Page 52 of With You Here
The picture grew in her mind, taking the shape of a hideous beast that slashed her hopes and devoured her dreams.
She closed her eyes, her unworthiness causing her to stagger to the nearest wall and slump to the ground. The worst part was, she knew Kayla was right. Half a globe she’d run, but her doubts—thetruth—had caught up with her anyway. She had no right to be in ministry. No right to help people along paths she’d never traveled herself. How could she know how they felt? What they were thinking? How could she relate or commiserate with their experience when she hadn’t experienced the same thing? Oranything, for that matter.
So, what was it she thought she’d heard in that hospital chapel while Michael was in surgery? Obviously, it hadn’t been a divine calling, for God would not call someone so wholly ill-equipped for the task. Then what? Her own ambition? Her own pride?
A small ring chirped from in her pocket. Saved by the bell. She sighed, relieved to have a distraction from her spiraling, consuming thoughts, then pulled out her phone and stared at the screen.
A text from Adam with a link to an article, a question as to whether or not she’d seen it, and an instruction to call him. Her phone offered a small preview to the website associated with the link, which looked to be some sort of online tabloid.
Adam knew she didn’t read that sort of thing. Why would he think she’d seen it? Better yet, why would he think she needed to? Maybe it was a scam or a virus. A hacker pretending to be Adam sending her a message, and as soon as she clicked on it, her phone would be infected with a virus.
Not falling for that.
Although…a hacker wouldn’t say to call him. She chewed on her bottom lip and punched the call button next to Adam’s name. The phone rang once before her brother picked up.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, like he wanted to travel the radio waves between their phones so he could reach out and touch her and assure himself of her safety.
A trickle of alarm wove down her spine. “I’m fine. Why the alarm?”
“You’ve gone viral and you ask why the alarm?” His pitch rose. “Seriously, answer me truthfully. Are you being harassed by reporters? Or by fans? Is that jock protecting you? And when did you meet Seth Marshall, much less become involved with him? And why didn’t you tell any of us? And, Amber, I swear—”
Nerves frayed like exposed electrical wires, she snapped, laughing like someone who’d lost her last marble. Who knew, maybe she had.
“This is not a laughing matter, young lady.”
She held her side as she laughed harder. “Oh man, you and Olivia need to start having kids right away after you get married. You’ve got the dad tone down pat.”
He cleared his throat. “Not funny.” He sounded more like her brother and less like a scolding father.
She snickered. “Maybe it’s funny because I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re acting like I’m in some sort of danger or something.”
“Maybe I’m overreacting, but I’ve seen the way the press can eat a person alive and spit them out. I know you, and so I know what that wanna-be reporter wrote isn’t true, which is why I wanted to make sure you’re okay, emotionally as well as physically.”
“That’s really sweet of you, Adam, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The article. Didn’t you read the link I sent?”
The link. He’d said…wait. Did he say she’d gone viral? An article. Online. Had gone viral. How many people had to share a link before it went viral? A lot, she bet. And… her mind sifted through what else he’d said.What the reporter wrote isn’t true. Safe emotionally and physically.The trickle of alarm turned into a flash flood.
“Adam, I’ll call you back later.” She hung up and clicked on the link, her hands shaking as it connected and the article filled her screen. She scrolled down, pictures of Seth and her together at the park staring back at her. Hand-in-hand, her head on his shoulder. One picture showed his back, his head bent toward her. From the angle of the shot, it appeared they were kissing, but she knew that wasn’t the case. She’d never kissed Seth, or anyone else for that matter. Another item to place in thecan’t relate because I haven’t experienced itcolumn.
That was the last picture in the article and her breathing evened out. Did she want to be in a tabloid? No, but those pictures weren’t bad. She hadn’t done anything wrong or to be ashamed of, and all those photos showed was what had happened—a very sweet first date. She scrolled back up and froze at the headline. How had she missed that to begin with?
Seth Marshall to Score with the Virgin
Her eyes ate up the article, but with each bite-sized sentence they devoured, she became more nauseous. The author had expounded on Seth’s past exploits with women in sordid detail, then turned the audience’s attention to her, outlining her degree in theology and painting her as the perfect church-girl. Ground work laid, the author planted innuendoes and made gutter-worthy inferences, twisting with a dirty mind all that had been beautiful that day.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, an alert scrolling down from the top of her screen to inform her of an incoming email. The remaining words of the article blurred through her tears. With a sniff, she closed the browser and opened her email app. Two new emails awaited her. She clicked on the first.
Andrew Ethridge
to Amber Carrington
Dear Miss Carrington,
It is with great concern that I contact you today on behalf of the faculty of the theological department. As you know, we hold our students to a high moral and ethical standard and, as such, must investigate certain recent events that have been brought to our attention. We know one cannot take everything one reads in the press as fact, especially not in certain publications, and therefore have not jumped to the conclusion that the things written about you hold any sort of merit. The department would like to extend an invitation to you to write a response to the allegations and clear your name with regard to accusations against your character that would, in essence, diminish the voracity of your ministry.
On a personal note, I want to say I’m praying for you. I feel like I’ve gotten to know you a bit from the classes you’ve taken from me, and I don’t for a minute believe the trash printed in that tabloid (and have had quite a lot to say about reading such garbage and the evils of gossip, I might add). Sometimes Satan attacks those he fears have a voice that will make a big impact. Don’t let him or this situation silence your voice.
