Page 18 of My Vows Are Sealed

I chuckled weakly. This kid was too smart for his own good.

“Yeah, he is,” I agreed. “Everyone’s human and makes mistakes. Even grown-ups have a hard time controlling their temper sometimes. But that’s why Jesus came to Earth and died for us. So that even if we do make mistakes, we can be forgiven.”

“Okay, guys, let’s go ahead and get started,” Peter announced.

Though I turned my attention to the front of the room and listened as he started to teach a lesson about love and acceptance, I couldn’t help looking back at the door every few minutes, hoping Darla would make a reappearance. But she never did.

* * *

“Mom! Look at this picture I colored!” Nathan exclaimed when my parents came back to the children’s room to pick us up after the service.

My mom completely ignored the picture he was trying to shove in her face, so I quietly took it from him, folded it in half, and slid it into the kid Bible he always brought to church with him, even though he couldn’t actually read it.

It was no wonder why Nathan always asked me the hard questions and basically stuck to me like glue every second he could. My parents were forty-five and forty-eight years old when they found out he was on the way, and at that age, they’d been expecting a mid-life crisis, not another kid. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the only reason my little brother had even been born at all was because they were completely against abortion, no matter what the circumstances. That broke my heart, because this sweet, curious, funny, and empathetic kid deserved so much better than parents who were too checked out to bother interacting with him.

“Do you have your Bible?” she asked flatly.

“I’ve got both of our Bibles right here, Mom,” I muttered.

“Good. Let’s get home. I have a headache,” she grumbled, glaring at my dad.

“Come on, boys,” my dad ordered. “You heard Mom. No dallying.”

I held my hand out, and Nathan took it immediately as we headed outside. My dad went to get the car – because God forbid my poor mother had to walk halfway across the parking lot – and pulled up under the overhang in front of the building. Without a word, my mom got into the front seat.

I rolled my eyes. Had she completely forgotten that she had a four-year-old son here who still needed to be attended to?

Oh, right. She had a headache, so clearly, she was exempt from being a parent for the evening.

I went and opened the door to the backseat, then bent down to pick Nathan up.

“Come on, squirt. Let’s get you buckled in,” I said, setting him in his booster seat and tickling him in the ribs.

He squealed and giggled. “That tickles!”

“Nathan!” my dad snapped. “Mom has a headache. Keep your voice down.”

With a sigh, I quickly got him buckled in, then went and got in on the other side. Before I’d even fastened my seatbelt, my dad was pulling away from the building.

“Why didn’t Darla come back tonight?” Nathan asked as we started the short drive home. “Did she not want to color with me anymore?”

Why on Earth had Pastor Jones thoughtthatwas an appropriate way to handle that situation? His daughter had been this age once. He had to realize that the kids were going to ask questions about what they’d witnessed. Didn’t he give a crap about parents having to explain that to their kids?

Well, obviously not, if he was pulling these kinds of stunts in the middle of the children’s service.

“No, bud,” I said, ruffling his hair. “Her dad just wanted her in the adults’ service tonight.”

“Is that why he was yelling at her?” he asked.

A lump rose in my throat and my blood started to boil in my veins. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or punch something, but I felt some kind of way about what had gone down tonight. I was equally worried about my friend and upset that I had to be the one to talk to Nathan about what he’d witnessed tonight. This was not okay on so many levels.

“Maybe,” I mumbled. “I don’t really know. But I promise it has nothing to do with you. Darla loves you very much. She would have come back if she could have.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure,” I assured him. “She’s not mad at you.”

There might have been a lot of unknowns about what happened tonight, but that much, Ididknow for sure. Darla loved every single one of the kids at that church, but even though she claimed not to play favorites, I knew she thought of Nathan as a brother. Knowing how much he’d missed her tonight would kill her.

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