Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
And when I wake in the night and reach for them, they give themselves to me unselfishly.
For a moment, the next morning, I forget everything that’s happened. I only know that I’m with my men, and they make me happy. Then I remember why they’re with me, and it all comes rushing back.
I should go to work, but I don’t think it’s safe. I decide to call Mrs. Todd, though I don’t know how I’ll handle it if she speaks to me like my brother and Pastor Williams have been.
“Oh! Ava, dear. How are you?”
She doesn’t sound like herself at all; her voice has a quaver in it that makes me think she’s been crying. I’m reassured by her greeting, but only a little.
“I’m holding up, Mrs. Todd. I wondered if … well, what you thought about me coming to work.”
She draws in a long breath, and my mood deflates again. Sure enough, she says, “I think it might be best if you took a few days off, dear.”
I’m afraid to hope for anything, but at least she hasn’t fired me outright. “All right. Please take care, Mrs. Todd.”
“You as well, Ava.” There’s a pause before she adds quietly, “We’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you,” I say through a throat suddenly thick with unshed tears. Her words remind me anew of everything I’ve lost. I may not agree with my church on most issues anymore, but I know I’ll miss the sense of community it gave me.
I end the call, sigh, and make a note to start updating my resume.
AVA
Never in my life have my days been so unstructured. The hours stretch away before me, a constant reminder of exactly how my world has been shaken like a snow globe. I organize and re-organize my yarn storage, making abstract art out of different color combinations on the shelves.
It warms me to think of the men as I use their thoughtful gift, but since it also represents the first time I shared an intimate experience with all of them together, it reminds me that I won’t always have all three of them in my life. At some point, The Choice will become necessary.
I really, really can’t bear to think about that right now.
All the men visit me when they can, or I meet them for coffee or lunch, and we still have time in the evenings; but they can’t just drop their jobs, and Brax has his classes too.
I do my best to keep busy and avoid brooding. A lot of my time is spent crocheting; I’ve been working for a while on a project of making baby blankets, caps, booties, and similar items to send to an orphanage overseas. I feel an obligation to get those items completed and delivered, a final tie connecting me to the church.
On Friday, I’m finally finished. I pack all of the items carefully into bags and go to the church at a time when it’s normally empty, when everyone has gone to lunch. The lot is largely vacant when I arrive, but still, my heart pounds as I park my car.
I take a spot as close to the main office as possible. The faster I can get in and out before anyone sees me, the better. Creeping up to the office door, I crack it open and peer in.
Quiet greets me; I can’t see or hear anyone. Reassured, I slip inside and leave everything on the secretary’s desk, with a note attached that just says “orphanage.” I can only hope my offering won’t be refused if they figure out it’s from me. The poor babies shouldn’t have to suffer on my account.
I’m turning to go when I hear voices—a man’s and a woman’s. Probably one of the pastors, and … the woman’s voice sounds familiar. Frowning, I hesitate.
I should leave. I really don’t need to be snooping around here, especially since someone might come back at any moment. But my feet ignore this sensible advice and take me toward the voices.
As I near the offices, I can tell that the conversation is happening in Pastor Williams’ office. I move closer, and just as I reach the office door, the voices fall silent. And then, after a few moments, there’s another sound—one I recognize all too well from my own recent experience.
Someone in that office is moaning.
I can’t explain what comes over me then, but I can’t seem to stop myself. My hand reaches out and turns the doorknob, and I push the door soundlessly open.
The woman in the office is my mother.
She and Pastor Williams have their arms around each other. They’re not talking anymore … because they’re kissing. I’m pretty sure his tongue is down her throat.
For a moment, I’m too stunned to move, to think, to do anything but stare in disbelief. Then my stomach starts to turn. I back away, and the movement catches the pastor’s eye.