Page 1 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
Chapter One
the church loomed before me like a raging bull ready to trample me at the slightest break in concentration.
The low white building rested small an unassuming against a cacophony of tall green trees and bright blue late summer sky. The sun danced overhead, playing with the shadows and lighting the bees as they buzzed, a testament to how long I’d spent trapped in my car, chaos and darkness weighting me down, freezing me despite the hot day.
I’d been here every Sunday since I was a girl, and several days in between, but I couldn’t leave this seat and go inside.
I’m a failure.I can’t do this.Nothing I do is ever good enough.My heart raced, and my lungs burned from my erratic breathing as I sat in my car. A litany of my fears raced through my head, competing for attention, growing bigger and bigger with each round.
The cookies I had painstakingly decorated sat melting in the seat next to me. Frosting slid ever so slightly down the sides of them toward the back of the seat. The cloying scent of sugar assaulted my nose as I took deep breaths, building up the courage to go inside.
It’s just a letter-writing party. Writing letters to complete strangers. Strangers who would judge me. Strangers who probably don’t even want letters to begin with. Strangers whowill probably throw my letter away without ever even reading it.
My heart rate ramped up even higher with my spiraling thoughts, and I had to force myself to breathe.
The inevitable chatting would be worse.
“How’s Bill?” They would ask.
I would smile and try not to flinch as his name hit me like a physical blow to the gut, winding me, crumpling me in a way nothing else could. We had a good marriage. He was a good provider. I had a beautiful home. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
Still, a certainty clawed at me I needed to dodge him. It stayed with me wherever I went and whatever I did, lingering like the stench of a litter box, invading my mind and taking over my senses.
I couldn’t think in this heat and in this car and in this parking lot. I clawed my chest, trying to get some air, to stop my racing heart, to feel something beside panic and fear. This was stupid.Just walk into the church you’ve been a member of your whole life, Grace. Write a simple letter and then you can go home.
A knock on the window startled me out of my spiral, and a familiar and unwelcome face peeked at me through the window. Blonde hair teased high on her head framed a face adorned with flawless make up. An immaculate bright yellow dress draped elegantly over her athletic body. Paired with her blonde hair, she looked like sunshine personified, almost too bright to really look at. Kaye, the preacher’s wife.
“Grace, are you coming in?” she asked in an all too sweet voice. One that nearly matched the sugar cookies that still sat there, melting in the seat beside me. I rolled down the window, still stuck to my seat.
“Oh, uh, yes.” I scrambled for an excuse to explain why I was just sitting here. “Just working out how to bring in all mysupplies and the cookies I made for everyone.”
I wasn’t sure when I learned how to lie, but it had become too easy these days.
“Supplies?” she asked, a wrinkle fighting to form on her botoxed brow. “Whatever for?” I noticed she didn’t offer to help me bring anything in.
“Yes, supplies” — I turned off the car, leaving the window open to air out the overbearing smell of sugar — “I brought my rubber stamp collection, and some cardstock I thought would be nice to use.”
“Oh,” she said frostily. I wondered what I did wrong this time. There was always something. Bill had made sure this morning that I understood exactly how bad it made him look when I messed up like this. My shoulders slumped in defeat.
I tried — and failed — to put on my best smile and opened the door. I grabbed the cookies as I pushed past Kaye and made my way to the trunk. My stamp collection isn’t just stamps, but a whole card-making set, complete with rubber stamps, glitter, stickers, an embosser, and an array of cardstock in every color and weight imaginable.
I was so excited when they announced this project that I packed everything up almost right away, setting it by the door, so I just had to grab it on my way out today. Bill caught me loading it up after lunch. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, and an expression on his face that set my heart galloping in my chest, urging me to run away from that look and the words that would come next.
“If they needed all this, they would have asked,” he said, “You should probably just leave it at home and not waste the effort. You’re embarrassing me, Grace. Why do you always do this?”
Maybe that was why Kaye was upset. Maybe I overstepped.
I opened my tightly stuffed trunk, the card making paraphernalia taking up most of the space. Kaye continued tostand by as I tried to balance the tray of cookies on top of the box to bring it all in. Good thing I never skipped my workouts.
I guess.
“Can you carry the cookies?” I ventured to ask when they toppled a bit as I tried to balance everything. My arms weren’t quite long enough to get a good grip.
“Oh, no… sorry. My hands are full.” She lifted her hands, her phone in one hand and her keys in the other. She didn’t even lift her eyes from her phone. “It seems you have it.”
I very much did not have the cookies. They fell over the edge just as I lost my grip on the box. Everything came crashing down and landed with a clatter on the asphalt of the parking lot. Thankfully, the box of stamps stayed closed, and I had thought to pack the cookies in a reusable plastic tray with an attachable lid.
A tear slipped down my face, chased by another, blurring the world around me as I crouched down and groped for my fallen belongings.
