Page 52 of Tango
“This is a good place to be when you’re troubled.” He holds out his hand. “Pastor Gabriel Ford.”
“Alice Sterling.”
“Aah.” He arches a brow. “The infamous Ms. Sterling.”
“I’m infamous?”
He laughs. “Around here, you are. Small town and all that.”
“I’m actually surprised the FBI hasn’t shown up to arrest me yet. It’s not as though I’m lying low.”
“Low enough,” he replies. “Most everyone in town knows you’re being protected by the Hunts. Since we’d trust them with our lives, we know you wouldn’t be here if you were actually everything the news claims you are.”
“Everyone does seem to adore the Hunts.”
“They’re great people. And the kids—though they aren’t really kids anymore—have done more for this town than can ever be paid back.”
I think of Tucker. Of how he’s choosing to believe me even though the evidence says otherwise. He’s keeping the video a secret from his brothers, something I’d begged him not to do but he said is necessary—for now.
“I can’t feel Him,” I whisper. “He feels so far away right now.”
Pastor Ford gestures toward the Bible in my lap. “This looks well-read.”
“It was a gift.”
“May I?”
“Of course.”
He takes the Bible from me and opens it to the first page. “‘To Alice. May you never lose sight of Him.’ That’s a lovely inscription.”
“I’ve had it since I was thirteen.”
Nodding, he offers the Bible back to me. “I’ve come to understand that when we can’t feel Him or hear His voice, it’s because we’re too focused on our next steps when we should be giving it all to Him.”
“I lost two of my closest friends and very likely might lose my own life soon.”
He’s silent a few moments. “I’m so sorry for your losses.”
“I trust in God’s plan, Pastor. I have since I was thirteen. But right now, I’m struggling to see what purpose this all has. Ramiro and Logan were good men. They didn’t deserve to die.”
“Does anyone?”
I shake my head. “No, but—” I trail off.
“I wish I had an easy answer for why this is happening to you, Alice. Truly, I do.” He glances back at Dylan. “Or why bad things happen to anyone.” Facing me again, he takes the Bible once more. “We have this. His Word and His promises that, when this life is over, the pain we suffer with will be no more.”
“I know that God can take tragedies and make something beautiful out of them, but I’m struggling to see the beauty these days.”
“Then fight to see it,” he tells me. “Read your Bible and pray—incessantly. Take up the sword of the Spirit and fight.”
“What if I’m not strong enough?”
“You are,” he says. “Because you have Him. The enemy attacks because he fears what’s inside of you. He will tear everything in your life down because he wants to break you. Don’t let him. Fight, Alice.”
Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, and I clutch the Bible to my chest.
“God is with you even now. Even when you can’t hear Him and He feels completely separated from you. He’s not. Lay your pain at His feet, and allow Him to carry you when things get too hard.”
