Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content (23 page)

“You really do believe that.”

“Yes, I do. And I believe that’s what God wants for you, too.”

This is followed by a long moment of silence. And, whether it seems flaky or not, I know what I have to do. “Can you help me to do that?” I ask.

“Do you want to invite Jesus into your heart?”

“Yes, but I really don’t know how to pray.”

She smiles. “How about if I show you. I’ll say a line and you just repeat it after me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Dear heavenly Father,” she begins and I echo her words, making them my own. “I believe that you sent your only son Jesus to die in my place . . . so that I might have a personal relationship with you . . . I thank you for your mercy and forgiveness . . . I receive you into my heart right now . . . and I thank you for how much you truly love me . . . I thank you for all that you want to do in my life . . . and I thank you for forgiving me for my involvement in witchcraft . . . please, fill me so full of your spirit that there will never be room for any other spirits . . . thank you for coming into my heart today.”

I feel more tears filling my eyes as I say “amen.” But this time they are tears of relief. “I don’t know if I can explain it,” I tell her, “but I know this is real. Not real like I thought witchcraft was real, but real in the sense that I feel different inside. I feel clean and peaceful and . . .” I pause to consider this new sensation.
“Hopeful.”

“And only God can do that,” she says.

“What do I do now?” I ask eagerly.

“You do as God leads you.”

As it turns out, God leads me to spend the rest of the week with Diane. Of course, she insists that we call my dad first. To my relief, she handles it for me. And I’m not surprised to hear that he doesn’t even mind.

“I have a feeling he’d like it if I never came back,” I confess to her at dinner that night.

“No, I don’t think so,” she says slowly. “He sounded genuinely sad. He said that he knows he’s been distracted with the Yaquina Lake case. I guess it goes to court next week. That’s got to be a lot of pressure for him.”

“Yeah. He sort of turned into a workaholic after Mom died. But this case in particular has consumed a lot of his time. I’m really hoping that he wins it. Maybe not so much for his sake, since I guess I’m still pretty mad at him, but for the sake of the lake, I hope he wins.”

Diane says we’ll call this my spiritual rehabilitation week. And she doesn’t even seem too concerned that I’m missing school. “It’s better than missing your life,” she assures me, and I know she’s referring to my unsuccessful suicide plan. “Not that I’m usually supportive of kids cutting school,” she continues as we clean up the dinner things. “My two boys both gave that a try, and I set them straight.”

“Where are they?” I ask as I rinse a plate.

“Both in college. Aaron graduates this spring. But Tim is just a freshman. It’s my first official empty-nester year, which was one reason my sister and I had planned our fall trip.”

“So I come along and invade your sweet empty nest.”

“And I’m so glad you did, Heather. To be honest, I was feeling a little lonely and blue the day you showed up. I believe that God had a twofold purpose in bringing you here.”

“I feel so at home here,” I say. I can hear the longing in my voice and know I must sound pathetic. But the thought of returning home to Dad and Augustine, even after a week away, is pretty unnerving. Still, I know that God is supposed to strengthen me. At least that’s what Diane keeps saying.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with you staying here indefinitely,” she says as she puts a glass in the dishwasher. “But I’m not sure that would be best for you. I wouldn’t want to tempt you to run away from something you need to face.”

“But what if I face it and it blows up in my face?”

“I’ve considered that possibility, Heather. Whatever happens, I want you to know that you’d be welcome here. But we both need to pray about this; we need to ask God to lead. Okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

I spend the week praying and reading the Bible, talking with Diane, helping around the house, and I’ve also been doing a lot of sleeping. I think my short stint in witchcraft took a lot out of me and put me in need of a serious rest. But finally it’s Sunday, and after going to church with Diane, I know it’s time for me to head home.

“Do you have a good home church?” asks Diane’s best friend, Barbara Marshall. Barbara knows a little about my situation and is pretty sympathetic.

“I’ve only gone to church with a friend,” I admit. “But to be
honest, I never really felt at home there. Her pastor likes to yell a lot and it kind of bugs me. But maybe it’ll be different now that I’m a Christian.”

Barbara laughs. “I don’t know about you, Diane, but I’ve never liked pastors who yell, and I’ve been a Christian most of my life.”

“I really like your church,” I tell them. “I actually felt totally comfortable here. I love how they use things like art and music. It was really beautiful.”

“There’s a church like that in your town,” says Barbara. “I don’t recall the name, but a friend of mine goes there. I could write down her name and phone number for you.” She digs in her purse for pen and paper, then jots something down and hands it to me.

“Naomi Lamb?” I say suddenly.

“You know her?”

“She’s my ballet teacher,” I say. “And I really like her. I knew she went to church, but she never really talks about it.”

Barbara nods. “That sounds like Naomi. She’s always been respectful of personal space, doesn’t like to offend. But she is a sweetheart.”

“I can’t wait to ask her about her church,” I say.

And then I am back in my car, driving back down the exact same road that I was on just a week ago. But everything is different. In the same way this car has done a 180 turn, so has my life. I just pray that God gets me through whatever lies ahead. “I feel very weak right now,” I admit as I drive. “But Diane said that you can become strong in my weakness, God. Please, make me strong. I surrender it all to you. Help me. Amen.”

T
O MY SURPRISE
, A
UGUSTINE IS NOT THERE WHEN
I
GET HOME
. N
OT THERE
,
AS
in she has left for good, my dad sadly tells me.

“Was it because of me?” I ask.

“No. It was because of me.”

“You mean because you really weren’t comfortable with the affair?”

His brows draw together.
“The affair?”

“You know,” I remind him. “With Jonathon.”

He frowns. “You mean
the kiss
?”

“The kiss?”

“Augustine told me how you walked in when Jonathon kissed her.”

“What?”

“Last weekend,” he says. “Wasn’t that what the whole fight between us was about? You blew Jonathon’s innocent little kiss all out of proportion, accusing Augustine of all sorts of horrible things.”

“
That’s
what she told you?”

“Isn’t that what happened?”

I just shake my head in wonder. “I can’t believe that’s what she told you, Dad. That is
not
what happened. Not at all. No wonder
it made no sense. I couldn’t believe you’d take what they did so lightly.”

“You mean the kiss?”

“No, Dad. I do not mean the kiss.” Then I tell him about what really happened the day I came home early. And I spare him no details.

“That’s the truth?” he asks incredulously.

“I swear that’s the truth.”

He leans forward and, putting his head between his hands, lets out a low groan.

I go over to where he’s sitting on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dad. I hate that she’s hurt you.”

“And then lied about it,” he says, looking up with moist eyes. “Her lie drove a wedge between you and me, Heather. I’m sorry I believed her.”

I nod, swallowing against the huge lump in my throat. “It hurt a lot when you took her side. I thought you actually felt it was fine for her to sleep with Jonathan and I was so confused. I mean, it just didn’t seem right.”

“I may be liberal about some things, but not that. I expect fidelity from a wife.” He sighs. “And now it all begins to make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, things she’s been saying this past month. About the same time dear Jonathon showed up. It’s clear that she was in love with him. I was just too blind to see it.”

“I’d seen them together before that day,” I admit. “And I guess I was a little suspicious, but I was so distracted by my own messed-up life, well, I just didn’t pay much attention.” Then I tell Dad about how Augustine was so supportive of me going to the witch seminar.

He nods. “Yes. I wasn’t very excited about it myself, but Augustine really pressured me to agree to it. In fact, as I recall, she sort of guilted me into it.”

“So that we’d both be gone for a whole weekend,” I say. “But I spoiled it by coming home early.”

He nods. “And why was that? I never really did hear that part.”

So I tell him about it. Then I tell him about what happened while I was at Diane’s.

“That Diane,” he says, shaking his head. “Talk about a woman of influence.”

“But a good influence,” I point out.

“I suppose.”

“She is, Dad. If you don’t watch it, I’ll make you go visit her someday.”

He sort of laughs. “I’m not ready for that right now, Heather.”

“Well, it’s just a matter of time,” I tell him. “Diane and I are both praying for you.”

“Two women of influence?”

I firmly nod.

“Well, there’s a pile of homework for you in your room.”

“Huh?”

“I called your friend Lucy. And, yes, I know you girls haven’t been too friendly lately. But she’s a nice girl and she agreed to pick up some things for you.”

“Thanks a lot,” I say sarcastically, even though I know it was probably a smart thing to do.

“Another thing,” he says, reaching for his wallet. Is he about to give me money? “I found this in Augustine’s things, but I’m fairly certain it isn’t hers.” He carefully hands me the old photo of my mom — the one I removed from my locket back when I did that
stupid love potion.

I feel tears coming as I study the slightly wrinkled photo. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I thought you’d want it back.”

I go upstairs and put the photo back into my locket. I’m not sure why Augustine took it, but I’m not that surprised that she did. I don’t think she could do much else to surprise me. But even as I think this, I realize that I’m not much different from her. At least I wasn’t. Hopefully I’ll be changing now that God is at work inside me. As I try to focus on my pile of homework, I remember some things that Diane told me. How I need to get rid of the things related to Wicca and how I’ll need to really pray against some spirits and things. I even call Lucy and tell her about my total turnaround.

“Oh, Heather,” she says happily. “That’s so awesome. I’ve been praying for you like crazy this past week.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry for treating you so badly,” I continue. “I was a lousy friend.”

“I’m sorry too!” she blurts out. “I know that I was being a pretty poor excuse of a Christian. I told my youth pastor about some of the things I’d said to you a few weeks ago. I was like all proud of myself, thinking I was being such a strong Christian, and he told me that I was totally wrong and that if I wanted to be like Jesus, I would quit judging you and start loving you.” She sighs. “But I didn’t even listen.”

Then I spend the next week making public apologies and eating humble pie as I admit to my friends that I was all wet when it came to Wicca.

“Lucy was so right about Wicca,” I confess in front of my old friends at the lunch table on Monday. “It really is witchcraft, and it’s very bad.
Very, very bad
.” Then I take my confession another
step and tell them about how I found God. Oh, I don’t go into all the details just yet — I can save some things for later. But I do tell them that I know this is the real deal. “And, okay, I’m sure everyone thinks I’m totally flaky by now. I mean, first I go vegan and then give it up. Then I go Wiccan and quit that. But at least I’m learning. And I know that God’s the real deal, not that I expect you to believe me, but I’m sure that time will prove I’m right.”

“Oh, you’re right,” says Lucy, relief shining in her eyes. “You are
so
right.”

“Where’s Liz?” I ask.

“Didn’t you hear?” says Chelsea.

“What?”

“She went up to St. Anthony’s the middle of last week,” says Lucy solemnly.

“St. Anthony’s?”
I repeat. I, of all people, am well aware that it’s a cancer treatment center. My mom spent a lot of time there before they gave up on her. “Why?”

“We don’t know for sure,” says Chelsea. “Even Hudson is in the dark. They broke up, by the way.”

“But is Liz okay?” My voice breaks as I ask this. All I can think of is the horrible curse that I tried to put on her. Although I thought that it had only backfired, coming back at me with three times the evil I intended for her. I guess I assumed that meant it hadn’t worked on her. Now I’m not so sure. And I’m feeling pretty scared for her, and guilty!