Page 23 of Mended Hearts

Infuriation runs through my veins. “He said what?” I bellow, not believing what I’m hearing.

“Dustin, I’m sorry. I’m not happy about this, either, but what can I do? I’m just the youth pastor.” Dave looks at me, trying to put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, but I yank away before he can. I see him wince at my action, but I can’t help it.

“Well, you could have some balls, for starters.” It’s obvious no one has any when it comes to this man. Myself included. I pace back and forth, not knowing what to do with these feelings that are consuming me. I finally found my niche outside of baseball. And now it’s being yanked away from me.

Exasperated, Dave sighs. “I wish it were that simple.”

I stop pacing and look at him, seeing the fight in his eyes. He simply looks defeated and now I feel remorse for having put him in this position. “This isn’t your fault. I hate that you have to be the middleman. I just don’t know what to do,” I admit, feeling as if I’m at my wits’ end, but knowing I’ll never give Echo up.

“Pray about it.” He suggests and I scoff. I was just told by the youth pastor I’m no longer allowed to play drums for the youth group. I already had to give up hanging at his house with the rest of the youth, and now this—the final straw. I’m beingstripped of the things that keep me rooted in this church. This is now stretching beyond my relationship with his daughter, and it pisses me off.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Dave.” I extend my hand to shake his. He’s truly a great guy, which is why this whole thing stings even more.

He holds my stare, eyes full of sympathy. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m always here to talk.” I push down the laugh threatening to bubble out. It’s not that I don’t believe his words, but they are just pointless.

I nod and then walk out the doors to the youth building, knowing I’ll never enter them or that entire church ever again. I hop into my Blazer with a bone to pick. It’s time for me to put my money where my mouth is and let my balls out. I’ve held back and been pleasant long enough. I’m not scared of the pastor, and I’m done playing nice with someone who doesn’t play by the rulebook.

I come to a skid as my tires catch on some loose gravel in front of their house. I might have also done so on purpose, intent on making my presence known. Leaving my door open, I head up to the front door. I don’t plan on taking long to make my point. I make quick strides, taking the two steps onto the porch in one swift hop. I lift my hand to bang on the front door until someone opens it.

“I figured you’d bless us with your presence,” Echo’s dad announces from the porch swing to my left, completely catching me off guard. I drop my hand, wondering where my balls went before turning toward him.

“How’d you know?” I stammer, realizing how cowardice my words sound. I quickly regain my composure, remembering who the hell I am and my purpose for being here. He drops his chin, narrowing his eyes at me. “Oh, dream killer Dave.” I laugh. “Oh,wait, that’s you.” I narrow my eyes back at him and cross my arms.

“Listen, kid.” He pushes off the swing and stands. “I don’t know what mission you’re on or why you think you need to drag my daughter along with you, but it’s not going to happen. So end this game now before you really hurt her.”

I drop my hands and ball them at my side, taking a step closer. “You’re the only one who’s going to hurt her.” I seethe, digging my nails into my skin to keep myself from decking the guy.

“No, I’m saving her.” He steps closer to me, putting a good foot between us.

“You. Aren’t. God,” I enunciate every word slowly, spewing them through my lips. A flash of anger crosses his face, and I know I just struck a nerve. Good. I like nerves. “I love your daughter,” I admit even though he doesn’t deserve to hear it. His shoulders sag a little as he backs up to sit back down on the swing. He lets out a deep sigh, picks his glasses back up, slides them up the bridge of his nose, and grabs a newspaper he has sitting beside him.

“It’s just puppy love, boy.” He chuckles. “Easily replaceable.” Opening his newspaper, he doesn’t even bother to look up at me. The idea of ripping it out of his hands and shredding it in his face crosses my mind, but I think better of it.

“No one will ever replace Echo,” I proclaim, unclenching my fists as I retreat backward. I glance at the door and see Echo watching in horror, tears streaming down her face. Her mother is close behind, holding her in place.

Mr. Price looks up over the top of his newspaper. “Pull the Band-Aid off, boy, and save you both the grief. You won’t like the outcome if y’all keep this up,” he warns, and I know he means it. I want to retort and yell back that nothing he can do will keep us apart, but a part of me fears the lengths he’s willing to go to. Iturn to walk down the step, and he stops me. “Oh, and no more sneaking through my daughter’s window.” My skin prickles at the thought of him knowing I had and I pray he hasn’t unleashed his wrath on Echo for it.

I jump the steps and all but run to my Blazer. I hear the screen door slam and Echo yelling for me.

But I don’t look back. Seeing her hurt twists something within me. I have to get away and regain control of this anger that is coursing through me. Or maybe it’s pain. Whatever it is, it’s something I’m not familiar with.

Chapter Fifteen

ECHO

January 2001

Ihaven’t seen Dustin since the night he stormed off my front porch. The feeling that my dad has finally won pushes me over the edge I had been teetering on. I’m a shell of who I used to be. It’s not like my dad has spoken much to me since that night. I’m sure it has a lot to do with me screaming‘I hate you’at the top of my lungs. He winced. My mom chastised. And I meant it with every fiber of my being. I wanted him to hurt. To feel a sliver of the pain he had instilled in me. You can’t purposely inflict pain and suffer no repercussions.

I know hate is a strong word. But in that moment, it’s what I felt coursing through my veins as I watched the boy I love retreat from our house…from me. I still feel a tinge of that feeling when I hear him talking to my mom or see him in passing, but it’s most prevalent when I sit in the front pew, watching him preach. I have to constantly push the taste of bile down my throat during each service. I’d have to be eating for something more to come up. Maybe I’ll apologize one day. You know, be the biggerperson. But since I’m just a child who’s incapable of making her own decisions, being the bigger person doesn’t apply to me.

I spend Christmas break holed up in my room, refusing to interact with the ones who are dead set on ruining my life. I feel like a prisoner for the most part. I’ve tried hanging out with girls from the team, but then my dad would ask a hundred questions because he didn’t believe me. I got tired of answering them or dealing with him period, so I just quit trying to hang out with anyone. It’s evident he doesn’t approve of me having a life outside of our house, church, and the field. And even the last two are questionable. It’s not like I can fully enjoy them when he watches me like a hawk. I get that I broke his trust, but damn. He’s suffocating me.

On top of our father/daughter relationship being completely obliterated, I also refuse to continue being paraded in his church circus. I’m no longer stepping into the role of his prized possession, angel daughter he throws in the limelight. The energy I used to feel on stage when I’d sing had disappeared. I got tired of scanning the audience in hopes of spotting Dustin, only to be disappointed. I was trying hard to keep from becoming depressed, but it was impossible. My dad can fake it all he wants, but I was done.

Holiday break is finally over, and I’ve never been more excited to go back to school. To be quite honest, I half expected my dad to pull me and have my mother homeschool me for the remainder of the year. I’m up earlier than normal so I can leave earlier than normal to make the walk to school. I put my jeans on, throw the new green sweater I got for Christmas over my head, and slide my Doc Marten boots on, then tie them with a double knot. I put on some mascara and leave my hair straight and down just like Dustin likes it.

A feeling I haven’t felt in so long has fixated itself within me. Excitement. I am so damn excited to see Dustin. And sodamn nervous. Dread that he might be done with us, with me, sits nagging in the back of my mind. I want to stay positive, to hold tightly to his words, but the way he looked that night—completely defeated—still causes twinges of pain in my chest when I think about it. I’m not so certain he still thinks I’m worth the trouble. He deserves more. I want more for him. Hell, I want more for me. But that’s not going to happen while I share the same roof as Preacher Man.

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