Shelter Me (32 page)

My whole life, nobody had ever had any answers for me. The people who were supposed to shelter and protect me were the worst of all.
 

There was nothing left for me to do, then but find my own answers. Right or wrong, at least they would be mine.
 

At least I would finally,
finally
be in control of my own destiny.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jacob

I'd been away from Eternal Grace for a few weeks.
 

I told Mr. Harris a little about what happened - a
very
little - and suddenly he started needing me on Sunday mornings, much more frequently than he had before. He kept reminding me that I could always ask for the morning off, if I needed it, and I assured him that I would.

Finally, one week, corporate trimmed hours so tight he couldn't find a use for me. I considered skipping church, but in the end, I didn't.

I sat with my family on our usual pew, keeping my eyes trained ahead, and not wandering to the corner where Marissa's family usually was. I thought I caught sight of them out of the corner of my eye, maybe, but I didn't let myself look any closer.

When Pastor Dave announced open prayer time, I gratefully shut my eyes.

And then I heard a familiar voice, ringing out clear and strong, and so much louder than the last time.

"Dear Lord," Marissa prayed. "I don't know why you've put me through these trials. They say that you never want your children to suffer, and that you'll never test someone past what they can endure. I guess that's true. I'm still here, and I understand so much more than I did before. So I want to thank you for that, even though I don't understand why it had to happen the way it did. Thank you for opening my eyes."

She paused.

"The biggest regret I have, Lord, and I'm sure you know this - is how much I hurt the people I love. I got swept up in something I didn't understand, and my family - my friends - they suffered because of it. I guess that's my fault. But please, would you help them forgive me? I can't..." There was a sob growing in her throat, but she swallowed it down. "I don't know what I can do or say. I pretended not to see things that were right in front of my face, and I hurt them, Lord. I didn't mean to, but I did. I can't find the words to tell them that I'm sorry. It feels like it's too late."

Her voice shaking. For a moment, she was silent, and then:

"Thank you. Amen."

No one else prayed after that.

After the benediction, as everyone got up and started filtering out into the social hall, Marissa stayed where she was, hunched over on the pew. Her shoulders were shaking. I waited for what felt like a thousand years, until everyone, even Pastor Dave, had left. We were alone, and there was nothing but the sound of Marissa's quiet crying echoing in the empty sanctuary.

"Hey," I said, and she looked up, her face streaked with tears.

She hiccupped, staring at me.

"It's not too late," I said, extending my hand to her. "Come on. It's not - it's not too late."

I helped her to her feet, and she threw her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, clinging like she never wanted to let me go.

"Shh. Stop it." I stroked her hair. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, Mari."

"That's not true," she whispered.

"Sure it is," I said, smiling and pulling back a little so I could look at her. And standing there, with her mascara smeared across her face and her nose bright red and running, she was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

"Please don't kiss me," she said. "I'll get snot all over you."

"You think I care?"
 

She laughed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Okay," she said. "That's the best I can do right now."

I kissed her softly, gently, like I'd wanted to for so long. There was nothing behind it - nothing but wanting to kiss her and then kissing her, and it was so simple I couldn't believe I hadn't been doing it all along.
 

Everything, all of it - the statistics, the cold hard truths that most relationships like ours wouldn't last - it meant nothing. We were too young, we were too impulsive, we were too naive. Maybe it was all true. But I knew something else, that none of those things accounted for. It was the feeling deep in my chest, that remained long after the fleeting pangs of longing and jealousy had faded. It was knowing, knowing for certain, that there was nothing I wouldn't do for her.
 

Holding her, I felt awake for the first time in my life. I felt like someone who had asked for a puddle to splash in, and been given an ocean. It was so much more than I could have possibly known, and I felt childish and stupid and selfish. But it was mine. It was mine, and that was something I would never understand.

***

They say you can't go home again, and I suppose they're right.

As a kid I never understood what that meant. It was like hearing "why did the chicken cross the road?" when you're too young to understand it, and then never really appreciating the joke. I thought to myself,
of course you can go back home. Home's always there
.

What it means, of course, is that home isn't a place. It's a feeling. And once that feeling's gone, there's no getting it back.
 

And then, there's people who never had it in the first place.

I started thinking about this because of Marissa, but I started to wonder if maybe, in some way, it applied to Mark too.

As it turned out, no one really knew that much about him. The rumor mill was working double-time now, but the only thing they discovered was that he'd apparently crammed fifty years' worth of life experience into approximately ten years of actual life. It was possible that some of his stories were true, but there was nothing to corroborate any of them. Even his own parents - according to what they'd told Mrs. Moore - weren't really sure what he'd been doing with his life since he left them, except leaving a trail of broken hearts and ruined innocence behind him.
 

I realized we'd never know why, of all the lives he ruined, Mari was the only one he married. Maybe he had seen something in her that he didn't expect. A chance at redemption. Maybe he really had loved her, in his own way. But he didn't love her enough to change. Maybe he couldn't.

I didn't forgive him, exactly. But I couldn't waste any more energy on hating him.

Not that he was mine to forgive.
 

None of us would ever know why he did what he did, and maybe it was just a stupid question to ask, after all.

Maybe the chicken just crossed the road to get to the other side.

***

"Hey, you."

I looked up to the sound of her voice, from where I was sitting, cross-legged on the floor of my brand new, empty store with a half-assembled bike on my lap.

"Hi," I said, tilting my head up for a kiss. She went and hoisted herself up on the counter, swinging her legs in front of the huge
WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE
sign. It was still there from the previous owners. I'd intended on taking it down, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if leaving it up there might be the best idea.

Mr. Harris poked his head out from the back room, holding a box of assorted parts. "Jacob, I'm headed out to Janie's graduation - oh, hi, Marissa."

"Hi." She gave him a little wave, smiling, and he smiled back. He'd been all smiles since he started helping set up the business.

Mari was swinging her legs, her heels tapping gently against the underside of the counter.

"How was your appointment?" I set down a ratchet and then picked it up again, trying to decipher the strange hand-drawn instructions that had come with this particular kit.

"Pretty good," she said. "She had me write a letter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Marissa pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolding it as she spoke. "It's supposed to help me, you know, come to terms with everything. It's a letter to me, as a kid, knowing what I know now. Like, what I'd say to myself, I guess. If
I
was the caretaker I never had."

Mari had been going to therapy for several weeks now. Her parents had finally conceded that it was a good idea, after everything that happened, and it was remarkable to watch all the little changes in her as she slowly, slowly began to crawl out of her shell. Today, she even had a little clip in her hair, holding it back from falling over her face. Her cheeks had more color in them, and her smiles now came so much more easily that I'd almost forgotten what it used to be like.

Even with all the changes, she still had a long road ahead of her. I knew that, and she of course knew it too - much better than I did. I still marveled at her strength, and her grace, having come through everything that happened with a quiet sense of dignity still intact.

As for us, we were taking it slow. She had no desire to rush into anything, and neither did I. I was still living at home, to help out with Sara and until my business got off the ground enough to afford my own place. But Marissa had started doing a little work part-time, walking dogs and pet-sitting around the town, being a mother's helper for a few of the busy working moms nearby. Pretty soon, she'd have enough money to get her own apartment. The rental market in Hobb's Vale wasn't exactly competitive. I figured once she had it, I'd offer to move in and help out with the rent. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

We'd started going to a different church, a few towns away, without all the memories. It was a different sort of church, where the pastor talked a little more about love and acceptance and a little less about what might send you to hell. Nobody knew us there. Not yet, anyway. Our parents occasionally passed along messages that people missed us, but they understood. I think everyone did. It was a little strange and a little thrilling - stepping into a congregation of people who just saw us as a young couple, starting our lives together. For all they knew, we always had been. When we were there, we could almost pretend the past never happened.

"I have to get over to Mrs. Harper's," she said after a few minutes, sliding down off the counter. "She needs help with the baby. I'll see you later tonight, okay?"

"Okay," I said. "Love you."

"Love you too."

The letter was still folded up on the counter.

"Hey," I said, nodding my head towards it. "Did you want me to read that?"

She shrugged. "You can if you want to." She pushed the door open. "Bye."

Once I was finished assembling the bike, I got up and walked over to the counter. The paper was folded up so tightly that I had to be careful not to rip it.

Dear Little Marissa,

I know things were always hard for you, and I know you feel guilty. But you don't need to feel guilty anymore. You don't need to feel like a burden anymore. I'll protect you, and I won't let anything bad happen to you.
 

Some people are just born under a dark cloud, honey, and you're one of them. We've learned the hard way that it doesn't matter what kind of act you put on, everyone knows. Everybody can see it. They don't like it, maybe because it makes them feel sad, or maybe because it reminds them of things they'd rather forget.
 

I know you're tired, always thinking ahead to the worst case scenario. You keep telling yourself that if you imagine it, it won't come true. You gather your worries around you like talismans. You won't let anybody take them away from you.

I'm here to tell you it's okay, because I understand. I'm not going to tell you that need to stop doing what you're doing, because I know it makes you feel safe. But I'm hoping I can make you feel a little safer.

Nothing that happens is your fault. You're just a kid, trying to make sense of things. It's not your fault that your mom looks at you like you're some alien devil spawn who will never make any sense. It's not your fault that your dad almost never looks you in the eye. It's not your fault that everybody pushes around you like you're a nuisance, an inconvenience, a drain on their precious time and resources and just not worth dealing with. It's not your fault, and those people are wrong.

I'm going to tell you something important now. Jacob, that boy you like so much, eventually it's going to work out between you two. It's going to be a long, hard road to get there, trust me. It's going to take forever. You're going to get hurt, and you're going to hurt him. But that's okay, because it's going to be worth it in the end. I promise you, it will.

He's going to be the shelter from the storm that you never had before.

Just hang in there, okay?

Everything's going to be all right.

About the Author

Mina Bennett is a young author who, drawing on her own experiences, creates compelling stories about finding love and coming of age. Her characters struggle to come to terms with their past and find their future. She invites you to take the journey along with them, as they discover that the answers they're looking for might be much bigger - and much more unexpected - than they ever imagined.

As Melanie Marchande, she also writes lighthearted contemporary romance with a touch of heat. Her debut novel,
I Married a Billionaire
, was a Top 100 eBook bestseller across all genres on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Please don't hesitate to get in touch with her:

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