Page 111 of Sunday Morning
“That’s what I thought. I’m not God. I’m human, and that means I’m capable of hating her even if God doesn’t want me to hate her. I guess if Hereallydidn’t want me to hate her, He would have kept my friends safe. But He didn’t.” I shoved a huge bite of pancake into my mouth, even though I was no longer hungry. “That means I can hate her, and you don't get to tell me how I’m supposed to feel. I’m going to hate her.” I rammed my fork into the plate like I was stabbing Brenda in the heart.
The plate cracked, startling my mom and sisters.
“Sarah!” Dad warned.
It was a rare moment because I was a people pleaser. But I was coming apart inside, and I no longer had it in me to please anyone.
“And while I’m at it,” I stood, knocking my chair over, “I’m not overjoyed with God at the moment either.”
I hate Him.
“Go to your room until I’m done with breakfast, then we’re going to have a long talk, young lady,” Dad said while setting his fork down with shaky hands like I’d trampled his last bit of control.
He was human, too, no matter how many times a day he talked to God.
I ran up the stairs and grabbed my wrinkled black dress, shoes, and car keys. Then I jogged down the stairs.
“Sarah!” Dad called.
I whipped around when I reached the front door. “I’m an adult now. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’ll go where I want when I want. I’ll say what I want. I’ll think whatever I want. I’ll havesexwith whomever I want. And it will be between me and God. You’re not the father who getsto judge me. Why don’t you practice what you preach?” I flung open the door and stomped to my car.
When I started it and glanced at the house, everyone had gathered on the front porch.
I wasn’t impervious to the guilt, but I was in a predicament with the Cory men because I caved to the fear of rocking the boat. The idea of living my life for anyone but myself no longer felt sustainable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MADONNA, “CRAZY FOR YOU”
When I reached the Corys’lane, I slowed down to see if Matt’s car was there. It wasn’t, so I continued driving along the gravel road until there was a farm lane, and I parked my car there.
Shimmying through the fence, I trekked through the pasture to the horse barn. When I peeked my head inside, there was no one there; as I stepped backward to close the door, I bumped into someone and jumped around with my hand on my heart.
Isaac wiped his dirty, sweaty brow with his arm. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I replied while my shoulders relaxed. Just being in his presence lifted the weight of the world from them. “Are you going to ask me why I’m here when Joanna’s funeral is this afternoon?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he reached past me to open the barn door, “I’m just really fucking glad to see you. Do youwantto tell me why you’re here?” He lifted his T-shirt and wiped his whole face.
It was scorching, and so were his abs which distracted me for a few seconds.
“Brenda Swensen was the driver who hit Heather and Joanna. And they think she’d been drinking.”
“Yeah,” he said, giving me a shrug. “She died too.”
There was no way that Isaac didn’t know about the affair, not after his reaction to the couple in front of us at Opryland. We’d been dancing around the topic.
Right?
“And?”
Isaac squinted. “And what? She was drunk. She killed two people. And she paid the price.”
“She didn’t pay the price. She’ll never pay the price. Brenda’s dead. She’s not here to suffer the consequences of what she did to my friends and your family.”