Right Where I Belong (2 page)
I will never, ever allow myself to fall in love. I won’t do to anyone what my father does to these women. And to me. Never. Do you
hear me, God? Make me single. Have me travel the world or work with orphans or whatever. But don’t make me fall in love. I won’t do it. I can’t.
Natalia sat in her favorite spot at Retiro Park—a bench overlooking the small lake where couples drifted in boats and children skated along the sidewalks. She gazed at the statues of lions that guarded an ancient gazebo, the pillars reflected in waves in the waters below.
“Churros for you.” Natalia’s best friend, Carmen, handed her the warm pastry covered in cinnamon sugar. “And ice cream for me.”
Natalia bit into the churro. Heaven.
“Gracias.”
Carmen splayed her hands in a Spanish “of course” sign and bit into her frozen treat. “Feeling better?”
“About my father’s divorce? Or about his dating a woman six years older than me? Or about watching my stepmother go from a strong woman to a blubbering child?” Natalia moved her feet back as a rollerblader sped past.
“It has only been a week.”
“Exactly.” Natalia closed her eyes. “And Maureen just told me last night that she is leaving. Moving back to Florida.”
“But you and Maureen . . . ?”
“She’s like the mother I never had.”
Carmen smiled sideways. “You have a mother.”
Natalia raised her eyebrows. Carmen knew that Mamá was far too busy with her career to give much time to her only child.
“Poor Maureen.” Natalia took another bite of the churro. “She is terrified to go back home. But she feels like staying here will keep her from being able to get over Papa. He is her boss, after all.”
Carmen tossed the paper from her dessert into a trash can. “But what will she do?”
Natalia shrugged. “I don’t know. Neither does she.”
“She’ll find something. Maureen is amazing. Beautiful, smart, funny.”
Natalia nodded. Maureen had been her rescuer in more ways than she could count. She made Natalia feel important, loved, during her preteen years when she felt awkward and ugly. She spent time with Natalia.
“Who will teach me about God when Maureen is gone?” She hadn’t even considered that her spiritual mentor would be leaving.
“You don’t need this crutch of faith to help you.” Carmen turned away and ran a hand through her long, silky black hair. “You are too smart to keep going on with this. People are talking. You used to be so well respected, but all this talk of ‘salvation’ and ‘eternal life’ is making you look foolish.”
Natalia sighed. Over and over again, she had tried to explain her faith to her friend. But Carmen, like so many Spaniards, saw faith as a weakness, an embarrassing part of their history. When Natalia tried to tell her that what she had was a relationship with a God who loved her, Carmen only recalled the Spanish Inquisition and other atrocities carried out in the name of “religion.”
“Natalia, think logically. There is no evidence that God exists. None. No evidence of an afterlife or a creator.
Science has disproven all that superstition. Why would you go backward? You don’t believe the earth is flat. Belief in the existence of God is just as ridiculous.”
“Science can’t disprove the existence of God any more than religion can prove it. Faith is involved on either side of that debate. But I know God exists. I have seen him at work in my life. I have seen him change me. I’m sorry you don’t like the changes, but . . .”
Carmen shook her head. “It isn’t that. Well, it is, I guess. I
don’t
like it. But I guess if that is what you need, then I should just keep quiet and let you believe it.”
“Could you be any more condescending?” Natalia laughed. “You’re talking to me like I’m Ari, waiting in line to see Saint Nicholas! God is not Santa.”
Carmen put her hand up in protest. “Can’t you hear how silly that all sounds? An invisible Savior who speaks to you through a two-thousand-year-old book and little voices in your head?”
“I know it sounds silly to you. And it pains me more than I can say that it does. But that is all the more reason why I need Maureen. She understands.” Realization hit Natalia, an almost-audible voice from God speaking to her soul. Natalia jumped up.
“What is it?” Carmen pulled Natalia back to the bench.
Peace settled over her. She knew this was from him. Of course.
“Natalia,
por favor.
” Carmen clapped her hands, startling Natalia from her thoughts.
“I need to go with Maureen.” Natalia stared across the pond to a family eating a picnic lunch on the grass.
“To America?”
Natalia nodded.
“Sí.”
Carmen pulled the remaining churro from Natalia’s hand. “They must have put something other than sugar on this.”
“No. I mean it.” Certainty settled over Natalia as soon as the words came out of her mouth. “She needs me. It’s my turn to help her. I can’t abandon her the way Papa has.”
“What about me?” Carmen planted her hands on her hips. “If you really believe this, then should you not stay here and keep trying to get me to believe it?”
Natalia laughed. Her friend was using any tactic possible to get Natalia to stay in Madrid. “If my staying here could make you believe, I would stay. I’d sit right down here in the middle of the ground and not move an inch until you believed.” She sat cross-legged on the dirty sidewalk, caring little that those passing by looked at her as if she were losing her mind. “But I can’t make you believe. Only God can. So I will keep asking him to help you.”
“Get up, Natalia!” Carmen whispered. “What will people think?”
“What do I care what people think? I’m leaving!”
Carmen pulled Natalia up by her wrist, shaking her head in mock disgust. “How can you be so flippant about this? Do not let your zeal over your newfound faith take you away from everyone who loves you. Please! At least finish high school.”
“I know you’re saying this because you care about me.” Natalia straightened her jacket and dusted off her skirt. “This is my home, my people, my country. I will miss you
so much. But I need to go with my stepmother. I just cannot believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Sooner?” Carmen stood. “It has been a week.”
“I need to speak with Maureen. And my father.”
“Hopefully they will talk you out of it.” Carmen grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. “Do not do this,
amigita
. You will regret it.” Carmen stared at Natalia, shook her head, then walked off.
Natalia felt her heart breaking with each step. Maybe she
was
out of her mind. Maybe Carmen was right. Did she really want to leave everything she knew just for—?
She stopped herself. She was leaving for a God who loved her, who had sacrificed everything for her. A God who knew just what it was like to leave the familiarity of home out of obedience to his Father.
Peace washed over her in a way Natalia could never explain, an experience so intimate and amazing that all her momentary doubts vanished. God was with her in this park. He would be with her as she left. More difficulties would come, but Jesus would be there as she faced each of them.
G
ood-bye, fragments.” Brian Younger dumped his grammar workbook into the trash can beside his locker. “Good-bye run-on sentences that should have a comma somewhere in there but I never remember where so I get ten points off my essays. Good-bye—”
“Really, man?” Spencer Adams picked up Brian’s discarded workbook. “You might need to look over this during the summer. If you want to graduate next year, that is.”
Brian put a hand through his red hair and looked down at Spencer. At six foot six, Brian was half a foot taller than the big-mouthed most-popular boy in school, but that didn’t deter Spencer one bit.
“Maybe I don’t want to graduate.” Brian refused to take the book from Spencer’s hands.
“Don’t want to graduate?” Lexi Summers, friend and fellow “freakishly tall” student at Tampa Christian School, shoved herself between the feuding boys. “What are you talking about? I’ve already got the countdown going.” Lexi
looked at her watch. “Three hundred fifty-five days, five hours, and ten minutes.”
Spencer dumped the workbook back in the trash. “I’m with you, Lex. Get me outta this place. I’m ready for some freedom.”
Because Brian’s dad was the pastor of the church attached to the Christian school, Brian got his share of “I hate this school” speeches. Spencer topped the list of complainers.
“Why can’t you be excited about graduating and not hate the school at the same time?” Lexi put an arm around Brian. “I love this place.”
“Hey, no PC.” Spencer shook a finger in Lexi’s face. Physical contact was against the rules at TCS. “See what I mean? When we’re at college, no one’s gonna yell at us for giving our friends a hug.”
“Or give us demerits for making out with a sophomore in the hallway.” Lexi snapped a finger in Spencer’s face.
Brian tried not to laugh.
“At least someone wants to make out with me,” Spencer bit out, slamming his locker door, then walking away.
“Don’t worry about him, Lex. Spencer’s a jerk.”
“I was going to say the same thing to you.” Lexi smiled. “Don’t worry about me. It takes a whole lot more than Spencer Adams to ruin my day.”
Brian wished he could say the same. Spencer Adams had been making his life miserable for years. Just because the guy’s dad was loaded, because he had good looks passed down from his Cuban model mother, because he could play every sport well and all the girls at school drooled all over
him, was that reason for Spencer to treat Brian like gum stuck on his shoe?
Brian walked over to his dad’s office, trying to get Spencer out of his head.
At least I get a two-month break from the guy. Count your blessings, right
?
“My boy’s a senior.” Dad stood from his desk and pulled Brian into a hug. “Ready for this summer?”
“I guess.”
“What’s wrong?”
Brian sighed. “I just wish I was smart and athletic instead of just so incredibly good looking.”
With the complexion only boys with bright red hair were afforded, Brian’s pale skin, blue eyes, and freckles had been the cause of ridicule most of his life. He had been called “Brian the Friendly Ghost,” “Vampire Boy,” and a host of other names, none of which were synonymous with “good looking.”
“It’s a curse we Youngers have.” Dad smiled. His formerly red hair had been muted with gray, and faint wrinkles replaced his freckles. “I’ve got some good news for you.”
Brian slumped into the leather chair across from his dad’s desk. “Lay it on me.”
“I got you a job.”
Brian sat up. “Where?”
“Working with Mr. King.”
Dad forgot that Brian didn’t know the names and occupations of every member of the church. “Who?”
“George King.” His dad leaned forward. “He owns a demolition company.”
“Demolition?”
“Yes, he goes into old buildings and guts them.”
“I get to spend the summer tearing stuff down?” Brian asked. “Awesome.”
“Yep, you’ll be working all summer on an old mansion right on the bay.”
“A mansion?”
“Apparently it’s in pretty bad shape.” Dad’s phone rang. He held up a hand to Brian. “Hi, Joan . . . Manny’s back in the hospital? I’m so sorry.” He grabbed a sticky note. “Room 524. Got it. I’ll try to get up this afternoon . . . I’ll be praying for you.”
“Something serious?”
“Manny Johnson.” Dad placed the sticky note on his computer monitor. “He’s got cancer and hasn’t been doing well lately.”
“Do I know him?”
“Neither of the Johnsons come to church much.” Dad shrugged. “But they call when times are tough.”
His dad loved his congregation, but it bothered Brian that people just called when they needed something. Or wanted to complain. He promised himself that he would never go into the ministry. Not after seeing how hard it was on his dad and their family.
“So, an old mansion?”
“Old.” Dad nodded. “George said it was built in 1913. It has been sitting vacant for about a decade.”
