XXVIII

Human nature is not only diabolical and twisted, it’s strange and odd. I am referring to when my dad discovered me at my aunt and uncle’s place. Actually, Brock is my dad’s cousin, so Destiny would be his what, his cousin in law? Anyway, the awesome couple just feel like a beloved aunt and uncle.

Anyway, I was at Brock and Destiny’s home, talking to Dee about guy dilemmas. My dad had been off with Brock and I had hoped to flee before they returned. I failed. So then I found myself driving home with my dad following me in his car. He had asked me why I was at the Storm residence within seconds of seeing me. I shrugged and simply told him I was there talking to Dee. He then studied my face a couple seconds longer than my comfort zone allowed.

He didn’t pursue it any further in front of them for which I  was thankful. But my toes curled as I drove thinking he would interrogate me when we arrived home. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about boys with my father. But he didn’t say one word about it while I prepared a spaghetti supper for us. Nor did he bring it up while we ate. Then as we enjoyed a cherry pie Larabar for dessert, I surprised myself, and then wanted to kick myself.

“Dad, why haven’t you become more than friends with Salena or Zella LaStella?”

He stopped the Larabar before it entered his open mouth as his eyebrows shot upward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you do stuff with Zella at least two or three times a week. You two seem to have great repour and, dare I say, chemistry. Yet I’ve never seen you so much as hold hands with her.”

“That’s because we’re just friends.”

“But why not more?”

“Well,” he said as he set his bar on his plate, cleared his throat and sighed. “I tried to make it more when we first became acquainted and she was adamant that she wanted nothing to do with a romantic relationship.”

“What if I told you she is interested in being more?”

He frowned, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “What have you been saying to her?”

“Nothing,” I replied as I kicked off my shoes and tucked a leg up under me. “Just observation.”

“Is that right?” He asked with a low conspiratorial voice.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug and then paused for a few seconds. “So, what are you gonna do with this information?”

“Tell me something,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I knew he was gonna turn the tables on me, so I beat him to the punch. “And what about Salena?”

“What about her? She and I are also just friends.”

“You…”

“Hold it, my little princess,” my dad instructed as he held up a hand in the stop gesture. “I think you are the one that has some explaining to do.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked with a sing song voice. As much as I dreaded talking to my dad about guys, I wanted to know what he thought about the boys that were my friends.

“Well, first I find you having girl talk with Dee.”

“There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“Maybe not,” he smirked. “But coupled with you breaking our truce.”

“What truce?” I asked, realizing that playing dumb was probably some form of bearing false witness.

“The unspoken truce between us not to ask each other about our close friends of the opposite sex?”

I mentally asked God forgiveness before I came clean. “Branch told me today that he was in love with me. He said if I didn’t feel the same way he couldn’t be friends anymore. I guess because it would be too frustrating, or something. So I told him maybe. Now I’m debating whether or not I did the right thing.”

“You’re not considering premarital sex, are you?”

“Dad!” I barked as I shot off my seat into a standing position and then placed my hands firmly on my hips. “I’ll have you know. If I do chose to court with Branch, he will not so much as even touch me through clothes until we are married.”

A relieved look washed over his face. “Sorry, I had to ask.”

“Did you!” I replied, my hands still on my hips. Then I sat down abruptly and crossed one leg aggressively  over the other. I followed my dad’s eyes to a whole in the big toe of my tights. Ever since I can remember, he teased me that I must have razor blades for toenails.

“Yes, you’ll always be my little girl,” he said with a quiver in his voice and such a forlorn expression that I couldn’t help myself. I got up, stepped to him, kissed his cheek, and hugged him.

“And you’ll always be my daddy.”

“So how did this come about?” My dad asked after I sat back down. “Until six months ago, I didn’t even know who Branch Calloway was. I always figured if you decided against a lifetime of celibacy, it would have been you and Jeremy.” Then he winked. “Or Captain Kirk.”

We both laughed. By mentioning Captain Kirk, he was referring to how quickly the pastor and I became close after I had moved to Iowa after my fifteen year old best friend succumbed to cancer, and then two months later my mother died. The pastor had lost his wife to a sudden heart attack only days before my mother’s death. I had only met him once at this point.

He and I initially bonded over grieving the loss of  loved ones. I felt like he was the only person that truly understood the way I felt. That was the beginning of daily going for walks with him and he  becoming a wonderful mentor to my spiritual quest. Now, in not even a week, it would be two years since my move from the twin cities to the city of five smells. After the heartbreaking loss of my mother and bestie, I never would have guessed how wonderful the next 24 months would be.

I was so depressed and unsettled those first days in Iowa. Especially having to start a new school when I was in the midst of grieving and adjusting to new surroundings. To top it off, the last semester of my freshman year had already started a couple days before I arrived. I had been somewhat bullied at my former school. I tried to be optimistic about a fresh start, but what if I was bullied even worse?

But I need not worry. Not only because of trust in God and this too shall pass, but my Uncle Brock was a professional protector. He took me to school my first day. He purposely made me a couple minutes late for homeroom. I hated being late in general, so this didn’t sit well with me. Then I noticed he escorted me into school wearing a t-shirt and no jacket when the temperature was only fifty degrees, I relished what he was up to.

If I haven’t mentioned before, Uncle Brock is built like a pro wrestler or an NFL defensive end. Plus, he has some menacing looking facial scars. He also bares a strong resemblance to my dad, who I too share a strong resemblance. So it was obvious that we were related, maybe even father and daughter as we entered my homeroom classroom. Twenty some students stared at Brock with wide eyes. He looked back at them with a stern expression.

We stopped next to the teacher and Brock scratched his jaw causing his massive, low fat bicep to flex into a ball. Then he apologized to her for my tardiness. He said he wanted to come in and explain that it was his fault and I wouldn’t be late again. Then he told her loud enough for my classmates to hear that he would be very upset if my first day got started off on the wrong foot. She seemed to be in awe. Whether due to his imposing stature or attraction, I couldn’t tell. Maybe a combination of both. She stammered that it was fine. He smiled, thanked her and left.

In the next two years, I  was never bullied or even experienced a snide comment about my different than usual appearance. I credit Brock for getting me off on the right foot just like he hoped. But it might have been my friendship with Branch, which began only hours after I arrived, that helped maintain the respect Brock first established. Ultimately, I thank and praise God.

I can’t explain why Branch and I hit it off. He was sullen, brooding and even rude. Yet I detected a deep sadness in his lovely grey green eyes. He was initially annoyed and standoffish when the science teacher put me at his lab table. And I was apprehensive when the science teacher mumbled an apology to me for my placement with him.

There were ten such workstations in the class. The teacher assigned two students per table. There had been nineteen students before I showed up to make it a capacity class at twenty. Branch, a loner, had thought after the first two days by himself that he would fly solo for the rest of the school year. I kept quiet that first day. When we began some type of project with test tubes, I said as little as possible. I noticed as we worked together that Branch studied me more than he did our assignment.

The next day  we continued our experiments. About halfway through the class, I had returned from the restroom and smoothed the back of my denim skirt before I sat down. It was then Branch spoke to me personally for the first time. “Are you Amish?”

“No,” I giggled nervously. Then I got defensive, not for me but for the Amish. “But so what if I was?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. It was the first sign he wasn’t one hundred percent angry and depressed. “How come you’re so different?”

I showed him a puzzled frown, even though I understood his curiosity. I had fit right in at church. To me, my classmates were different. Then I turned the frown upside down and gave him a warm smile. “What do you mean? I’m just regular girl with the exception of fancy, sexy clothes, jewelry, makeup and a hundred dollar hair style.”

He gave me a full smile then. No teeth were exposed, but his lips stretched across his face. Then I really noticed his eyes, the windows to the soul. The cold curtains were open and I saw warmth, intelligence, and a longing in his soul. Branch was an outcast to most. People tend to destroy what they don’t understand. That’s why they killed the Son of God when he walked among them.

Right after school the previous day, a well meaning girl from the science class had approached me. “Just a friendly warning about Branch Calloway,” she said quietly. “There’s a reason Mr. Ridder had him at a table by himself. He’s trouble. He’s been in a lot of fights. As a matter of fact, if he even looks at somebody wrong, he could get expelled. I’m surprised he wasn’t after his last incident. He just can’t control his anger, so watch out.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

“No prob,” she said with a shrug, and then scooted quickly away.

I would come to find out about the last incident she spoke of. It was true that Branch had a bad track record of altercations. His biggest fault was not starting fights, but his seeming inability to not finish them. In other words, walking away.

His latest incident happened about a month before we met and ensued when he defended an overweight girl being verbally bullied by an upperclassman. The bully ended up with a broken nose, and given Branch’s track record, the principal was going to expel him. But between two teachers having his back and a protest started by a small band of fellow freshmen, Branch was given one more chance. As a matter of fact, that was a chant used at the protest. “One more chance for Branch.”

“You’re as pure as the wind driven snow,” he said quietly, as if to himself.

I rejoiced, thinking he was seeing Christ in me, and I’m sure he was or I hope he did. Yet now two years later, I see that there might have been another aspect to his comment. That very weekend I went to Cotton Creek Cove fellowship for the first time. It was also the beginning of a whole new world of friends opening up to me. More than friends, true sisters and brothers in Christ.

The loss of my mother and BFF Anna left a break in my heart that would never completely heal. But God blessed me with several new best friends that distracted me from my grief. I relished hearing their interesting testimonies, and learning their various insights and perspectives on spirituality and biblical truths. It was eye opening to say the least!

There was, of course, my temporary house hosts Destiny and Brock, and the young couple they were exceptionally close to, Amy and Dirk Easton. Amy and I are kindred spirits. We both have a type of red hair. Amy is strawberry blond and I have auburn hair. We both like to wear denim skirts with Converse sneakers, and I guess we are both strong willed.

I wonder if it isn’t Amy’s influence that has me second guessing a lifetime of celibacy. With her dreamboat husband being similar to Branch, her adorable toddler Ella who is like a mini me of her mother, and their son Bentley, the cutest baby boy I have ever laid eyes on. And most of all, the young family’s devoted faith. Her lifestyle seems rather appealing, and most important of all, in harmony with God.

Then there is Zella LaStella, a former psychic and close friend of my dad. Lexi Gomez who had been demon possessed only a week before I reunited with my dad. Destiny’s Aunt Annabelle Knight, a woman who along with Destiny have brought countless women caught up in adult entertainment to the Lord. And Pastor Kirk Samson, AKA Captain Kirk. A man who became like a grandfather to me. As a matter of fact, he and I bonded more than I ever did with both of my biological grandfathers put together. Yet I do love and have a good relationship with them. It’s just something really clicked with Captain Crunch. (My personal nickname for him which he loves. PS, I’m pretty health conscious, so I have rarely eaten the sweetened cereal.)

Pastor Samson said something to me I will never ever forget. Even now when I think about it, I start to tear up. We had had an exceptionally good and long spiritual discussion. One of the last pieces of our conversation was his encounters with an angel he called Melanchthon. He told me how the angel knew of things he experienced in the war, and also how he had helped him with my father. Yet, he still had a nagging doubt, you know, try the spirits whether they be of God. That’s when he told me something that moved me beyond words.

“But I have no doubt, dear one,” he said as he put a delicate hand on my upper back and started to gently weep. “That God put you in my life when I need the sweet presence of an angel the most.”

Same to you, dear man. Same to you, I had thought. But I was too choked up to speak. So I gave him a grand daughterly hug.