Page 31 of Letters of Faith
The microphone on the stage begins to crackle as someone taps their finger against it. Looking over, I recognize Pastor Greer, a middle-aged man with a large stomach, salt-and-pepper hair, and a kind smile.
“Good afternoon, folks,” he says into the microphone.
The crowd answers him with several good afternoons resounding around them. Grayson and I grab our hot chocolate. I try to offer my money to the vendor, but Gray shoves it away and slips him a twenty. Not waiting for the change, he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me towards the stage so we have a better view.
I try to pay attention to where I’m going, but all I can focus on is Grayson’s hand pressing softly into my back, guiding me. He saves me from bumping into people a couple of times, and then we are standing still, listening to Pastor Greer continue.
“I would like to thank everyone who came out tonight to make this festival a success. We have a lot of people here who worked very hard to put this event on for you tonight.”
The crowd cheers, but I’m having trouble concentrating. Grayson’shand is still resting against my back, and when I glance at him, it looks like he has no intention of moving it.
“Before we continue with the festivities, I want to say a couple more things. When we started this festival many years ago, we wanted a way to gather and fellowship with one another. What we didn’t realize at the time was that it would turn into a way for us to spread God’s love for us. So—with that in mind, I want to share one last thing that’s been weighing on my mind. There are some of you here today who are struggling—maybe it’s a struggle to accept the Lord, or maybe it’s your anger that you’re holding against him, but I want you to know that you are loved by a high and mighty God. He did not promise that he wouldn’t give you more thanyoucan handle, but he did promise that he wouldn’t give you more thanHEcan handle. That—my friends—that makes all the difference. So, if you are struggling today, I want you to know that there is a light at the end of that tunnel waiting for you to find him.”
With Grayson’s hand forgotten for the moment, tears pool in my eyes. There are hundreds of people here, but that message felt like one God intended for me to hear. There have been many times over the last year when I thought I was going to be pulled under the current of my grief. People would placate me by saying that God wouldn’t give me more than I can handle. I thought I was broken—that I was weak—but Pastor Greer’s words settle in my chest, loosening the knot that’s been there.
I’m still angry. I can’t understand why Nate had to die, but maybe I’m a little less mad at God and more just angry at the situation itself.
Leaning into Grayson’s hand, I take comfort in his strength.
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It’s late when we pull into the driveway. I’m slumped down in the front seat, with the top half of the chair leaned back for me to rest.
Rolling my eyes towards Grayson, I yawn. “Tonight was fun.”
We’d stayed and listened to several of the singers before calling it a night. I might have even seen a Grayson smile once or twice.
“It wasn’t terrible,” Grayson agrees.
Sitting up, I reach for the handle, ready to get inside, kick off my shoes, and lie in bed. Today was fun, but it was also mentally draining.
“Wait.” Grayson’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back. “Stay there.”
He jumps out of the truck and rounds the front, stopping at my door. Through the window, I watch him run his hand over the scruff on his jaw and up the back of his neck, grumbling to himself the whole time. Then he’s opening the door and offering me his hand. I take it, placing my fingers in his palm and letting the heat of his skin ward off the chill in the air. When my feet are on solid ground, he places his hand on the small of my back, just like at the festival. It’s a small gesture with no real significance, so why am I obsessing over it?
I’ve spent the last year missing Nate’s touch, so maybe my obsession stems from that loneliness.
I miss the companionship of having a partner.
At the front door, I search my purse, looking for the key—prolonging the moment.
When I walk inside, I’ll forget the way Grayson’s smile was like tape over the cracks in my heart tonight or how the warmth of his hand sends goosebumps over my arms. I’ll forget all those things because tape does nothing to hold together shattered glass.
Nate asked me to move on, but that won’t happen. I’m too broken for anyone to put back together—especially my husband’s best friend. Tonight was fun, but it doesn’t change the fact that as a person, Nate’s death changed me, and there’s no going back to the girl I was before. I’ll go along with his letters, put myself back out there, and find myself again, but the girl I find will always be a broken version of the one I was before.
Grayson clears his throat, and I look up at him. It’s a full moon, and the moonlight behind his head creates a halo around him. I can almost imagine that he’s my guardian angel, sent to protect me from myself this last year.
“You were brave tonight, Peach. I’m proud of you.”
The wind blows a stray hair across my face, and Grayson reaches up, sweeping it behind my shoulder. A cold chill runs from the crown of my head all the way to my toes.
Chapter 14
Grayson
The cold burns my lungs as I pick up my pace—a punishment for my stupidity.
I let myself pretend for one night that Georgia could be my girl. I held her close, placed my hand on her back, and stood tall for everyone to see she was there with me. In the end, the only one who was fooled by my game was me, and now I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if I could do that for real—if I could take her in my arms and swipe my lips across hers without anyone blinking an eye.
