the call when he couldn’t remember Abel’s last name.
Wyatt? Wesley? Webber? Oh hell, just forget about it.

Almost on autopilot Cullen ventured to the galley, seasoned two filet mignon steaks with salt, pepper, and a little Worcestershire, and set them on the counter to come to room temperature. He poked holes in two potatoes, wrapped them in foil, and seasoned and doused some asparagus in olive oil. Prep done, Cullen went back to his cabin and made his bed. With nothing more to do, he sat on the edge. He ran his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes.

Cullen, you’re barely making it through each day, but with each one you do get through, you’re spiraling a little more out of control. This has got to stop or you’re not going to survive.

“THIS IS
as good as it gets.” Abel looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He was wearing khaki shorts, boat shoes, and a turquoise polo shirt that, as someone in his congregation had commented, made his eyes look more blue than green. He leaned into the mirror and stared at his eyes, but he couldn’t see it.
Oh, well!
Vanity had never been one of his sins, but tonight for some reason, he wanted to look especially nice. He stepped back from the full-length mirror and closed his closet door.

With a bounce in his step, Abel ran down the stairs of his two-story, church-owned bungalow on Caswell Avenue, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors of the big empty house. Abel grabbed a bottle of wine off the kitchen counter and opened his front door.

When he’d stopped at the wine store and asked about a nice wine, the skeptical eye of the cashier, who just happened to attend his church, was daunting. While the woman had helped him make his selection, Abel had explained that he was a guest at someone’s house for dinner and wanted to bring a gift. Her scowl had softened a little, but she’d still eyed him warily. Was there nothing he could do in this town without falling under the watchful eyes of his congregation? He shrugged it off.
Comes with the territory, I guess.
Abel slid the key into the lock and turned the deadbolt.

The distance to the marina was just a few blocks, and it was a beautiful evening, so Abel decided to walk. Besides, it would give him a little time to decide how he was going to be completely honest with Cullen and still keep a certain little something to himself. He wanted to be honest—he really did. Only some things were just too personal to talk about. But he’d promised Cullen, and he would figure out a way to keep that promise and stay true to himself at the same time.

Abel looked at his watch when he reached the marina.
Six thirty-eight. I guess that constitutes six thirtyish.
His heart rate increased a little as he took a step onto the ramp leading to Dock C. As he hesitantly strolled down the dock, Abel noted all the boat names and stopped when he saw
T-Time
.

I wonder what the protocol is when you visit someone’s boat. Do you yell “Ahoy”? Knock? Or just step onboard?
He felt silly yelling “Ahoy,” and he didn’t think he knew Cullen well enough to just step onboard, so he knocked a couple of times on the hull.

Cullen’s muffled voice came from somewhere deep inside the boat. Abel struggled but couldn’t make out what Cullen had said, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Then he smacked himself in the forehead.
What a Dork!

Cullen’s voice was louder now and clearer. “Permission granted. Now get your butt up here!”

Abel stepped onto the boat and climbed up five steps to a carpeted area of about ten-by-fourteen feet. The area had wraparound seating, a bar and sink, and what appeared to be an icemaker. Three more steps up led to a higher level with even more seating, but it also appeared to be the helm. The dash was covered in black canvas, but he could clearly see the outline of a steering wheel under the cover.

An already half-open, tinted-glass doorway slid the rest of the way open. “Hey.” Cullen popped his head out. “Welcome aboard.”

The first thing Abel noticed was that Cullen didn’t appear to be himself, at least the little he knew about the man. He was smiling, but the usual sparkle wasn’t in his eyes.

“Come on in,” Cullen said.

Abel followed Cullen down a set of stairs into a living room of sorts. He knew it was called something else on a boat, but he couldn’t think of what it was. It was beautiful, though. High-gloss woodwork, hardwood floors with a large Oriental rug, and creamy beige leather couches lining the walls.

Abel shook Cullen’s hand. “This is really nice.” He continued to look around.

“Thanks. Help yourself if you’d like a tour. This is the saloon.”

Saloon. Yeah, that’s it.

Cullen waved and then gestured over his shoulder. “The galley. Two cabins and a head forward, and the master cabin and master head aft.”

“Now, a head is a bathroom. Right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Abel did the self-guided tour while Cullen fiddled in the galley. There were indeed two cabins. One with two beds and one with what looked like a queen-size bed forward. Also a bathroom, or head as Cullen had called it.
I had no idea there was so much space on a boat!