Page 73 of Sunday Morning

“Look at the nice boy I raised,” Violet said.

Wesley eyed his son’s chivalrous act and offered a half grin which made me think he wasn’t as convinced.

“Thank you,” I murmured, making eye contact with Isaac just as I slid into the back seat.

“Set this back there,” Wesley said, handing me his suit jacket as Isaac sat behind him.

I set the folded jacket in the middle seat.

“I hope Matthew’s feeling better,” Violet said.

Wesley responded with a long spiel about his son needing to take better care of himself because the baseball team was counting on him.

Isaac and I didn’t exchange a word. I stared out my window while thoughts of the torrid affair replayed on a longloop. I stiffened for a second when Isaac’s hand touched my leg. He had it under his dad’s jacket.

I inspected his parents before sliding my gaze to him, but he didn’t look at me. He looked straight ahead, face neutral like a soldier at attention. I tucked my hand beneath the jacket too, and Isaac interlaced his fingers with mine. Heat spread along my skin. I liked how little my hand felt in his. The rough callouses. The warmth.

The allure of the forbidden.

Was that it?

Was that why Mr. Cory had an affair?

I knew most of the lessons from the Bible. And sin always seemed to accompany temptation.

When desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin.

Was I any different than Mr. Cory?

Sure, I wasn’t married to Matt, but we were together. And I was holding his brother’s hand in secrecy. Isaac had touched me intimately, and I had let him.

My thoughts were impure.

I was a sinner.

But … we were all sinners. Right?

For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.

The Bible also said that through Christ Jesus, God freed us from the penalty of our sins.

Was I twisting God’s words? Maybe.

But wasn’t that basically what all religions did? Came up with their own interpretations of the Bible to suit their lives—to condemn those they wanted to condemn and condone the acts they valued?

Isaac released my hand when we pulled into their drive.

“Isaac, why don't you and Sarah check on your brotherwhile your father and I feed the cats and grab the salad,” Violet suggested.

I didn’t wait for Isaac to open my door. Instead, I hightailed it toward their porch, deposited my shoes at the entry, and tiptoed up the stairs.

Matt’s door was cracked open, and he was curled up in bed with his back to me. The floor creaked when I stepped into his room.

I hated creaky floors.

Matt rolled in my direction. “Sarah,” he whispered. “Don’t come too close.”

I stopped halfway to the bed and opened my mouth to speak, but Isaac appeared behind me, spewing his less-than-sympathetic words first.