The Pastor's Son by Rebecca Joanne

Author:Rebecca Joanne [Joanne, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve: Kendall

The smell of smoke filled my nostrils as darkness hung heavily outside. I shivered from the cold, wrapping my arms around myself to block out the icy feeling in my veins. I drew in a deep breath as I gazed out my window, peering down at the lake. With its snow-covered water and frozen foundation, I found myself being pulled toward it.

I felt it calling me, deep within the pit of my gut.

I didn't know how to explain it. It just--spoke to me. A voice in the back of my mind clawed at my brain as I reached for my coat. The conversation with Adam hung heavily in my mind. It pushed away my ability to sleep and haunted me with truths I kept covered from the rest of the world. I didn't like that. I didn’t enjoy feeling exposed. I didn’t like the raw feeling of pain that gripped my heart as his voice tumbled around in my mind.

But you are responsible for how you react to them. And what you cling to, after the fact.

Your favorite Bible story. Do you have one?

I know I’m right. And when you’re ready to trust again, He’ll be there.

I slipped my arms through my coat and pulled on my snow boots. I wrapped a soft scarf around my neck, feeling the fuzzies tickle my nostrils. I piled my hair underneath a hat as the wind whipped around outside. And even though the snow had stopped falling, that didn’t mean the bitter chill of winter had ceased to exist.

“God, give me strength,” I whispered.

I opened the front door and quickly slipped outside. I shut it behind me and sighed as the wind whipped against my face. I felt my nose already reddening as my cheeks started to hurt. I shoved my hand into my coat, pulling out gloves for me to quickly slip on. My bare toes wiggled against the snow boots. My flimsy pajama pants cried out for help as the wind rippled them like a war-torn flag. But, as my gaze settled on the lake again, the clouds parted away from the sky. Falling to the side, for the first time in days, exposing the full moon as the snow glowed beneath it.

With every step I took, I remembered back to that moment. That moment a week and a half ago, when I first saw Adam. With his hands outstretched to the sky, and his voice echoing off the rafters of his own grief, he called out to God. With anguish in his voice and despair in his heart, he had been brave enough to call out to the one thing he knew might help him.

It made me wonder if he ever found the peace he had been searching for.

Guess it can’t hurt to try.

My feet sank into the snow almost up to my knees. My legs steeled themselves against the cold as I trudged onward, carving a deep and vulnerable path down to that lake. I held onto tree branches that snapped with my weight.

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