Page 93 of Running Home to You
“Right, the jury’s definitely going to believe a six-foot-two giant is an easy athletic target.”
“I’ll see you in court.” Ryan winked.
After that, Kate couldn’t help but notice him. They talked before and after class. Ryan’s background eerily mirrored hers. He’d grown up in a large Mormon family on a farm in Idaho. When he got into Dartmouth, rather than being proud, his parents condemned him for not completing his mission trip to Brazil. He compounded their disappointment when a few terms in New England made him a liberal sympathizer and led him to Berkeley.
Kate admired that he hadn’t turned on religion afterward, but rediscovered it. He’d had his heart broken too, lost his virginity, and battled the same demons as Kate. He was the first person she felt she could talk about it with.
“I’ve spent the last year convinced the pain was a punishment from God for my transgressions,” she said on one of their walks along the beach. Seagulls scampered about their feet and the waves washed away their footsteps.
“God’s not vengeful, and the pain is just part of it. It means you really loved someone. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said.
“You can’t be sure though.”
“No, I am.” Ryan grinned sheepishly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Even the bad parts are within His plan.”
Ryan took her to church. Not the church of her youth or his, with its stiff pews and pulpit. Hundreds of people attended on Sunday,met by jovial greeters and free lattes in the coffee shop. The sanctuary resembled an amphitheater with its massive stage, jumbotrons, and speakers. Kate found it more concert than liturgy, with a band that dressed like discount folk artists, pounding drums and riffing guitars. The congregation raised hands, sang along with the lyrics on the screens, and swayed for their catchy ballads about Jesus with the fervor one might find at a music festival.
She couldn’t help but snort during the first song.
“What?” Ryan asked.
Kate shook her head. “Nothing.”
It took her a while to accept it as church. Probably because it felt easier than what she knew before. No end of days, no guilt, no God glaring down at her. With its flashy colors, its simple, feel-good sermons, and the smiling faces, she lost herself in the crowd and felt lighter when she left, like she’d done her job. She was still a Christian. She was still faithful. Even if she chose the trendier, more palatable option. Even if she didn’t feel it in her chest. This was right. And Ryan was right along with it. He believed, raised his hands in praise, helped her not dread Sundays, and like her, made a pact with God—despite reneging on his purity, he committed to waiting for marriage until the next time as a born-again virgin.
Church became a regular occurrence, followed by studying together, coffee and lunches, beach walks, and football games. They became friends. Kate emphasized only friendship, and Ryan respected her boundaries. Until finally, she didn’t want him to.
She confided in Mick, who encouraged her to go for it. In fact, Mick relentlessly insisted she get back out there, which unsettled her. She assumed it meant Abby was doing just that. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew for sure.
She met Mick in Portland over winter break, where she was teaching history and coaching softball at her old high school. They grabbed drinks at a sports bar downtown, Kate strategically ordering more rounds, until she had Mick exactly where she wanted her.
“I need you to tell me the truth,” she said.
Mick gulped and slammed down her beer. “Oh God, about what?”
“Did she get the letter or not?”
Mick groaned. “You promised you wouldn’t put me in the middle.”
“And I haven’t, but I need this. I can’t move on until I know.” Kate frowned. “It’s like I’m standing still, waiting. I mean, isn’t that pathetic? I’m still waiting for her.”
“She got it.” Mick buried her head in her hands. “Why do you guys make me do this?”
Her entire body went rigid. “She got it?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say about it?”
“Nothing. She said you sent her a letter in Amsterdam and that she still feels awful—”
“Oh, she feels awful?” Kate scoffed. She would’ve let tears loose if her anger didn’t lock them in, firming her trembling bottom lip into a locked jaw.
Mick grabbed her hand. “Kate, it’s time to move on. You deserve to be happy, but I don’t know if that’s ever going to be with Abby.”
Kate asked Ryan to dinner. When they kissed, she nearly flinched at the taste and rough trace of his cheeks. It wasn’t bad, but it was different. Different from the gentle warmth of Abby. Different too, because with Ryan, there was calm. There was slowness. No pressure about right or wrong, no avoiding God. Ryan fit seamlessly into her present and her future. He wasn’t Abby, but he was almost perfect.
When Mick proposed to Haley, Kate believed she’d moved on. She was at the precipice of her dream career, in a stable relationship with a man she loved. But on the sidewalk, after the call, she plummeted.
