Page 69 of Capturing You
He seemed to wait for her to say something, to admit she was talented or artistic or whatever, but she snagged on something else. “You’re a Christian?”
He studied the fire. “I believe in a Creator. When I was a kid, I put my faith in Jesus.”
“But?”
He shrugged. “Life happens, and God doesn’t show up.”
“God doesn’t have to ‘show up.’ He’s always with us.”
His smirk told her what he thought of that. “If He does nothing, then He’s about as helpful as a gun with no bullets.” Ford nodded to the weapon he’d left on a side table. “At least that thing’s loaded. It candosomething. It’s more effective than a God who watches impassively. I believe He exists. I just don’t think He cares a whole lot.”
Ford had spoken more words in a row to her in the last ten minutes than he had since she’d met him. The last thing she wanted was to shut him down. Challenging his beliefs might do just that, but maybe it was worth the risk.
“Yesterday,” she said, “when I was being chased by those men, and you were there? That was God showing up.”
“For you.”
“Well, yeah. But the point is, He is involved. He cares. I was praying for help, and He brought you. Scared the stuffing out of me, but you… God used you to save my life.”
His only response was a slight shrug.
She wanted to question him more about his faith, about why he’d lost it, about what had happened to him that had hurt him so. But she sensed he wasn’t ready to go that deep with her.
“Were you in boarding school until you graduated?”
“Yup.”
“Did you make some friends? Did you eventually feel like you fit in?”
“I got involved in sports and clubs. I knew people. They knew me.”
“That’s not exactly friendship, though.”
He rubbed his lips together, seemed to be contemplating what to say. Maybe how much to share.
After a minute, he exhaled. “I had a friend for a couple of years. Kid named Matty. I used to go home with him for weekends sometimes. When my aunt traveled, his family would let me stay with them. They lived on a huge piece of property out in the Berkshires. He had a bunch of sisters, and we’d play games and…” Ford’s voice trailed.
“Sounds like fun.”
“One year at school, some older kids targeted him. I don’t know why. My friend was tall but skinny, not at all athletic. A few older kids started picking on him. I tried to stick up for him, but it was my friend and me against five older, bigger boys. There wasn’t much either one of us could do. I thought… I was young and stupid, and I still believed adults could fix problems. I told Matty to tell a teacher. He didn’t want to, thought it would make things worse. But things were pretty bad. They’d knocked him around, bruised him. And I just…” Ford shook his head, his lips pressing together.
“You were smaller and outnumbered.” Brooklynn kept her voice low, barely wanting to interrupt the flow of his thoughts. “What could you have done?”
“When one of them pushed Matty hard enough that he fell and fractured his wrist, I decided to tell the headmaster myself. I was trying to help. The problem was, the ringleader of that little gang of bullies was the son of the school’s biggest donor.”
“So what? Surely the parents would have wanted him to be reprimanded.”
“Bullying was grounds for expulsion. Those were the rules the school itself had set. So they couldn’t exactly call him on it without following through on the prescribed punishment. They had a stern talk with the kid and his little thug followers. The next night, thinking he was the one who’d reported them, they beat Matty so badly that he ended up in the hospital. He never came back.”
“Aw, Ford.” She leaned toward him and rested her palm on his arm. It was warm and muscular, and she dropped her hand immediately. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
He shifted out of her reach. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s terrible, and I’m sorry you had to deal with it. What happened to Matty after that?”
“His parents enrolled him in a private school near where they lived. As far as I know, he was happy there.”
“Did you two lose touch?”
